The silver-haired rock star bent his head to kiss her and then beamed as he gazed around him. ‘By god, it’s good to be back.’
It was the Monday before Christmas Eve and the bar was quiet. By the evening, it would be busy, but for now, there were just a few regulars sitting around chatting or dozing. Laurie was behind the bar and Sam saw he wore an expression of astonishment and awe.
‘Is that—’
‘Micky Holiday, lead singer of the Flames,’ Sam confirmed. ‘And currently Ruby’s boyfriend, although neither of them will admit it.’
‘Blimey,’ Laurie said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘She puts it about a bit, doesn’t she?’
Sam gave him a sharp look. ‘Hey. That’s no way to talk about Ruby, or any of our customers for that matter. I know you two have had your differences in the past, but you put that to one side when you step behind this bar.’
Laurie had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Okay. Sorry.’
With a shake of her head, Sam hurried towards Micky to greet him.
‘Sam,’ he said, kissing both her cheeks. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘And you,’ she replied, taking in Ruby’s flushed face and delighted eyes. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
She saw his eyes stray to the pumps and, for a moment, she thought he would ask for a pint of Thirsty Bishop. But he simply smiled and said, ‘You know, I’d sell my own granny for a flat white right now.’
‘Ruby?’ Sam asked, noticing her empty glass.
‘Another Virgin Mary, please,’ Ruby replied. ‘Why don’t you grab yourself a drink and join us?’
‘Oh no,’ Sam protested, ‘you two have a lot of catching up to do. You don’t want me cramping your style.’
‘Nonsense, darling,’ Ruby said. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. ‘Besides, it saves me having to listen to all Micky’s boring stories about the good old days again.’
Micky grinned. ‘You know you love it. But by all means join us, Sam. You know what they say – two’s company and more’s an orgy.’
Ruby’s delighted peal of laughter followed Sam back across the floor to the bar, where she set about making the drinks. When she was done, she popped her head into the kitchen on impulse and found Gabe working on his laptop. ‘There’s someone here I think you’ll know,’ she said enigmatically.
As she’d anticipated, Gabe recognised Micky right away. ‘It’s such an honour to meet you,’ he said, once Sam had introduced them and they were all seated in front of the flickering fire. ‘I grew up listening to your songs – both my mother and my grandmother are big fans.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Micky said easily. ‘Ruby’s told me a lot about you too, although she didn’t say how good-looking you are.’
Ruby waved a dismissive hand. ‘Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind.’
‘I bet it did, you minx,’ Micky said with a grin. He nodded at Gabe. ‘Take care, mate. She’s used to getting what she wants.’
‘Are you touring at the moment?’ Sam asked, to spare Gabe’s blushes as much as anything else.
‘Nope. I know it’s not very rock and roll to say this, but that lifestyle all gets a bit much after a while.’ He paused and sipped his coffee. ‘I’m tired of drink and drugs and debauchery. What I’d like to do is grow a marrow that’s bigger than my own head.’
Sam blinked, unsure whether she’d heard correctly. Gabe looked just as confused, but Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘Not this again. I’ve told you before, Micky, the day you retire is the day I’ll stop wearing make-up.’
Micky fixed her with his trademark twinkly-eyed look. ‘Then I hope you’re ready to go au naturel because I’ve got news for you. As of last week, I am no longer the lead singer of the Flames.’
Sam gasped. She’d heard Micky threaten to quit the band more times than she could remember in her days on the PR circuit, but she’d never once believed he’d go through with it.
Ruby looked similarly stunned. ‘But—’ she began and then tried again. ‘But why? What are you going to do with yourself?’
‘I told you,’ Micky said patiently. ‘I want to slow down, take up gardening, that sort of thing. In a quintessential English village, not unlike this one, in fact.’
Ruby’s eyes narrowed. ‘What aren’t you telling me, Micky Holiday? Have you been caught doing something you shouldn’t have been? Are you looking for a place to hide?’
Micky sighed. ‘You’re so suspicious.’
‘With good reason,’ Ruby said, her gaze narrowing still further. ‘What’s going on?’
He took a swig of his coffee and lowered his voice. ‘All right, if you must know, I’ve had a spot of trouble with my liver. The doctors say I need to change my lifestyle – stop drinking Jack Daniels and start exercising, that sort of thing. So I thought, where can I go that’s perfect for slowing down?’
‘And you decided on Little Monkham,’ Sam said, with a sideways look at Ruby.
‘That’s right,’ Micky said. ‘It’s got everything I need, plus a cracking little boozer to while away the hours in. Perfect.’
Ruby did not look convinced. ‘Lola Swann said you’d got another woman.’
‘Ruby,’ Sam intervened sternly. ‘That’s not what Lola said. She said Micky wasn’t being honest with you.’
The rock star spread his hands. ‘And she was right. Thing is, the doctors have been telling me about the liver thing for years and I’ve always ignored them. Only now they’re getting a bit insistent, a bit overdramatic – saying it’s a matter of life and death. So I figure I’ve got to listen to them.’
Understanding dawned on Ruby’s face. ‘So that’s what you lied about. When I asked you what all the pills were for and you said they were uppers and downers – what they’re really for is your liver.’
For the first time ever, Sam thought Micky looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s not very rock and roll, is it? Taking pills for a dicky liver. I’d much rather you thought they were drugs.’
Ruby began to laugh. ‘Only you, Micky Holiday. Only you.’
Sam and Gabe started to laugh too and eventually, Micky’s tanned face crinkled into a smile.
‘And I suppose you’re going to want somewhere to live,’ Ruby said, once her laughter had died down.
‘Got somewhere,’ he said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I don’t know whether you noticed that the cottage next door to yours has been sold?’
Ruby nodded and then her mouth gaped. ‘You?’
He nodded. ‘Me. You’re looking at the owner of Lock Cottage. I can move in any time I like.’ He leaned towards her with a wicked smile that Sam had seen seduce much younger women than Ruby. ‘This way, we can have lots of late-night fun and you don’t have to listen to me snore all night or trip over my dirty boxers the next morning. As long as you don’t mind having a rock star for a neighbour.’
Sam couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing and Ruby seemed to be struggling too.
‘You mean it, then?’ Ruby said, gazing into his eyes. ‘You’re moving here for good?’
He reached across and took her hand. ‘I do,’ he said, kissing her palm. ‘I’m moving here for you, Ruby. So there can be an us.’
Ruby beamed in delight and jumped up to plant a kiss on Micky’s lips.
Gabe leaned towards Sam. ‘Do I sense another wedding in our future?’
Sam felt an unexpected thrill at the words ‘our future’ and squashed the sensation as firmly as she could before turning to look into Gabe’s eyes. ‘You know, I think you’re probably right. But don’t tell Franny – I think she’s always held out hope that Micky might marry her.’
‘Surely it’s too late for that,’ Gabe said, confused.
Sam winked. ‘Have you met Franny? She’s not the kind of woman to let an inconvenient husband stand between her and true love. I’m not sure Micky knows what he’s let himself in for.’
Micky wiped the traces of Ruby’s scarlet lipstick from his mouth, apparently unperturbed at t
he thought of Franny’s potential wrath.
‘You’re not really going to stop wearing make-up, are you?’ Sam asked, glancing at Ruby. ‘I mean, you’re beautiful either way, but—’
Micky reached across and took Ruby’s hand. ‘I think I can answer that. The only thing that will come between Ruby Cabernet and her mascara is death itself, right?’
Ruby smiled. ‘Spoken like someone who’s known me a very long time. So let’s hope Franny doesn’t decide to bump off the competition.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘Have you got a minute, Sam?’
The question made Sam look up from her seat on the sofa to see Connor lurking in the living room doorway, an uncomfortable expression on his face. She frowned, discreetly checking the time and saw it wasn’t even nine o’clock – Connor rarely ventured upstairs, especially not a full two hours before he was due to start work.
‘Of course,’ she told him, with a welcoming smile. ‘We don’t normally see you at this hour, especially on a Wednesday – is there a delivery I don’t know about?’
He shuffled into the room and sat awkwardly on the recliner to her right. ‘No delivery,’ he said, looking even more wretched. ‘I came in early so I could catch you before – well, before Laurie came in.’
‘Laurie?’ Sam repeated, puzzled.
Connor nodded. ‘Normally, I’d speak to Nessie, but I know she needs her space and I didn’t want to trouble her.’ He took a deep breath and ploughed on. ‘I like to think I run a good cellar. I’m no Joss Felstead, of course, but our beer is still pretty good. We don’t get many complaints.’
‘We don’t get any complaints,’ Sam corrected him gently. ‘And that’s almost entirely thanks to you.’
The burly ex-fireman tipped his head, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Well, like I said, I try to run a decent cellar. And you’ve always let me get on with it – you trust me.’
Sam felt her frown deepen. ‘Of course we trust you. What’s this about, Connor?’
He sighed. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it. Just lately, I’ve noticed some odd stuff going on downstairs. Little things, like the cleaning products not being where I left them, or the barrels not quite being level. At first, I thought it was me – that I was losing the plot – but then stock levels started to fluctuate a bit. I’d think we had twelve bottles of Malbec, for example, and it’d turn out we only had ten.’
She stared at him, nonplussed. ‘So there’s a stock-control issue, is that what you’re saying? Because mistakes like that happen all the time – someone rings through a Malbec as a Rioja on the till and we don’t put two and two together until ages afterwards.’
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying,’ he said, his gaze steady. ‘Believe it or not, I keep a very close eye on the bottles we keep in the cellar and I can usually tell when there’s been an honest mistake. But what I’m telling you now is that someone, for reasons best known to themselves, has been meddling with my system. And the only person I can think of who might do that is your brother.’
Sam opened her mouth to defend Laurie and then closed it again fast. Because it wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken it upon himself to step in where he wasn’t needed; there’d been the food order for Franny’s wedding. That well-meaning interference had caused Gabe to threaten her with breach of contract. And although he’d steered well clear of anything to do with the kitchens since, Sam wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Laurie overstepping his responsibilities in other places. Like the cellar . . .
‘I’ll talk to him,’ she told Connor. ‘And I’m sure I speak for Nessie when I say we’re sorry you’ve had to bring this to our attention.’
Connor gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘I don’t like to throw my weight around and get all territorial, but looking after the cellar here is really a one-person job.’ He seemed to replay the words in his head. ‘Although any suggestions you and Nessie make are always welcome.’
‘Relax, Connor,’ Sam said, smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring way. ‘I get what you’re trying to say. I’ll make sure Laurie knows to leave everything to you in the future.’
‘Thank you,’ Connor said, getting to his feet. ‘I knew you’d understand.’
Sam waited until the mid-afternoon lull to tackle the problem. She left Tilly to cover the almost empty bar and asked Laurie to keep her company on a walk around the village.
‘You know what it’s like at this time of year,’ she said, patting the waistband of a pair of skinny jeans that seemed to have become a good deal tighter in the last week. ‘There’s so much food and not enough willpower. I need all the help I can get.’
If he suspected she had an ulterior motive, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded and went to get his coat. Five minutes later, they were trampling the wet grass of the green, heading in the direction of St Mary’s.
‘We haven’t had time to catch up for ages,’ she said, as they passed Martha’s bakery. ‘How are you finding life in Little Monkham?’
He took a moment to consider the question. ‘If you’re asking me whether I’m enjoying working at the pub, then the answer is yes. I love getting to know you and Nessie – you’re the best sisters I could have hoped for – everything Dad said you’d be.’
‘But?’ Sam prompted when he fell silent. ‘It sounds like there’s a but.’
He fired a sideways look her way. ‘But you and Nessie are quite terrifyingly good at running the Star and Sixpence. And I can’t help wondering whether there’s room for me, or whether I’m a bit of a spare part.’
‘That’s not—’ Sam started to say and then stopped herself because she realised Laurie had hit the nail squarely on the head. ‘Is that why you changed Gabe’s order last month?’
Laurie nodded. ‘I honestly didn’t mean to make him angry. I just wanted to feel as though I was contributing something.’
‘I can see that.’ Sam took a deep breath. ‘But, as you discovered, there are lots of good reasons why we do things the way we do. It’s not always the cheapest, or the easiest option, but the chances are it’s a tried-and-trusted business practice.’
Laurie said nothing.
‘Take the cellar, for example,’ she went on, pushing open the wooden gate that led to St Mary’s churchyard. ‘Connor keeps things running pretty tightly, to make sure our beer and lager are up to scratch. Nessie and I wouldn’t dream of messing with his routine.’
Was it her imagination or did Laurie’s cheeks turn the tiniest bit pink? ‘No, I can see how that might cause an issue.’
He wasn’t admitting anything, she thought, but in some ways, that made things easier. She mentally changed tack. ‘In fact, we joke that the cellar is off limits to us mere mortals – only Connor is allowed to cross the magic portal.’
Again, he stayed silent, apparently pondering her words. There was a touch of petulance about the curve of his lip, a suggestion that he was having trouble keeping his temper, and she wasn’t sure whether it was what she was saying or the fact that she was saying it at all. Imagine how he’ll react if I ask about the missing wine, she thought, immediately deciding to let that go.
‘So you see, there’s method in our madness,’ she said aloud, trying to lighten the conversation. ‘It only looks like we don’t know what we’re doing.’
He glanced across at her then and she was relieved to see he was smiling. ‘I’m pretty sure you and Nessie know exactly what you’re doing. Maybe one day you’ll let me learn.’
‘You’re already learning,’ Sam told him. ‘And most of the time, you’re doing a great job.’
‘Thanks,’ Laurie said. He glanced around at the rows of headstones. ‘So, where’s the old man buried then?’
‘Over there,’ Sam said, waving at the newest area of the graveyard. ‘Do you want to go and see it?’
Laurie shook his head. ‘Not really. Seen one grave, seen them all.’
It wasn’t the response she’d been expecting, but here wa
s something else she could understand; Laurie had been abandoned by their father just as Nessie and Sam had been. But when it came down to making a will, Andrew Chapman had declined to include his son. And that had to hurt Laurie more than anything, Sam thought.
‘I’m glad you tracked us down,’ she said, as they walked. ‘I know Nessie agrees.’
There was a momentary pause, then Laurie smiled. ‘Me too. And I’m sorry if anything I do upsets the apple cart. I’ll try to do better.’
‘That’s all any of us can ask,’ Sam said, linking her arm through his.
*
It took a week for Nessie’s body to feel like her own again after her brief hospital stay. She spent most of the time in bed, reading or watching television shows she couldn’t remember once they were over. Sometimes Luke crept in to join her and they huddled together, watching the same show on the too-small screen of her tablet. He’d taken the news hard at first, his blue eyes shimmering with tears the moment he understood what was being said, and he’d been subdued ever since. But he’d also become more affectionate with Nessie, offering unsolicited cuddles and an apparently inexhaustible supply of terrible jokes.
Kathryn was a great comfort too, supplying endless cups of tea and making herself available in case Nessie wanted to talk. And, of course, Sam was being brilliant – Ruby too. But the person Nessie needed the most was Owen, and his coping mechanism was to keep busy, locked away in the forge all day, every day. He came to bed late each night and slept beside her the same way he always had since she’d moved in. But the Owen she watched when insomnia struck in the early hours of the morning was not the same man he’d been before the scan had broken their hearts and their dreams. This Owen was distant and silent and Nessie had no idea how to talk to him.
On Friday, Nessie came downstairs to find Kathryn decorating a delicious-smelling chocolate cake in the shape of a log. ‘Yuletide greetings,’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘It’s 21st December – the winter solstice.’
Of course it was, Nessie thought with a guilty glance at the calendar that hung on the kitchen wall. How could she have forgotten? But it didn’t feel like four days until Christmas, despite the decorations everywhere she looked and Christmas music on a constant loop; she’d barely been out of Snowdrop Cottage for a week and had never felt less prepared for the festive season.
Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Page 14