‘Listen, Sam, we need to talk—’
She didn’t wait to hear any more. With a savage stab, she ended the call and switched the phone off. A second later, she buried it beneath a cushion and went back to her interior design plans. But she could sense it there, glowing like a radioactive particle, poisoning her with its presence. Abruptly, she stood up and went downstairs.
She left the phone where it was.
‘The wedding caterer called,’ Nessie announced later that afternoon in the bar. ‘They want champagne and Pimm’s for welcome drinks, more fizz for the speeches, plus Chablis for the starters and Shiraz for the main course.’
Sam wrinkled her forehead. The bride, JoJo, had grown up in Little Monkham, although she was now a journalist in London, and both Sam and Nessie had got to know her during her frequent visits to plan the wedding. The day was going to be a whole village celebration, with the ceremony at St Mary’s Church and a huge marquee on the green outside the Star and Sixpence afterwards. Her parents were stalwarts of the Preservation Society and Franny had let it be known that anything less than a perfect day would not be tolerated. The rumour was that she’d even considered getting the grass on the village green dyed, to make the wedding photographs look even more stunning. The PR girl in Sam thought it was a great idea.
‘So let’s say a hundred bottles of champagne, thirty Pimm’s and fifty each of the Chablis and Shiraz. Joss is setting up beer and cider kegs on the green but I’ll get him to double stock everything else in the cellar too, just to be safe.’ Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘We don’t want the wedding of the year to run dry.’
Her sister looked anxious. ‘I’m not sure our credit limit will stretch to all this.’
‘Just explain that we’re catering for a big wedding and need a temporary increase,’ Sam said patiently. ‘They’ll understand. Oh, and we’ll need a few bottles of vintage champagne – some for the bridal party before the wedding and one to leave in the bride and groom’s room.’
‘And that’s another thing,’ Nessie said. ‘Are you sure the rooms are going to be ready in time? I don’t want JoJo and Jamie to spend their wedding night in a building site.’
Sam took a deep breath. It was just like Nessie to fret when there really was no need. ‘This time next week the builders will be finished. Then we can get the new carpets laid and the furniture in. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.’ She smiled. ‘In fact, it’s going to be perfect. What better way to launch a B&B than by hosting the travel editor for The Observer on her wedding night?’
Nessie hesitated, then smiled too. ‘Okay, I’ll stop worrying and phone the wholesaler.’
‘Great. Don’t forget Joss and I won’t be around tonight.’
‘Doing anything nice?’
‘Not exactly,’ Sam replied wryly. ‘The Friday Night Film Club is showing Star Wars in the church hall. Hey, Owen and Luke are going, why don’t you come too? We’ll be the only sane people there.’
‘Oh, I don’t think that’s a good—’ Nessie said, shaking her head.
‘Of course it is,’ Sam cut her sister off before she could think of a plausible excuse. ‘Tilly can cope here, especially since most of the village will be over at the hall. And we’ll only be a few minutes’ walk away.’
‘Even so—’
Sam swallowed a groan of frustration. Nessie was her sister and she loved her dearly but sometimes she wished she could shake the caution out of her. ‘Nothing’s going to happen between you and Owen unless you spend more time together,’ she said, as gently as she could. ‘And tonight is a perfect, no-pressure way to do that. So come and watch the film.’
Conflicting emotions chased each other across Nessie’s face before she finally nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Good,’ Sam said in satisfaction and fired a wicked look her sister’s way. ‘And who knows, if you’re really lucky he might show you his Millennium Falcon.’
Joss had dressed up. He wore a beige wraparound tunic, baggy cream trousers and his coppery blond beard had been groomed to perfection. From the look on his face, he also expected Sam to know which character he was.
‘The lightsaber is a clue, isn’t it?’ she said as they walked to the church hall.
Joss stretched out a solemn hand towards her. ‘The force is strong with this one.’
Sam tried a guess. ‘I don’t know. Are you Harrison Ford?’
His fingers dropped to his side. ‘I can’t believe you’ve never seen Star Wars.’
‘It’s a bit before my time. I’m more of a Toy Story girl,’ she said. ‘If the film club ever show that, believe me I am there. You should see my Bo Peep.’
‘But it’s a classic!’ Joss insisted. ‘Everyone’s seen it. Nessie!’ he called, as they reached the hall. ‘You’ve seen Star Wars, right?’
‘Oh yes,’ Nessie said. ‘Approximately three million times, I think.’
‘See?’ Joss said. ‘How can your sister have seen it that many times when you’ve never even watched it once?’
Sam spread out her hands. ‘Because Nessie married Patrick and Patrick was a nerd. I have never dated a nerd so I’ve never been forced to watch dodgy sci-fi films.’ She grimaced. ‘Until now.’
He stared at her, outraged. ‘Take that back. Star Wars is the best film of all time. It’s got everything – adventure, thrills, laser swords that sound like a swarm of bees on speed.’
Nessie laughed. ‘You’ll get no argument from me, I love it too.’
Owen appeared behind her, with eight-year-old Luke at his side. ‘And obviously we’re fans.’ He ruffled his son’s white blond hair. ‘It’s where this one got his name, although if his grandmother ever asks, he’s named after the saint.’
Luke was dressed like a smaller version of Joss and carried the same blue lightsaber. Sam’s gaze flickered back to Joss. ‘Luke . . . Stormtrooper?’
Joss shook his head. ‘Come on,’ he said, leading her towards the door of the hall. ‘It’s time to begin your education.’
Inside, Sam groaned when she saw Owen’s sister, Kathryn, had saved them front row seats – no sneaking out unseen halfway through. Kathryn had also dressed up, as the princess with the ridiculous hair. Sam waited until the opening text began to roll across the screen before leaning towards Nessie. ‘I’ve changed my mind about Owen – the Rhys family are clearly a bunch of nutters. Get out while you still can.’
Nessie grinned. ‘Give in to the dark side, Sam. We’ve got popcorn.’
‘So, are you a convert?’ Joss asked as they strolled with the rest of the filmgoers beneath a sliver of moon on their way back to the pub. ‘Can I tempt you with The Empire Strikes Back on DVD?’
‘It wasn’t as bad as I was expecting,’ Sam admitted in a grudging voice. ‘I still don’t know who you’re dressed as, though.’
Joss laughed. ‘To be fair, he doesn’t look anything like this in the film we just watched. But it doesn’t matter.’
Up ahead, Luke stopped pretending to carve the air with his lightsaber. ‘He’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, but the young version, from the prequels,’ he called. ‘Watch out for him, he can do mind tricks.’
‘I can,’ Joss said. He lowered his voice. ‘I bet I could even persuade you to sleep with me tonight if I wanted to.’
Sam raised her eyebrows. ‘If you wanted to? I don’t think there’s ever been any doubt about that, Joss Felstead.’
‘Not the night before the match,’ Owen said over one shoulder. ‘We’re playing Lower Seddon in the Shropshire Village Cricket League tomorrow and Joss is our star bowler. We need him to be as fresh as he can be.’
Joss grinned and winked at Sam. ‘Trust me, Owen, I’m a Jedi.’
The Little Monkham cricket team was a haphazard mix of a few good players and a lot of others who thought they could play or had been good once upon a time. They played their home matches on the village green and as the Star and Sixpence was the unofficial clubhouse, Sam and Nessie soon realised they were expected to provide lunchtime refreshments
for the players. Although now that Sam had seen Joss thundering down the wicket to bowl a few times, she didn’t mind quite so much and often sneaked out to watch: who knew cricket could be sexy? She didn’t suppose Nessie minded either, not when it gave her the perfect opportunity to watch Owen flex his delicious blacksmith muscles with a cricket bat.
She watched the two of them now, walking ahead of her, their fingers tantalisingly close to touching. Anyone could see they fancied each other; if only one of them would take the other’s hand, make the first move, she was sure the laws of attraction would take care of the rest. If Sam had been Nessie she’d have gone for it with Owen months ago, on their first date after Valentine’s Day. But she wasn’t Nessie and she just had to accept that her sister had a different way of doing things: a less direct, more circuitous, infuriatingly hesitant way. The trouble was that Owen also seemed happy to take the long way round – if they weren’t careful, they’d be so busy taking things slowly that they’d end up in the dreaded friend zone, each feeling it was too awkward to make a move.
Something was needed to force the two of them together, Sam decided. Something or someone . . .
Chapter Three
The Saturday morning sky held the promise of the perfect summer’s day. By ten-thirty there was already a shimmering haze over the middle of the green and the breeze that had set the pub sign swaying was gone. Nessie stood in the doorway of the Star and Sixpence, watching a pair of blue tits swoop over a cluster of deck chairs nestled outside the freshly laid boundary rope. In half an hour the chairs would be occupied and the air would be filled with the resounding smack of bat on ball and a smattering of polite applause. It was quite possibly the most English scene Nessie could imagine.
A flicker of movement caught her eye: Kathryn and Luke at the door of Snowdrop Cottage, framed by freshly bloomed wisteria. Kathryn waved when she saw Nessie and the two of them walked across the yard outside the forge to meet her.
‘It’s going to be a hot one,’ Kathryn observed. ‘Too hot for running about chasing a ball.’
Nessie smiled. ‘You’ll get no argument from me. I’ve got some cold lemonade inside if you’d like some?’
Luke nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, please.’
‘I wouldn’t say no,’ Kathryn said, then shielded her eyes and looked towards the war memorial on the far side of the green. ‘It looks like there’s a crowd on their way. We’d better grab a spot.’
They headed for the chairs. Nessie went inside to pour the lemonade and was just adding a straw to Luke’s when an elegant voice floated across the bar. ‘Who does a lady have to sleep with to get a G and T around here?’
Nessie turned. ‘Good morning, Ruby. Come to watch the cricket?’
Her late father’s girlfriend was dressed in typically glamorous fashion: a wide-brimmed hat covered her glorious red hair and enormous dark glasses shaded her eyes. She looked every inch the faded actress – far too dazzling to belong in Little Monkham.
‘Of course, darling,’ she said, reaching up to lower her sunglasses with a crimson-tipped finger. ‘It takes me back to the garden parties Larry Olivier used to hold – one of the boys would always dig out a bat and before we knew it the greenhouse was smashed to smithereens.’
Nessie smiled. One of her favourite things about Ruby was the stories she told about her days as a star of the British acting scene. Sometimes, Nessie tried to picture Ruby and her father as a couple but she could never make the scene work: her memories of Andrew Chapman were of an incoherent alcoholic who’d never quite loved his wife and family enough, and left when he was forced to choose between them and the drink. Ruby, on the other hand, was charming and vivacious and even though Nessie knew her father had tried hard to change in his later years, she still couldn’t grasp what someone as full of life as Ruby had seen in him.
‘I hope there’ll be no broken windows today,’ she said, pouring Ruby’s gin and adding a minimalist splash of tonic, the way she knew she liked it. ‘Martha says she’ll have Owen’s guts for garters if the bakery window gets hit again.’
Ruby reached for her drink and took a long sip. ‘Perfect,’ she said, smacking her lips together. ‘Olivier would simply have adored you.’
Nessie led the way outside, where the deckchairs were filling up and blankets were being spread across the grass. She made sure Ruby had a seat and passed the lemonade to Kathryn and Luke before hurrying back inside. The heat would make everyone thirsty and trade would be brisk.
Sam and Nessie took it in turns to tend the bar. At lunchtime, Nessie brought trays of sandwiches down to the bar and laid them out for the players, along with cold meats and cheese. Between the teams and the spectators, the pub was pleasingly busy. Nessie felt her stomach flip more than once when she caught sight of Owen in his cricket whites.
‘If only I was twenty years younger,’ Ruby sighed, following Nessie’s gaze. ‘There’s something sexy about a man in sports kit, isn’t there? Not that Owen needs any help in that department, but even old Henry Fitzsimmons looks better.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I can almost see why Franny is so taken with him.’
‘Mmm,’ Nessie agreed, keeping her face poker-straight. She didn’t like to think what would happen if Ruby turned her charms on Henry. Armageddon, probably.
Kathryn was at the bar, deep in conversation with Sam. They broke off as Nessie approached. ‘What are you two cooking up?’ she asked, dumping a handful of empty glasses on the bar.
‘Nothing,’ Sam said innocently. ‘Kathryn was just telling me how gorgeous the bluebells in the woods are at this time of year.’
‘They’re like an ocean,’ Kathryn said, her Welsh lilt dancing. ‘Ask Owen if you don’t believe me.’
Nessie glanced across at him at exactly the moment Kathryn called out. ‘Owen! Come and tell Nessie about the bluebells.’
His dark eyes met hers. Smiling, he excused himself from the other cricketers and came towards her. ‘Thanks for the delicious lunch, Nessie; you’ve done us proud again. Now, what do you want to know about the woods?’
Sam got in first. ‘Nessie was just saying how desperate she is to see the bluebells,’ she said, lightning-fast.
‘And I was telling her how you know all the best places in the woods to find them,’ Kathryn went on. Her eyes widened, as though something had just occurred to her. ‘Hey, I know, why don’t you take Nessie to see them? The weather is meant to be glorious tomorrow.’
Nessie felt her insides squirm with embarrassment. It wasn’t the first time Sam and Kathryn had tried their hands at match-making and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last, but did they have to be quite so obvious?
‘Luke has football in the morning,’ Owen said and hesitated. ‘And you know what tomorrow is.’
‘Of course I know.’ Kathryn fixed a determined gaze on her brother. ‘It’s just a walk in the woods, Owen. You’re always telling me that they look their best in the morning light.’
When he still didn’t seem convinced, she touched his hand. ‘Go. I’ll take Luke to football.’
‘And I can manage here,’ Sam said, evidently anticipating Nessie’s own objection to the idea. ‘You could take your time, maybe even have a picnic. No need to rush back.’
Owen shook his head and fired a rueful smile at Nessie. ‘Do you ever get the feeling you’ve been set up?’
Nessie turned hot and cold. Oh God, he thought she was in on this, didn’t he? Poor Nessie, so desperate for a date that she got her sister and her friend to trick him into taking her out. She wanted the ground to swallow her up. ‘Don’t feel you have to,’ she mumbled, fighting for composure. ‘I’m sure I can find them on my own.’
His gaze was steady. ‘I have no doubt you can. But the thing I’ve noticed about nature’s beauty is that it’s often better when you have someone to share it with.’ His eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘Would you share it with me, Nessie?’
She stared up at him and the resolve she had to make an excuse – any excuse �
� melted away. ‘What time do you want to leave?’
When Nessie entered the kitchen at eight-thirty the next morning, she found a wicker basket packed with fresh fruit and croissants and tiny pots of jam, and an enormous tartan blanket pinned with a note. What could be more romantic than a picnic in the woods? Just saying.
Half smiling and half frowning, she stepped into the hallway and gazed at Sam’s door. It was firmly closed, with no sounds indicating movement on the other side. Shaking her head, Nessie went back to the kitchen. It was a smart move, she thought; her sister must have known that Nessie wouldn’t be rude enough to leave it behind. Nothing to drink, she noted, as she weighed the basket in one hand. Sam was probably being practical, trying to keep the weight down. Or maybe Owen had found a bottle of something on his kitchen table – that sounded more like her sister’s style. Grabbing some water from the fridge, she went to see if her suspicions were correct.
Owen was waiting at the edge of the green. ‘Let me take that,’ he said the moment she was near enough and took the picnic basket from her.
‘Why don’t we swap?’ she said, taking a cool bag with what looked like a champagne bottle peeking out of the top. ‘Let me guess – a present from Kathryn.’
Owen nodded. ‘I found it in the kitchen, with a note saying: “Drink me”. There’s some freshly squeezed orange juice too.’
‘We can make Buck’s Fizz,’ Nessie said. Drinking champagne on an empty stomach wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
‘Good idea,’ Owen said and gestured across the green. ‘Shall we?’
The sun was every bit as strong as it had been the day before. If the weather held for the wedding it would be fabulous, Nessie thought, although she knew JoJo had left nothing to chance; come rain or shine, guests would be able to shelter inside a vast luxury marquee, where they’d dine and dance until midnight. The wedding breakfast was restricted to family and friends but the whole village would join the evening celebration, with a free bar courtesy of the bride’s parents. It really did promise to be the wedding of the year.
Summer at the Star and Sixpence Page 2
