Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Page 26

  The trouble was, it wasn’t a bad idea, Sam realised as they rounded the corner and the pub came into view. Joss was a very capable pair of hands; she could trust him implicitly. Everything would be so much easier with him around . . .

  ‘And,’ he said, a sudden determination creeping into his voice, ‘it would mean I could take care of you, too. I know you said no the last time I asked, but I’m not going anywhere, Sam. I still love you and I want us to be a proper family.’

  Sam’s shoulders sagged as she pictured a future with Joss. It wasn’t an unpleasant image, and it would almost certainly help to solve her fear of being left alone with a baby she didn’t know how to look after.

  Joss seemed to sense her hesitation, because he reached for her hand and plunged on. ‘You know we made a great team before. Why not give us a chance to be great together again?’

  ‘I—’ Sam wavered, her gaze fixed on the Star and Sixpence. ‘I don’t know . . .’

  Up ahead, she saw Gabe turn round and scan the crowd, as though he was looking for someone. When his eyes found her, something that looked a lot like relief passed across his face and he smiled. And, remembering his assurances that he would be there to help, and how it had felt to fall asleep beside him, Sam knew what her response to Joss had to be.

  ‘I’ll think about your offer to help manage the pub,’ she said carefully, fighting to ensure her voice didn’t betray the emotion she felt surging inside. ‘But I’m not part of the deal. Sorry.’

  The last word came out as a whisper but Joss heard. For a moment, she saw a wounded look in his eyes, then a rueful smile crossed his face. ‘I understand. But you can’t blame a guy for trying again, right?’

  She squeezed his fingers and let them go. ‘No. I don’t blame you at all.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  It was almost midnight when the last of the mourners left the Star and Sixpence.

  Nessie closed the door with a weary sigh. ‘I think that went as well as could be expected.’

  Her sister placed a hand on her back and stretched, wincing a little as she did so. ‘It did. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Henry quite so drunk – I hope Owen and Gabe manage to get him home okay.’

  ‘He did Franny proud today,’ Nessie said, smiling at the thought of Henry holding court beside the bar, regaling everyone with stories about his wonderful wife. ‘I think she’d forgive him for being slightly the worse for wear.’

  ‘Probably,’ Sam replied wryly. She looked round the untidy bar and groaned. ‘Do we have to do all this tonight? My ankles feel like tree trunks.’

  Nessie took pity on her. ‘No. Let’s do it in the morning – it’s not as though anyone is going to be clamouring for a drink at opening time, after all.’

  ‘That’s true. Thanks,’ Sam said, with a grateful smile. ‘But wait for me to help this time, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Nessie promised, then paused. ‘Joss looked well. It was good to see him.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sam replied. She pulled a face. ‘He had a suggestion to make, actually. In case you do decide to leave.’

  ‘Oh?’ Nessie said, going suddenly still. ‘What kind of suggestion?’

  Sam shrugged. ‘Quite a good one. He wants to come back to work here – take over the management of the pub while I’m on maternity leave.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’ Nessie asked carefully, her voice as even as she could make it over the thudding of her heart.

  ‘I think he’s the obvious choice,’ Sam said, her tone neutral. ‘It means Gabe can focus on the restaurant side of things and I’ll know the pub is in good hands.’

  Nessie studied her sister’s face closely. There was more to it than that, she could tell. Could it be that Sam was considering more than a business partnership with Joss? ‘And?’

  ‘And nothing,’ Sam said. ‘Oh, he wanted us to get back together, but I told him that wasn’t happening.’

  Relief coursed through Nessie so fast that she almost sagged. ‘Oh. Good. Because there’s something I wanted to tell you.’ She took a deep breath and met Sam’s eyes. ‘Owen and I have talked it through and I’ve decided I’m not taking the job with McBride.’

  ‘What?’ Sam gave her a stunned look. ‘But it’s perfect for you. And the money . . . the fresh challenge – I thought it was everything you wanted.’

  ‘I won’t say I wasn’t tempted,’ Nessie said. ‘They were offering a lot. But I realised that none of that matters to me – there’s a lot on offer here, too, and plenty of challenges. The truth is, I belong at the Star and Sixpence. With you.’

  Sam’s eyes filled with tears. ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing,’ Nessie said, smiling. ‘I want to be here, to watch you become the wonderful mother I know you’ll be. And I want to see my niece or nephew grow up. I can’t do that if I’m off raising spirits elsewhere.’

  Sam dabbed beneath her eyelashes and sniffed. ‘Raising community spirits,’ she corrected. ‘Raising spirits is an entirely different job.’

  Nessie laughed. ‘Okay, but my point is that I’m staying here. And if Joss wants to come back to help, we’ll make it work somehow. Whatever the coming months and years bring us, we’ll face it together.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Sam said, opening her arms to hug Nessie. ‘See? You’ve raised my spirits already.’

  ‘Good,’ Nessie whispered as she pulled her sister close. ‘Mine too.’

  PART FOUR

  Last Words at the Star and Sixpence

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  THE STAR AND SIXPENCE PROUDLY PRESENTS

  Midsummer Merriment!

  Join us for a festival of sunshine, cider and song.

  Featuring:

  Local and national ciders

  Farmer’s Market – Sausage Fest

  Music from Sonic Folk, Sax Appeal and The Beasties

  Plus, special guest star Micky Holiday.

  On the Village Green, Little Monkham

  Friday 21st June – Sunday 23rd June

  There was a dog in the beer garden.

  Sam frowned and paused in the back door of the Star and Sixpence, watching as the animal cocked its black-and-white head to gaze at her, as though hoping she might be carrying a sausage or two. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is all baby,’ she said, patting the rounded bump beneath her jumper. ‘Where’s your owner?’

  Taking a few steps to the left, she glanced over the low wooden fence towards the village green, squinting in the May sunlight and expecting to see an early-morning dog walker peering frantically around, but there was no sign of anyone. The dog wasn’t wearing a collar, either, and when Sam looked more closely, she could see its body was thin and the fur matted.

  ‘I think you’re a stray,’ she murmured. The dog whined and wagged its tail but stayed seated on the dew-covered grass by the wooden tables, keeping its distance. Sam bit her lip, wondering what to do. There must be someone she could call – the local council or maybe even an animal shelter – who would be able to find out quickly and easily if the dog had been reported lost. A month earlier, Sam would have known exactly who to ask: Franny Fitzsimmons, who had run the Little Monkham post office and knew everything about everyone. But Franny had passed away suddenly on Easter Sunday, leaving a hole in the hearts and minds of those who’d known her that was proving impossible to fill.

  Sam sighed and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. It was seven-thirty, too early to call for professional help, so she rang the pub’s chef, Gabe.

  ‘Sam?’ he said, answering on the second ring. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Fine,’ she assured him, momentarily touched by the concern in his voice. ‘I’m downstairs in the beer garden. I don’t suppose you’ve got any spare sausages in the fridge, have you?’

  Gabe let out an incredulous laugh. ‘We just had breakfast, Sam. Surely you can’t be hungry again already?’

  ‘They’re not for me,’ she said. ‘We’ve got an unexpected guest. Bring t
he sausages here and you’ll see what I mean.’

  He arrived a few minutes later, his dark hair damp from the shower and his stubble still glistening, with a plate of cold chipolatas from the restaurant kitchen balanced in one hand. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said in a low voice as the dog sniffed the air and pushed itself onto all fours. ‘Now it makes sense.’

  ‘I don’t know who to contact, but I don’t suppose anywhere is open yet,’ Sam said, her own voice soft. ‘So I thought if we could tempt him into the bar, we could keep him safe until we can find someone to help.’

  The dog took several steps forward, its brown eyes fixed on the plate in Gabe’s hand. It let out another whine. Gabe broke a chipolata in half and tossed it onto the grass. In a flash, it was gone. He threw another chunk, which vanished as fast as the first, and then glanced at Sam.

  ‘Go inside and wait behind the bar,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring him in.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, but the set look in Gabe’s eyes made her close it again. And she supposed he was right to be cautious; the dog seemed friendly and docile, but they had no idea of its actual temperament or what diseases it might be carrying. She couldn’t take any chances, not when she was nearly seven months pregnant.

  She watched from the safety of the bar a few moments later as Gabe encouraged the dog to settle by the grey, unlit fireplace. Its tail thumped the carpet with each piece of sausage; Gabe reached out to scratch behind the scruffy ears and Sam felt her heart melt as the wagging tail sped up to a frenzy. This wasn’t a feral dog – it was used to being stroked and loved. This was – or had been – someone’s pet.

  ‘You’re a hungry boy,’ she heard Gabe say as he knelt down to caress the animal’s head. ‘Wait here and I’ll see what else I can find for you.’

  The dog seemed to understand because it lay down flat and placed its head on its paws.

  Sam moved from behind the bar. ‘I don’t think we need to worry about him turning into Cujo,’ she said. ‘He’s a total softie.’

  Gabe stood up. ‘I’m sure you’re right. He’s very thin, though. I think he’s been missing for some time.’

  Sam eyed the dog’s bony haunches. ‘Maybe we should hold off giving him too much rich food. It might be a while since he’s eaten.’

  ‘I could boil a chicken breast with some rice?’ Gabe suggested, rubbing his chin. ‘That’s pretty bland.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll give him some water and see if Nessie knows who we should call.’

  The dog’s eyes followed Gabe as he crossed the room and it let out a soft whine when he disappeared through the kitchen door.

  Sam gave the animal a commiserating look. ‘I know the feeling.’

  She called Nessie’s number. Her sister answered almost as fast as Gabe had. ‘Hi, Sam. Everything okay?’

  Sam allowed herself a smile. ‘Yes, everything is fine. I just need to pick your brains – or maybe Owen’s . . .’

  A minute or so later, Sam had the number of the local vet and a dog shelter based around fifteen miles away. ‘But I’ll be coming over shortly,’ Nessie said once she’d relayed the information. ‘If we ever find Luke’s school shoes, that is.’

  The comment made Sam grin; she could imagine sandy-haired Luke tearing through the rooms of Snowdrop Cottage in search of the missing footwear. Equally, she could picture his father, Owen, exhorting him to slow down and remember where he left them. And she’d be willing to bet it was Nessie who found the shoes first.

  ‘Good luck,’ she said into the phone, her tone wry. ‘See you soon, hopefully.’

  Moving with exaggerated care, she filled a bowl with water and eased out from behind the bar, trying not to startle the dog. It watched her actions with interest, muzzle resting on its salt-and-pepper paws, but seemed otherwise relaxed.

  Sam placed the bowl of water on the floor and stepped back. ‘Almost our finest brew,’ she said. ‘Cheers.’

  The dog got to its feet and began to slurp noisily from the bowl.

  Sam watched in sympathy. ‘Thirsty as well as hungry. You’ve had a tough time, boy.’

  Reaching for her phone once more, she left a message at the vet’s practice; Owen had suggested trying there first, in case someone in the surrounding villages had reported their pet missing. Failing that, they’d also be able to check for a microchip, which might result in a happy reunion and had the added bonus of giving the dog a quick medical once-over. The dog shelter was a last resort, Sam decided, to be contacted in the event that the owner couldn’t be found.

  The dog lay down once more and seemed content to watch Sam potter around the bar, undertaking the various tasks that needed to be done before opening time. Nessie’s arrival caused a flicker of interest; it raised its head as she pushed open the door and took a few measured steps towards the fireplace.

  ‘Oh, he’s a Border collie,’ she said and held out one hand for the dog to sniff. ‘Hello, I’m Nessie. Welcome to the Star and Sixpence.’

  The animal eyed her for a moment, then the reappearance of Gabe caused it to turn away. The scent of warm chicken filled the air.

  ‘Just a small portion for now,’ he said, placing the plate on the floor beside the water. ‘We don’t want to overload you.’

  ‘No collar?’ Nessie asked, once the dog had started to wolf down the rice and chicken.

  ‘No sign of one,’ Sam replied with a sigh. ‘It might have fallen off or got caught on something, if he’s been missing for a while.’

  Nessie frowned. ‘He can’t belong to anyone in Little Monkham – we’d know.’

  ‘We’d certainly know if he’d been lost,’ Sam said. ‘So I’m thinking one of the other villages. Hopefully the vet will be able to help, once they open. I’ve left a message.’

  ‘I wonder what his name is,’ Nessie said. ‘Something bouncy and fun, I think. Although I suppose there’s always a chance he’s a working dog, from one of the farms.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Sam replied. ‘We won’t know until the vet gets in touch.’

  Gabe smiled as the dog gave the now spotless plate one final lick and then ambled underneath the table in front of the fireplace, sinking to the carpet with a huff of apparent contentment. ‘Another satisfied customer.’

  ‘He seems happy enough under there,’ Nessie observed. ‘Why don’t we let him sleep? Gives me a good excuse to leave the hoovering until later.’

  *

  It was another hour before Sam’s phone rang. She recognised the number on the screen as belonging to the vet and reached across the kitchen table to snatch up the handset eagerly. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Emily Bell here,’ a female voice said, with a cheerful Australian twang. ‘I got a message to give you a call – I hear you’ve found a stray dog.’

  Sam relayed what little she knew.

  ‘I can stop by after the morning surgery,’ Emily offered. ‘Around one o’clock?’

  ‘Nothing sooner?’ Sam asked, wondering where she might put the dog once it was time for the Star and Sixpence to open its doors.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ the vet said. ‘There’s just me and the practice nurse here this morning and we’ve got a full appointment book. Sorry.’

  Sam was just about to reluctantly accept the visit when she heard a volley of excited barks from the bar below. She reeled off the pub’s address and told Emily she’d see her after lunch, then heaved herself to her feet and made her way downstairs to investigate. She found her brother, Laurie, with his back pinned to the main pub door, his face white with fear. The dog stood growling, hackles raised as it stared at Laurie with an unwavering gaze.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Laurie said, his voice tight.

  Sam edged forwards. ‘I found him in the garden this morning. He’s been really friendly, up until now.’

  Laurie’s eyes flashed. ‘Yeah, looks friendly. Call it off.’

  Sam puffed out a breath. She and Nessie had never had a dog as kids, or any kind of pet; their mother had always insisted it was en
ough work looking after the two of them, let alone throwing an animal into the mix. But even though the stray was growling and fierce, she wasn’t afraid. Perplexed at the sudden shift in attitude, but not alarmed – not the way Laurie was. Then again, she wasn’t the one being growled at.

  ‘Here, boy,’ she called, taking a few more steps and holding out a hand. ‘Come on, that’s enough now.’

  The dog’s head swivelled briefly her way, as though checking it had heard correctly, then resumed its narrow-eyed surveillance of Laurie.

  ‘Here,’ Sam repeated, a little more forcefully. ‘Now.’

  This time, the dog whined but did as she commanded. Ears flattened to its black-and-white head, it slunk to her side and sat down, although Sam noticed it kept a suspicious gaze trained on Laurie.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘You must have scared him.’

  Some of the colour had returned to Laurie’s cheeks, but he looked far from happy. ‘Seriously – I scared him? I thought he was going to take a chunk out of me.’

  She glanced down at the dog, docile but wary. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave him in the bar once the pub opened. ‘I’ll take him upstairs,’ she said, making up her mind. ‘Are you okay to open up?’

  Laurie cast a mistrustful look in the stray’s direction. ‘Yes. As long as you keep the Hound of the Baskervilles away from me.’

  Sam couldn’t help smiling. ‘The vet is coming after lunch. Hopefully, she’ll be able to identify the owner and they can collect him.’

  Her brother grunted but didn’t move. It wasn’t until Sam reached the foot of the stairs, the dog at her heels, that she heard Laurie start to cross the room.

  ‘You’ll probably have to fumigate,’ he called, as she made her way to the first floor. ‘I bet it’s got fleas and god knows what else.’

  Recalling the bony body beneath the matted fur, Sam swallowed a sigh; Laurie was almost certainly right. She glanced at the dog and made a decision. ‘How would you feel about a bath?’ she asked brightly.