Autumn at the Star and Sixpence

by Holly Hepburn

  Nick sighed. ‘It’s a good thing I don’t mind being objectified, isn’t it?’

  Sam sent him a level look. ‘You love it, Nick Borrowdale. Don’t pretend otherwise.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I have my costume sorted,’ he said, winking. ‘You won’t be disappointed.’

  Shortly after that, Connor and Tilly said goodnight and headed off. Nessie made her excuses and left Sam and Nick sitting beside the fire, talking over old times until Sam yawned and stretched.

  Nick took her hand. ‘You don’t have to, you know.’

  Sam felt her cheeks flush as she looked away. This was ridiculous, she thought, she’d spent the night with Nick plenty of times before and they’d always had a good time. Why was she suddenly coming over all coy and embarrassed?

  ‘I know.’

  Nick studied her. ‘I’ve put you on the spot by coming here.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s . . .’ Sam trailed off, not sure what was troubling her. And then it dawned on her: the problem was Joss. This was his territory; if she slept with Nick here it would seem disrespectful somehow. Although Joss hadn’t respected her very much, a little voice whispered, when he’d brought his new girlfriend to the pub. So did it matter very much if she slept with Nick again? Joss had moved on; it was time she did too. And who better to move on with than gorgeous, sexy Nick?

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said firmly. Slowly and deliberately, she leaned forwards until her face was close to his. ‘Shall we have some fun?’

  One hand cupped her face, drawing her closer still. ‘Only if you’re sure?’

  Her lips brushed his and she felt a slow burn start in her belly. ‘I’m sure.’

  Nick pulled her close and kissed her. It was new and familiar both at the same time. After a few moments, they broke apart. Sam’s breath felt ragged in her throat; she’d forgotten just how good he was. ‘So do you – uh – think that Prosecco will be chilled enough by now?’ she asked, gazing into his eyes.

  Nick smiled. ‘I think it’s going to be perfect.’

  ‘Good,’ Sam said, pulling him to his feet. ‘Let’s go and find out.’

  Chapter Six

  It took Sam a few bleary-eyed blinks to remember she was in the guest room upstairs, and a couple more to remember the sequence of events that had led her there. She twisted sideways to find Nick sprawled beside her, his dark hair tousled against the white Egyptian cotton bedsheets. There had been Prosecco, she recalled, and many long kisses. Then she and Nick had undressed each other, taking more time to explore than they ever had during their previous encounters. He hadn’t changed much – more toned and muscular than she remembered but essentially the same Nick. What was different was Sam’s sense that this meant more to him than it had before. Previously their nights together had been based on a shared sense of fun and mutual convenience but this time, Nick had sought her out, made a deliberate and long journey to be with her. This time the stakes felt higher and that troubled her.

  She checked the time: seven-thirty. Nessie would be in the kitchen preparing breakfast; there was no way Sam could sneak back to her room without being caught – not with the creaky floorboards that littered the route. Then again, she was pretty sure Nessie would have put two and two together already, a suspicion that was confirmed when breakfast for two was left outside the door just after eight.

  Sam woke Nick, avoiding the arm that tried to snake around her waist. ‘Breakfast. There’s a full English here with your name on it if you want it.’

  She lifted the silver cloche cover from the plate and the aroma of bacon rose into the air. Nick smiled. ‘Oh, I want it. But if my personal trainer ever asks, I had a protein shake and peanut butter on wholemeal toast, okay?’

  Nessie made no comment when Sam brought the empty trays down an hour later, her hair damp from the shower. She watched over the top of the newspaper as Sam loaded the dishwasher and poured herself a mug of tea.

  ‘How’s the weather looking?’ Sam asked as she settled at the kitchen table.

  ‘Not bad,’ Nessie said. ‘A bit crisp but that should burn off once the sun comes out. How’s our Mr Turner?’

  Sam couldn’t help smiling. ‘Fine, as far as I can tell. He says the bed is very comfortable and he’s happy to stay a second night.’

  Nessie fired a curious look her way. ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’ Sam replied. ‘I’m fine too.’

  ‘Not that,’ Nessie said dismissively. ‘The bed. What did you think of it?’

  ‘Oh,’ Sam said. ‘Very nice. The posts came in very handy when we—’

  Nessie held up a hand. ‘Spare me the details,’ she said with a delicate shudder. ‘As long as you didn’t break anything then I don’t need to know.’

  The only thing Sam was worried about breaking was her friendship with Nick. But this wasn’t the first time they’d spent the night together; surely that wasn’t going to be a problem? ‘We didn’t,’ she assured her sister. ‘Now, what’s the plan for today?’

  They discussed the day’s schedule: Connor was introducing a couple of new ales to encourage return visits among the beer aficionados, and come rain or shine, sausages and pretzels would be on sale in the garden, beneath the gazebo. In the evening, Sam had booked a live oompah band to perform and she was hoping they’d play some of the cheeky covers she’d added to the pub’s playlist: there was only so much traditional Bavarian music she could take in one day after all.

  ‘How about you?’ Sam asked her sister. ‘Will Owen be sampling some more of the ales tonight?’

  ‘No,’ Nessie said. ‘Kathryn has an overnight gig so Owen needs to stay in with Luke. He said he’d try to pop in tomorrow lunchtime.’

  ‘Good,’ Sam said in satisfaction. ‘You can tell him you accept his kind invitation to snog under the stars.’

  Nessie laughed. ‘It’s hardly that. But yes, I’ll tell him I’d love to come.’

  Sam grinned mischievously. ‘Everything comes to she who grasps it, Nessie. Trust me on this.’

  ‘You’ve got such a filthy mind,’ Nessie said, batting her arm with the folded-up newspaper. Then her expression softened a bit. ‘But it’s good to see you happy with someone again, especially after what happened over Will.’

  ‘It feels good,’ Sam said, pushing away the momentary pang when she thought of everything that particular mistake had cost her. ‘And it’s your turn next.’

  Nessie opened her mouth and Sam knew she was about to demur, to make some kind of self-deprecating comment. Then she smiled. ‘I hope so. I really do. There’s just the small matter of my divorce to settle before then.’

  Patrick, Sam thought, a prickle of irritation piercing her own contentment. The sooner Nessie got her Decree Nisi through, the better.

  Sam was on her way back from the butcher’s with a fresh load of bratwurst when she saw Joss heading down Star Lane towards her. She hesitated, thought about doubling back, and then squared her shoulders. It was time she and Joss acted like grown-ups and cleared the air instead of avoiding each other all the time. The Star and Sixpence was the only pub in the village, part of the community, and she didn’t want him to feel as though he wasn’t welcome. But Joss clearly had other ideas – the moment he saw her he turned around and hurried in the opposite direction.

  Sam sighed and continued on her way back to the pub. Clearing the air was going to have to wait.

  Chapter Seven

  Patrick’s accounts were driving Nessie to distraction. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said the business was in danger of going under – his income had dwindled away alarmingly and from the looks of things he had serious cash-flow issues. No wonder he seemed so keen on moving to Little Monkham, Nessie thought, passing a weary hand over her face; it must seem like the answer to all his problems. And it could easily be enough to convince him he still loved her – desperation did strange things to people, after all, and she and Patrick hadn’t ever really fallen out. They’d just drifted apart.

  She stretch
ed and wandered over to gaze out of the living-room window. The trees on the green were fully dressed for autumn now, their leaves a glorious mix of tawny and russet and red. A few leaves were swirling lazily across the grass but most had accumulated in piles around the base of the trunks, filling Nessie with the sudden urge to gather great armfuls to throw into the air. Soon it would be winter and a year since she and Sam had arrived at the Star and Sixpence. So much had changed . . .

  She still hadn’t explained the situation with Patrick to Owen. He’d popped into the bar a few days after Oktoberfest to let her know he and Luke planned to watch the meteors on Friday 21st and she’d almost told him then. But the middle of the pub felt too public for such a personal conversation, no matter how quiet it was, and she’d simply said she’d see what she could do. Sam had accused her of chickening out and Nessie hadn’t been able to deny it. And now it was the 18th. If she wanted to join Owen and Luke beneath the stars, she needed to come clean with Owen soon.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ Sam said, walking into the living room.

  Nessie turned around and her gaze came to rest on the haphazard pile of paperwork next to the laptop on the coffee table. ‘I’m going to need much more than a penny,’ she said with a sigh.

  Sam pulled a face. ‘Let me guess. Patrick.’

  Nessie nodded. ‘It’s a mess. I can’t believe he didn’t get anyone in to help him.’

  ‘Like he said, he didn’t want to admit he needed it,’ Sam said. ‘Typical man.’

  ‘It has made me wonder whether he really wants what he thinks he wants,’ Nessie said hesitantly. ‘For him and me, I mean.’

  ‘I must admit I’ve wondered that too,’ Sam said. ‘Obviously, I think he was crazy to let you slip away in the first place, but there’s something off in the way he’s acting, don’t you think? If he’s so keen to rekindle your relationship, why didn’t he say something earlier – when you first applied for the divorce, for example?’

  ‘He says he suddenly realised he didn’t want to lose me.’

  Sam sniffed. ‘That didn’t seem to worry him when you moved out. Look, Ness, I don’t mean to suggest he’s got an ulterior motive in all this, but I think you need to be careful not to get sucked in. By all means do what you can with the accounts. But don’t try to bail him out.’ She shook her head wryly. ‘He got himself into this mess, he can get himself out.’

  Sam was right, Nessie decided. She’d work out an action plan to turn the business around but she wouldn’t do the work for him.

  ‘Have you told Owen about any of this yet?’ Sam said.

  Nessie tried not to flinch. How did Sam seem to know what she was thinking? ‘No.’

  Sam glanced at her phone. ‘Go and find him now. It’s almost lunchtime, he’ll probably be ready for a break.’ She fixed Nessie with a determined stare. ‘Get it over with.’

  ‘He’ll be in the forge,’ Nessie objected. ‘I don’t want to interrupt him.’

  Sam let out a growl of frustration. ‘Dear God, Nessie, you can dither for England. Just go and do it. Now.’

  Taking a deep breath, Nessie did as she was told. She knew from years of experience that Sam didn’t let go once she had the bit between her teeth. And in any case, her sister was right. This was a conversation Nessie and Owen needed to have.

  The forge was warm when she slipped inside, although the fire beneath the wide steel hood on the far side of the room was banked low and burned a sullen red instead of its usual incandescent orange. As always, the air was faintly tinged with smoke and the scent of sulphur. Owen stood beside the workbench in one corner, polishing a beautifully twisted toasting fork in a vice. His grey t-shirt was smudged with dust and his expression was intent as he turned the blackened steel into burnished silver. Nessie watched in fascination for a few seconds; she loved seeing Owen at work, loved his total absorption in the task at hand. And she couldn’t deny that she’d found watching him swing the hammer hard enough to send sparks flying from a glowing piece of metal incredibly sexy in the past. It was probably a good thing he was engaged in a less-active task today. She didn’t need any distractions.

  She cleared her throat. Owen looked up. ‘Hello, Nessie,’ he said, lifting the protective glasses from his eyes and smiling. ‘What brings you here?’

  Nessie felt her mouth go dry. Now that she was here she didn’t want to talk about Patrick. She could make an excuse, invent a reason for her visit that had nothing to do with her husband . . . but then she’d have to face Sam. She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. Have you got a minute?’

  He stepped away from the workbench, his eyes concerned. ‘Of course. Let me just clean up and we can go somewhere a bit more comfortable.’

  They opted for a walk down to the bridge. Nessie didn’t waste any time – she knew that if she didn’t start talking immediately she’d lose her nerve. When she’d finished, Owen leaned against the stone parapet and studied her carefully. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to give things another go? With Patrick, I mean.’

  Nessie took a deep breath and met his questioning gaze. ‘I’m sure. And in time, he’ll see that it’s all for the best too. Sam says it’s time we all moved on.’

  Owen tilted his head. ‘She’s a wise woman, your sister.’

  They stood in silence for a moment, gazing at the branches swaying in the breeze, listening to the music of the river as it gushed under the bridge. ‘It doesn’t seem like five minutes since these were all green,’ Owen said after a while, as a flurry of crisp brown leaves cascaded by. ‘Nothing stays the same for long, does it?’

  Nessie hesitated. Did he mean the trees or life in general? ‘When I was young I used to feel sad when I saw the leaves all curled up and dead,’ she said, watching the leaves twirl. ‘Then one day, my mother explained that it’s all part of a bigger pattern. That the old leaves have to make way for new ones in the spring, so the tree can grow.’

  Owen’s eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘We can learn a lot from nature, don’t you think?’

  This time Nessie was sure he wasn’t just talking about the trees. She held his gaze and smiled. ‘Yes, I think we probably can.’

  Sam stared at the packed rucksack on the kitchen table in disbelief.

  ‘Bloody hell, Nessie, you’re going for a few hours, not a week!’

  Nessie folded her arms defensively. ‘Owen said to wrap up warm, so I’m taking our picnic blanket and the tartan rug. I’ve also packed a flask of hot chocolate, in case Luke wants a drink; three hot water bottles and a few snacks.’

  ‘Hardly anything at all, then,’ Sam said, shaking her head in amusement. ‘You’ve probably got room for the sink if you want it.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Nessie said. ‘Laugh if you want. But if I’m going to be spending the next two hours sitting in a pitch black field staring at the sky, I want to be properly prepared.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Sam conceded. ‘Hadn’t you better get going, though? It’s eleven o’clock already.’

  Nessie pulled on her warmest coat and hoisted the rucksack onto her shoulders. ‘Okay,’ she said, wondering whether the hot water bottles had been a mistake. ‘I’m ready.’

  Her sister smiled. ‘May the force be with you, or whatever that ridiculous saying is. And if the opportunity for a fumble under the blanket presents itself, then go for it.’

  ‘Sam!’ Nessie couldn’t help laughing. ‘All right, maybe I will.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Sam said. ‘There’s hope for you yet.’

  Owen and Luke were waiting at the door of Snowdrop Cottage.

  ‘Ready?’ Owen asked as Nessie reached them.

  ‘Can’t wait,’ she replied warmly.

  Luke showed no signs of tiredness as they walked, even though Nessie knew it was several hours past his bedtime. His gaze was fixed hopefully on the sky. ‘We might see a few meteors now, if we keep our eyes open.’

  At the edge of the village, away from the glow of the street lamps,
Owen handed out head torches. ‘The moonlight is helpful but we don’t want any accidents.’

  Luke grinned, his face pale beneath the brightness of his torch. ‘One year, Dad trod in a cowpat.’

  ‘Yuck,’ Nessie said, thinking of Sam’s insistence that she was off for an evening of romance: there was nothing romantic about cow poo. But she was glad she’d worn her wellies. She wasn’t looking forward to lying down in a field full of dung – picnic blanket or no picnic blanket – but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  As they got further into the field, however, she saw that she needn’t have brought any blankets at all. Owen had clearly been here earlier: laid out in the middle of the bumpy grass were three deck chairs, complete with pillows and thick fleecy throws. A wicker picnic basket rested beside them.

  Nessie turned to Owen. ‘You’ve done this before.’

  He smiled. ‘Once or twice. I’m not going to lie, watching the Perseid meteors in August is usually more pleasant but at least it’s not raining.’

  Luke threw his father a scornful look. ‘Obviously. We wouldn’t be able to see the sky if it was raining.’

  Nessie was just about to reply when a silver streak seared across the sky. ‘Oh!’ she gasped. ‘What was that?’

  Owen lifted the blanket from the nearest deck chair and ushered her into it. ‘It looks like the show’s about to start. Let’s get comfortable.’

  He draped the throw across her legs, taking the time to ensure she was snugly wrapped up, before settling into the chair beside her. Luke wriggled into position in the final seat and they sat for a moment, staring upwards.

  ‘Oh,’ Nessie said, rummaging in her rucksack. ‘I almost forgot. We should drink this before it gets cold.’

  She pulled out her flask. Owen grinned and reached into the wicker basket. ‘Snap,’ he said, holding up a flask of his own. ‘I think we’re sorted for hot chocolate.’

  Nessie grinned. ‘But did you also bring these?’ she asked, pulling out a bag of mini-marshmallows.