Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Read online

  She paused and stared down the alleyway that led to Joss’s workplace. He’d be surprised to see her – she hadn’t told him she was coming, because that would have made him ask why – but hopefully he’d be able to make time to talk; surely the bar he worked in couldn’t be that busy at eleven o’clock on a Monday morning. But if it was, she’d have to wait until he did have time for her. It wasn’t as though she had anything else to do.

  When she stepped into Castle Court itself, the prettiness of the scene took the edge off her anxiety. Three storeys of shops overlooked a courtyard dominated by a tall tree at its heart. Sam knew without entering that the shops were the kind that would magically soothe her troubles away, albeit temporarily: a patisserie, a chocolatier’s, an exquisitely decorated biscuit shop and a Dutch pancake restaurant that was filling the air with the most delicious smell. There was no doubt about it, she decided as she turned her gaze towards the second and third floors, this was foodie heaven. Gabe would love it, she thought, and then felt her insides tighten again as she remembered why she was there.

  Squaring her shoulders, she set her sights on the top floor and started to make her way towards Seb’s cocktail bar.

  The man who greeted her was tall and good-looking. ‘Welcome to Seb’s,’ he said with an easy smile, and his words were coloured by more than a hint of a South African accent. ‘How can I help you today – coffee? Brunch?’

  Sam glanced around; the bar wasn’t busy, but several tables were occupied and there was a couple deep in conversation on one of the inviting-looking sofas. ‘Actually, I’m looking for Joss Felstead. Is he working today?’

  The man lifted one eyebrow and studied her with more interest. ‘Sure, he’s out the back. Let me give him a call for you – why don’t you take a seat?’

  Sam’s heart began to thud again as she waited, her nerves prickling with pins and needles. She took several deliberate deep breaths and willed herself to calm down. It wouldn’t do to pass out before she’d even said hello.

  When Joss appeared, he almost did a double take. ‘Sam? Is everything okay?’

  She stood up, hoping her tingling legs would support her weight. ‘Hi. Sorry to bother you at work but . . .’ she trailed off as another wave of anxiety washed over her. ‘We need to talk.’

  Frowning, Joss glanced at the South African man, who was watching curiously from behind the bar. ‘Seb, do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Seb replied. ‘Take all the time you need.’

  Joss nodded his thanks and turned his attention back to Sam. ‘Here?’

  She hesitated, noting the way Seb continued to observe them. ‘Is there somewhere else we can go? Somewhere more private?’

  Something that looked a lot like understanding settled over Joss’s features. He nodded. ‘My place is just upstairs. Come on.’

  Sam followed as he made his way along the passage, past the shops to a small staircase that led to a narrow landing with several brightly-coloured front doors.

  ‘These are the garret rooms. A few of us live up here.’

  He thrust a key into one of the locks and ushered her inside. Sam looked around – the living room was small, with a kitchen-diner and two other doors that Sam assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom.

  ‘This is nice,’ she managed, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack. ‘Handy for work.’

  Joss nodded. ‘It’s good enough for now.’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  Sam shook her head; as much as she’d love the soothing warmth of tea, she wasn’t sure she could take much more of the adrenaline that was coursing through her body. ‘No thanks. I need to say what I’ve come to say.’

  Joss’s expression grew ever more watchful as he nodded again. ‘At least take your coat off and sit down. And try to remember to breathe, Sam. Whatever you’ve got to say, I’m not going to bite.’

  The brief flash of wryness allowed a little of the tension to slide from Sam’s shoulders. She sat on a hard oak chair that stood beside a small dining table and sighed. ‘No, I know. It’s just . . . you’re in for a bit of a shock and there’s no easy way to break this to you.’ She reached into her handbag and slid the black-and-white photograph from a side pocket. ‘I’m pregnant, Joss. You’re going to be a father.’

  Joss said nothing, his blue eyes wide as he stared first at her and then at the photograph in her hands.

  ‘I – we – don’t expect anything from you – obviously, you’ve got a life here now and I’m not telling you this because I expect us to get back together or play happy families or anything like that.’ Sam took a deep breath as her heart rate started to return to normal. ‘But it’s your baby too and I thought you had a right to know.’

  Joss remained silent and still, then ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘How long have you . . . I mean, how far along are you?’ he asked, his tone wooden.

  ‘Sixteen weeks,’ she said, willing him to take the picture. ‘Obviously, I don’t need to explain how it happened.’

  ‘Franny’s wedding,’ he said unnecessarily. He licked his lips. ‘And you’re . . . it’s . . . everything is all right?’

  Sam fought off a hysterical laugh. ‘No. I’m pregnant, Joss. My sister hates me, I feel like death and I’m scared out of my wits. Nothing is all right.’

  He looked at the floor. ‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’

  The urge to laugh melted away; none of this was his fault, any more than it was hers. ‘But everything is fine with the baby,’ she said, softening her voice. ‘Look – two arms, two legs and one head.’

  For a moment, Joss didn’t move, didn’t reach out to take the photograph she held towards him. And then, slowly, he closed the space between them. His hand shook as he touched the monochrome square.

  ‘He has my nose,’ he said, after almost a minute had passed. ‘Don’t you think?’

  Sam nearly smiled. ‘I hope not. Mine is better. But I won’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl until after the next scan.’

  Joss nodded, his gaze fixed on the picture. ‘We.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Sam said, the breath catching in her throat.

  ‘We won’t know,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what kind of a response you expected, Sam – clearly you’ve been dreading telling me – but I hope you know I’m not the kind of man who’d shirk his responsibilities. And I admit it’s going to take a while to get my head round this, but there’s no way I’m letting you deal with it on your own.’ He fixed her with a determined gaze. ‘I’m going to be there. For everything.’

  It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. ‘But your work—’

  ‘It’s a bar job,’ he interrupted gently. ‘And yes, I like it here, but I liked it in Little Monkham too. I only left because there wasn’t anything there for me. And in a few months’ time, there will be.’

  He meant it, Sam realised, taking in his resolute expression. ‘You don’t have to move back to the village.’ She placed a hand on her stomach. ‘Not just for us.’

  ‘But I want to,’ he said. ‘I’ll admit I haven’t given much thought to the kind of dad I want to be, but I do know I don’t want to be the sort who only sees their kid once a month. So I’ll need to be near you. Not right away, and maybe not in Little Monkham itself, but somewhere nearby.’

  Sam let out a long slow breath. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Joss moving back to the Little Monkham area or about how much he’d be part of her life in the months to come, but it was something she’d have to get used to. ‘Okay. I’ve got another scan in the middle of April – shall I send you the date?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, lapsing into silence as he looked down at the photograph once more. ‘My mother is going to be over the moon.’

  The idea that someone might be thrilled with the new life growing inside her made Sam’s eyes swim; it wasn’t the baby’s fault that its parents were woefully unprepared for their new roles. And, as Joss said, the thought of having a baby took a lot of getting used to, but had
n’t she started that process the moment she’d decided to go through with the pregnancy?

  ‘Sam?’ Joss’s voice cut into her thoughts.

  ‘Yes?’

  He knelt down to take her hand. ‘Thanks for coming here today. I know it wasn’t easy.’

  She dredged up a smile. ‘No, it wasn’t. But I feel so much better, like a big grey cloud has lifted. Thanks for not kicking me out.’

  Joss half-laughed. ‘Is that what you thought I’d do?’ He took her other hand and helped her up, then pulled her carefully into a hug. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re an idiot, Sam Chapman?’

  ‘No,’ Sam said, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him. ‘Not today, anyway.’

  *

  It was Saturday evening and the Star and Sixpence was pleasingly full. Sam paused beside the last-orders bell and took a deep, fortifying breath before ringing it.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she called, as heads turned her way and conversations grew hushed. ‘Friends and neighbours. I have a small announcement to make.’

  An expectant silence filled the bar.

  Sam met Ruby’s encouraging gaze and swallowed hard. ‘Most of you know that Joss Felstead and I broke up last year. But, as Shakespeare almost once said, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune never did run smooth—’

  A rumble of laughter floated towards her.

  ‘—And I’m delighted to reveal that there will be the pitter-patter of tiny feet behind the bar very soon. Joss and I are expecting a baby.’

  There were several sharp intakes of breath and several whispered conversations. But Ruby was ready, a glass in her hand.

  ‘Congratulations, darling!’ she called, lifting her cranberry juice in a toast. ‘What wonderful news!’

  And then everyone was calling out their good wishes, and Sam found herself being enveloped in warm hugs. There was one face she didn’t spot, not until she looked over the sea of customers to the door, and that was Nessie’s. When their eyes eventually met, she gave Sam a stricken look and then vanished into the darkness outside.

  ‘Give her time,’ Ruby murmured, maintaining her position at Sam’s side. ‘She’ll come round.’

  I hope so, Sam thought, struggling to keep her face from crumpling. Because I don’t think I can do this without her.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Nessie’s phone pinged early on Sunday morning, not long after Owen and Luke had left for football. She reached across to the bedside table and saw Kathryn’s name on the screen. Her heart sank. It wasn’t unusual for Owen’s sister to message, but not first thing on a Sunday, when she’d probably had a late gig with her folk band the night before. The tour they were on was punishing; Nessie didn’t even know where in the country Kathryn was. So there was probably only one reason she’d make the effort to get in touch now, Nessie reasoned. And she wasn’t sure she felt strong enough to cope with either Kathryn’s curiosity or her well-meaning sympathy.

  It took her a few minutes of staring at the ceiling to summon up the strength to read the message.

  Owen told me the news. How are you? X

  It was a fair question, Nessie thought, dropping her phone onto the duvet and closing her eyes. How was she? Part of her wished Sam had warned her what she’d planned to do but, in her heart, she couldn’t really blame her sister for wanting to tell as many people as possible in one go. And what would Nessie have done if she’d known – hidden away and pretended it wasn’t happening? That seemed like a cowardly way to act. No, the only thing she might have done would be to warn Owen; he’d been understandably hurt that he hadn’t heard the news from Nessie herself.

  ‘How long have you known?’ he’d asked her quietly, as they’d got ready for bed the night before.

  ‘Since January,’ she’d admitted, bracing herself for his anger.

  It didn’t come. Instead, he’d wrapped his arms around her and held her close. ‘That must have been so hard for you. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Sam asked me not to tell anyone,’ she’d mumbled, determined not to cry again. It felt as though all she’d done over the last five months was battle tears.

  Owen had stroked her hair in silence for a few seconds. ‘That’s not very fair. Didn’t she think how you might be feeling?’

  ‘Don’t blame her,’ Nessie had said, instinctively defending Sam in spite of the wretched ache in her chest. ‘She’s had a tough time too.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Owen had replied. ‘But swearing you to secrecy when she must have known you’d be upset seems a little thoughtless.’

  An image of Sam in the bar, surrounded by friends congratulating her on the news, had popped into Nessie’s head. It wasn’t fair, she’d thought, closing her eyes against a hot rush of misery. It should have been her. And Owen was right; removing the comfort of talking to him about her pain had made everything more difficult. But that was how Sam had always been – impulsive and daring and just the tiniest bit self-centred.

  ‘And I wish you’d told me,’ Owen had continued, but there was no accusation in his words. ‘I understand why you didn’t, but it was something of a shock hearing the announcement.’

  She’d blinked hard. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  Sighing, he’d scratched his stubble-covered chin. ‘I’ll tell Luke in the morning, on the way home from football practice.’

  Nessie shifted in bed and checked the time – it was after nine-thirty, football would be over by now. Knowing Luke, he’d have bombarded Owen with questions and would still have more to ask when he arrived home. But she also knew Owen would have warned him to tread carefully around her, not to seem too excited and keen, for fear of upsetting her.

  She passed a weary hand over her face and pressed her lips together; she ought to be fine by now. Miscarriages were hardly rare – women all over the world had the same experience every day, picking themselves up and getting on with their lives, sad but accepting of their loss. What kind of sister was Nessie if she couldn’t put her own sorrow to one side long enough to be happy for Sam?

  All too soon, she would be visibly pregnant, Nessie thought tremulously, and that would make everything incontrovertibly real. She had to get herself together before then, for all their sakes. It wasn’t fair on anyone to go on like this.

  She reached for her phone and read Kathryn’s message again. Taking a deep breath, she typed a reply.

  It’s been a bit of a shock. Lots of change ahead! X

  Kathryn’s response was almost immediate.

  Yes, but how are you? Don’t dodge the question. X

  The stern instruction made Nessie smile.

  I’m OK, she replied. Or at least I will be. X

  She put down her phone and got out of bed. It made what she’d written feel like less of a lie.

  *

  Nessie was in the kitchen when Owen and Luke arrived home. She heard them long before she saw them; the old Land Rover did not have the quietest of engines and its big tyres crunched on the gravel as Owen steered it through the gates and into the yard. Then there was Luke’s excited chattering, although Nessie couldn’t make out the exact words, and Owen’s good-natured but repeated reminders to leave his muddy football boots outside. All of which gave Nessie plenty of time to gather her defences against Luke’s reaction to the news. And yet she still wasn’t ready when he finally barrelled through the back door and into the kitchen.

  She’d expected him to hang back, cautioned by Owen, but he surprised her by rushing forward to throw his arms around her in a hug that made the air huff from her lungs.

  They stood there in silence for a moment, then Luke spoke. ‘Dad told me about Sam’s baby,’ he said, his voice muffled against her jumper. ‘And I wanted you to know that I know it’s not the same and I’m not actually your son, but I’d really like it if you were my mum.’

  The words tumbled out so fast that Nessie wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. It wasn’t until he lifted his head to smile at her and she saw the love in his
summer-blue gaze that she understood what he was saying. Tears sprang into her own eyes then, and she couldn’t prevent the ragged gasp that tore from her throat. She placed a hand on his sandy hair, unable to speak.

  Owen pushed open the door and stopped still at the sight of them, his face falling as he saw the tears on Nessie’s cheeks. ‘Luke—’ he began, but Nessie shook her head.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, amazed that her voice sounded almost normal. ‘Luke was just asking if I’d like to be his mum.’

  Owen did not gasp or cry. Instead, Nessie saw the muscles in his jaw tighten and she knew he was fighting for control of his emotions just as much as she was.

  ‘And I think,’ Nessie went on, managing a smile, ‘that I’d like to be his mum very much indeed.’

  Luke’s freckled face split into a grin. ‘Awesome!’ He paused and his expression lit up, as though something amazing had just occurred to him. ‘And maybe my mum could look after your baby. In heaven, or wherever they are. So it’s like a trade.’

  Nessie sucked in a great big breath, determined not to give in to the wave of grief that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. She met Owen’s gaze and saw that he’d given up trying not to cry; his dark brown eyes were brimming with tears. Holding out an arm, she summoned him close so that the three of them were wrapped around each other.

  ‘That’s a lovely thought, Luke,’ she replied, the moment she felt she could speak without making the boy worry he’d said something wrong. ‘Thank you very much for suggesting it.’

  He submitted to the indignity of the hug for a few more seconds, then began to squirm. Nessie and Owen smiled at each other and parted to let him escape.

  ‘Now, why don’t you go and get that muddy football kit off?’ Nessie said, as he danced towards the door that led to the living room. ‘Before you switch on that wretched games console, if you don’t mind.’