Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence Page 4

  ‘An espresso for me,’ Sam said, her tone clipped.

  Laurie nodded and headed towards the bar.

  Sam leaned towards Nessie. ‘I see what you mean, he does look a bit like Dad, only twenty years younger.’ She paused and frowned across the room. ‘Before the drink got to him, obviously.’

  ‘I know. Who do you suppose his mother is?’

  Sam spread her hands. ‘Who knows? Presumably someone Dad met after he left us, but before he arrived in Little Monkham. I’m sure Franny would have said if he’d sown any wild oats under her jurisdiction.’

  Nessie swallowed an urge to laugh at the idea of Franny keeping a list of all the illicit relationships that had undoubtedly been part of village life over the years. Then her smile faded away as she realised it was probably nearer to the truth than anyone wanted to admit. ‘Franny would definitely have known,’ she said, glancing at Sam. ‘She probably writes it all in a special notebook and locks it in the Post Office safe.’

  Moments later, Laurie was back bearing a tray of steaming coffee. He handed a small espresso cup to Sam and placed a frothy latte in front of Nessie.

  ‘So,’ he said, once he’d taken a seat with his own flat white. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve suddenly appeared out of the blue.’

  ‘Got it in one,’ Sam agreed. ‘You’ve got to admit, it’s a bit like the start of those TV shows where a mysterious relative turns up out of the blue and starts to terrorise the main characters.’

  Laurie attempted a wolfish grin that didn’t quite work. ‘Yes, I’ve come to cheat you out of the Star and Sixpence,’ he said. Then his smile faded. ‘Or perhaps it’s just that I decided it was time to find the sisters I’ve always known I had. You decide.’

  The second explanation sounded plausible enough, Nessie thought. But could it be true? Had Andrew Chapman fathered a son?

  ‘Okay,’ Sam said. ‘I’m going to ask the obvious question. What makes you so sure we’re related?’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Apart from the fact that we look alike, you mean?’

  Sam glanced at Nessie. ‘There are a lot of blonde-haired, green-eyed people in the world. Hardly any of them claim to be our long-lost brother.’

  Laurie spread his hands. ‘Dad told me about you. He used to talk about you a lot; although my mum hated it, so it was always our little secret. “They’re lovely girls, Laurie,” he used to say, “a proper pair of crackers. When you’re old enough, you need to find them. They’d love to know they’ve got a little brother.” ’

  ‘He never mentioned you,’ Sam said flatly. ‘Not once.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Laurie replied, taking a sip of coffee. ‘He also told me he hadn’t seen you for years and wasn’t sure he’d ever see you again. Something about your mother, I think.’

  Nessie felt Sam bristle and hastily stepped in. ‘Speaking of mothers, what about yours? Does she know you’re meeting us?’

  Laurie glanced away. ‘Mum died a few months ago.’

  ‘Oh,’ Nessie said, a hot rush of guilt storming through her. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘It’s taken me a while to get her affairs in order,’ he went on. ‘I looked for you as soon as I could.’

  Sam’s expression was closed. ‘I’m sure we’re both very sorry for your loss. But I still don’t understand how you and your mother fit into what we know about Dad’s life. How old are you, for a start?’

  ‘Twenty-six,’ Laurie answered, without hesitation.

  Nessie did the maths in her head. She was thirty-seven, which meant an eleven-year age difference between her and Laurie. Andrew had abandoned them when she was ten, so Laurie had been born within a year or so of him leaving. It was tight but perfectly possible, she thought. ‘And he lived with you?’ she asked, giving Sam a troubled look.

  ‘For a while,’ Laurie said. ‘Mum said he turned up in the local pub one night, saying he had nowhere to go. She took a shine to him, invited him to spend the night on her sofa and he didn’t leave the next morning. A year later, I was born. He finally went when I was six.’

  He looked away then, but not before Nessie saw the hurt in his eyes. It was a pain she knew well; the ache of abandonment, of wondering what exactly you’d done wrong to make your daddy go away. She warmed to him a little more, in spite of her misgivings.

  ‘And you can prove all of this,’ Sam said. ‘I mean, you’ve got a birth certificate that names Andrew Chapman as your father?’

  Laurie reached into the bag that lay at his feet and pulled out a large brown envelope. ‘I thought you’d probably ask that. Here.’

  He pushed the envelope towards them. Nessie lifted the flap and slid the paperwork out. They sat for a moment, staring at the words and names that confirmed Laurence John Chapman had been born to Helena Marsh and Andrew Chapman twenty-six years ago, in Peterborough Hospital.

  Nessie studied the birth certificate until the writing blurred before her eyes. She exchanged an uncertain glance with Sam. ‘It looks like we have a little brother,’ she said finally.

  ‘It does,’ Sam said, and let out an incredulous huff of laughter. ‘Even now, Dad is messing with our heads.’

  Laurie looked back and forth between them. ‘I’m sorry to spring it on you like this. I didn’t know how else to do it – a letter seemed too formal and email didn’t seem like the way forward either. So I went for face to face.’ He gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘Surprise!’

  For a moment, neither Sam or Nessie spoke. Then Nessie got to her feet and spread out her arms. ‘Welcome to the family, Laurie. It’s good to meet you.’

  Chapter Five

  It was gone closing time on Saturday evening. The last merry stragglers had been safely herded out into the night and the bar was clean and set for the next day. Nessie waved Connor off and shot the bolts across the thick wooden door, before sinking into an armchair in front of the glowing fire.

  She glanced across at Sam, who was swirling the remains of a gin and tonic around her glass. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Her sister sighed. ‘Tired. Confused. Frazzled. Like I’ve been hit in the chest with an emotional cannonball.’ She managed a wry smile. ‘The usual, basically.’

  ‘Except that this isn’t usual,’ Nessie observed, reaching for her own drink. ‘I mean, it’s not every day that you discover you have a brother you never knew existed.’

  ‘No, I can definitely say it’s a first,’ Sam said. ‘How are you feeling about it?’

  It was a good question, and one Nessie wasn’t sure she could answer right at that moment. Like Sam, she felt a little unsettled, as though the world was a snow globe that had somehow been shaken up. There’d been a lot she’d wanted to ask Laurie but had held back, deciding there would be plenty of time to unravel the whole story as they got to know him better. And the idea that she and Sam had a brother, that they were now three when it had always been just the two of them, was taking some getting used to.

  ‘It’s still sinking in,’ she said eventually. ‘I suppose we’ll have to give it time.’

  Sam nodded. ‘I can’t decide if it’s a good thing that he’s moved to Purdon, though. What if we don’t get along?’

  Purdon was a small village not unlike Little Monkham, around ten miles away, and Laurie had announced he’d rented a cottage there. ‘It’s not like I have anything to keep me in Peterborough now,’ he’d said, with a sad smile.

  ‘I think it’s a good thing,’ Nessie said slowly. ‘We can’t get to know each other if we never see him.’

  ‘True,’ Sam said. ‘Although he’ll have to weather the storm of village gossip first. Franny will probably want to recruit him as a spy for Little Monkham’s intelligence agency when she finds out – you know how competitive she is.’

  That was true; there was already a fierce rivalry in the pub quiz stakes, with Franny’s Inquizitors fighting off the Purdon Warriors on a regular basis to keep the much-coveted trophy, and the Best Kept Village prize was just as hotly
contended.

  Nessie smiled. ‘Poor Laurie. I hope he’s got a talent for espionage.’

  ‘Maybe we should offer him a job here,’ Sam joked. ‘For his own protection.’

  Nessie sipped her drink thoughtfully. ‘That’s not a bad idea, actually.’

  ‘I wasn’t being serious,’ Sam said, staring at her as though she’d lost the plot.

  ‘No, but think about it,’ Nessie said, leaning forwards. ‘It’s the perfect way to introduce him to the village, and for us to get to know him better too.’

  Her sister looked far from convinced. ‘We don’t need any new staff.’

  ‘We will, once Gabe starts pulling in the customers,’ Nessie said reasonably. She softened her voice. ‘And . . . reading between the lines, it doesn’t sound like Dad got any better at fatherhood after he left us. Maybe the Star and Sixpence owes Laurie something too.’

  ‘I don’t know—’

  ‘We don’t have to decide now,’ Nessie said. ‘But one of the reasons Dad gave us this place was to make up for all the things he knew he’d got wrong. Maybe he’d want us to extend that to include Laurie.’

  Sam raised her chin. ‘If that’s true, why didn’t he include Laurie in his will?’

  It was something Nessie had wondered herself. ‘I don’t know. Maybe they’d lost touch, or maybe Dad was trying to keep things simple.’

  ‘Or maybe he knew something we don’t,’ Sam said pointedly. ‘It’s just too early to offer Laurie a job – he’s virtually a stranger.’

  ‘So is Gabe,’ Nessie countered. ‘Connor was too, before we got to know him.’

  ‘The difference is that they both had professional reputations to fall back on,’ Sam replied. ‘We took up references too – I can’t imagine doing the same with Laurie.’

  Nessie drew in a deep calming breath. ‘I’m sure he’d give us the name of his previous employer, if we asked.’

  ‘But that’s just it,’ Sam said. ‘We can’t ask. If you’re going to work for family, you expect them to trust you as standard, not demand to see proof that you’re a competent human being.’

  Arguing with Sam was like trying to grip smoke, Nessie decided. ‘It’s just an idea – a less contrived way for us all to get to know each other.’

  Sam’s mulish expression softened. ‘I know. And it’s typically you – kind and warm-spirited. But let’s take things one step at a time, eh?’

  ‘Okay,’ Nessie said, giving up. ‘Just don’t blame me if Franny sends him undercover first.’

  ‘Then you can definitely say I told you so,’ Sam replied with a half-smile. She glanced at the clock and stretched. ‘I’d better get to bed. I’ve got a long lie-in planned for the morning.’

  ‘I know, it’s my turn to do the breakfasts.’ Nessie yawned. ‘It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it? I feel wrung out.’

  Sam grimaced. ‘Tell me about it. Let’s hope tomorrow is less eventful.’

  *

  On Sunday morning, Sam awoke to the soft rattle of rain against her bedroom window. She pulled the duvet up around her ears and lay still in the gloomy half-light, listening to the steady patter that was only broken when a gust of wind snatched up the raindrops and threw them against the glass. A quick look at her phone told her it was eight-thirty; Nessie would have delivered breakfast to the guest rooms by now and be tucked away in the office downstairs, printing off invoices for check-out. There was no sound beyond the rain.

  Sam relaxed and stretched her toes to the end of the bed, wriggling them blissfully against the cool cotton sheet. There was no need to fret about peering out at the landing before she padded to the bathroom today; Gabe was spending a few days in London and she could dance naked around the first floor if she chose. Although it wasn’t unheard of for Connor or Tilly to pop upstairs from time to time, so maybe she’d make sure she was fully dressed before she fired up Spotify.

  Just after ten o’clock, Sam made her way along Sixpence Street to Weir Cottage, where Ruby had promised her eggs Florentine for breakfast. It was a once-a-month, Sunday-morning ritual they had; there was something indescribably soothing about sipping a Virgin Mary and tucking into a delicious brunch while listening to Ruby’s endless supply of scandalous stories from her acting days.

  As always, Ruby looked as though she’d just finished a screen test when she opened the door that morning. Her lustrous red hair was twisted into a low bun that sat at the nape of her neck, and her make-up was so flawless that Sam was half-tempted to ask for a tutorial. She was dressed in slim capri pants and a black polo neck jumper that only enhanced her high cheekbones and contrasted with her red lips. Her feet were encased by fluffy kitten-heeled mules that Sam would never dare to wear and there was a tantalising hint of Chanel in the air. Ruby was every inch a star and, as always, Sam had a moment of disconnect as she followed her along the hallway to the sunlit kitchen at the back of the house. She’d never known Ruby anywhere other than Little Monkham and couldn’t think of a place better suited to her, yet there was always a subconscious sense that she didn’t quite belong in that world – like a rare orchid kept alongside tomato plants.

  Weir Cottage itself was as cool and elegant as its owner. There were no photos from Ruby’s glory days as a darling of London’s theatre scene on display; Sam knew she kept them all tucked away out of sight in the spare room – there when she wanted to step back in time but hidden from her everyday life. In fact, the only photos for public viewing were the ones Ruby claimed made her the proudest; pictures of her son, Cal, and his wife, with their arms around Ruby’s adored granddaughter. Ruby hadn’t been part of her son’s life as he grew up – her drinking had caused a rift she’d never dreamed would mend – but Sam and Nessie had made it their business to bring the family back together.

  ‘I’ve just been Skyping with Cal,’ Ruby said, waving at the laptop on the kitchen worktop. ‘Little Ruby has started drama classes – she’s auditioning for the lead role in the school play.’

  Sam smiled. ‘Good for her.’

  ‘And Cal is already talking about Christmas.’ Ruby stopped talking and gazed down at the stick of celery in her hand. ‘Would you and Nessie mind terribly if I didn’t spend the day with you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Sam said, with an amused shake of her head. ‘Nothing would make us happier than for you to be with your family at Christmas.’

  Ruby puffed out a long breath. ‘Well, you girls are my family too. I’ll miss you both.’

  ‘And we’ll miss you,’ Sam said. ‘But we get to see you every other day of the year, it’s only right that they get to spend Christmas with you.’

  Ruby twisted the pepper grinder over the drinks and gave each celery stick a final flourish. ‘Here’s to families and happy ever afters.’

  Sam chinked her glass against Ruby’s and took a sip – it was as delicious as ever – then she cleared her throat. ‘Speaking of families, something unexpected happened yesterday.’

  Ruby listened as she cooked, the frown lines in her forehead deepening as Sam described the meeting with Laurie.

  ‘So, I suppose what I wondered – what Nessie and I both wondered – was whether you knew?’ Sam said, as Ruby placed a steaming plate of spinach and eggs on the table in front of her. ‘About Laurie, I mean.’

  Ruby didn’t answer immediately. She manoeuvred into her seat, wincing a tiny bit as she sat; Sam knew she still sometimes suffered stiffness after a nasty fall the year before that had ended in a hip operation. But Ruby’s troubled expression didn’t clear once she was seated. ‘No,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I didn’t know Andrew had another child. He never mentioned it.’

  ‘It would have been long before you knew each other,’ Sam said. ‘Before he came to Little Monkham, actually, so perhaps it isn’t such a surprise that he didn’t tell you. I’m not sure whether he would even have remembered, the amount he drank.’

  Ruby stopped pushing the food around her plate and raised her chin. ‘He would have remembered. Alcohol made
him forget a lot of things, Sam, but not how many children he had.’

  The reproach in her voice made Sam want to shrink into her seat. ‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry. What I mean is, maybe he preferred not to remember.’

  ‘That’s more likely,’ Ruby conceded. ‘Although he never held back from talking about you and Nessie. Something awful must have happened between him and Laurie’s mother for him to bury it so deep he couldn’t tell me he had a son.’

  The news had hurt Ruby; Sam could see it in her eyes, although she was far too good an actress to let it show anywhere else. ‘I’m sure he had his reasons,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what they were, but please don’t let it upset you.’

  Ruby looked up, a determined smile on her face. ‘No, I shan’t. And I’m being horribly selfish, anyway – this isn’t about me. How are you and Nessie taking the news?’

  ‘Cautiously,’ Sam replied. ‘Or at least, I am. Nessie is more open to the whole idea, but we both know she’s a sucker for a sob story.’

  ‘Is there a sob story then?’ Ruby’s eyes were suddenly sharp.

  Sam hesitated, turning Laurie’s tale over in her mind. He didn’t seem to want anything, other than to make contact and perhaps get to know his half-sisters, which wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. It had been Nessie’s idea to offer him some work, not his. And everything he had told them sounded pretty likely; Andrew had very real form for loving and leaving his children, no matter how good his intentions. So there was no reason for Sam to feel anything other than astonishment and curiosity at Laurie’s arrival in their lives. And yet, she was still wary.

  ‘No,’ she told Ruby. ‘But he’d recently lost his mother and I did pick up an air of vulnerability about him. I think it appealed to Nessie’s maternal instincts.’

  ‘Yes, I can see how that might happen,’ Ruby said. Her mouth twisted into a rueful smile. ‘Not something that really troubles you, however.’

  Sam laughed. ‘No. I’m the least maternal person in the world. Ness wants to give him a job – I think she’d probably invite him to stay in the spare room if it wasn’t for Gabe.’