by T E kessler
He grinned at her. The waitress came over to remove their empty plates, and Beth took her time to covertly view Harry while the waitress fussed around the table. He’d filled out in the last five years. He wasn’t fat; he just wasn’t gangly any more. His hair was the same blond, but cut shorter. He had a scar on his eyebrow that hadn’t been there when she’d known him. She felt a wave of fondness for him. It engulfed her and made her realise the enormity of her decision to end their relationship five years ago. She’d been stupid. Utterly, utterly stupid.
Lara, at the age of twelve, had been right.
But, she asked herself, had she not ended it, would the Everson Pub Company exist? That was something that never could be answered.
‘How long have you been working at the Dog?’ he asked when the waitress went away.
‘This is my third year.’
‘When we met, you were in your last year at school,’ he said, his eyes dreamy as he thought back. ‘I was eighteen and thought I knew everything. My parents told me to stay away from you—and not because of their snobbery,’ he added quickly, holding his hand up as if to stop her from interrupting, ‘but because your dad came around to our house and told them he thought you were too young for a boyfriend of my age.’
‘My dad did what?’
Harry grinned. ‘He was always furiously protective of you. When that failed, he and I had “the chat”. Lord, it was embarrassing. Can you imagine, I was—or I thought I was—a super cool eighteen-year-old in my last year at school and your dad spoke to me about the importance of condoms and safe sex.’
Beth covered her face with her hands. She peeked through her fingers at him. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’
Harry laughed, picking up the dessert menu. ‘I’m going to have the salted caramel chocolate brownie. How about you?’
‘You can eat after all that food?’
‘Yup.’
Laughing, Beth wished her problems were a million miles away, but however hard she tried to relax and enjoy Harry’s company, there was always going to be a black spider-shaped cloud: Yash. She felt soiled. Harry would never understand, in fact, he’d be horrified if he found out, and then she’d never see him again.
‘What’s up?’ Harry asked.
‘Eh?’
‘You have a faraway look in your eye and you keep glancing at your phone. Is something the matter?’
‘Of course not.’ Beth picked up the menu and smiled brightly. ‘I’ll have a crème brûlée.’
He watched her intently for a moment until she pulled a face. Then he smiled. ‘Crème brûlée it is!’
‘So how many pubs does Everson have?’ Beth asked once the waitress had taken their dessert order.
‘Soon, hopefully, eleven.’
‘Hopefully?’
‘There’s a deal going through, so by Tuesday at the earliest it’ll be signed, and we’ll be the new owners of Novo in Kensington.’
‘Kensington? Wow. I’m so pleased it’s all worked out for you, Harry.’
‘It didn’t start off very grand. Dad’s first buy was two derelict pubs, and we did most of the renovations ourselves. We ran them ourselves, too, for a while, but then hired publicans when we realised we were making a pig’s ear of it. We bought a few nice places on the back of those, though.’
‘I don’t know what to say. I’m having dinner with my boss!’
‘Yep, so you better do as you’re told.’ His brown eyes twinkled, and she couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Seriously, though, I’ve been worrying about telling you. You’ve had tragedy after tragedy, whereas it looks like I’ve glided through sunshine. And Beth, I’m not doing this because you were once my girlfriend, but because I know you are a brilliant manager. I want to put you in charge of Rabbit Warren. It’s a pub in Bromley and—’
‘Bromley? You want to make me a manager of a pub in Bromley?’
‘Yes.’ He reached over to grasp her hands. ‘We could drive over there when we’ve finished here. I could show you around.’
‘A manager? Me?’ She frowned at him. ‘Why would you do that? I’m a barmaid.’ It sounded crazy; a far-fetched dream.
‘You’re more than that, and you know it.’
‘I… sorry, I know I don’t sound very grateful at the moment, but, Jesus, Harry, you can’t spring this on me! I have no qualifications. I can barely read and write!’
‘Rubbish! You read this menu without a problem, didn’t you? Anyway, academic qualifications aren’t what’s needed.’ He sat back in his chair, removing his hands from hers and leaving them folded in front of her on the table. ‘You’d be a very capable manager. I want to do something for you, Beth. Call it payback for all the time we’ve been apart.’
‘How would I travel there each day? It’s over an hour away, at least.’
‘You’d live there. You and your mum and dad. The private accommodation has six bedrooms with their own bathrooms, a large kitchen, dining room, study, and a lounge. It even has a private garden—’
‘And an hour away from Caring Hands. My mum loves it there—and what about my dad? He’d drink the pub dry.’ Her heart was pounding. One part of her felt offended that he thought she needed his help, and the other part knew an opportunity like this wouldn’t come to her again. But it would also mean it’d keep Harry in her life. A sharp pain shot through her head. It eased but began to throb uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t possibly accept.’
‘Why not? It’s the perfect solution.’
‘Can you imagine my dad living in a pub? If you want to do something for me, make me a manager of the Dog and Gun,’ she said quickly, before she lost her nerve.
He looked horrified. ‘If we can’t get a manager for it, we’re going to sell. And since the Jelvia incident, I think it’ll be the latter.’
‘But you can get a manager—me!’
‘It’s where a Jelvia killed someone. The pub won’t ever recover from that. Colin’s already admitted takings are down.’
At the mention of that night, she flushed, but she couldn’t help but agree with him. Business was down since a few of their regulars had absconded to another pub a street away from the Dog and Gun.
‘Why are you so cagey when I mention Jelvias?’ Harry asked.
Her eyes flew to his face. ‘I’m not!’
‘You are. As soon as I mentioned “Jelvia” your face changed, and you wouldn’t look at me. I know you said before you don’t want to talk about that night, but you know, I am here for you, and I’m a good listener.’
He reached across the table to grasp her hand again.
For a moment Beth thought he meant the night she spent with Yash, but then realised he meant the night Yash had come into the Dog and Gun and killed the man. All of a sudden, the pain in her head from this morning came back. It thundered into her scalp, causing her sight to go out of focus. It was over in seconds, but then Harry was cupping one side of her face with his hand.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘I’m… just stressed, what with Lara missing and my dad on the booze again.’
Harry didn’t look convinced. He seemed to be about to say something but, ruining the moment, the waitress came over with their desserts. Harry moved his hand and sat back. Beth touched her cheek, feeling the impression of his fingers on her skin.
‘It must be tough, but even more reason for you to let me help you,’ he said as the waitress left them alone.
‘By moving to Bromley?’
‘Why not? There are other care homes for Alison, and we could get your dad the appropriate help.’
Until Yash was out of the picture, Beth couldn’t move on in her life, and she didn’t know how long that would take. Would Yash allow the ‘deal’ to end once Lara was back—if she did come back?
Beth felt like the hole she’d dug for herself was collapsing on top of her. She could almost feel the mud on her face and the soil clogging her lungs. She reached for her water and took a gulp.
Putting it dow
n, she said, ‘I… thanks, Harry, but no. I can’t. Not yet. The time isn’t right for me, at the moment.’
Harry was silent a moment, his eyes on her face. Then he picked up his fork and began on his dessert.
‘I-I’m so pleased you’ve done so well for yourself,’ she said brightly, changing the subject so bluntly it made her wince. She picked up her spoon and cracked the top of her crème brûlée, but the thought of eating the sweet dessert made her feel sick. The easy atmosphere between them seemed to be gone. ‘But it proves my point that I was right in ending things with you.’
‘It still would’ve happened,’ he said after swallowing his mouthful. ‘Dad’s midlife crisis came because of Aunt Leigh’s death, not because you gave me the heave-ho.’
‘Were your mum and her sister close? Sorry, that’s a silly question. Of course they were. Your mum must have been heartbroken, and your uncle, of course.’
‘No, it isn’t a silly question. They were close when they were young, but Mum never approved of Uncle James. He wasn’t rich enough.’
Their pretence of easy chat was broken by Beth’s phone ringing. Beth had placed it on the table so she wouldn’t miss a call from Yash. And now, as she glanced at it, she saw her phone flashing his name on the screen.
She felt sick.
‘Aren’t you going to get that?’ Harry asked.
Beth’s eyes flickered to his and then back to the phone. Nodding, she mumbled an apology and left the table, holding the mobile to her ear.
TWENTY-NINE
Beth slipped outside where a handful of smokers stood to chat as they puffed in a cloud of smoke. She stood away from them.
‘Hello?’ she said into the phone. She saw a low wall and sat on it appreciatively, feeling her legs tremble.
‘I’ll keep this quick,’ Yash’s clipped voice said in her ear. ‘Phone or text me again and your sister stays missing. The debt, however, will still need paying. Understand?’
‘I—yes, I understand.’
He really was a nasty piece of work.
‘To be clear, I will contact you, not the other way round. Got it?’
‘Yes! Yash, I’m sorry, why are you so horrible? I thought we had—’
‘Had what? I’m just making it clear to you I’m not your friend.’
‘Okay, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again—’ She was talking to herself; he’d gone. She sat on the wall and looked down at the ground. The pain in her head had spread to her neck and nausea took hold. She closed her eyes as she battled with the contents of her stomach.
Her phone bleeped. She didn’t want to look at it, knowing it was Yash adding salt to her wound.
She looked at it anyway.
How much will Lara be prepared to pay me for her safe return, I wonder?
She jumped off the wall on a strangled cry. She felt the smokers glance her way, but she couldn’t take her eyes off his message. Tears filled her eyes.
Why couldn’t her life be simple? Why was it so fucked up?
She smacked her phone against her forehead, feeling a crushing panic seize her. Her lungs felt clogged. Her heart was thudding. It was banging against her chest wall, hurting, but that didn’t matter because she couldn’t breathe anymore anyway. There was a weight on her chest, and something filled her throat.
Distantly, she heard her phone clatter to the ground as she clutched at her throat. Lights blinded her, and a high-pitched rushing noise filled her ears.
She didn’t realise she’d fallen until she felt the coolness of the ground. She wasn’t unconscious—she was aware of the people around her.
On her side, Beth folded herself up into a ball. She didn’t know how long she lay there.
An arm slipped beneath her knees and another around her back, and then she was lifted.
‘Is she okay?’ someone asked.
‘Should someone call an ambulance?’ a female voice said.
‘She dropped like a stone,’ said another.
The voices washed over her and as sense returned, she realised she was being held in Harry’s arms. He placed her inside his car. Her head lolled against the backrest. She felt weak. So, so weak.
She felt someone very gently place a seatbelt around her.
‘Hey, Beth,’ Harry said. He sounded worried. ‘Can you hear me?’
She tried to focus on him. He looked blurry. ‘I… yes. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be daft. You fainted. Can I get you a drink of water?’
‘No. No, thank you.’ She tried to sit up but felt another wave of dizziness, and she fell back again.
Voices, rolling like waves, faded in and away again. She felt the car moving and tried to open her eyes. They felt weighted.
‘Hey, sleepyhead.’ A hand squeezed her knee, and she moved her head to look at Harry. His face looked grim. He took his hand from her knee to flick on an indicator. Beth struggled to sit up. Looking out of the window, she saw them pull up into a large carpark.
‘Where are we?’
‘Hospital.’
‘Oh, no, Harry. I’m okay, really. I don’t want to make a fuss.’
Harry ignored her and pulled into a parking space, then he was out of the car and lifting her out as if she weighed nothing. He kicked the car door shut and then strode with her into the hospital.
It wasn’t the nicest ending to a Sunday lunch, and as they waited in A&E, Beth began to feel better—and more of a fool for bothering the busy hospital staff. But Harry refused to take her home until she was seen.
‘What about the restaurant bill?’ she asked.
‘I left my business card. They’ll call me, and I’ll pay over the phone.’
Soon, she was in a cubicle with a nurse. Harry waited outside while she was examined. The nurse asked her all sorts of questions, then took her blood pressure and temperature.
‘I believe, going by what you told me—tightness of chest, difficulty breathing, speeding heart rate—that you suffered a panic attack which subsequently caused the faint. Have you suffered from them before?’
‘No!’ Panic attack? The thought was crazy. ‘I’ve never had one. Do they come on suddenly? I mean, could I get another one?’ The thought almost sent her heart-rate soaring again.
‘It’s possible, but now you know what to look out for, you can control it. Deepen your breathing, relax, sit down. Are you under any sort of stress right now?’
Now there’s a question! Beth almost giggled. Instead, she nodded. ‘My sister is missing. Nobody knows where she is.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, but that’s stress and a half! That could be the cause. And also, may I ask how much you weigh?’
‘Weigh?’
‘You’re very thin.’
Beth shrugged. ‘I’m busy. Sometimes I forget to eat, but I’m not unhealthy, if that’s what you mean.’
The nurse nodded. ‘Your friend outside mentioned you’d just come from a Sunday lunch. Sometimes, a large meal when your body isn’t used to it can send your blood sugar reeling. I’d like you to see your GP as soon as you can, okay? He might want to book you in for blood tests to rule out anything else.’ The nurse stood at the curtain, poised to pull it back. ‘Shall I let your boyfriend back in?’
Beth nodded and slipped off the bed. She reached for her jacket on the chair as the curtain swept back, and Harry came in.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked as the nurse left them.
‘A panic attack followed by a faint,’ Beth said and grimaced. ‘Sorry to ruin Sunday lunch.’
He took her jacket from her and helped her into it. ‘It’s not over yet,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take you home where I’m going to make you a sweet tea, lay you on the settee, and cover you with a blanket.’
‘Oh, the excitement!’
He laughed. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’
Harry seemed cheerful on the way home but Beth noticed, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, how his lips thinned and how his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Her dad wasn’t at home, thank goodness, but it wouldn’t be long before he was home with Alison. He usually picked her up from Caring Hands at six o’clock, and it was almost that now. They’d been in A&E for over three hours!
True to his word, Harry laid her on the settee and brought down her duvet from her bedroom. Beth refused the sweet tea, saying it’d make her sick. He sat down next to her, lifting her feet and laying them across his lap. He dug in his pocket and handed over her mobile phone. The screen looked scuffed.
‘You dropped it during your faint,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking it back from him.
‘It’s time for serious answers now, Beth, and I want you to be honest with me.’
She looked at him, startled. ‘I’m always honest!’
‘But maybe not entirely free with the truth then,’ he said.
She frowned at him. ‘I’m not sure what you mean—’
‘Yes or no. Is Yash the Jelvia who broke into your pub and killed that man?’
Beth pushed the duvet off her, suddenly feeling all hot.
‘You mentioned that name while we were in the coffee shop yesterday, and today, when your phone rang, I saw that name again. When you saw the name, you went as white as a sheet.’
Beth stared at him, still unable to speak.
‘Sweetheart, I want to help you,’ Harry said. ‘But how can I, if you don’t trust me?’
‘I do trust you. I just… I just…’ She picked imaginary lint off the duvet cover.
‘You’re scared of him, aren’t you? He was the cause of your panic attack, wasn’t he? What did he want? What did he say?’
His questions were too much. She swung her legs off his lap, but Harry was too quick. He moved and placed an arm across her waist, pinning her back on the settee. It kept her from running upstairs to her room, where she’d planned to lock herself in.
‘Beth, listen to me. I have to tell you this.’ He began to speak quickly as she struggled to free herself. ‘You probably don’t know, and why would you, he was unknown while we were going out, but my uncle’s name is James Sullivan.’
THIRTY
‘James Sullivan?’ she asked. ‘The James Sullivan?’