Last Words at the Star and Sixpence Read online

  It was a grossly unfair accusation, Nessie thought, but she was beginning to recognise a pattern to Laurie’s behaviour; he lashed out every time he felt he’d been slighted or overlooked. And it didn’t take a psychologist to work out that was almost certainly the result of Laurie being abandoned by their father all those years ago. It might seem like water under the bridge, but Nessie knew Laurie was still nurturing his anger and the undercurrents of resentment ran deep. She had no doubt they also extended to Sam and herself; their father had left them the Star and Sixpence. He hadn’t left anything at all to Laurie.

  Sam cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Laurie. But there’s no room for negotiation on this – providing Joss is free, he’ll be taking over the cellar while Connor is away.’

  His glower was so fierce that Nessie half-expected him to throw something. ‘One of these days you’re going to need me for something,’ he ground out. ‘And you might find that I’m not so willing to help.’

  He spun on his heels, slamming the door as he left and causing the clock on the wall to fall from its nail. It clattered to the floor. Nessie used the silence that followed to draw in a deep calming breath and let it out as slowly as she could.

  ‘That temper is a problem,’ Sam said, after a moment or two. ‘He must get that from his mother.’

  Nessie had to agree; when she looked back now, she saw that their father had often broken things around their childhood home, but it had been through the clumsiness that alcohol brought on, not rage. ‘He’ll calm down,’ she told Sam. ‘Give him some time.’

  Her sister shook her head. ‘But that’s just it – I feel as though we’re always giving him time, making allowances. All that stuff about Gabe and Joss and me – it really is none of his business and I’m getting tired of telling him that.’

  ‘It’s hard for him too—’

  Sam threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘Don’t defend him! Bloody hell, Ness, I know you’ve got the patience of a saint, but even you must see his behaviour has got to improve?’

  Reluctantly, Nessie nodded. ‘I’ll speak to him.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sam said, although Nessie could tell from her tone that she didn’t believe it would make the slightest bit of difference. ‘And I’ll contact Joss, see if he fancies moonlighting as our cellarman for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  ‘Then we’ll get someone in from one of the other pubs,’ Sam replied. ‘Or an agency. In fact, I’d rather roll those barrels myself than let Laurie do it.’

  It was such a ridiculous statement that Nessie couldn’t help smiling. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’

  Sam’s lip twitched. ‘I’m not sure I’ve got the biceps for it, to be honest.’ She gave Nessie a sidelong look. ‘Unlike Owen. Those blacksmith’s muscles might come in very handy.’

  ‘He’d help if we needed him to,’ Nessie said. ‘But the most he knows about Thirsty Bishop is how good it tastes. Joss is a much better man for the job.’

  Her sister nodded and sighed. ‘He might have his faults, but he’s a superstar in the cellar.’ She paused, as though thinking about Joss, then fixed Nessie with a direct look. ‘There is something I wanted to talk to you about.’

  ‘Oh?’ Nessie tried her hardest not to tense. The last time Sam had said words to that effect it had been to tell her she was pregnant, and the news had tipped both their worlds upside down. But it couldn’t be anything that earth-shattering now. Could it?

  Sam puffed out a breath. ‘How do you feel about a pub dog?’

  Nessie’s tension deflated; she’d been expecting this, right from the moment she’d seen her sister’s eyes soften as she stared at the stray she’d found in the garden just over a week earlier. ‘I wouldn’t be totally against it,’ she said. ‘Why?’

  ‘The people at the shelter asked if we’d be willing to rehome the dog we found, if they couldn’t locate his owners,’ Sam said. ‘And I had a message from them today to say they haven’t had any luck. So I wondered . . .’

  ‘Whether we’d adopt him instead?’ Nessie shook her head in amused disbelief. ‘Don’t you think we’re going to have enough to cope with over the coming months?’

  Sam leaned forward. ‘The baby isn’t due until August – plenty of time to get a new pet settled in. And you know how much you and Owen love walking in the woods – you’d have a really good reason to sneak off with a dog to walk.’

  Nessie almost laughed; Sam knew her weak spots all right. ‘And how does Gabe feel about a new flatmate?’

  ‘He’s fine with it,’ Sam said airily. ‘I think he was even more smitten than I was, to be honest.’

  ‘Then it’s okay with me,’ Nessie said. Her good humour faded slightly as she thought of something else. ‘I’ll tell you who won’t be happy. Laurie.’

  Sam’s smile slipped a little too. ‘He’ll have to get over it.’

  Her determination caused a ripple of uneasiness in Nessie. ‘Sam—’

  ‘He will,’ Sam cut in. ‘Okay, the dog was a little bit unsettled when they first met each other in the bar, but I’m sure that won’t happen again.’

  It wasn’t just the dog who’d been unsettled, Nessie thought, but she knew better than to argue with her sister once she’d set her heart on something. ‘When are you picking him up?’ she said, surrendering to the inevitable.

  ‘There’s some paperwork to complete, and we need to have a visit to check we’ll give him a good home,’ Sam replied. ‘But, all being well, we could be dog owners in around a week.’

  ‘Just in time for the cider festival,’ Nessie observed.

  ‘Exactly,’ Sam said, her eyes gleaming. ‘We’ll have to take it easy at first, but just think of all the fuss he’ll get from the punters. He’s going to be a huge hit.’

  The satisfaction in her voice made Nessie eye her with some suspicion. ‘A dog is for life, Sam. Not just PR.’

  ‘I know that,’ Sam said, sounding wounded. ‘But there’s no reason we can’t make the most of him being here. I wonder if I can pitch an article to one of the broadsheets . . .’ She reached for her notebook and started scribbling down notes.

  Nessie watched for a moment, then returned her attention to her own work. But moments later, she found herself staring into space, her mind returning to Laurie. His outbursts were definitely becoming more frequent. And short of giving him the responsibility he wasn’t really ready for, she had no idea how to fix things.

  *

  ‘She doesn’t look like a tarot reader.’

  Martha’s gaze was narrow as she studied the slender blonde-haired woman who was tucked away at a table in a shadowy corner of the Star and Sixpence. Nessie could see her point; she’d been expecting someone a little more mysterious-looking too, but there was no doubt Lydia Lake was doing a roaring trade among the pub’s customers, especially for Thursday night. The Tarot Evening had been Sam’s idea, of course, and Lydia had come highly recommended; Sam had hinted that she had a number of celebrity clients but had predictably refused to name names. And retired actress Ruby Cabernet, one of Little Monkham’s very own celebrities, had been first in the queue to have her future told.

  ‘Sam says she’s good,’ Nessie told Martha, placing a Silver Sixpence cocktail on the bar in front of the village baker. ‘Are you going to cross her palm with silver?’

  Martha let out a long sigh. ‘Of course. I’m hoping she’s going to predict a torrid affair with a tall, dark stranger.’ She glanced sideways to where Gabe was chatting to Ruby. ‘Or maybe a tall, dark chef.’

  Nessie laughed. The truth was that Martha was very happily married to Rob, who ran the neighbouring butcher’s shop. That didn’t stop her flirting shamelessly with any man who caught her eye, however. Gabe took it all in his stride, as had Nick Borrowdale, the target of Martha’s previous crush, and Rob just smiled, safe in the knowledge that his wife would be going home with him at the end of the night. ‘How about a cute and cuddly butcher?’ Nessie
said, winking.

  ‘You don’t need the second sight to predict that,’ Martha replied. ‘A girl needs to dream a little, right?’

  Ruby Cabernet sashayed up the bar in time to catch the last sentence. ‘Absolutely right, darling.’ Her eyes twinkled as she looked from Martha to Nessie. ‘The lovely Lydia predicted wedding bells in my future. I’m not sure whether to tell Micky or not.’

  Ruby had been devoted to Nessie and Sam’s father until his death some four years earlier, but lately, she’d rekindled an old love affair with Micky Holiday, ex-lead singer of the world-famous Flames rock band. Both Sam and Nessie had doubted his decision to settle into retirement in Little Monkham, but he certainly showed no signs of missing his rock and roll lifestyle. It didn’t seem beyond the realms of possibility that he might propose to Ruby, either; as far as Nessie could tell, they were besotted with each other.

  Martha took a long sip of her cocktail and shook her head. ‘Better let him think he came up with the idea all by himself,’ she advised Ruby. ‘I can’t wait to see the size of the rock he buys you!’

  Over the course of the evening, Nessie watched the steady flow of comings and goings at Lydia’s table. Once or twice, she took advantage of a slight lull in the tarot reader’s visitors to check she had something to drink, casting a curious look at the deck of cards as she did so. As closing time drew near, she was surprised to see Henry Fitzsimmons take a seat opposite Lydia. Her heart ached as she watched Lydia look up from the spread of cards to smile sadly at him.

  ‘Poor Henry,’ Sam said, materialising beside Nessie. ‘Do you suppose he asked about

  Franny?’

  It had been just over six weeks since Franny’s tragic death and Henry had taken the loss of his wife hard. ‘Probably,’ Nessie replied, sighing. ‘I hope Lydia is gentle with him.’

  Sam placed a hand on her arm. ‘I know you don’t believe in it – I don’t either. But I’ve heard enough about Lydia to know she’s very good at what she does. I’m sure she’ll be able to offer Henry some comfort.’

  They watched as the tarot reader made a comment that elicited a smile from the white-haired man opposite her. Whatever she said made him sit up a little straighter too and by the time he got up to leave, Nessie thought he looked as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. ‘Never mind predicting the future, Lydia should set up as a bereavement counsellor,’ she murmured to Sam.

  Her sister gave her a sidelong look. ‘Fancy having yours done?’ she said with an impish grin. ‘I will if you will.’

  Nessie felt her eyes widen. ‘No!’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ Sam teased. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

  It was a fair question, Nessie thought. Owen had been fascinated by the idea of getting his cards read, but he was a blacksmith and Welsh; Nessie often had the sense that there was something wild and magical buried beneath his practical exterior. But that didn’t mean she was ready to let Lydia peek into her future.

  ‘Nothing will happen,’ she said to Sam, ‘because it’s not real.’

  Sam cocked her head. ‘Then there’s no reason not to give it a whirl, is there?’

  ‘Apart from the queue of paying customers,’ Nessie pointed out. ‘I’m sure Lydia will be exhausted by the time she’s finished with them.’

  But it seemed Sam wasn’t letting Nessie off the hook. Once the door of the pub was firmly closed, she turned a meaningful look on her sister. ‘Lydia says we can choose one card each.’

  ‘Sam!’ Nessie protested, with an embarrassed glance at the tarot reader. ‘I’m sure she just wants to go home.’

  The blonde woman smiled serenely and held out her pack of cards. ‘Not at all. Shuffle the deck and think of what you want to ask, then spread the cards and select whichever you are most drawn to.’

  There was no way Nessie could refuse, not without seeming rude. Deciding to have strong words with Sam later, she took the pack and did as Lydia instructed. And although she hadn’t expected to feel anything as she spread the ornately-decorated cards face-down on the table, there was one her hand hovered over longer than the others. ‘This one,’ she said, placing it face down in front of Lydia.

  ‘Ah,’ Lydia said thoughtfully, once she’d turned the card over. ‘The Moon.’

  Nessie gazed at the image, which featured a woman’s face in a full yellow moon. A wolf and a dog howled beneath it. At their feet, water lapped at a path that led into the mountains, and a scorpion waved its pincers as though trying to nip them. ‘What does it mean?’ she asked, before she could stop herself.

  Lydia tilted her head. ‘Illusion. Duality. Something is not as it seems. Or perhaps someone.’

  Blinking in surprise, Nessie gazed into her clear blue eyes. ‘What?’

  The tarot reader pointed at the two towers that flanked the mountains. ‘These can sometimes represent good and evil, and the difficulty of deciding which course of action will place us on the right path.’ She sighed and peered more closely at the card. ‘There is uncertainty and anxiety in your future, but you must trust in the light of the moon to reveal the truth to you. Your intuition will show you the way, if you allow yourself to trust it.’

  Nessie nodded, trying to find some meaning in Lydia’s words in spite of her determination not to. When it seemed there was no more to be said, she smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Sam stepped forward eagerly. ‘My turn,’ she said, taking the gathered pack from Lydia and closing her eyes to shuffle it.

  Lydia’s face brightened as she turned Sam’s card over. ‘The Lovers,’ she said, beaming with approval. ‘A happy union is in your future.’

  Was it Nessie’s imagination or did Sam blush? ‘Oh. Er . . . good,’ she mumbled, firing an embarrassed look Nessie’s way.

  Lydia’s finger tapped at the colourful image, coming to rest on the handsome man. ‘This card suggests a strong and lasting relationship is about to enter your life – a partnership that will both empower and enrich you. But it can also mean there is a choice to be made – perhaps between two potential suitors – and you must take the time to consider the options before making your decision.’

  Sam’s blush deepened. Nessie had no doubt what her sister’s question had been, and she was clearly hoping that the happy union might be with Gabe, although there was the small matter of being pregnant with Joss’s baby to consider. And the strangest thing was that it was unexpectedly accurate, Nessie thought; Lydia’s prediction for Sam had been very near the mark, even though Nessie was sure the other woman couldn’t have any idea what was going through Sam’s head.

  ‘Does that mean anything to you?’ Lydia said, gathering up her cards.

  Sam nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks for doing it for us.’

  Lydia smiled as she slipped the pack into a velvet bag and reached for her coat. ‘A pleasure. Thank you for having me here tonight.’

  ‘That wasn’t at all weird, was it?’ Sam asked when Lydia had left. ‘Do you forgive me for making you do it?’

  ‘Just about,’ Nessie replied, smiling. ‘No prizes for guessing what yours means.’

  ‘No,’ Sam admitted. ‘I’m not sure I like the bit about making a choice, though. My baby brain is so bad that I can’t even decide which socks to wear most mornings.’

  Nessie pulled a face. ‘Consider yourself lucky,’ she said ruefully. ‘At least you don’t have a scorpion snapping at your feet.’

  They finished clearing up. Yawning, Nessie made her way towards the door. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Sleep well,’ Sam called back. ‘Wait. You didn’t tell me what your question was.’

  ‘That’s because the card I pulled didn’t make any sense,’ Nessie said. ‘I wanted to know what to do about Laurie.’

  Sam frowned. ‘Oh. Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Just as I expected,’ Nessie said, shrugging. ‘Night, Sam.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘Have you got a minute, Nessie?’

  She looked up to see Connor hoveri
ng in the office doorway, his large frame taking up most of the space. He was frowning in a way that made Nessie’s heart sink; as an ex-firefighter, Connor usually took everything in his stride and it was rare for him to trouble Sam or Nessie. Something must be wrong.

  ‘Of course,’ Nessie said, twisting in her seat to face him. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘That delivery that arrived from the brewery just now . . .’ he paused and looked even more puzzled. ‘Is there any reason you ordered double what we needed?’

  Nessie felt her mouth fall open. ‘Double? What are you talking about?’ She reached for the lever arch folder where she kept copies of all the pub’s orders. ‘It should have been a standard Monday delivery.’

  Connor shrugged. ‘And it was – just twice as much as usual. I’m struggling to find room for everything in the cellar – come and see for yourself. It’s like Tetris down there.’

  She shook her head in bewilderment as she flicked through the paperwork. ‘No, I believe you. But I don’t understand how it’s happened – I placed the order on Friday morning, right after the Tarot Evening.’ She pointed at a sheet of paper in the folder. ‘Look – here it is.’

  Connor took a few steps forwards and dutifully scanned the order. ‘Looks like exactly half of what came. I had to send three barrels of Thirsty Bishop back.’

  ‘Maybe the order was duplicated somehow,’ Nessie said. She picked up her phone. ‘Let me give them a ring.’

  The mystery was solved by the brewery’s sale rep a few moments later: the email containing Nessie’s order had been delivered once, at nine-twenty on Friday morning, and then it had arrived again just after midday. The automated ordering system hadn’t been clever enough to realise the same order had been placed twice, hence the double quantities.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ the sales rep’s voice crackled on speakerphone. ‘The system is programmed to flag up two identical orders that come through within seconds of each other. But there were a few hours between these two, so it would have treated them as separate requests.’