Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Read online

  ‘Back in a second,’ she told Connor, who nodded and continued to serve the remaining customers.

  If Sam had expected the kitchen to be an oasis of calm after the bustle of the bar, she was in for a disappointment. Steam clouded the air, and Gabe’s staff had their heads down, concentrating on their work. The atmosphere was thick with tension and Sam instantly understood why; there seemed to be some kind of argument going on between Gabe and Laurie.

  ‘We ordered what you asked for,’ Laurie said, his tone adamant. ‘Beef and prawns for the canapés. Salmon for the starters.’

  Gabe’s lip curled in disgust. ‘I needed topside of beef, not the cheapest cut you could find,’ he said, his Spanish accent growing thicker in his fury. ‘And these prawns barely deserve to be called that – look how small they are. As for the salmon . . . it tastes as though it was smoked in a tobacco factory.’

  ‘Have you seen the price for topside?’ Laurie countered. ‘We’re running a business here, Gabe. And in case you hadn’t noticed, we don’t have a Michelin star. No one expects that kind of quality, and they’re certainly not paying those sorts of prices.’

  Sam stepped in between the two men, a hot rush of embarrassment sweeping over her. Laurie’s chin was raised high in challenge and Gabe’s fists were clenched, as though he might punch the younger man at any moment. ‘That’s enough,’ she said sharply. ‘What’s going on here?’

  Gabe gestured to a silver tray, half-full of canapés, a furious glint in his eye. ‘Look at those. I have never known these to go uneaten before. Never.’

  Sam frowned. She’d tasted plenty of Gabe’s test recipes and they’d been melt-in-the-mouth delicious. It was surprising that the hungry wedding guests hadn’t snapped them up.

  ‘Try one,’ Gabe went on, thrusting the tray under her nose. ‘You’ll soon understand.’

  Suddenly reluctant, Sam did as she was told. The problem was immediately clear: instead of crumbling in her mouth, the beef was tough and chewy. She worked her jaw hard, struggling to break up the meat enough to swallow. Wordlessly, Gabe handed her a napkin and she took it with a grateful nod.

  ‘I ordered exactly what you told me to,’ she said, once her mouth was clear of the stringy meat.

  ‘And Laurie decided he knew better,’ Gabe replied, glaring sideways. ‘So instead of my fresh, high-quality ingredients, I have been forced to put up with substandard produce. And this is the result.’

  A rush of incredulity washed over Sam as she turned to Laurie. ‘Is this true? You changed the order after I’d placed it?’

  Laurie’s face became mulish. ‘I was trying to save money. You and Gabe seem to think it grows on trees.’

  ‘But—’ Sam felt her jaw gape a little. ‘That wasn’t really your decision to make. And this is Franny’s wedding – the woman who wields more power than the Queen around here. If there’s one day we need to pull out all the stops and bring our A game, it’s today.’

  Once again, Laurie glowered with self-righteous certainty. ‘They’re all drunk – no one is going to care whether the beef is topside or skirt.’

  ‘I care!’ Gabe roared, slamming his hand onto the stainless-steel work surface. ‘It is my professional reputation that’s at stake here – a chef is only ever as good as his last meal. And this –’ he pointed at the silver tray with open disgust, ‘this is unacceptable.’

  Sam took a deep breath and replayed the conversation slowly in her head, wondering how to rescue the situation. What else had Gabe been complaining about? The prawns and the salmon?

  ‘Right. Tell me what else is wrong,’ she said, her voice determined.

  Laurie tried to interject, but Sam waved him away. She listened to Gabe’s impassioned complaints, to his conviction that the food was going to be well below the standard that he was used to serving, and privately agreed with every word he said. But she was well aware that Laurie was throwing her mutinous looks, as though she’d crossed to the enemy by even allowing Gabe to complain; as much as she agreed with Gabe’s objections, she didn’t want to undermine her brother completely by telling him their chef was absolutely within his rights to demand the best ingredients – it was part of their contract, after all.

  ‘What can we do to fix it?’ she asked, once Gabe had finished his tirade.

  He scowled. ‘Nothing. There is no time to do anything. If this was a normal restaurant sitting, I would close the kitchens and refuse to send out any food at all.’ His scowl softened a little. ‘But I will not ruin a wedding by doing that.’

  Laurie let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. ‘You should hear yourself. I’ve got news for you, Gabriel. You’re not in charge here. We are.’

  Sam’s cheeks burned with mortification as the rest of the kitchen staff stared with avid interest. Did Laurie have any idea how well-regarded Gabe was in the culinary world? He’d hosted his own television show, for heaven’s sake; he was a superstar. And they were lucky to have him.

  ‘And I have news for you, you little gilipollas,’ Gabe snapped. ‘You’re not in charge of anything.’

  The word wasn’t familiar to Sam, but the meaning was; whatever Gabe had called Laurie, it was deeply insulting.

  ‘Are you going to let him talk to me like that?’ Laurie demanded, rounding on Sam.

  She puffed out her cheeks. ‘I’m not sure I understand what it—’

  ‘It means “stupid dick”,’ Gabe said, suddenly calm. ‘And I stand by it.’

  Laurie’s outrage was almost palpable. ‘That’s it,’ he said, clenching his fists. ‘You and me, outside.’

  Sam was suddenly overcome with weariness. ‘Oh, stop it,’ she told Laurie. ‘There’s no need for that.’

  He squared his chin. ‘There’s every need. He called me a stupid dick.’

  He sounded so petulant that Sam had to suppress a wild giggle. She bit her cheek until the urge subsided and shook her head. ‘That isn’t how we do things, Laurie. Get back to the bar and help Connor. And, Gabe, do the best you can with what you have.’

  Both glowered at her and she thought for a heartbeat that they might refuse. But then Laurie swore under his breath and wheeled about. A second later, he was gone, leaving Sam to face Gabe’s wrath. Except that he didn’t seem angry with her; he looked disappointed. And that was somehow worse.

  ‘This cannot happen again,’ he said. ‘If it does, you will be in breach of contract and I will walk out.’

  Sam tried not to wince at the coldness in his voice. ‘It won’t. I promise.’

  Gabe turned away. ‘Good. Now get out of my kitchen. We have a disaster to avert.’

  The dismissal was so breathtakingly rude that it rooted Sam to the spot. She was hyper-aware that six sets of curious eyes were watching her, waiting for her next move. And so she damped down her own furious response and pressed her lips together. With a single tight nod, she spun on her heel and made for the door. It was only once she was safely on the other side that she allowed herself to gasp and press the heel of her hands against her eyes. How had Gabe dared to speak to her that way? And what the hell had Laurie been thinking?

  ‘Sam? Is everything okay?’

  And now Sam had to swallow another despairing groan, because Joss was the last person she wanted to see. But she forced herself to open her eyes. ‘Of course. Perfectly fine.’

  He looked at her askance. ‘You don’t seem fine. You seem a bit . . . frazzled.’

  Sam let out a sigh and glanced around the bar, which was mercifully empty of both customers and staff. She didn’t know where Laurie had gone and, right at that moment, she didn’t actually care, as long as he steered clear of the kitchens. And she supposed everyone else must be in the marquee, getting ready to hear the speeches.

  She passed a shaky hand across her face. ‘I need a bloody drink.’

  Joss studied her in silence for a moment, then gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Luckily, that’s one of my superpowers. What do you fancy?’

  Once upon a time it would have been a lo
aded question, but Sam saw nothing but concern in his eyes. She let out a long puff of air. ‘I don’t care. Just make it a double, please. And make it fast.’

  Chapter Twelve

  When Sam woke up the next morning, it was to the faint buzz of a drill. She lay still, trying to work out where it might be coming from, but it was hard to establish anything over the pounding in her head. Opening her eyes a fraction, she tried not to wince at the stab of pain caused by the murky morning light filtering through the shutters. Her mouth felt dry and her stomach queasy; exactly how much had she drunk last night?

  She groped on the bedside table for a bottle of water and pressed it to her lips, frowning when she realised they were tender, maybe even bruised. It was almost as though she’d spent the whole night—

  A sudden icy suspicion drenched her like a tidal wave. She fired a sharp glance at the other side of her bed and let out a silent groan at the sight of the misshapen duvet. It wasn’t a drill she could hear buzzing, it was snoring. And there was only one man she knew who snored like that.

  Taking a deep breath, Sam lifted the duvet a touch and peered underneath. She dropped it again, lightning fast, and clapped one hand over her eyes as the room lurched. There beneath the covers, every bit as naked as Sam, was Joss. And suddenly she remembered everything.

  ‘Shit,’ she whispered in horrified dismay. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

  She hadn’t meant it to happen. In fact, she’d actively kept her distance throughout the evening, despite catching him watching her several times. The run-in with Gabe hadn’t helped; he hadn’t spoken to her once and his expression had been thunderous each time she’d seen him. So when Joss had grabbed her hand to pull her onto the dance floor, she hadn’t wanted to resist, not when his laughter had been so infectious. And then there’d been more drinks, which had blurred her boundaries even more; drinking always brought out the flirt in her and flirting with Joss had been like coming home after a long trip away – comforting and easy and right. The sex had been like that too, with the hint of unfamiliarity that came with six months apart. There was no denying that it had felt good at the time.

  She lay back against the cool cotton pillow and closed her eyes, sifting through the jumble of emotions. It wasn’t the first time she’d woken up feeling like this; back in London, shame and regret had often gone hand in hand the morning after a night out, although she’d told herself she was empowered and free to sleep with anyone she fancied, providing they were single. But this wasn’t some random man she’d picked up in a bar at closing time; this was Joss, with whom she had a long and complicated history. And that made everything trickier. Being in her own home meant Sam couldn’t dress in the half-light and slip away before he woke up. She’d have to face the consequences of her behaviour this time, no matter what they might be.

  Joss let out a loud snort and shifted under the covers. Sam bit her lip; how was he going to react? Had he planned for this to happen or had it been a spur of the moment thing, brought on by being back in Little Monkham? She hoped it was the latter; as good as the sex had been, that was all it had been. Part of her would always love Joss, but she knew beyond any doubt that she wasn’t in love with him any more.

  A quick glance at her phone told her it was just after eight o’clock. It made sense not to be in bed when Joss did surface, Sam decided, and slid her feet to the floor. He didn’t stir as she pulled on her dressing gown and eased open the bedroom door. Breathing a thankful sigh of relief, Sam headed for the kitchen; she was going to need coffee before facing the music.

  She hadn’t expected to find Gabe there. He sat very still at the kitchen table, wearing a stony expression that suggested he knew exactly what had happened. Mortified and ashamed, Sam almost turned tail and ran. But her craving for coffee, and maybe some ibuprofen, was stronger than her shame.

  Straightening her shoulders, she walked in and fired a careful smile in Gabe’s direction. Part of her hoped he was so incensed that he’d ignore her entirely, but it was a thought that vanished the moment she stepped into the room and dredged up a good morning; his muteness felt accusatory, she decided, and pretty much anything else would have been preferable. Swallowing hard, Sam slipped a pod into the coffee machine and set about warming some milk.

  ‘I should probably warn you that Joss is here,’ she said, after a few moments of heavy silence. ‘We – erm – well, he stayed over last night. In my room.’

  She half-expected him to pretend he hadn’t heard, but instead he merely nodded. ‘I know.’

  The confirmation of her suspicion made Sam’s cheeks flame. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  His gaze was level. ‘It sounded as though you were doing exactly what I think.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sam cringed at the thought of what he might have overheard. ‘Sorry. But it wasn’t something I planned – we’d both had a few drinks and I suppose we got a bit – uh – carried away.’

  ‘There is no law against that.’

  ‘No,’ she said, a little stung by the fairness of his words. ‘But I can understand why you’re not happy—’

  Gabe stood up, pushing his chair back with a screech. ‘On the contrary, I am glad it happened. You and Joss make a good couple.’

  ‘It isn’t like that. Joss lives in Chester and I live here. We’re not getting back together.’

  ‘It’s not really any of my business,’ Gabe said, and there was an edge to his voice. ‘You and I might have kissed a few times, but it’s hardly a lifelong commitment. You’re free to sleep with whomever you choose, Sam.’

  She battled to keep her expression from flinching. ‘Of course.’

  ‘And so am I,’ he added, heading towards the door.

  Sam concentrated on making her coffee, trying to ignore the panicky, sick feeling that was threatening to overwhelm her. Did his parting comment mean he had his eye on someone else? Could that someone be Owen’s sister Kathryn? Although judging from his tone, Gabe didn’t consider it to be any of Sam’s business, either.

  What a mess, she thought despondently as she slumped into the seat he’d just vacated and cast a guilty look along the landing towards her bedroom door, where Joss awaited her. Things were about to get a whole lot messier.

  She sipped her coffee, putting off the moment for as long as she could, but eventually acknowledged it was time to face the inevitable shame. She carried a mug of strong, sweet tea along the landing, pausing outside her bedroom just long enough to take a deep breath, and opened the door.

  Joss was fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing up his boots. He glanced up as she entered the room and the look of mingled sheepishness and embarrassment in his eyes almost made Sam drop his tea. Was it possible he was just as mortified as she was? Or was it trepidation that was making him look five years younger?

  ‘Hi,’ he said and cleared his throat. ‘So this isn’t at all awkward, is it?’

  She held out the mug, her mouth twisting into a wry smile. ‘On a scale of one to ten, I’d say it’s an eleven.’

  ‘At least,’ he said as he took the tea. ‘Look, I know you probably won’t believe me, but I didn’t plan for this to happen.’

  Sam waited while he took a drink, clearly thinking something through. Please don’t say you still love me, she thought as needles of apprehension stung her nerves.

  ‘I was supposed to stay at a mate’s place last night,’ Joss continued. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. ‘Obviously, I knew I’d be seeing you at the wedding, but I thought it would be okay. I thought I was over you.’

  ‘Joss—’ Sam began.

  ‘No, you’ve got to hear me out,’ he said, shaking his head vigorously. ‘I thought I was over you – that I’d be able to see you and not feel anything. I even thought we might be friends, maybe have a laugh together. But I was wrong.’

  She felt a dull ache begin in her chest. ‘Joss—’

  ‘I should have known we wouldn’t be able to keep our hands off each other. But, in my defence, you
did look amazing last night.’ He met her gaze with a wistfully appreciative smile. ‘You still do, in fact.’

  The compliment gave Sam a tingle of pleasure, despite the awkwardness of the situation. ‘So do you,’ she said gently. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that we shouldn’t have done what we did. It was a lot of fun, but we still should have known better.’

  She held her breath as he stared into his cup of tea. Each second felt like a minute. But finally he grinned. ‘Yeah. Still, there are worse mistakes to make, right?’

  Sam recalled the hardness in Gabe’s voice when he’d told her it was none of his business who she slept with. ‘Yeah,’ she echoed, doing her best to sound carefree. ‘There are worse mistakes.’

  ‘Friends?’ he said, getting to his feet and opening his arms.

  ‘Friends,’ she said as she accepted the hug. ‘But definitely not with benefits, okay?’

  His snort of laughter ruffled her hair. ‘Agreed.’ He released her and stepped back. ‘Want to go and wave Franny and Henry off on honeymoon together? Or shall I sneak out the back way so we can pretend this never happened?’

  Sam frowned as she tried to remember who’d been there at the end of the night, when she and Joss had stumbled upstairs. Nessie and Owen had been long gone by then, as had Tilly and Connor; not that any of them would say anything. But Sam had been aware of Ruby’s gaze throughout the evening, sharp-eyed and appraising, and she knew the older woman would have a pretty clear idea of where Joss had stayed.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said eventually. ‘And Franny is away for two weeks – everyone will have forgotten by the time she and Henry get back.’

  Joss lifted one eyebrow in surprise. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. It’s easy for me – I’m going back to Chester this afternoon – but you have to live here.’