Summer at the Star and Sixpence Read online

  In the bar, Nessie took stock of the damage. The wine supplies needed topping up but since most of the village would be nursing headaches today, she didn’t imagine they’d be drinking much. At some point she’d need to venture into the cellar to confront the pipes and barrels that had always been Joss’s domain; if it took more than a few days for him to calm down, she’d need to ring round a few agencies first thing on Monday to find a temporary cellarman. And if he didn’t come round at all – well, as she’d told Sam once before, no matter how good Joss was in the cellar, employees were easier to replace than sisters.

  By the time JoJo and Jamie came downstairs at ten-thirty, Nessie had dealt with any remaining glasses, vacuumed, and polished the bar until it gleamed. The Star and Sixpence might be in freefall behind the scenes but she was satisfied that no one would know it from the outside.

  ‘I really can’t thank you enough, Nessie,’ JoJo said, beaming. ‘Everything was perfect, just perfect. Thank you so much.’

  Nessie smiled. ‘I’m glad. I hope you slept well. Was the bed comfortable?’

  ‘It was divine,’ JoJo said, then grinned. ‘Although I can’t say we got much sleep. We’ll have to come and stay again to test out its rest-giving qualities.’

  ‘Please do,’ Nessie said, laughing. ‘You’re welcome any time.’

  ‘And I’ll give you a glowing write-up in the paper,’ JoJo went on. ‘Just as soon as we’re back from our honeymoon.’

  ‘Great,’ Nessie replied, trying not to think of the headlines people up and down the country would be reading right that very moment. ‘We need all the help we can get.’

  JoJo nodded. ‘The rooms are both gorgeous and staying here is such a treat. I’m sure you’re going to be turning guests away really soon.’

  Nessie waved the couple goodbye, with promises to pass on their thanks to Sam. Heaving a sigh of relief, she grabbed herself a coffee and leaned against the fridge, wondering how long to let her sister sleep.

  A shadow fell across her, and Nessie looked up to see Franny stood on the other side of the bar, unsmiling and forbidding. She slapped a folded copy of The Sunday Planet onto the bar. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  Nessie glanced down. The lurid headline made her wince: THE LORD AND THE BARMAID. Unfolding the paper, she skimmed the article; it was pretty much what Sam had anticipated. She steeled herself to meet Franny’s gaze. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read.’

  The postmistress stared over her wire-rimmed glasses. ‘This isn’t the first time I’ve had to speak to you about negative publicity, Vanessa. I’ve told you before, behaviour like this simply won’t be tolerated. I demand an explanation. Now.’

  The last word was like a gunshot. Nessie felt her own temper start to rise. Who did Franny think she was? She opened her mouth to say exactly that and then thought better of it. What if there was a better way to handle the situation? A way that might get Franny on side . . . What would Sam do if she was her own client?

  Nessie took a deep breath. ‘There’s some truth to it,’ she said candidly. ‘The part where Sam spent the night with Lord Pargeter. But that’s all. She had no idea who he was, didn’t know he was married. He lied then and he’s lying now, only this time it’s to save himself. Come on, Franny, haven’t you ever been lied to, been fooled by a smooth talker?’

  To her surprise, Franny’s gimlet gaze faltered. She glanced at the paper and Nessie saw a hint of uncertainty flicker across her face. ‘I . . .’

  Nessie took her chance. ‘You know Sam,’ she said, softening her tone. ‘She came here to get away from this, from him, after he cost her her job. What does she have to gain from a single night with a married man?’

  Franny’s eyes remained on the paper for a moment and then her expression hardened. ‘So you’re saying she’s the victim, is that it?’

  ‘Sam is no angel, but she doesn’t deserve this,’ Nessie said, waving a hand at the headline. ‘Come on, Franny, you’re an intelligent woman. You know how the newspapers work.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think, quite frankly,’ the other woman snapped. ‘But mark my words, the Village Preservation Society will have something to say about it.’

  She spun on her heel and marched out, leaving the paper on the bar.

  Nessie was flicking through the paper, scowling at the lies Will and Myles had spun, when Owen poked his head around the door. ‘Everything okay? I saw Franny thunder in. Do you need an ambulance or is it only a flesh wound?’

  Nessie smiled and lifted her arms. ‘No wounds at all. See?’

  Owen raised his eyebrows. ‘Amazing. She looked like she was going to take someone’s head off. Did you draw first blood?’

  Nessie’s smile melted away as she offered him the paper. ‘Not exactly. She brought this.’

  He took it and glanced down at the front page. Frowning, he read on. Once he’d finished, he lowered it to the bar and whistled. ‘That’s what all this is about. No wonder Joss was upset.’

  ‘It’s not all true,’ Nessie objected. ‘And the bits that are happened long before Sam even met Joss.’

  Owen nodded. ‘I believe you. So, what’s the battle plan?’

  ‘Plan?’ Nessie repeated and shrugged. ‘Wait out the storm, I guess. Hope we don’t get drummed out of the village in the meantime.’

  ‘We’re not all like Franny,’ he said. ‘Some of us understand.’

  Nessie sighed. ‘Not the Village Preservation Society. I think they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young.’

  He touched her arm, sending a fizzle of energy to the pit of her stomach. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’

  She was about to thank him when JoJo stormed into the bar. ‘I’ve just run into Franny.’

  Nessie’s heart fell into her boots. Franny certainly hadn’t wasted any time with her campaign to turn everyone against them but she was disappointed to see JoJo was her first recruit. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

  The other woman raised an outraged eyebrow. ‘Isn’t it? It looks pretty obvious to me – Sam’s been hung out to dry to save Will Pargeter’s bacon.’

  Nessie gaped at her. ‘That’s right – that’s exactly what’s happened. But I thought—’

  ‘I’ve seen this kind of thing so many times before,’ JoJo said, looking furious. ‘But Sam is a friend and I want to help. Do you want me to call a few colleagues, see what they can dig up about this Pargeter guy?’

  ‘You’ll need to speak to Sam about that,’ Nessie said, blinking. ‘She’s working with a PR advisor in London. But you shouldn’t be worrying about this now. You’re supposed to be jetting off on honeymoon.’

  ‘Not until tomorrow,’ JoJo replied. ‘Plenty of time to launch Operation Love Rat.’

  Nessie felt the leaden weight on her shoulders shift a little bit. ‘Thank you. I know Sam will really appreciate it.’

  JoJo nodded. ‘Franny is on her way around the village, knocking on doors and rallying the troops. We thought a village barbecue on the green this afternoon might help to take Sam’s mind off things?’

  ‘But—’ Nessie began, then trailed off in bewilderment. What was going on?

  Owen smiled at her. ‘Maybe Franny remembers what it’s like to be young after all.’

  For the second time that weekend, the Little Monkham green was thronging with villagers. The marquees were gone, dismantled earlier in the day and replaced by a mixture of tables and chairs from the Star and Sixpence and every house in the village. Three barbecues were on the go, sizzling with sausages, burgers and steaks supplied by the butchers, and music pumped from a sound system hooked up to an extension lead through the pub window. Everywhere Sam looked, she saw friendly, sympathetic faces, although Joss was conspicuously absent. The wave of support was almost enough to tip her into tears but she’d sworn she wouldn’t cry again. Not over a lowlife like Will Pargeter.

  She couldn’t decide whether Henry or Franny had surprised her the most. At first Sam had thought she
was dreaming when Nessie had brought her breakfast in bed along with the news that Little Monkham was behind her all the way. Then she’d come downstairs and seen for herself: Henry had placed himself in charge of operations and was directing Owen and the other village men in setting up the green. Franny was organising the food – Martha had opened up the bakery especially to supply rolls for the barbecue and her husband had been despatched to the nearest supermarket with a shopping list. Ruby was in charge of music and had amazed everyone by announcing she had a Spotify playlist that would suit the occasion perfectly. Sam didn’t know what reaction she’d expected when her secret hit the headlines but it definitely wasn’t this.

  ‘Is there anything I can do, Henry?’ Sam had asked, as the ex-military man consulted his clipboard. ‘Carry some of the tables or chairs outside, maybe?’

  ‘All under control,’ he said. ‘But I think JoJo was looking for you. Something about getting an interview with your chap’s wife?’

  Sam frowned. ‘He’s not “my chap”. Quite the opposite.’

  ‘No,’ Henry said, and his expression became uncharacteristically soft. ‘Franny explained. The man’s an utter bounder, but don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him.’

  He looked so fierce that Sam was almost worried for Will. But Henry meant well and she was touched by the sentiment. ‘Thank you.’

  She’d caught up with JoJo under the shade of one of the trees. ‘There you are, Sam,’ JoJo said. ‘I’ve got some great news. The friend of a friend went to school with Marina Pargeter and they’ve managed to secure an exclusive interview with her.’

  Sam’s mind raced. Whose story would the interview support? It was no good if Marina was about to divorce her husband and blame Sam. ‘Any idea how she’s feeling about being splashed all over the front page of the Sunday papers?’

  JoJo’s eyes gleamed. ‘Furious, by all accounts,’ she said triumphantly. ‘And get this – it’s not the first time Will has cheated on her. So his claims that you’re the one who instigated his downfall look pretty shaky.’

  Sam grinned in delight. ‘JoJo, I could kiss you.’

  ‘Careful,’ JoJo said, returning the smile with a wink. ‘I’m a married woman now, you know. People will talk.’

  Sam had sought out Franny last, partly because she was still a tiny bit scared that the postmistress secretly disapproved of her apparent bed-hopping ways. But Franny had smiled when she’d seen Sam approach and had even clasped her hand in support.

  ‘I must admit, I thought you’d be angry,’ Sam said, once Franny had told her what she thought of the headlines.

  ‘I was, at first,’ Franny said, peering over her glasses. ‘But something Nessie said made me think. She asked me if I’d ever been fooled by a smooth talker and – well – as a matter of fact, I had.’

  Sam blinked. ‘Oh?’

  Franny sighed. ‘There was a man I knew, when I was young.’ She paused, as though remembering. ‘He said I was the love of his life. Except it turned out I wasn’t the only one. And when his wife found out, he told her I’d thrown myself at him. Told everyone, in fact. I had quite a reputation after that.’

  Sam swallowed a gasp of astonishment. Had she heard correctly? Had the buttoned-up pillar of the Little Monkham community been through something similar to her? It didn’t seem possible, and yet . . . Franny couldn’t possibly have always been the way she was now. Maybe something had made her that way.

  The other woman looked up. ‘Of course, it was years and years ago. But I never forgot it. He put me off love for a very long time.’

  Sam squeezed Franny’s bony fingers, feeling her pain. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Really, I am.’

  Franny gave a little shrug. ‘So, when Nessie explained what had happened with you, I knew the village had to do something to help, even if there wasn’t much we could actually do.’

  ‘You’ve helped,’ Sam said in a rush of gratitude. ‘Believe me, you have.’

  ‘And try not to worry about Joss,’ Franny said. ‘He’ll come round eventually.’

  Sam pictured the anger and hurt on Joss’s face the night before. Deep down, she wasn’t sure Joss was ever going to forgive her, but she did her best to smile at Franny. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’

  The other woman nodded. ‘And if he doesn’t, I’ll send my Henry round to have a little word.’

  Halfway through the afternoon, Franny plugged a microphone into the sound system and asked for the music to be turned down. With Henry’s help, she climbed onto a chair and an unexpected hush fell over the crowd. Sam held her breath, wondering what Franny was up to now: surely she wasn’t about to rally the villagers to march on London?

  ‘Friends,’ she began. ‘You know why we’re here today. A scurrilous lie has been spread about a Little Monkham resident. And when one of our own is attacked, we close ranks to protect them.’ She fixed an imperious gaze on Sam. ‘The days to come will be difficult, Sam, but I can assure you that every single one of us is with you. You are not alone.’

  Her eyes met Sam’s and a flash of understanding passed between them. Then a burst of applause rang out, swelling into cheers, and Sam found herself pulled into one supportive hug after another. Finally, she ended up face to face with her sister.

  ‘Who’d have thought Franny would come out fighting for us?’ Nessie said, wrapping her arms around Sam.

  Laughing, Sam returned the hug. ‘I know! Remember how against us she was when we first arrived?’

  ‘I never thought I’d be grateful to Dad for anything but I’m glad he left us the Star and Sixpence,’ Nessie said. ‘I’m glad we came here.’

  Sam closed her eyes against the sudden rush of tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat and managed a watery smile. ‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘Best decision we ever made.’

  Acknowledgements

  Tisses and tuddles to T and E, my wonderful children, and a large glass of something fizzy and chilled for Jo Williamson, of Antony Harwood Ltd, for being my gladiator. An enormous, well-deserved jug of Pimm’s to Clare Hey, SJ Virtue and Emma Capron, plus everyone at Simon & Schuster, for pulling out all the stops to ensure the Star and Sixpence opens on time and serves up the best cocktails.

  Thank you to Kate Harrison, Miranda Dickinson, Rowan Coleman, Julie Cohen and Cally Taylor – this book would not have been written without you. And as always, I’m blown away by the continuing love for the Star and Sixpence – thanks to all the reviewers and readers who’ve taken the time to get in touch. Now, whose round is it?