Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Page 31

  Sam couldn’t deny she was tired; somehow, dozing all evening had only made her more exhausted. ‘Okay, thanks. See you in the morning.’

  She hesitated when she reached the top of the landing, craning for a sound that would tell her Gabe had opted for an early night too, but everything was still. With a heavy sigh, Sam opened her door and went to bed.

  *

  ‘We need to talk, Sam.’

  Joss met her in the kitchen doorway early the following morning, his expression tense. Sam felt a stab of anxiety when she saw Gabe behind him, looking equally grim-faced. Had they argued? Was she about to discover they couldn’t bear to be in the same room?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, glancing back and forth between them as Bucky snuffled at her hand in greeting.

  Joss waited until she was seated and Gabe had placed a mug of decaf coffee in front of her before speaking again. ‘Remember how bad the pub’s electrics were when you first moved in? How the fuses used to trip at the worst possible times?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course. The electrician who did the rewiring said he was amazed the place hadn’t burned down years ago. Why?’

  ‘I think it might be happening again,’ Joss said. ‘I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I’d go downstairs and do a stock-check.’

  ‘Joss!’ Sam exclaimed, amused in spite of the seriousness in his voice. ‘Only you would count beer bottles instead of sheep.’

  ‘It was a good thing I did,’ he went on, unsmiling. ‘The cellar fuses had tripped – every single one of them, including the cooling systems. If I hadn’t gone downstairs, our kegs would be far too warm to serve today.’

  Sam felt her mouth fall open in dismay. ‘Oh no!’

  Joss raised his hands. ‘It’s okay, I switched everything back on and disaster was averted. I’ve checked this morning and the fuses seem to be behaving themselves.’ He paused and rubbed the fair hair of his beard. ‘But it’s the timing that worries me most – I can’t work out what made them trip in the first place. I was in the cellar just after Nessie closed the pub door and everything was fine then – the load on the electrics would have been minimal. So what caused the problem?’

  An awful suspicion crossed Sam’s mind. ‘You’re thinking rats.’

  Gabe nodded. ‘The man from the pest control company did say they often gnawed through electrical cables. It could be that there are still some rats inside the building.’

  ‘And that has big implications,’ Joss added. ‘Although I can see from the reports that Simply the Pest have done a pretty thorough job in laying traps and poison. You won’t necessarily have to close down again.’

  Sam thrust her head into her hands and groaned. ‘It’s just one bloody thing after another, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hey, I might be wrong,’ Joss said, dropping his hands to rub her shoulders sympathetically. ‘It could be a one-off. I’ll keep a closer eye on things – make sure there’s no danger of the kegs overheating.’

  Gabe frowned and looked away. ‘But you should probably call an electrician, just to be safe.’

  Sam couldn’t tell if it was Joss’s familiarity or the situation with the fuses that made him look so thunderous. ‘I will,’ she said, sighing. ‘Thank you both.’

  On the floor beside her, Bucky licked her palm and gazed up at her with liquid brown eyes.

  ‘Thank you to you too,’ Sam said, ruffling his fur. ‘And no, I don’t have any sausages to give you.’

  Chapter Thirty-five

  The electrician scratched his head and shrugged at Nessie.

  ‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ he said, once he’d completed his check of the Star and Sixpence. ‘There’s nothing wrong that I can see – no obvious equipment issues, no dead spots or overloads. I can’t even see any evidence of rodent activity, although that could be inside the walls, I suppose.’

  Nessie cast an uneasy glance around and decided she’d ignore the idea of rats running riot behind the plaster. ‘So there’s no reason for the fuses to trip, that’s what you’re saying?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. Maybe you just had a localised power surge that caused the safety mechanisms to engage.’

  She sighed. On one hand, it was reassuring that there was no apparent reason for the problem in the night. But, on the other, it was just another mystery to add to a growing list of unexplained things that seemed to have been happening lately. ‘Thanks for coming out on a Saturday.’

  The electrician smiled. ‘No problem. I’ve been hearing good things about the Somerset Scrumpy you’ve got on sale here – it’d be rude to leave without having a quick taste, right?’

  That raised Nessie’s spirits. ‘Tell the guys over in the marquee that your first pint is on the house,’ she said warmly.

  Joss kept a sharp eye on the fuse box for the rest of the day, but it showed no sign of causing them any further problems. Nessie was glad; the sun was even hotter than it had been the day before and they needed the cellar’s cooling system to keep doing its job, not to mention the hundreds of other systems that relied on a steady supply of electricity. It was something they took entirely for granted until it stopped, Nessie thought.

  By the time the fairy lights came on that evening, the atmosphere on the village green was merry. Everywhere Nessie looked, she saw strangers mingling with Star and Sixpence regulars, laughing and drinking. Ruby seemed particularly taken by a group of scruffy-looking men whom she introduced to Nessie as detectorists, because the hobby that brought them together was exploring with metal detectors.

  ‘And drinking,’ a white-bearded man called Jim said, raising his pint of amber cider in salute to Nessie. ‘We love that too.’

  ‘But mostly old stuff,’ another said. ‘If it’s old, we like it.’

  Ruby winked at the group. ‘That must be why you darling gentlemen are so taken with me.’

  Predictably, they all disagreed and one suggested she couldn’t be a day over forty, which caused Ruby to hoot with laughter.

  ‘That’s not what my birth certificate says, believe me.’

  ‘Ah, birth certificates,’ Jim snorted derisively. ‘Hardly worth the paper they’re printed on. When I traced my family tree, I found all kinds of mistakes and discrepancies.’

  Was it Nessie’s imagination or did Ruby lean forward? ‘Oh? Is that so?’

  Jim nodded. ‘Mostly to do with handwriting – you’d be amazed at how easy it is to mistake a two for a five on an old, handwritten document. Or an e for an o. That kind of thing. Once, I found entirely the wrong parental name had been recorded. That caused some ructions, let me tell you.’

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fascinating,’ she breathed. ‘Tell me more, Jim.’

  Nessie stared at her in confused amusement as Jim warmed to his theme. Ruby was an incorrigible flirt, but she had a low threshold for boring anecdotes. If she was prepared to listen to someone list his entire family tree, there must be a good reason for her patience, but Nessie had no idea what that might be. She hung around for a few more minutes, in case Ruby flashed her a sign that said she needed to be rescued, but the actress seemed totally engrossed so Nessie made her excuses and headed further into the marquee. If there was one thing she’d learned about Ruby Cabernet, it was that she knew how to extricate herself from any situation that had lost its sparkle.

  She found Kathryn and her bandmates doing their final preparations before their set at nine o’clock.

  ‘You haven’t seen Micky, have you?’ Kathryn asked, peering over Nessie’s shoulder into the crowds. ‘We haven’t agreed the final set list yet.’

  Nessie frowned. ‘He’s over by the Somerset Scrumpy stall, I think. Want me to send him your way?’

  ‘Would you?’ Kathryn threw her a harried look as she tuned her violin. ‘I know he’s used to winging it like the true rock and roll legend he is, but we’re not!’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Nessie promised.

  Once she�
�d delivered Micky, Nessie set about finding Owen. She’d spent most of the day on her feet, running from one piece of festival business to the next, and she had barely seen him or Luke all day. But there was one promise she’d made to Owen that she intended to keep; once Sonic Folk started to play, she would get two pints of ice-cold cider and dance the rest of the night away with him.

  She found him on the edge of the dance floor, two pints in hand.

  ‘Great minds think alike,’ he said, lifting the glasses he carried.

  She laughed as she joined him and took a long gulp from one of her own pints. ‘I’m sure we’ll cope.’

  Sonic Folk were every bit as brilliant as Nessie remembered – better, in fact; all the months on tour were showing and they played with the ease of familiarity and practice. Kathryn’s vocals were excellent too – melodic, throaty or plaintive in turn. Once or twice, Nessie observed Micky throw an unexpected spanner in the works, but the other musicians adapted with lightning-speed and she doubted many people in the audience even noticed. The band ran through a playlist of crowd-pleasing covers and well-known classics that soon had people up and dancing, and Micky’s rasping voice caused ripples of appreciation when he sang some of The Flames’ greatest hits. Nessie spotted Sam and Joss tapping their feet in the crowd, and wondered briefly whether Gabe was there too, but she soon gave up trying to spot anyone and let her herself enjoy the music.

  Owen put his arms around her and pulled her close. ‘Come and dance with me, wife-to-be.’

  Nessie reached up to plant a soft kiss on his lips and tasted apples. ‘Happily, husband-to-be.’

  ‘We’ll tell Kathryn and Luke tomorrow, shall we?’ he said, as they swayed to the music. ‘And then it doesn’t have to be a secret any more.’

  Nessie snuggled against his shoulder and closed her eyes. ‘Yes, I’d like that. Please don’t think I’m shallow but I can’t wait to start wearing my ring!’

  *

  The heatwave showed no sign of abating after the weekend. Monday morning dawned bright and sunny and by lunchtime, Sam was dreaming of frost and snow.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ she told Joss as he handed her an ice-cold glass of water. ‘You don’t have an additional heating system on the go.’

  ‘Never mind, at least it’s Midsummer’s Day,’ he said, cheerfully leaning against the fridges that lined the back of the bar. ‘Soon be winter again.’

  ‘Can’t come soon enough for me,’ Sam grumbled, but she felt guilty even saying it. Part of her bad mood was due to being too hot, but most of her grumpiness had been brought on as the cider festival progressed: everywhere she’d looked, she seemed to see glamorous women in pretty summer dresses, sipping cider and having a wonderful time. And then she had caught sight of herself, frizzy-haired, frumpy and definitely not drinking cool pints of cider, and she’d wanted to cry. It didn’t matter that there was a very good explanation for all of those things, or that she only had two more months of pregnancy to go. What mattered, when she was wallowing in her pit of heat-induced misery, was that she was pregnant right now. And she couldn’t complain to Nessie, who would always be silently wishing her own pregnancy hadn’t ended so tragically, so she’d suffered in sullen silence and escaped to bed as soon as she could on Sunday evening.

  ‘No Gabe today?’ Joss asked, glancing at the closed door that led to the restaurant kitchen.

  ‘It’s his day off,’ Sam said. She puffed a sticky strand of hair off her forehead. ‘And no, I don’t know where he’s gone.’

  Joss raised an eyebrow at her irritable tone. ‘Why should you know? You’re not joined at the hip.’

  She didn’t like to say that Gabe’s absence was another reason she felt out of sorts. They’d barely spoken since their conversation in the marquee on Friday evening and the weekend had flown by so fast that she’d barely had time to think. It wasn’t until she’d gone to the kitchen for breakfast this morning and found it conspicuously empty of Gabe that her mood had sunk to its lowest point. It wasn’t that she begrudged him his time off, more that she’d grown used to seeing him every morning, even when he wasn’t working. She missed him.

  ‘Of course we’re not,’ she said to Joss, frowning as a wave of fuzziness washed across her vision. ‘It’s just . . .’

  He studied her in sudden concern. ‘Are you okay? You’ve gone very pale.’

  Pins and needles prickled at her fingers and her tongue felt too large for her mouth. ‘No, I think I’m going to—’

  She made a grab for the smooth wood of the bar as her legs buckled, but her fingers slid off the edge and she would have hit the floor hard if Joss hadn’t caught her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, digging her fingers into his T-shirt in an effort to stay upright.

  ‘Easy, now. Let’s get you sitting down.’

  Concerned customers hurried to help and, together with Joss, they guided Sam to a seat.

  ‘Here,’ he said, pressing the glass of cold water to her lips. ‘Sip this.’

  The coolness made Sam’s dizziness recede a bit. Her vision cleared and she blinked at the circle of worried faces, embarrassed and feeling more than a little silly. ‘Sorry,’ she said again, more distinctly this time. ‘I think I must have overheated.’

  ‘A woman in your delicate condition needs to take better care of herself,’ Henry said, his white moustache bristling as he surveyed Sam. ‘If Franny was here, she’d order you to bed.’

  ‘And who would argue with Franny?’ Joss observed. ‘There’s a fan in your room, it might help you to cool down.’

  Sam didn’t want to go, but she suddenly felt overcome with tiredness. And at least if she was upstairs she wouldn’t be surrounded by anxious onlookers. ‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll go for a lie-down.’

  ‘Keep an eye on the bar, will you, Henry?’ Joss said, helping Sam to her feet. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Sam could hardly keep her eyes open. She lay on the bed without a murmur, blinking sleepily as Joss switched the fan on and positioned it so that it would cool her down as she rested. She was almost asleep when she felt his lips brush her forehead. ‘Sleep well, Sam,’ he whispered, drawing a sheet across her. ‘Sleep well, baby.’

  She wanted to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come. And then she tumbled into darkness and it was too late.

  *

  ‘No, Bucky!’

  Nessie was in the kitchen of Snowdrop Cottage on Thursday evening, washing up after dinner, when she heard Luke shouting. At first, she assumed he and Bucky were playing, but the undertone of panic caught her attention; if it was a game, something was badly wrong. Dropping the saucepan into the sink, she hurried to the back door and wrenched it open.

  ‘Luke? Where are you? What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s Bucky,’ Luke called back, from what sounded like the beer garden of the pub. ‘He’s got something he shouldn’t have – come quickly!’

  She did as he asked. As she rounded the corner of Owen’s forge, she wondered briefly whether she should pull back the door to fetch him but there was a real risk he might be handling molten metal. She decided to see what the problem was first; no point in disturbing him if whatever Bucky had found turned out to be harmless.

  Amid the fading sunlight of the deserted beer garden, it wasn’t immediately obvious what Luke was upset about. He and Bucky were facing each other, but the dog’s gaze wasn’t fixed on the boy. There was something on the grass just behind Luke. And whatever it was, Bucky wanted it.

  Nessie walked slowly forwards, taking care not to startle the dog. ‘What is that on the floor behind you, Luke?’

  His face was pale and unhappy. ‘Some kind of smelly meat. Bucky went into the bushes to fetch the ball and came back with this in his mouth. I made him drop it, but he wasn’t very happy and keeps trying to eat it.’

  She squinted at the object and saw patches of livid red in amongst its coating of dust. Where on earth had it come from? she won
dered. And, more to the point, what was she going to do with it? A lump of raw meat was probably the kind of treat Bucky would enjoy, but until they knew exactly where it had come from, and where it had been, she wasn’t going to risk feeding it to the dog.

  Leaning against the wall of the pub was the thick-bristled broom they used to sweep the outdoor smoking area. Nessie reached out an arm to take it and edged round Luke to drag the meat towards her. The dog tensed, as though preparing to pounce.

  ‘Bucky,’ Nessie said, hoping her voice was stern and forbidding. ‘No. Leave it, Bucky. Sit.’

  He whined but did as she commanded.

  A second later, the meat was at her feet. Nessie peered downward. ‘It looks like steak.’

  Gabe materialised in the back door of the Star and Sixpence. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Everything is under control,’ Nessie said. ‘I just need something to put this lump of meat in before Bucky gobbles it up in one bite.’

  Understanding dawned on Gabe’s face and he vanished for a few long seconds. When he returned, he was carrying a thick blue plastic bag. ‘Here,’ he said, passing it to Nessie. ‘If you put this on your hand like a mitten, you won’t even have to touch it.’

  She kept her eyes on Bucky as she slowly bent to scoop his prize into the plastic and let out an audibly relieved sigh when it was no longer in temptation’s way.

  ‘Can I see?’ Gabe asked.

  Nessie passed him the bag. ‘Be my guest.’

  Opening the bag a fraction, he stared downwards. Then he put his nose nearer to the top and sniffed with care. ‘It is steak,’ he said, shutting the bag with a sharp rustle. ‘With a dressing of something that smells a lot like rat poison.’

  Instantly, Nessie’s heart was in her mouth. ‘Did you touch it, Luke?’

  Eyes wide, Luke shook his head. ‘No. But Bucky did. He carried it in here.’

  Nessie turned a concerned gaze onto the dog; he looked perfectly normal, but she knew rat poison was slow-acting and even a small amount could prove lethal. ‘Someone needs to tell Sam she’d better call the emergency vet. And, Luke, you need to wash your hands, right now.’