‘But you do need to limit the damage, just the same as I do. Myles says if we handle things the right way, we might still manage to find a way out of this.’
He might find a way out, Sam realised, not we, which was why he was so keen to take control and break the story before his wife could. The trouble was that in order to paint Will as a good man who’d made a mistake he bitterly regretted, Sam would have to be cast as a predatory bitch who’d knowingly had an affair with a married man. The media would want blood to spice up the story and if it wasn’t Will’s, it had to be hers. But she wasn’t about to throw herself on her sword: she might not have a high-flying career to protect any more but she still had plenty to lose.
‘I’m not meeting you,’ she insisted. ‘It will look bad if it gets out, like we’re cooking up a story to cover our tracks. And I really don’t want to be in the same room as you, not after what happened last time. Tell Myles I’ll speak to him instead.’
‘He won’t talk to you. He says he can’t represent both of us – conflict of interest.’
Sam felt her temper flare. ‘I’m not asking him to represent me. But if he wants me on board with this then he’ll have to communicate somehow.’
‘Okay, I’ll pass that along. We’ll get through this, don’t worry.’
The implication that the whole sorry situation was something they shared equal responsibility for was almost more than Sam could take. She gritted her teeth. ‘Goodbye, Will.’
‘Bye, Sam,’ he said, and his voice was suddenly filled with warmth. ‘It’s great to hear your voice.’
Sam hung up. With her hands folded in her lap, she sat perfectly still and waited for her anger to die down. As it began to fade, the practical PR side of her brain began to kick in. She needed to know how vindictive Will’s wife was likely to be, who she blamed for the whole mess and whether she was the type to go straight to the press. Sam rummaged in her bag for her little black address book. It was time to call in a few favours.
‘Earth to Sam, come in, Sam.’
Joss waved a hand in front of her face as they stood behind the bar on Friday morning, his face amused.
Sam started. ‘What?’ she snapped.
His smile drained away. ‘You were miles away. I thought you might like to know that the marquee’s going up. Look.’
He pointed past the few customers to the open door, through which Sam could see a gigantic white tent had begun to take shape in the distance.
‘Oh,’ she said, rousing herself. ‘Good.’
Joss frowned. ‘What’s going on? You’ve been snapping like a crocodile with toothache all week and your phone hasn’t stopped ringing.’ He held up a hand. ‘And don’t tell me it’s work stuff again because I’m not an idiot. Something is wrong, Sam, and I want to know what it is.’
She should tell him, Sam knew, before he found out through lurid headlines and wildly exaggerated claims. It had happened before they’d met, so technically it didn’t concern him, but he’d still be caught in the crossfire and so would Nessie. Sam was hoping it wouldn’t come to that; her sources suggested Marina Pargeter wasn’t the kind to air her dirty laundry in public. The danger now was Myles and his determination to own the story. In fact, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he leaked the news himself. The sensible thing would be for her to tell Nessie and Joss now, minimise the damage; if she was advising a client that was exactly what she’d tell them to do. But she was scared of how the two people she cared about most would react. Nessie knew some of it already, the bare bones but not the detail. Joss was oblivious to it all. Only Nick Borrowdale knew everything; he’d been the one she’d run to after packing up her office, a friend in her time of need, and she’d sworn him to total secrecy.
‘It’s nothing,’ Sam told Joss. ‘I’ve been stressed about the rooms being finished in time, that’s all.’
‘But they are,’ Joss objected. ‘And they look amazing, top of the range stuff. The cellar is bursting with stock for the wedding and everything is in hand. So why are you walking around looking like the sky is going to crash down upon our heads at any minute?’
‘I—’ Sam hesitated. She was going to have to tell him; she wanted to. But not here, where there were customers to overhear her toe-curling, shameful confession. Not now. ‘I suppose I am being a bit pessimistic. Sorry.’
His blue eyes bored into hers. ‘And you’re sure that’s all it is? You’re not angry with me over something I have or haven’t done, or something I’ve said or not said?’
Her eyes widened. ‘No! Honestly, it’s nothing like that.’
Joss stared at her for a long moment. ‘Okay,’ he said at last and his expression relaxed. ‘Just think, this time tomorrow, JoJo will be upstairs getting ready and Jamie will be somewhere, terrified beyond belief.’
Sam smiled in spite of herself. ‘How do you know? He might be looking forward to the best day of his life.’
‘That too,’ Joss agreed. ‘But he’ll still be terrified. All men are.’
‘In which case I’m amazed anyone ever makes it down the aisle,’ she said drily.
Joss laughed. ‘But that’s the best part – we feel the fear and do it anyway. Because when you meet the one, you know, and you don’t let anything stop you from spending the rest of your life with her.’
Now it was Sam’s turn to stare. ‘You really are a romantic, aren’t you?’
He stepped closer. ‘Yes. And just so we’re clear, I already know you’re the one. So give it a few years and it’ll be you getting ready and me feeling the fear.’
He bent his head to brush her lips with his.
‘Get a room, you two,’ Bryan from the butchers joked, across the other side of the bar.
‘Sorry,’ Joss called, stepping back with a wry smile. ‘What can I get you?’
As he walked away, Sam felt a shiver of anxiety work its way down her spine. She’d spent all of her adult life running away from commitment and it had found her anyway, in someone she’d never have expected. And the weird thing was, she wasn’t scared any more, not of settling down at least. Things felt right with Joss, as though she was where she was meant to be, and it made her heart sing to know he felt the same way.
She watched him laughing with Bryan and made up her mind: she had to find time to tell him what was going on and soon. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – risk losing him.
Not now she knew she loved him.
Chapter Seven
Nessie stood in the middle of JoJo and Jamie’s bridal suite on Saturday morning and gazed around. The room was dominated by a superking-size four-poster bed with exquisitely carved dark oak posts, complete with billowing cream curtains, fine Egyptian cotton sheets and plump inviting pillows. Later this evening the bed would be strewn with rose petals, and the antique claw-footed champagne bucket would be brimming with ice beside the bed. She crossed the room and entered the bathroom: a double-ended slipper bath gleamed under the dimmable spotlights in the sloping beamed ceiling. Fluffy white towels hung from the heated towel rail and a basket of Molton Brown goodies sat beside the twin sinks; Nessie had tested a few before buying them for the rooms and had fallen in love with the Gingerlily body wash.
Cleverly tucked away behind the tiled wall was a walk-through rainfall shower. The guest room next door had a similar layout with a teal blue colour scheme, no bath and a sleigh bed instead of a four-poster. Sam had insisted they spared no expense and Nessie had to agree the overall effect was worth it. The question was, would JoJo agree? Apart from the fact that it was her bridal suite, a good write-up from her would be worth its weight in gold.
Nessie had been up since five-thirty, unable to sleep, fretting about the day ahead. A couple’s wedding day was arguably the most important of their entire lives: what if she or Sam had forgotten something? A tiny detail that made everything else unravel?
That fear had mingled with her worries about Owen, another thing to haunt her dreams. She’d taken a cup of tea outside, cradling it as she watched the su
nrise over the eastern side of the village. Maybe it was time to take a step away from Owen. She knew Sam and Kathryn wouldn’t agree, nor Ruby for that matter – she was all about seizing the day and making every moment count. The thought made Nessie feel a little bereft, as though she’d uprooted a rose before it had ever truly begun to bloom, but it felt good to be making a decision instead of clinging on to a withering hope. She’d reclaimed a bit of herself, just like Ruby had told her to. And as the sun’s rays turned the amber walls of the Star and Sixpence to gold, Nessie came to another decision. She’d get a divorce from Patrick. Ruby was right; until she did she’d be in limbo.
So on the day when she’d be helping one couple to start out their married life, Nessie had downloaded a divorce petition, filled it in and printed it off, ready to be sent to the nearest court. Patrick would have to agree, of course, but she couldn’t see why he wouldn’t – their separation had been amicable, the result of drifting apart. And even though he’d sent her flowers on Valentine’s Day, she didn’t imagine he saw any kind of reconciliation in their future.
She’d spent a quiet half hour contemplating the end of her marriage and then she’d put on some make-up and prepared herself for what lay ahead. Now it was ten-thirty and there was no time left for anything; JoJo and her bridesmaids were due any minute.
‘Nessie?’ Joss’s voice floated up the stairs from the floor below. ‘They’re here.’
With a final glance around to reassure herself everything was where it should be, Nessie went down to welcome the bride.
‘How lovely to see you, JoJo,’ Nessie said, enveloping the petite blonde-haired woman in a warm hug. ‘You look radiant.’
JoJo laughed and patted her cheeks. ‘That’s what a chemical peel and Botox does for you. Having friends who are beauty editors really pays off sometimes.’
Nessie grinned – she’d never seen JoJo looking anything other than perfect. But today she had an extra glow, the kind only brides seemed to have. If someone could bottle that, they’d be an instant billionaire, Nessie thought.
JoJo looped her arm through her sister’s. ‘You already know Kate, of course, and these are my best friends, Brid and Amanda.’
‘Hi,’ Nessie said, smiling at the others. ‘Welcome to the Star and Sixpence.’
‘I’m so excited about staying here,’ JoJo went on. ‘When my parents told us you were opening the rooms upstairs to guests, I knew exactly where Jamie and I would spend our wedding night.’
Nessie spread out her hands. ‘In that case, let me give you the tour. I can’t wait to hear what you think.’
Upstairs in the bridal suite, JoJo stood open-mouthed in admiration. ‘Wow,’ she said, gazing around in delight. ‘This is amazing. Really gorgeous, Nessie, well done!’
‘I’ve had more than one sleepless night worrying whether we’d get it all finished,’ Nessie admitted, feeling shaky but relieved at the journalist’s praise. ‘At one point I thought Sam might actually punch the plumber.’
Everyone laughed. ‘I doubt even Franny could have fixed it if she had,’ JoJo said. She crossed the room to stroke the curtains on the four-poster bed. ‘Just look at this – Jamie’s going to have a hard job getting me out of it in the morning.’
‘I don’t suppose he’ll try too hard,’ Kate said with a wink. She glanced around. ‘No sign of the ghost, then?’
She meant Elijah Blackheart, Nessie realised, the ghost of an ill-fated highwayman who was said to roam the corridors of the sixteenth-century inn at night. Beside her, Amanda’s eyes widened.
‘Not so far,’ Nessie said. ‘Although I’m not supposed to tell people that. Sam says ghosts are great for the B&B business.’
Brid shook her head. ‘The only spirits I like are the kind you drink.’
Nessie smiled. ‘Let me show you the room next door. The champagne is already on ice.’
‘Wow,’ Sam said when she stepped outside just after lunchtime and saw the plumed white horses and the flower-decked carriage in front of the Star and Sixpence. ‘This isn’t just the wedding of the year, it’s the wedding of the decade.’
The driver, dressed in a grey morning suit with an azure blue cravat, tipped his hat. ‘Good morning. Lovely day for it.’
Nessie smiled. ‘JoJo and her party will be down soon. Can I get you a drink while you wait?’
The driver shook his head. ‘I daren’t spill anything down this suit. More than my job’s worth.’
Sam grimaced in sympathy – the temperature was about to hit thirty degrees, too hot to go without liquids for long. She hoped he had a water bottle stashed somewhere to swig from once he’d delivered the bride to St Mary’s. JoJo and Jamie planned to walk back through the village after the ceremony, greeting friends and neighbours who hadn’t been in the church as they went, followed by their families and guests. It was a lovely tradition, Sam thought. She only hoped the ladies had thought to wear sensible shoes.
JoJo’s parents had arrived just before midday. While Mrs Smith had hurried upstairs to help her daughter dress, JoJo’s father had promptly ordered a large whiskey and had been joined by a crowd of friends and well-wishers. Joss had been kept busy serving them until Tilly had arrived to take over, then he’d slipped over to the green to set up the beer and cider kegs outside the marquee. Sam had watched him go, conscious that she still hadn’t found the time to talk to him about Will. It would have to keep now, everything would. She wasn’t about to let anything jeopardise the smooth running of the wedding.
When JoJo appeared, both Sam and Nessie let out gasps of admiration. Her dress was brilliant white, fitted until it bloomed into a fishtail. A breathtakingly intricate lace bodice danced and shimmered with sequins and tiny seed pearls, flowing up to cover her shoulders and arms. Her long blonde hair was swept up into an elegant arrangement of loosely pinned curls. She looked perfect, as though she had stepped straight from the pages of a magazine.
Behind her, the bridesmaids wore the same azure blue as the carriage driver’s cravat. Mrs Smith came last, looking radiant in rose taffeta, carrying a hand-tied bouquet of peonies and roses.
‘You look beautiful, JoJo,’ Mr Smith said, hurrying over to clasp his daughter’s hands. ‘You make an old man proud.’
‘Dad,’ JoJo said, smiling. ‘You’re not even sixty yet.’
Mr Smith took her hand and tucked it underneath the crook of his elbow. ‘I feel old today. It seems like only yesterday I was changing your nappy.’
JoJo laughed but Sam saw her exchange a misty-eyed look with her father. ‘The carriage is ready when you are,’ she said.
It took two trips – Mrs Smith and the bridesmaids in one, and JoJo and her father in the second. ‘You should get going, Ness,’ Sam said, as they waved the carriage off with the bride and Mr Smith inside it.
Her sister nodded. ‘You’re sure you can manage?’
‘Of course,’ Sam said, giving her a little push. ‘Go and ogle Owen in a suit.’
Nessie’s smile faltered a little but she didn’t argue. ‘Okay. I’ll get back as soon as I can.’
Sam watched her make her way across the green: taking the direct route that would be quicker than the roads the carriage had to travel and she’d easily make it before the bride. Just as Sam was about to go in search of Joss, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and smiled when she saw the name on the screen. ‘Nick Borrowdale, how are you?’
‘I’ve just taken a call from a tabloid journalist about you, Sam.’ Nick’s voice was urgent and grim. ‘He wanted to know how I felt about being two-timed with the government’s married Morality Tsar.’
Sam’s smile vanished like the sun behind a rain cloud. ‘What? When?’
‘Around twenty minutes ago,’ Nick said. ‘What the fuck is going on, Sam? How do they know about you and Will?’
It was a good question, Sam thought numbly. Someone had obviously talked. But who – Marina Pargeter or Will himself?
‘Tell me everything,’ she demanded.
An hour later Sam greeted her sister at the door of the pub, feeling like she might throw up at any moment. ‘Nessie, I’m sorry to dump this on you but I’ve got to go.’
Nessie’s mouth fell open. ‘What? Go where?’
‘To London. Nick called – my secret is out. The Sunday Planet is running it on the front page tomorrow.’
She watched the blood drain from her sister’s face. ‘How?’
Sam tightened her lips: she had a pretty good idea what had happened but she wasn’t ready to share it with Nessie yet, not without the facts. ‘His wife has known for a while. I expect this is something to do with her.’
‘Sam!’ Nessie gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I don’t have time to explain,’ Sam said, feeling a stab of guilt at the hurt and bewilderment on her sister’s face. ‘You’ll be fine without me. I’ve asked Tilly to take care of setting up the bridal suite later and the caterers will look after the drinks during the meal. All you need to do is keep an eye on the bar staff and remember to smile.’
Nessie stared at her. ‘For God’s sake, Sam, how am I supposed to do that?’
Sam felt her eyes prickle with tears and blinked them away; she didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself now. She needed to get to London to confront Will and see if there was a way to stop the story from going to print. And if there wasn’t, she’d need the services of a bloody good PR.
‘Just do your best,’ she told Nessie, squeezing her arms. ‘It’ll be fine.’
Her sister gave a reluctant nod. ‘Drive carefully.’
‘I will,’ Sam said, hurrying out of the door.
The village green was beginning to get crowded. Sam craned her head, searching for Joss, but there were too many people in the way. She couldn’t see him. Once again, she regretted not having told him what was going on. He’d have to wait until she got back, she decided, heading towards her car. And she’d just have to hope he understood.
Summer at the Star and Sixpence Page 5
