‘All right!’ Luke exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. ‘You can come with us again, Nessie!’
Once the hot chocolate was poured, they switched off their head torches and settled down to watch the sky. Nessie laid her head against the pillow and gazed upwards, glad of the warm fleece to ward off the chilly night air. The stars seemed much brighter here, away from the village, and they twinkled in a way she hadn’t really noticed before, as though they were trying extra hard.
‘Meteor showers are named after the constellation they originate from,’ Owen said softly. ‘In this case, that’s Orion. They’re made when debris from passing comets hits our atmosphere and burns up.’
‘How many will we see?’ Nessie asked, scanning the sky for tell-tale flares of light.
‘It’s hard to say – sometimes, it’s only one or two. But on a clear night like this, we could see between ten and twenty an hour.’
‘There!’ Luke shouted suddenly and Nessie caught a bright burst out of the corner of one eye.
‘I see it!’ she called excitedly. ‘Oh, and there’s another!’
It seemed as though they spotted one every few minutes after that. Some were brighter than others and Nessie found it was easier to relax than actively seek the flashes out.
‘Wow, that one was huge,’ Luke exclaimed, sounding every bit as thrilled as Nessie felt. ‘Don’t forget to make a wish!’
I wish I knew how Owen felt, Nessie thought, turning her face towards him even though all she could see was a faint pale outline. And then she felt a gentle tug at her blanket as Owen’s fingers crept underneath and wrapped themselves around her own. Nessie smiled in the darkness as a sudden burst of warmth flooded through her. Wow, she thought, turning her gaze towards the sky once more. The universe worked fast.
Chapter Eight
‘So?’ Sam demanded when she ran into Nessie on the landing the next morning.
‘It was lovely,’ Nessie replied, smiling. ‘I think the final count was over twenty, which Luke says is better than last year.’
‘I don’t mean the meteors,’ Sam said in exasperation. ‘I mean you and Owen. Did anything happen?’
Nessie thought back to the night before when Owen had taken her hand beneath the blanket. Sam clearly expected more but for Nessie, it had been enough. ‘Maybe.’
Sam groaned. ‘This is like watching one of those terrible period dramas, where everyone is too uptight to even flirt. Why can’t the two of you just get a room and have done with it? Then we can all get on with our lives.’
Her sister blushed. ‘There’s no rush, Sam. Owen and I are happy to take our time.’
‘There’s taking your time and then there’s taking forever,’ Sam said with a sigh. ‘Glaciers have defrosted faster than you two move.’
Nessie pushed past her and went into the bathroom. ‘If you must know, he held my hand.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing,’ Nessie said. ‘Like I said, we’re taking our time.’
She closed the door, leaving Sam staring at it in disbelief. She supposed it was a step in the right direction but at this rate, she’d be fifty before the two of them got together. It was time for another strategy meeting with Kathryn.
Sam was on her way over to Snowdrop Cottage on Saturday afternoon when she saw Joss coming towards her. Her first instinct was to keep walking but he had a determined air about him and she knew there was no escape.
‘Joss,’ she said in a brisk tone. ‘How are you?’
His blue eyes rested on hers. ‘Not bad. How are things with you?’
‘Fine. Busy, as always.’
He nodded. ‘Oktoberfest seemed to go well. You had a good selection of beer available.’
Sam shrugged. ‘I can’t take the credit for that; it’s all down to Connor. He’s great.’
Not as good as you, she wanted to say but she knew there was nothing to be gained from praising him. He’d made his choice in the summer.
Joss shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Well. Like I said, it seemed to go down well.’
Sam said nothing. Up close he looked even younger without his beard, although the lines around his eyes gave his true age away. She had seen those eyes crinkle with laughter so many times while they’d been a couple. They’d laughed a lot.
‘I saw you with Nick.’
It was a statement of fact, with no accusation behind the words, but Sam knew Joss well. He was needling her, trying to get a reaction. ‘And I saw you with your new girlfriend. What’s your point?’
He stared at her. ‘Nothing. I . . . I just wish you’d been honest with me from the beginning, Sam. If I’d known about you and Nick I would never have started seeing you, and we might all have been saved a lot of heartache.’
His mask of indifference slipped a little, giving her a glimpse of the hurt he clearly still nursed underneath. ‘There was nothing to tell,’ Sam said.
‘I read the papers. I know that’s not true.’
Sam growled in frustration. ‘It was all an act – Nick and I were friends. And if you hadn’t thrown your toys out of the pram, that’s all we’d still be now.’
She knew it was the wrong thing to say but she couldn’t help herself; his accusations hurt just as much now as they had months ago.
His expression closed and his lips set in a tight, thin line. ‘You act like I’m just a kid, Sam, when I’m only a little bit younger than you. And whether you like it or not, you’re just as much to blame for what happened with us as I am.’ His hands clenched by his side. ‘You kept things back, didn’t tell me about Will or that you were sneaking off to meet Nick in London. You weren’t honest with me – what was I supposed to think?’
‘You’re right,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I am equally to blame. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’
He paused. ‘Do you mean that?’
She laid her hand on his arm. ‘Of course I do, Joss. We were good together. I – miss you.’
Joss gazed at her for a moment, then shook her hand away. ‘I don’t get it. All I ever wanted was for you to let me in, to let your guard down. But you never really trusted me and that made it impossible for me to trust you.’
Sam stared at him in consternation. ‘I did trust you!’
‘Not enough,’ Joss ground out. He glanced across at the Star and Sixpence. ‘And you trusted Nick Borrowdale more.’
He turned on his heel.
‘At least he was there for me,’ she called. ‘At least he showed he cared!’
Joss stopped and spun round to glare at her. ‘I cared, Sam. That’s the whole bloody problem.’
He strode away, leaving Sam staring after him in shock. I cared too, she felt like shouting, except that she knew he wouldn’t believe her. He’d made up his mind about her the moment he’d found out about Will, and nothing was going to convince him otherwise.
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Kathryn said when she opened the door to Sam. ‘Don’t tell me Elijah Blackheart has been up to his old tricks again?’
Luke was convinced that the Star and Sixpence was haunted by the ghost of the sixteenth-century highwayman and Kathryn often joked about it. But this time Sam didn’t smile. She slumped onto the living-room sofa and put her head in her hands.
‘Why does everything in my life have to be so complicated?’ she asked. ‘Why can’t things just go smoothly for a change?’
Kathryn sat down opposite her. ‘What are we talking about here? Work? Relationships? A tricky new cocktail recipe?’
Sam shook her head. ‘Men. I just ran into Joss and – well – let’s just say I don’t think we’ll ever be friends.’
Kathryn raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s stubborn. And proud – it can’t be easy for him seeing you splashed all over the papers with Nick.’ She held up her hands as Sam started to speak. ‘I know why you did it. I’m just saying it fanned the flames of Joss’s anger, that’s all.’
‘His unfounded anger,’ Sam pointed out defensively. ‘Th
e thing with Will happened before I’d even met Joss, remember?’
‘I remember,’ Kathryn replied. ‘But he was always a bit jealous of Nick, a bit insecure over you. Knowing you and Nick are together now might be hard for him to take, especially if he’s realised he had no one to blame but himself.’
Sam frowned. ‘Do you think he has realised that?’
‘What – that he acted like an idiot?’ Kathryn snorted. ‘Plenty of people told him he had, so I imagine the seed has been planted. Don’t worry, he’ll calm down. Eventually.’
Sam took a deep breath and pushed Joss from her mind. ‘It doesn’t really matter if he doesn’t. How are things with you?’
Kathryn sat back. ‘They’re okay. I spoke to Owen, told him I wanted to do more gigs.’
‘And?’
‘And he took it well,’ Kathryn said. ‘So now we just need to find a way to get him out of the house and Nessie over here to babysit. Any ideas?’
Mentally, Sam flicked through the coming month. ‘We’ve got the Halloween Ball soon but obviously they’d both be attending that, along with Luke. Can’t you invite Owen to a gig, the way you did before?’
Kathryn tipped her head to one side. ‘I could. I don’t think he really enjoyed it but I could apply a bit of pressure, make him feel guilty for not being more supportive.’
Sam flashed her an admiring look. ‘I like your thinking. When’s your next gig?’
They compared diaries and picked a date when Sam thought Nessie would be free. Kathryn promised to get to work on Owen as soon as she could and Sam agreed to soften Nessie up, although she knew her sister doted on Luke and loved looking after him. The more Owen and Nessie were pushed together, the more likely it was they would give in to their obvious attraction and the happier everyone would be.
After plotting with Kathryn, Sam headed over to Weir Cottage to visit Ruby. She hadn’t been in the pub the night before and while that wasn’t unheard of, it was unusual. There’d been a nasty bout of flu working its way around some of the village residents and Sam wanted to be sure Ruby hadn’t fallen victim to it.
There was no answer at the front door. Frowning, Sam glanced at the windows, which were still curtained even though it was now mid-afternoon. Then she let herself through the side-gate; maybe Ruby was in the garden and hadn’t heard her knock.
There was no sign of her in the garden and the back door was shut too. Sam gave it an experimental rattle. It was locked. Shading her eyes, she peered through the window. What she saw made her blood run cold. Ruby was lying on the kitchen floor, motionless. A shattered bottle lay by her side.
Sam rapped sharply on the window. ‘Ruby!’ she shouted. ‘Can you hear me?’
There was no sign that she’d heard. Pulling out her phone, Sam called Nessie.
‘Does anyone have a key to Ruby’s cottage?’ she asked, the moment Nessie answered.
‘I – I don’t know,’ Nessie stammered. ‘I think Franny might have one, or maybe Joss – he used to take her home a lot when he still worked here. Why, what’s happened?’
Joss, Sam thought, why did it have to be Joss? But there was no time to worry about that now.
‘Phone them both and see if either of them can get over to Weir Cottage right now,’ Sam barked. ‘Ruby’s had some kind of accident but I can’t get in to help her. She’s not moving.’
She hung up on Nessie and immediately dialled 999. She could only hope it wasn’t too late.
Chapter Nine
Joss was out of breath when he met Sam by the cottage gate.
‘What’s wrong?’ he puffed. ‘Nessie said Ruby was hurt?’
‘I think she’s had a fall,’ Sam said, leading him to the back of the cottage. ‘The ambulance is on its way but I’m worried. She’s not moving.’
Joss’s expression was grim as he peered through the window. ‘Stand back,’ he told Sam, waving to one side as he lined himself up with the back door.
‘What are you doing?’ Sam asked in alarm. ‘Don’t you have a key?’
He shook his head. ‘I gave it back when I left the pub. Now keep out of the way. I don’t want you to get hurt too.’
Sam did as she was told, glancing down the side-path for Franny or the ambulance. There was no sign of either and every minute that passed could mean the difference between life and death for Ruby. She watched as Joss bunched his muscles and put his shoulder to the door.
The woodwork creaked but held under the first barge. Joss clenched his jaw and hit the door again, and again. On the third hit, the wood gave way and the door flew back. Joss tumbled inside.
‘Are you okay?’ Sam called, hurrying inside the cottage after him.
Joss rubbed and flexed his shoulder. ‘I’m fine,’ he said shortly. ‘Check Ruby.’
Sam knelt down carefully among the shattered glass and peered at Ruby. She was pale but breathing, her eyes fluttering beneath her strangely naked eyelids. ‘She’s still with us,’ Sam said. ‘Should we try to move her? Put her into the recovery position?’
There was a clatter from outside and Franny appeared, leading the paramedics. ‘Thank God,’ Sam said, exchanging a relieved look with Joss.
Sam went with Ruby in the ambulance. She’d wanted to speak to Joss, to thank him for his help but he’d been deep in conversation with Franny and there’d been no time, anyway; understandably, the paramedics were keen to get Ruby to hospital as soon as possible. They thought she’d fallen in the kitchen, hitting her head on the tiled floor and knocking herself unconscious. What was really worrying them was a suspected fractured hip but they couldn’t confirm without an X-ray.
So Sam had contented herself with sending a grateful smile Joss’s way as the ambulance doors closed, pleased when he’d nodded in reply. Maybe, just maybe, it was the start of a ceasefire between them.
Nessie stayed behind to clear up the mess. Franny offered to help but Nessie saw a gleam in the other woman’s eye that suggested she was itching to nose around and she didn’t think Ruby would appreciate that so she declined.
She packaged up the broken glass – from a bottle of decent Chablis – and mopped up the spilled wine. There was an empty gin bottle on the side, which she took out to the recycling bin and what she saw there made her pause. The black basket had five empty wine bottles and another large gin bottle nestling at the bottom. The recycling van called round on Thursday mornings, suggesting that this was two days’ worth of drinking for Ruby. Nessie bit her lip. She hadn’t realised it was so bad. No wonder Ruby had fallen.
Back inside the cottage, she opened up the cupboards, searching for cleaning products. There wasn’t much in the way of Flash but she found plenty of alcohol. It was everywhere she looked: stashed under the sink, in the cupboards next to the tins of soup, in the freezer. She even found a half-empty bottle of gin beside Ruby’s bed, a glass with a shrivelled-up slice of lemon at the bottom next to it.
Nessie collected everything she found and put it on the draining board. There were twenty-eight bottles of wine, port, vodka and gin. Some were open, others were still sealed. She stared at the collection in mute horror. Ruby didn’t just like a drink; she was an alcoholic, just like Nessie’s father had been.
Feeling sick, she poured the contents of the open bottles down the sink. Then she found some bags and packed up what was left. At some point Ruby would be coming home and Nessie didn’t want there to be a single drop of alcohol left in the house.
She did another sweep before she left, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. There was one room that was locked, a bedroom at the front of the cottage. Nessie rummaged around on Ruby’s dressing table, taking care not to disturb any of her precious make-up, until she found the key. She turned the handle slowly, dreading what she was about to find.
It was a shrine to Ruby’s acting days. There was no bed. The walls were lined with framed photographs – some black and white, some colour – of a much younger-looking Ruby with a plethora of famous faces. Nessie recognised all the greats
– Laurence Olivier, Cary Grant, a young Judi Dench and many more besides. There were other pictures too, of Ruby with a little boy, both of them smiling into the camera, and with a man Nessie didn’t recognise but assumed must be her husband. And then there were photographs Nessie hadn’t expected to find – ones of her and Sam when they were children. These must have belonged to her father, she guessed; Ruby must have rescued them from the pub after he’d died.
‘Oh Ruby,’ Nessie murmured, gazing at the pictures sadly.
Her gaze strayed to the desk beneath the pictures of her and her sister, to a neatly bundled parcel of handwritten envelopes. They were addressed to Sam and Nessie Chapman, at their mother’s address. All were marked ‘Return to Sender’ in defiant red ink.
Nessie didn’t know how long she stood there staring at the envelopes. Her mother had always claimed their father had vanished without trace and had never tried to contact his daughters again. The sight of those letters was proof that she’d lied. Nessie reached out a hand and traced her name on the uppermost envelope; for a moment, she was tempted to open them but even though they were meant for her and Sam, it felt somehow wrong to read them behind Ruby’s back. Once the other woman was back to full health Nessie would ask about them. Until then, the letters would remain where they were, unread and waiting.
The hospital confirmed Ruby had broken her hip. The operation to pin the fracture had to wait until her bloodstream was clear of alcohol, during which time Ruby was alternately charming or difficult. Sam and Nessie took it in turns to go to the hospital during the days that followed but she had no shortage of visitors; when it came to looking after their own, Little Monkham rallied round.
By the time the evening of the Halloween Ball rolled around, decorating the Star and Sixpence was the last thing Sam and Nessie felt like doing. But the guests would be arriving soon, incognito and expecting a bloodthirsty evening – there was no way they could cancel.
Nick arrived just as Sam was dangling glittery spiders from the ceiling. He pulled on a black tricorn hat low over his eyes and glowered up at her. ‘Elijah Blackheart, at your service, ma’am,’ he rasped. ‘If you’d just hand over all your jewels and valuables I’d be much obliged.’
Autumn at the Star and Sixpence Page 6