She sat back on the edge of the bath. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be . . . Oh my god, she thought, clenching her eyes shut. How am I going to tell Owen?
She was still perched on the edge of the bath when he and Luke arrived home ten minutes later.
‘Ness?’ he called from the other side of the bathroom door. ‘Are you in there? Luke needs a shower – he’s got mud in places you wouldn’t believe.’
Nessie looked down at the pregnancy test again, hoping the message might have miraculously changed. It hadn’t.
With a leaden sensation dragging at her stomach, she stood and opened the door.
‘What?’ Owen said, the moment he saw her expression. ‘Are you ill again?’
She drew in a shaky breath and held up the test. ‘Not exactly.’
His eyebrows beetled together furiously, then shot up towards his hairline as his lips worked wordlessly for a few seconds. ‘But how?’ he finally managed. ‘When?’
‘The forge, I suppose,’ she said, studying him with anxious eyes to gauge his reaction. ‘It’s the only time we didn’t take precautions.’
His gaze dropped to the test once more, and then slid back to her face. ‘And how do you feel about it?’
It was a good question, Nessie thought. ‘Stunned, mostly. I was so sure it was the takeaway that was making me feel so awful that I never stopped to consider anything else.’ She gnawed at her lip. ‘How do you feel?’
He didn’t answer. Nessie felt tears prick the back of her eyes; surely he wasn’t going to remind her he didn’t want any more children? She blinked hard, determined not to cry. And then his hand moved to curve protectively around her belly and he gave her a smile so wide she thought her heart would crack. ‘How could I be anything other than over the moon, Nessie? We’re – we’re going to have a baby!’
She burst into tears. Owen pulled her into his arms, raining kisses onto the top of her head as she sobbed into his chest. Moments later, Luke and Kathryn appeared in the doorway, their startled faces pale.
‘What’s going on?’ Kathryn demanded. ‘What’s wrong?’
Owen turned to beam at her. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ He took a deep breath and gave Luke an encouraging nod. ‘Do you remember what you said about being a big brother?’
Luke’s face lit up. ‘Seriously? SERIOUSLY?’
‘Seriously,’ Owen laughed and looked at Kathryn. ‘And I’m afraid that means you’re going to be an auntie again.’
‘I knew it!’ Kathryn crowed, her expression shining with happiness. ‘Bloody hell, I can’t think of anything I’d like more.’
It was all too much for Nessie, who broke into a fresh peal of sobbing that only subsided when Owen tilted her face upwards and gently wiped her tears away. ‘I can’t think of anything else I’d like more, either,’ he said, planting a soft kiss on her lips. ‘You’re going to be a wonderful mother, Nessie. Everything is going to be fine.’
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. And her feeling of panic vanished, to be replaced by a lightness she hadn’t felt for weeks. She touched her stomach wonderingly and allowed herself the smallest of smiles. ‘I’m not sure I believe it yet,’ she whispered back. ‘But everything is going to be fine.’
PART TWO
Christmas Kisses at the Star and Sixpence
Chapter Eleven
CALLING ALL GINTHUSIASTS!
Sam, Nessie and Laurie Chapman
are proud to invite you to a
FESTIVAL of GIN
at the Star and Sixpence.
Sample gins from award-winning boutique distilleries and tickle your taste buds with our bespoke cocktails.
Don’t miss the chance to meet our Author in Residence, the Sunday Times Bestseller, Lola Swann.
Thursday 6th – Sunday 9th December
St Mary’s Church was packed. Nessie didn’t think she’d ever seen more people crammed into the dark wooden pews, not even for the Christmas Eve carol service and that tended to be a full house. Today, every seat was taken and there were more people standing shoulder to shoulder at the back, pink-cheeked in spite of the late-November chill outside. They had run out of hymn sheets and the order of service cards, but nobody seemed to mind; in fact, they seemed happy to share. But there was a very good reason for the full church, Nessie reflected as she gazed at Father Goodluck in his white and gold robes: it wasn’t every day that Franny Forster, the formidable Chairwoman of the Little Monkham Preservation Society, got married. In fact, Nessie very much doubted that anyone had had the guts to turn down the bride’s command to attend.
Beside her, Sam fidgeted. ‘If I’d known these seats were so uncomfortable, I’d have brought a cushion,’ she muttered in Nessie’s ear.
Nessie hid a smile. Her sister was an infamously reluctant churchgoer and seized on any excuse to avoid the regular occasions throughout the year when the rest of Little Monkham’s residents gathered en masse under St Mary’s vaulted roof. But, like everyone else, she wouldn’t have missed witnessing Franny and Henry tie the knot.
‘I’m not sure I’ll believe it until I see it happen,’ Sam had told Nessie as they’d left the Star and Sixpence that morning to walk the short distance to the church. ‘I still can’t get my head around the idea of Franny as a married woman.’
Nessie knew exactly what she meant; Franny had seemed perfectly content to conform to the stereotypical ‘Spinster of this Parish’ role life had dealt her. But she also suspected that much of Franny’s spiky exterior was merely armour against the disappointments of the past. It had taken Henry some time to negotiate his way past the barriers and into her heart but, now that he was there, Nessie suspected he’d made Franny the happiest woman alive. And one look at her glowing face as she spoke her vows confirmed it.
A short sigh issued from Nessie’s other side. She glanced across to see that her half-brother, Laurie, wasn’t even trying to conceal his expression of boredom.
‘What?’ he whispered when he saw her watching him. ‘I hate weddings.’
She shook her head and wished, not for the first time, that it was Owen beside her instead. She imagined entwining her fingers with his as the romance of the wedding swept her away, exchanging a tender look and feeling the warmth of his love flow along her arm and into her belly, where their baby might somehow feel it too. But Owen was at the front of the church, along with his nine-year-old son, Luke, fulfilling the responsibilities as part of the church choir. Nessie had to content herself with the occasional mutual glance and the admitted pleasure of hearing his delicious baritone rolling across the congregation during the hymns.
‘Not long now,’ she murmured to Laurie, as Henry’s best man stepped forward with the rings.
Laurie threw her a grumpy look. ‘There’s ages left. I wish I’d stayed at the pub.’
Nessie straightened and watched Franny slide the ring onto Henry’s finger, determined not to let either of her siblings spoil the moment for her. Sam had sworn off marriage years ago, describing it as a total waste of money and paper, although Nessie knew she had no problem going to the parties that followed. And Nessie had yet to uncover Laurie’s views on matrimony, but his grumbling now suggested he wasn’t a fan. She thought once again of the baby inside her. What if the next wedding Sam and Laurie attended was Nessie’s own; surely they’d be more gracious then? Although she had no idea yet whether Owen wanted to get married. He’d been unexpectedly thrilled at the news she was pregnant, but she knew he was entirely oblivious to her longing to do everything ‘properly’; to Nessie, getting married was the next step, both romantically and logically. And if Owen did agree with her, then the next wedding Sam and Laurie attended probably would be their sister’s. She’d have to give them both important jobs to do, to keep them busy . . .
An expectant hush fell over the congregation as Ruby Cabernet made her way to the pulpit, exquisitely dressed in a figure-hugging emerald-green dress, her vibrant red hair gleaming under the soft lights. Pausing to offer a smile that wa
s both practised and warm, she began to read.
‘Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm,’ she said, causing a rush of goosebumps to race across Nessie’s skin as she recognised the Song of Solomon. ‘For love is as strong as death, passion fierce as the grave.’
Ruby went on, her voice sizzling with all the emotion her many years of acting could muster, and Nessie felt her gaze drawn to Owen once more. She expected to find him watching Ruby, but his eyes were fixed on hers, dark and intense. Nessie felt a shiver dance down her spine as something unspoken passed between them.
‘Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.’ Ruby soared to a rich crescendo. ‘If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.’
The reading had been so expertly delivered that a smattering of applause broke out. Nessie barely noticed; she was too mesmerised by the expression on Owen’s face.
‘You two are going to get thrown out if you’re not careful,’ Sam whispered in her ear, sounding amused. ‘I’m not sure the Church of England holds with such unbridled yearnings.’
Heat flooded Nessie’s cheeks and she broke eye contact to throw a sheepish look at her sister. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ Sam replied, grinning. ‘That reading is scorching hot. It’s the one Harry and Meghan had at their wedding, right?’
Nessie nodded. ‘Yes, that’s it.’ She glanced at Franny and Henry, who only had eyes for each other. ‘Not quite what I expected, to be honest.’
‘Me neither. I think Franny has hidden depths.’ Sam’s grin became a smirk. ‘Poor Henry.’
Father Goodluck replaced Ruby at the pulpit and spread his arms wide. ‘Marriage is what brings us together today . . .’
His cheery sermon on the redeeming quality of love gave Nessie the opportunity to calm her racing pulse and discreetly fan her too-warm face with the order of service. The number of people packed into the pews wasn’t helping her cool down, although the memory of the way Owen had gazed at her was having its own effect on her body. She forced herself to focus on Father Goodluck and tried not to join her siblings in wishing the service was over.
The shuffling that had broken out during the vicar’s sermon ceased the moment nineteen-year-old Tilly began to sing, as Franny and Henry vanished to sign the register. Her pure soprano voice sounded achingly flawless as she climbed through the high notes of ‘Ave Maria’. Nessie exchanged a look of pride with Sam at their talented barmaid and, in the pew ahead, Martha was clutching her husband’s arm and failing to hold back tears at her daughter’s perfect performance.
And then Father Goodluck led the bride and groom back to the altar for the final blessings. With a triumphant burst of chords, the organist played ‘The Wedding March’ and a radiant Franny walked down the aisle on Henry’s arm, beaming at anyone who caught her eye. Applause filled the church, along with whoops and cheers that sounded both right and wrong to Nessie, and she couldn’t hide a broad smile of her own as she joined in. Even Laurie was clapping, despite his boredom earlier in the ceremony. Sam was grinning from ear to ear too as she watched the happy couple pass by. And then she turned to Nessie and Laurie, her grin becoming considerably more businesslike.
‘Father Goodluck said we can sneak out through the vestry. We need to get back to the pub before this lot, otherwise Gabe’s going to be crushed in the stampede at the bar.’
‘Excellent plan,’ Nessie said, pulling on her coat. ‘Let’s get going.’
Owen reached out a hand to clasp hers as she passed him in the aisle, but there wasn’t time to do more than squeeze his fingers.
‘See you later,’ she mouthed before he was swept along towards the rear of the church.
She cast one final look towards him as Sam ducked through the smaller door into the vestry and saw a face that made her heart plummet. Standing among the assembled guests, staring as the sisters hurried away, was Joss Felstead. The man who’d broken Sam’s heart.
*
The Star and Sixpence filled up fast. Sam busied herself behind the bar, forcing Nessie’s whispered warning to the back of her mind. The news that Joss was at the wedding had caused an unpleasant lurch in Sam’s gut that had unsettled her more than she’d ever admit. It shouldn’t be a problem, she’d told herself fiercely as they’d hurried across the green towards the pub. He had just as much right to be at the wedding as she had; maybe more, since he’d been a Little Monkham resident for a lot longer than her before his sudden move to Chester. And relationships failed all the time – surely enough time had passed for them to be civil, if not quite friends . . .
All the same, Sam wasn’t ready to look into his familiar, summer-blue eyes when he appeared at the bar. A moment of panic clutched at her heart and she considered backing away, leaving him to Laurie. But then the corner of Joss’s mouth twitched beneath his beard, as though he knew what she was thinking, and she straightened her shoulders.
‘What can I get you, Joss?’
‘A pint of Thirsty Bishop and a glass of Prosecco, please,’ he replied, his expression as polite as hers.
Sam resisted the temptation to gaze over his shoulder for a plus-one; Nessie hadn’t been able to work out whether he’d been alone in the church, but the Prosecco suggested he hadn’t. It wasn’t any of her business who he’d brought, Sam reminded herself as she tucked a glass under the beer pump and heaved the handle slightly harder than was necessary,
‘Steady, Sam,’ Joss said, his sandy eyebrows raised as the beer sputtered and foamed. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten everything I taught you.’
She fought the rising tide of crimson creeping up her neck and eased her grip on the pump, pouring all her concentration into pulling the perfect pint. Don’t tip it over his head, she told herself sternly as she summoned up her coolest smile and placed the glass on the bar in front of him.
‘No need to pay,’ she said, waving away his money once the Prosecco was beside the beer. ‘It’s a free bar.’
‘Oh. Thanks,’ Joss said. His eyes lingered on her and, for a moment, he looked as though there was something more he wanted to say. But, instead, he simply nodded and picked up the drinks.
Sam turned away, hoping she didn’t look as flustered as she felt, and realised Laurie was watching her with undisguised curiosity. She allowed herself a small inward groan; round one to Joss. Her gaze flickered to the door that led to the kitchens, where Gabe and his little team were working hard on canapés and the buffet for the guests – at least he hadn’t witnessed her less-than-dignified first encounter with her ex. Then again, perhaps he wouldn’t care; there’d been precious few kisses since the one they’d stolen during the Taste of Autumn evening the previous month. Nessie’s morning sickness meant Sam’s workload had doubled and, together with the pressure on Gabe to get the restaurant menu up and running, they had both been too stressed and exhausted to manage much more than some half-hearted flirting whenever they met on the landing of the accommodation they shared above the pub. And now that the restaurant was running four nights a week, things were even more hectic; neither had time for a personal life – not with anyone. At least, that’s what Sam told herself. In her darker moments, she wondered whether Gabe had lost interest in her entirely.
Giving herself a brisk shake, Sam smiled at the next customer, who happened to be Owen. ‘Let me guess,’ she said, before the dark-haired Welshman could speak. ‘A pint of the Bishop, right?’
He flashed her a good-natured grin. ‘Am I that predictable?’
‘You are,’ Sam said, feeling some of her tension ease as she returned his smile. ‘It’s very soothing, knowing that some things never change.’
‘Happy to be of service,’ Owen said sombrely. ‘Kathryn would like a Silver Sixpence cocktail and Luke has asked for a Coke, but he’ll be getting an orange juice.’
As Sam busied herself with his order, she noticed him watching Nessie with a look of tender concern. And, for the first time, she felt a stab of en
vy at the way things had worked out for her older sister. Nessie had everything: a gorgeous home, a partner who adored her and a ready-made family that she was sealing with the new baby. And while the thought of motherhood filled Sam with horror, she had to admit she was quietly jealous of Nessie’s contentment. She didn’t begrudge her a moment of happiness, of course, but she couldn’t help wishing for a slice of that happiness for herself. Or at least a sliver of stability.
God, Sam thought, swirling the silver-coloured cocktail around the glass with a stirrer, I must be getting old.
She was grateful when the bar grew so busy that she barely had a moment to think. By the time Franny and Henry arrived, rosy-cheeked from posing for the wedding photographer in the chilly November air, the drinks were flowing freely and the waitresses were weaving their way through the crowd with trays of Gabe’s mouth-watering canapés. As Franny and Henry made their way around the guests, accepting congratulations, Sam made her way over to Nessie, who was collecting empty glasses.
‘Time for you to take a break,’ she said firmly. ‘Owen and Luke are over there – why don’t you go and sit with them, take the weight off your feet?’
Nessie looked as though she wanted to argue, then her hand curved around the small bump that had already started to show. ‘Okay, if you’re sure you can manage?’
Sam nodded. ‘I’ve got Connor and Laurie. We can spare you for a while.’
Her sister gave her a grateful smile. ‘In that case, I’ll do as I’m told.’
It wasn’t until Sam was behind the bar once more that she noticed Laurie was nowhere to be seen. There wasn’t time to track him down, however; several people were waving empty glasses at her. Gritting her teeth into something resembling a smile, Sam hoped Laurie had just nipped to the loo. This was no time to take an unscheduled break.
Laurie still hadn’t reappeared when the guests began to trickle out of the heated marquee on the village green. As the crowd thinned, Sam scanned the pub for her brother. She caught sight of him vanishing into the kitchen and was about to follow when she was accosted by Henry’s best man, demanding drinks to take into the meal. By the time she’d furnished him with several pints, the bar was empty enough for her to see Joss laughing with Tilly. He glanced over, catching her staring, and she couldn’t help muttering a not-quite-inaudible curse.
Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Page 9
