by Con Riley
“No?” Jude asked, breath caught behind his ribs, not sure how to continue a conversation that might expose part of his life that he’d kept separate from home. “You sure?” Jude probed, remembering the way Rob had shifted over in bed as if used to sharing space with his sister. Rob could be bi, after all; the society pages of the Sunday papers had papped him with plenty of women. “You do like him though?”
“Of course I do.” Louise’s arm dangled from the side of her bed to prod at him as if checking that he truly was there. “But not that way. I’m not his type.”
“No?” This turn in the conversation couldn’t be worse. If Jude hadn’t been dead on his feet, he’d think of a way to change the subject; steer it away from dangerous rocks he’d spent years navigating.
Louise squeezed his hand as she proved Jude wrong, the conversation worsening more than he ever imagined. “I don’t think he’s ready,” she said around her next yawn.
“Ready for what?”
“To fall in love again,” Louise murmured. “Not after his heart got so badly broken, last time.”
3
Jude woke knowing that something was wrong. Very wrong. The Aphrodite was far too still in the water, not even a gentle rock beneath him. There wasn’t the creak of guests above his head either, taking in the view on deck before he served their breakfast.
Shit.
Breakfast.
He sat, disorientated all over again by not seeing the snug confines of his quarters. No, this was a room his mum used to let out for bed and breakfast, unchanged down to its faded wallpaper and sink in the corner. Now it was filled with his sister’s belongings, his duffle next to a stack of cardboard boxes. He glanced through one as he quickly dragged on some clothes, noticing several of the college textbooks missing from his old room. Another box held random knick-knacks. He pulled out a mug Louise had gifted him for a past birthday.
World’s #1 Worst Brother.
She hadn’t been wrong about that.
He carried it with him as he headed for the stairs, stopping on the way to peer through the doorway of his old room again. The decor certainly was an upgrade, a stylish blank canvas compared to the way he’d left it, but finding his life boxed up still left him unsettled. Mug in hand, he continued down the hallway.
The eaves sloped in Louise’s old bedroom, oak wall beams visible where she used to pin up distance swimming rosettes, splashes of gaudy ribbon now conspicuous by their absence. Instead, more new artwork hung on the walls. He admired one depicting much calmer waters, its turquoise-green shades also visible outside this room’s window. The anchor motif was also repeated, he noticed, dotting new curtains that framed the view, another heading a breakfast menu set on the bedside table.
He picked it up to read the price of a full-English fry-up. “How much!” Jesus, it was four times what his mum had charged their usual tourists—working-class families who saved all year for a week at the beach campground. There was no need to charge them the earth, his mum had always said. That way, they’d come back for their lunch and dinner. “Eighteen fucking fifty,” he muttered under his breath. That showed how little Rob knew, charging London prices for a much more down-to-earth demographic. And what was with all this New Anchor signage? Okay, Jude had been gone for a while, and he’d had a lot on his mind, but if Louise had even once mentioned renaming their home, he would have remembered. The downturn in profits couldn’t have been helped by so much needless rebranding.
He stepped into the hallway, menu and mug both in hand, to be faced with the door to his parents’ bedroom.
He backed away rather than open it. She wouldn’t have touched anything in there, at least. No, the pub would have to be on the verge of closure before Louise would take down the maps that papered those walls, or box up their possessions.
A door opened and closed downstairs, a man’s voice calling out for his sister.
Rob.
Jude turned his back on his parents’ room and followed the sound of his sister’s answer. He found them both in the kitchen poring over a crate of shellfish, another reason why their bank balance could be under pressure. He paused in the doorway to see Rob pluck a lobster from the crate, pretending it might nip Louise’s nose. They made a pretty picture, his sister smiling and flushed as Rob beamed at her.
God, but he looked good.
So good.
In daylight, it was even more apparent, his eyes as dark as his hair, stubble a sexy shadow defining his jaw. Rob tucked a strand of frizz behind Louise’s ear, gentle, and Jude spoke up, more abrupt than he intended. “How much did that lot cost?”
Louise startled at his voice, Rob putting himself between her and Jude as if he was a threat rather than her only brother. Louise stepped out from behind him, flustered. “Much less than you’d think,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Rob’s doing a deal with Carl. Said he’d cook special meals whenever he wanted if he gave us a big enough discount for the rest of the season.”
That didn’t seem likely. Carl might’ve been like an uncle to him and Lou, but he also drove a hard bargain. Before he got the chance to say so, Rob extended a hand. “Good to see you again, Jude.” His lips only lifted slightly like Jude wasn’t worth investing in a whole smile. His eye contact was direct if much cooler than it was the last time they’d seen each other. “At last,” Rob added, a quiet rebuke Jude wasn’t about to take without comment.
“I told Lou I’d be back for the summer season. So thanks for filling in, but I’m here now to take over.” He pulled the crate of shellfish across the new steel bench towards him, holding tight as though that might stop him from feeling adrift in a home that wasn’t anything like he remembered.
“Weren’t you supposed to be back long before now?” Rob shrugged before adding, “Seems like I’ve been the only chef in this kitchen for months.” He tugged the crate back to his side of the workbench. “You had time to work on your tan, I see.” Then he inclined his head to the doorway. “Be a shame if it faded. If you hurry, there might be another yacht along soon to stow away on.”
“You’re seriously telling me to get out my own kitchen?” Jude mirrored Rob’s head tilt. “There’s a bus to Truro at noon. If you hurry up and pack, you can still catch it. Get the next train to London from there, back to where it’s easier to part fools from their money.” There was no excuse for what he said next; even running on emotional fumes for so long was no justification for outright rudeness. “If you want a restaurant of your own so badly, go run back to Daddy. He’d give you one of his, even though you don’t deserve it.”
“Jude!” Louise’s bark was shocked. “A word,” she said, waiting at the door until Jude followed. His last glance over his shoulder showed Rob’s full smile restored as if he’d enjoyed their sparring; instantly infuriating.
Louise was equally angry. She gave it to him with both barrels once the door was closed behind them. “What the hell was that about? You were so rude to Rob,” she said, as if Jude had kicked a puppy.
“We don’t need him.” Jude could tell he sounded brusque, but it needed saying. “Not now that I’m back.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t need two chefs. There’s nothing he can do that I can’t, so why pay for dead weight, especially if what you said about the takings being down was true?” He couldn’t keep from adding, “It’s no wonder there’s not enough cash in the bank.”
He didn’t expect Louise’s derisive snort, or for her to turn her back and stalk to the small office where their mum used to count the takings. The desktop was clear this morning, apart from a closed laptop and a stack of menus printed on creamy, thick card. The New Anchor wording printed on their corners provoked more questions from him. “And what’s with the ‘New’ plastered on everything? This place has been the Anchor forever. It was the Anchor way before Mum and Dad bought it. There’s nothing new about it, and everyone local will know it.” If she was that bothered about the profits, what was wrong with the old pub-grub menus
they had that wiped clean? These card ones wouldn’t last halfway through the season. He opened his mouth to say so. Jude saw his sister’s face, and hesitated.
Her eyes glittered, one tear spilling down her cheek before she could blot it.
“Lou….”
“Don’t.” She turned her back to wipe at her face some more, not turning around again as she said, “Just don’t.” The breath she drew in was ragged, he heard and saw in the shake of her narrow shoulders. “You have no idea, none, about what it’s taken to keep this place afloat.”
That wasn’t fair, was it? “You said I should go, Lou. And you said you didn’t mind when I needed to stay away for a bit longer.” Seriously, she’d been the first to agree when he’d called off coming home the first time. “You didn’t mention anything about money being a problem lately. I thought you had it all under control.”
She whirled around and shouted. “I didn’t want you to worry.” More tears welled. She dashed them away, cross with herself. “Ugh. I hate that I get like this.”
“Blame Mum.” She’d been quick to cry too, but just as quick to move on.
Louise wrapped her arms around him. “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t do this. Make the pub work, I mean,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “Not after promising I’d look after the Anchor while Dad and Mum went on their voyage.” She pulled back. “But things have changed since you left.”
The office door creaked open. Rob pausing on the threshold as if waiting for permission, a tray in his hands holding three mugs and a French press. This time, his smile was different, almost as if he felt sorry for Jude, his gaze warm, like Jude remembered, instead of that morning’s flinty.
“Things changed for the worse,” Louise insisted as Rob put down the tray and filled Jude’s worst-brother mug almost to the brim. “But Rob’s part of the solution.”
Jude sat next to his sister, the laptop booting as he picked up his mug, a sound of appreciation at his first sip slipping out, involuntary.
Louise nudged his knee with her own. “It’s good coffee, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.” Jude sipped again. It was easily as good as the brew he’d served aboard the Aphrodite. “This isn’t Mum’s usual.”
“Nope.” Rob’s tone was neutral even as his eyes sparkled. “I used the last of that shit to clean the drains.”
Louise groaned as if this was an old joke that they’d shared more than a few times. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was gruesome.” Rob took a sip and glanced at Jude. “And nowhere near good enough for the customers we need to attract now.”
Before Jude could dispute Rob’s use of we, Louise interrupted. “Look.” She clicked the trackpad on her laptop and opened a spreadsheet. “This page shows turnover over the last five years.” The downturn was a slow slide, obvious in chart form, but surely not devastating.
She clicked another tab open.
Jude almost inhaled his coffee.
A graph showed the pub’s income plummeting as if a typhoon chased it. “How could you—?” Jude pressed his lips together, but Louise finished yet another thoughtless sentence that he instantly regretted.
“How could I have let it get so bad?” Her eyes glittered again. “How could I have broken a business that worked okay for decades?” Rob slid a hand across her shoulders and squeezed, an action that should have been Jude’s instead of casting blame in her direction. Louise whispered, “How could it only take months under my management before the bank threatened repossession?”
Jude felt awful and tried to make amends, hoping he wasn’t too late. He held her hand. “More like, how could you have let me swan off when you must have been so worried?”
On the far side of his sister, Rob let out a surprised sound of agreement. He gave way, moving his arm from her shoulder so Jude could fully comfort his sister. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have come straight home if I’d known about this?”
She turned her damp face into his throat, her cheeks hot and breath shuddering. “I- I didn’t want you to come home. I wanted you to keep looking.” She drew in a final breath and said, “Besides, I found a way to fix it.”
“I-I still don’t understand how things got so bad so quickly.” Jude worked hard to remove even a single hint of accusation from his next question. “Didn’t anyone see this coming?”
Rob leaned over and clicked an internet browser open, typing in a few words. A news webpage ran a slideshow of a storm rougher than any he’d witnessed while aboard the Aphrodite. “Wait.” Jude peered closer. “Is that here…?” Jesus, it was. On the laptop screen, a tall wave of white froth and fury lashed the church spire at the end of the harbour. The next image showed a fishing vessel perched atop the sea wall, tilted like some giant seesaw, the pub visible in the background. More photos revealed the kind of devastation Jude had recently witnessed much closer to the equator, the webpage headline announcing the worst storm to strike the Cornish coastline in generations. “When was this, exactly?”
“A few weeks after you left.”
“Was the pub completely flooded?” It was the only reason he could imagine for the sharp dip in turnover. “Did the storm damage the roof?” That would account for so many renovations upstairs too. “No wonder you closed the business.”
“No, the pub wasn’t badly damaged.” The ground floors were flagstone, the walls exposed stone, built to weather occasional high tides. “Drying out didn’t take long.”
“So why change how we run the business?” Jude clicked back to the spreadsheet. “Yeah, the winter takings were dire, but the tourists will arrive any minute. Pricing everyone who stays at the beachside campground out of eating and drinking here isn’t going to make the figures any better.”
“I think,” Louise said as she closed the laptop, “the only way for you to understand is to see for yourself.”
4
Jude followed his sister to the pub’s front door, stopped by Rob hooking a hand around his elbow. His grip was as intent as his tone. “We need to talk.”
“Not now.” Jude pulled free and stepped outside to see his sister jogging along the harbour. He followed as she hopped up onto the sea wall and then clambered down its far side. The rocks there were slippery, streaked with seaweed, the purple domes of anemones visible while their fronds were tucked away until the next high tide. Louise was nimble as she splashed through shallow rock pools, headed for the curving jut of the nearby headland. They’d played here so often as kids, their dad teaching them about all the good things to eat that were usually hidden—shrimps, seaweed, and winkles a diet he’d promised anyone could survive on. Now, Jude splashed through those same pools of chilly water, not yet sun-warmed as they would be by noon.
Rob cursed, and Jude looked back.
He didn’t seem half so carefree here as he had with Lou in the kitchen, or as relaxed as he had asleep in the boatshed. Rob’s arms were now outstretched as if he walked a tightrope, face drawn tight with concentration. He flailed, seaweed slippery under his feet, close to falling until Jude doubled back to save him.
It was his turn to extend a hand, Rob’s whole body rigid as he tried to keep from falling. Somehow, despite their previous standoff, teasing him came easily, as it had towards the end of the contest. “What’s this?” Jude asked. “Don’t you know how to keep your balance? Have I finally found something Daddy couldn’t buy you?”
“Fuck yourself, fish face,” Rob sing-songed, another reminder of a past life where ribbing each other had started to feel normal. Had been something Jude looked forward to. Had begun to feel like foreplay.
Jude kept hold of Rob even after he steadied, letting the distance between them and Louise increase. “Listen. You’re right. We do need to talk.”
Rob nodded. “We do.” The breeze ruffled hair that Jude recalled threading his hands through only once after wanting to for ages. He watched Rob do exactly that now, fingers pushing it back as he added, “Jude, you have to know that I got th
e shock of my life this morning when Lou said you’d actually come home.” His gaze darted to Louise in the distance. “I didn’t know how you’d react to me being here.” His lips pressed together like they’d used to while he cooked against the clock, focussed in a way he apparently never managed for his father. “I haven’t told her about us.” His eyes only met Jude’s for an instant. “What was I meant to do? Say, ‘Oh, by the way, things might get a bit awkward because I once snogged your brother, but don’t worry, he left before I got a chance to fuck him? We’ll keep things strictly business from now on?’” Rob pulled free and started to cross the rocks. “Besides,” he cast over his shoulder. “I figured out pretty quickly that she doesn’t know about you. I’m not here to out you.” He sounded firm, but he almost lost his footing again.
“Hold onto me,” Jude ordered before checking where Louise was. She’d already reached the headland where the coastal path led to the beach and campground. This was the perfect time to speak without her hearing, and perhaps his last chance. “Tell me, honestly, what are you doing here?” Rob had such a bright future in London, his dad’s restaurants a legacy no one sensible would abandon. “I don’t understand. What on earth is here for you?”
Rob’s gazed dropped to his lips.
Jude kept talking rather than poke at an ember that months away had done so little to tamp out. “I heard you won,” he said to change the subject. “The contest, I mean. Congratulations.”
“You could have told me that yourself at the time.”
Jude shook his head. “I’d left by then.” He’d left all right, and not for a chance to work on his suntan for months. Instead, that had been the start of a living nightmare.
“You could have called me,” Rob said dryly. “Or replied to one of the messages I left you. Didn’t you hear? There’s this brand-new thing called email. It’s only been around for a few decades, but some people say it’s handy.” He whipped out his phone, the sharp edge to his tone barely sheathed by humour. “And all the cool kids these days are using this thing called social media.” Arty snapshots of food filled a grid on the screen. “See? You take a photo with your phone, and then you add a message.” He thrust the phone towards Jude, a photo of Louise on the screen, her eyes crossed and a dab of white paint on the end of her nose. “Staying in touch is so easy, even someone as challenged as you could do it. I’ve heard it works right the way around the planet.” He held his phone up for a second and then typed a few words. A photo of Jude’s face now filled the screen with the words “I’m a thoughtless dick” as a caption. Rob’s voice dropped. “I’m not saying I expected dick pics from you, but I wouldn’t have minded knowing that you were still alive and kicking.”