Summer at the Star and Sixpence (3 page)

‘It wasn’t as bad as I was expecting,’ Sam admitted in a grudging voice. ‘I still don’t know who you’re dressed as, though.’

Joss laughed. ‘To be fair, he doesn’t look anything like this in the film we just watched. But it doesn’t matter.’

Up ahead, Luke stopped pretending to carve the air with his lightsaber. ‘He’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, but the young version, from the prequels,’ he called. ‘Watch out for him, he
can do mind tricks.’

‘I can,’ Joss said. He lowered his voice. ‘I bet I could even persuade you to sleep with me tonight if I wanted to.’

Sam raised her eyebrows. ‘If you wanted to? I don’t think there’s ever been any doubt about that, Joss Felstead.’

‘Not the night before the match,’ Owen said over one shoulder. ‘We’re playing Lower Seddon in the Shropshire Village Cricket League tomorrow and Joss is our star bowler.
We need him to be as fresh as he can be.’

Joss grinned and winked at Sam. ‘Trust me, Owen, I’m a Jedi.’

The Little Monkham cricket team was a haphazard mix of a few good players and a lot of others who thought they could play or had been good once upon a time. They played their home matches on the
village green and as the Star and Sixpence was the unofficial clubhouse, Sam and Nessie soon realised they were expected to provide lunchtime refreshments for the players. Although now that Sam had
seen Joss thundering down the wicket to bowl a few times, she didn’t mind quite so much and often sneaked out to watch: who knew cricket could be sexy? She didn’t suppose Nessie minded
either, not when it gave her the perfect opportunity to watch Owen flex his delicious blacksmith muscles with a cricket bat.

She watched the two of them now, walking ahead of her, their fingers tantalisingly close to touching. Anyone could see they fancied each other; if only one of them would take the other’s
hand, make the first move, she was sure the laws of attraction would take care of the rest. If Sam had been Nessie she’d have gone for it with Owen months ago, on their first date after
Valentine’s Day. But she wasn’t Nessie and she just had to accept that her sister had a different way of doing things: a less direct, more circuitous, infuriatingly hesitant way. The
trouble was that Owen also seemed happy to take the long way round – if they weren’t careful, they’d be so busy taking things slowly that they’d end up in the dreaded friend
zone, each feeling it was too awkward to make a move.

Something was needed to force the two of them together, Sam decided. Something or some
one
. . .

The Saturday morning sky held the promise of the perfect summer’s day. By ten-thirty there was already a shimmering haze over the middle of the green and the breeze that
had set the pub sign swaying was gone. Nessie stood in the doorway of the Star and Sixpence, watching a pair of blue tits swoop over a cluster of deck chairs nestled outside the freshly laid
boundary rope. In half an hour the chairs would be occupied and the air would be filled with the resounding smack of bat on ball and a smattering of polite applause. It was quite possibly the most
English scene Nessie could imagine.

A flicker of movement caught her eye: Kathryn and Luke at the door of Snowdrop Cottage, framed by freshly bloomed wisteria. Kathryn waved when she saw Nessie and the two of them walked across
the yard outside the forge to meet her.

‘It’s going to be a hot one,’ Kathryn observed. ‘Too hot for running about chasing a ball.’

Nessie smiled. ‘You’ll get no argument from me. I’ve got some cold lemonade inside if you’d like some?’

Luke nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, please.’

‘I wouldn’t say no,’ Kathryn said, then shielded her eyes and looked towards the war memorial on the far side of the green. ‘It looks like there’s a crowd on their
way. We’d better grab a spot.’

They headed for the chairs. Nessie went inside to pour the lemonade and was just adding a straw to Luke’s when an elegant voice floated across the bar. ‘Who does a lady have to sleep
with to get a G and T around here?’

Nessie turned. ‘Good morning, Ruby. Come to watch the cricket?’

Her late father’s girlfriend was dressed in typically glamorous fashion: a wide-brimmed hat covered her glorious red hair and enormous dark glasses shaded her eyes. She looked every inch
the faded actress – far too dazzling to belong in Little Monkham.

‘Of course, darling,’ she said, reaching up to lower her sunglasses with a crimson-tipped finger. ‘It takes me back to the garden parties Larry Olivier used to hold – one
of the boys would always dig out a bat and before we knew it the greenhouse was smashed to smithereens.’

Nessie smiled. One of her favourite things about Ruby was the stories she told about her days as a star of the British acting scene. Sometimes, Nessie tried to picture Ruby and her father as a
couple but she could never make the scene work: her memories of Andrew Chapman were of an incoherent alcoholic who’d never quite loved his wife and family enough, and left when he was forced
to choose between them and the drink. Ruby, on the other hand, was charming and vivacious and even though Nessie knew her father had tried hard to change in his later years, she still
couldn’t grasp what someone as full of life as Ruby had seen in him.

‘I hope there’ll be no broken windows today,’ she said, pouring Ruby’s gin and adding a minimalist splash of tonic, the way she knew she liked it. ‘Martha says
she’ll have Owen’s guts for garters if the bakery window gets hit again.’

Ruby reached for her drink and took a long sip. ‘Perfect,’ she said, smacking her lips together. ‘Olivier would simply have adored you.’

Nessie led the way outside, where the deckchairs were filling up and blankets were being spread across the grass. She made sure Ruby had a seat and passed the lemonade to Kathryn and Luke before
hurrying back inside. The heat would make everyone thirsty and trade would be brisk.

Sam and Nessie took it in turns to tend the bar. At lunchtime, Nessie brought trays of sandwiches down to the bar and laid them out for the players, along with cold meats and cheese. Between the
teams and the spectators, the pub was pleasingly busy. Nessie felt her stomach flip more than once when she caught sight of Owen in his cricket whites.

‘If only I was twenty years younger,’ Ruby sighed, following Nessie’s gaze. ‘There’s something sexy about a man in sports kit, isn’t there? Not that Owen
needs any help in that department, but even old Henry Fitzsimmons looks better.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I can almost see why Franny is so taken with him.’

‘Mmm,’ Nessie agreed, keeping her face poker-straight. She didn’t like to think what would happen if Ruby turned her charms on Henry. Armageddon, probably.

Kathryn was at the bar, deep in conversation with Sam. They broke off as Nessie approached. ‘What are you two cooking up?’ she asked, dumping a handful of empty glasses on the
bar.

‘Nothing,’ Sam said innocently. ‘Kathryn was just telling me how gorgeous the bluebells in the woods are at this time of year.’

‘They’re like an ocean,’ Kathryn said, her Welsh lilt dancing. ‘Ask Owen if you don’t believe me.’

Nessie glanced across at him at exactly the moment Kathryn called out. ‘Owen! Come and tell Nessie about the bluebells.’

His dark eyes met hers. Smiling, he excused himself from the other cricketers and came towards her. ‘Thanks for the delicious lunch, Nessie; you’ve done us proud again. Now, what do
you want to know about the woods?’

Sam got in first. ‘Nessie was just saying how desperate she is to see the bluebells,’ she said, lightning-fast.

‘And I was telling her how you know all the best places in the woods to find them,’ Kathryn went on. Her eyes widened, as though something had just occurred to her. ‘Hey, I
know, why don’t you take Nessie to see them? The weather is meant to be glorious tomorrow.’

Nessie felt her insides squirm with embarrassment. It wasn’t the first time Sam and Kathryn had tried their hands at match-making and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last, but did
they have to be quite so obvious?

‘Luke has football in the morning,’ Owen said and hesitated. ‘And you know what tomorrow is.’

‘Of course I know.’ Kathryn fixed a determined gaze on her brother. ‘It’s just a walk in the woods, Owen. You’re always telling me that they look their best in the
morning light.’

When he still didn’t seem convinced, she touched his hand. ‘Go. I’ll take Luke to football.’

‘And I can manage here,’ Sam said, evidently anticipating Nessie’s own objection to the idea. ‘You could take your time, maybe even have a picnic. No need to rush
back.’

Owen shook his head and fired a rueful smile at Nessie. ‘Do you ever get the feeling you’ve been set up?’

Nessie turned hot and cold. Oh God, he thought she was in on this, didn’t he? Poor Nessie, so desperate for a date that she got her sister and her friend to trick him into taking her out.
She wanted the ground to swallow her up. ‘Don’t feel you have to,’ she mumbled, fighting for composure. ‘I’m sure I can find them on my own.’

His gaze was steady. ‘I have no doubt you can. But the thing I’ve noticed about nature’s beauty is that it’s often better when you have someone to share it with.’
His eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘Would you share it with me, Nessie?’

She stared up at him and the resolve she had to make an excuse – any excuse – melted away. ‘What time do you want to leave?’

When Nessie entered the kitchen at eight-thirty the next morning, she found a wicker basket packed with fresh fruit and croissants and tiny pots of jam, and an enormous tartan
blanket pinned with a note.
What could be more romantic than a picnic in the woods? Just saying.

Half smiling and half frowning, she stepped into the hallway and gazed at Sam’s door. It was firmly closed, with no sounds indicating movement on the other side. Shaking her head, Nessie
went back to the kitchen. It was a smart move, she thought; her sister must have known that Nessie wouldn’t be rude enough to leave it behind. Nothing to drink, she noted, as she weighed the
basket in one hand. Sam was probably being practical, trying to keep the weight down. Or maybe Owen had found a bottle of something on his kitchen table – that sounded more like her
sister’s style. Grabbing some water from the fridge, she went to see if her suspicions were correct.

Owen was waiting at the edge of the green. ‘Let me take that,’ he said the moment she was near enough and took the picnic basket from her.

‘Why don’t we swap?’ she said, taking a cool bag with what looked like a champagne bottle peeking out of the top. ‘Let me guess – a present from Kathryn.’

Owen nodded. ‘I found it in the kitchen, with a note saying: “Drink me”. There’s some freshly squeezed orange juice too.’

‘We can make Buck’s Fizz,’ Nessie said. Drinking champagne on an empty stomach wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

‘Good idea,’ Owen said and gestured across the green. ‘Shall we?’

The sun was every bit as strong as it had been the day before. If the weather held for the wedding it would be fabulous, Nessie thought, although she knew JoJo had left nothing to chance; come
rain or shine, guests would be able to shelter inside a vast luxury marquee, where they’d dine and dance until midnight. The wedding breakfast was restricted to family and friends but the
whole village would join the evening celebration, with a free bar courtesy of the bride’s parents. It really did promise to be the wedding of the year.

Owen and Nessie walked through the village, past the church and over the bridge that crossed the small river until they reached a wooden kissing gate. The air was filled with birdsong and the
distant babble of the river. Beyond the gate, the trees were in full leaf, green and glossy, shading the path from the sun. Nessie took a long deep breath and felt some of the stress of the last
few weeks slip away.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ Owen said as they walked. ‘It’s always peaceful here but I think the morning light makes it especially soothing if you’re feeling the
strain.’

They’d been walking for around half an hour when Owen stopped suddenly and gripped her arm. ‘Look,’ he whispered, pointing surreptitiously at the top of a tree.
‘We’re being watched.’

Nessie peered along the branch and then let out a stifled gasp as she saw a reddish-brown face staring down at them. ‘Oh! He looks just like Squirrel Nutkin.’

‘They’re endangered, so you hardly ever see them. Grey squirrels are more aggressive and carry a disease that kills the reds too.’

Scarcely daring to breathe, Nessie watched the little creature scurry along the branch. ‘Poor things. It doesn’t seem fair.’

Owen smiled. ‘That one seems happy enough. Come on, let’s leave him in peace.’

The trees grew thicker as they went deeper into the woods. Owen kept up a comfortable pace, although Nessie suspected he was walking more slowly than he might if he was alone. She noticed the
occasional bluebell here and there but nothing like the sea Kathryn had described. And then she saw a larger splash of blue among the green. Moments later, they rounded a corner and she was greeted
by a carpet of delicate flowers. It looked exactly like a wave, washing over the woodland floor.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘how beautiful.’

‘This is just a taster,’ Owen said, glancing at her warmly. ‘Wait until you see the next bit.’

And sure enough, around the next twist in the path, there was something even better: a small, crystal-clear waterfall tumbling over grey rocks, surrounded on either side by a forest of
bluebells. Nessie stopped dead: it was one of the loveliest sights she’d ever seen. ‘Wow.’

Owen stood for a moment, surveying the scene with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he seemed to give himself a mental shake. ‘We can eat on that rock over there,’ he said, pointing
to a wide flat area off to one side, about halfway up the waterfall. ‘If you’re up for a bit of climbing?’

Nessie bit her lip. The climb didn’t look too precarious but the last thing she wanted was to tumble headlong into the water. Then again, she didn’t want to come across as
unadventurous. She nodded. ‘Okay.’