Summer at the Star and Sixpence (6 page)

Nessie wanted to hug her. Whatever she thought about her father, it was clear Ruby had adored him. ‘It’s just a piece of paper. I’m sure he loved you just as much without
it.’

‘And yet we set so much store by it,’ Ruby said. ‘JoJo and Jamie are spending a small fortune on this wedding. Then there’s you and Owen, both hiding behind your old
marriage certificates instead of taking a chance and embracing love.’

Nessie felt her mouth drop open. That hardly seemed fair – Owen did right to honour his wife’s memory, and Nessie’s separation from Patrick was less than a year old. Neither of
them were exactly hiding. And yet . . .

‘You think I should get a divorce,’ she said baldly.

‘It would be a start,’ Ruby replied. ‘Not because you need to – you’re a free woman, after all – but because of what it represents. You’d have a clean
slate, a fresh start. It might make Owen feel better about giving up the memory of Eliza too.’

‘What if he’s not ready?’ Nessie asked.

‘Then do it for you,’ Ruby urged. ‘Look at your own future. Reclaim who you are.’

In a strange way it made sense, Nessie was surprised to discover. She
was
in a sort of limbo at the moment, neither married nor single. It would be liberating to cut her ties with
Patrick, not because she wanted to forget him but because Ruby had a point; a fresh start was exactly what she needed. Hadn’t that been what coming to the Star and Sixpence had been all
about?

Impulsively, she reached out and wrapped her arms around the older woman. ‘You’re so right,’ she said, breathing in the scent of Chanel No. 5 mingled with gin. ‘Thanks,
Ruby, I could kiss you.’

Ruby laughed. ‘That’s what Richard Burton used to say, every time I told him to get his arse back to Elizabeth.’

Sam waited until she was out of Little Monkham, on a trip to stock up on luxury towels and bed linen for the guest rooms, to call Will. The car park at John Lewis seemed as
good a place as any.

‘It’s me,’ she said when he answered.

‘Sam,’ he said, sounding far too pleased to hear her voice. ‘How are you?’

She exhaled sharply. ‘Never mind how I am. What do you want?’

There was a pause. ‘I need to see you.’

A wave of disbelief washed over Sam. Was that what this was about after all this time – his refusal to accept that she didn’t want him? ‘Why?’

‘Marina knows about you. About us.’

Sam closed her eyes. ‘How?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Of course it matters,’ she snapped.

‘Someone told her,’ he sighed. ‘A friend of a friend, someone who used to work at Brightman and Burgess.’

Myles’ voice echoed in Sam’s head:
tongues are wagging . . .
She leaned her head against the steering wheel. ‘What is she going to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Will said. ‘We should meet up, work out a strategy.’

She snorted. ‘That’s the last thing we should do. She’s probably having you watched.’

‘Myles is talking about breaking the story first, before Marina can.’

Sam’s eyes widened. ‘Myles?’

‘Of course,’ Will said. ‘He’s the one who tipped me off.’

He hadn’t warned her, Sam thought bitterly, but it was hardly a surprise. Myles made it perfectly clear where his loyalties lay when he’d told her to leave. ‘And gave you this
number, I suppose.’

‘No, I had to call in a few favours to get this, and to find out where you’d disappeared to. How on earth did you end up running a pub?’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘All those silent calls . . . they were you?’

‘At first I just wanted to hear your voice. I – I still think about that night, Sam. I don’t want you to think you’re one of many.’ He took a deep, shaky-sounding
breath. ‘Marina was so wrapped up in the baby, I was lonely. And there you were, fascinating and funny and irresistible. I’m a good man, Sam, I didn’t mean for any of this to
happen.’

‘Oh please,’ she snarled. ‘You weren’t wearing your wedding ring, Will. Who does that unless they’re out on the pull? And don’t even get me started about what
happened in the conference room that day.’

‘My ring was at the jeweller’s,’ he said patiently. ‘It wasn’t fitting properly and I kept fiddling with it. Myles said it would look bad in my television
interviews so I sent it to be fixed. I got it back the day after we spent the night together.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry about that day too. I just wanted you so much, it was
driving me crazy.’

He had an answer for everything, Sam thought, not believing a single word. It was a good thing he was moving in political circles now; he had the right personality for it. ‘You know what?
None of it matters,’ she said wearily. ‘I don’t have to believe you – I’m not the one who has to spin a way out of this for you.’

‘But you do need to limit the damage, just the same as I do. Myles says if we handle things the right way, we might still manage to find a way out of this.’

He
might find a way out, Sam realised, not
we
, which was why he was so keen to take control and break the story before his wife could. The trouble was that in order to paint Will
as a good man who’d made a mistake he bitterly regretted, Sam would have to be cast as a predatory bitch who’d knowingly had an affair with a married man. The media would want blood to
spice up the story and if it wasn’t Will’s, it had to be hers. But she wasn’t about to throw herself on her sword: she might not have a high-flying career to protect any more but
she still had plenty to lose.

‘I’m not meeting you,’ she insisted. ‘It will look bad if it gets out, like we’re cooking up a story to cover our tracks. And I really don’t want to be in the
same room as you, not after what happened last time. Tell Myles I’ll speak to him instead.’

‘He won’t talk to you. He says he can’t represent both of us – conflict of interest.’

Sam felt her temper flare. ‘I’m not asking him to represent me. But if he wants me on board with this then he’ll have to communicate somehow.’

‘Okay, I’ll pass that along. We’ll get through this, don’t worry.’

The implication that the whole sorry situation was something they shared equal responsibility for was almost more than Sam could take. She gritted her teeth. ‘Goodbye, Will.’

‘Bye, Sam,’ he said, and his voice was suddenly filled with warmth. ‘It’s great to hear your voice.’

Sam hung up. With her hands folded in her lap, she sat perfectly still and waited for her anger to die down. As it began to fade, the practical PR side of her brain began to kick in. She needed
to know how vindictive Will’s wife was likely to be, who she blamed for the whole mess and whether she was the type to go straight to the press. Sam rummaged in her bag for her little black
address book. It was time to call in a few favours.

‘Earth to Sam, come in, Sam.’

Joss waved a hand in front of her face as they stood behind the bar on Friday morning, his face amused.

Sam started. ‘What?’ she snapped.

His smile drained away. ‘You were miles away. I thought you might like to know that the marquee’s going up. Look.’

He pointed past the few customers to the open door, through which Sam could see a gigantic white tent had begun to take shape in the distance.

‘Oh,’ she said, rousing herself. ‘Good.’

Joss frowned. ‘What’s going on? You’ve been snapping like a crocodile with toothache all week and your phone hasn’t stopped ringing.’ He held up a hand. ‘And
don’t tell me it’s work stuff again because I’m not an idiot. Something is wrong, Sam, and I want to know what it is.’

She should tell him, Sam knew, before he found out through lurid headlines and wildly exaggerated claims. It had happened before they’d met, so technically it didn’t concern him, but
he’d still be caught in the crossfire and so would Nessie. Sam was hoping it wouldn’t come to that; her sources suggested Marina Pargeter wasn’t the kind to air her dirty laundry
in public. The danger now was Myles and his determination to own the story. In fact, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he leaked the news himself. The sensible thing would be for her to tell
Nessie and Joss now, minimise the damage; if she was advising a client that was exactly what she’d tell them to do. But she was scared of how the two people she cared about most would react.
Nessie knew some of it already, the bare bones but not the detail. Joss was oblivious to it all. Only Nick Borrowdale knew everything; he’d been the one she’d run to after packing up
her office, a friend in her time of need, and she’d sworn him to total secrecy.

‘It’s nothing,’ Sam told Joss. ‘I’ve been stressed about the rooms being finished in time, that’s all.’

‘But they are,’ Joss objected. ‘And they look amazing, top of the range stuff. The cellar is bursting with stock for the wedding and everything is in hand. So why are you
walking around looking like the sky is going to crash down upon our heads at any minute?’

‘I—’ Sam hesitated. She was going to have to tell him; she wanted to. But not here, where there were customers to overhear her toe-curling, shameful confession. Not now.
‘I suppose I am being a bit pessimistic. Sorry.’

His blue eyes bored into hers. ‘And you’re sure that’s all it is? You’re not angry with me over something I have or haven’t done, or something I’ve said or
not said?’

Her eyes widened. ‘No! Honestly, it’s nothing like that.’

Joss stared at her for a long moment. ‘Okay,’ he said at last and his expression relaxed. ‘Just think, this time tomorrow, JoJo will be upstairs getting ready and Jamie will be
somewhere, terrified beyond belief.’

Sam smiled in spite of herself. ‘How do you know? He might be looking forward to the best day of his life.’

‘That too,’ Joss agreed. ‘But he’ll still be terrified. All men are.’

‘In which case I’m amazed anyone ever makes it down the aisle,’ she said drily.

Joss laughed. ‘But that’s the best part – we feel the fear and do it anyway. Because when you meet the one, you know, and you don’t let anything stop you from spending
the rest of your life with her.’

Now it was Sam’s turn to stare. ‘You really are a romantic, aren’t you?’

He stepped closer. ‘Yes. And just so we’re clear, I already know you’re the one. So give it a few years and it’ll be you getting ready and me feeling the fear.’

He bent his head to brush her lips with his.

‘Get a room, you two,’ Bryan from the butchers joked, across the other side of the bar.

‘Sorry,’ Joss called, stepping back with a wry smile. ‘What can I get you?’

As he walked away, Sam felt a shiver of anxiety work its way down her spine. She’d spent all of her adult life running away from commitment and it had found her anyway, in someone
she’d never have expected. And the weird thing was, she wasn’t scared any more, not of settling down at least. Things felt right with Joss, as though she was where she was meant to be,
and it made her heart sing to know he felt the same way.

She watched him laughing with Bryan and made up her mind: she had to find time to tell him what was going on and soon. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – risk losing him.

Not now she knew she loved him.

Nessie stood in the middle of JoJo and Jamie’s bridal suite on Saturday morning and gazed around. The room was dominated by a superking-size four-poster bed with
exquisitely carved dark oak posts, complete with billowing cream curtains, fine Egyptian cotton sheets and plump inviting pillows. Later this evening the bed would be strewn with rose petals, and
the antique claw-footed champagne bucket would be brimming with ice beside the bed. She crossed the room and entered the bathroom: a double-ended slipper bath gleamed under the dimmable spotlights
in the sloping beamed ceiling. Fluffy white towels hung from the heated towel rail and a basket of Molton Brown goodies sat beside the twin sinks; Nessie had tested a few before buying them for the
rooms and had fallen in love with the Gingerlily body wash.

Cleverly tucked away behind the tiled wall was a walk-through rainfall shower. The guest room next door had a similar layout with a teal blue colour scheme, no bath and a sleigh bed instead of a
four-poster. Sam had insisted they spared no expense and Nessie had to agree the overall effect was worth it. The question was, would JoJo agree? Apart from the fact that it was her bridal suite, a
good write-up from her would be worth its weight in gold.

Nessie had been up since five-thirty, unable to sleep, fretting about the day ahead. A couple’s wedding day was arguably the most important of their entire lives: what if she or Sam had
forgotten something? A tiny detail that made everything else unravel?

That fear had mingled with her worries about Owen, another thing to haunt her dreams. She’d taken a cup of tea outside, cradling it as she watched the sunrise over the eastern side of the
village. Maybe it was time to take a step away from Owen. She knew Sam and Kathryn wouldn’t agree, nor Ruby for that matter – she was all about seizing the day and making every moment
count. The thought made Nessie feel a little bereft, as though she’d uprooted a rose before it had ever truly begun to bloom, but it felt good to be making a decision instead of clinging on
to a withering hope. She’d reclaimed a bit of herself, just like Ruby had told her to. And as the sun’s rays turned the amber walls of the Star and Sixpence to gold, Nessie came to
another decision. She’d get a divorce from Patrick. Ruby was right; until she did she’d be in limbo.

So on the day when she’d be helping one couple to start out their married life, Nessie had downloaded a divorce petition, filled it in and printed it off, ready to be sent to the nearest
court. Patrick would have to agree, of course, but she couldn’t see why he wouldn’t – their separation had been amicable, the result of drifting apart. And even though he’d
sent her flowers on Valentine’s Day, she didn’t imagine he saw any kind of reconciliation in their future.

She’d spent a quiet half hour contemplating the end of her marriage and then she’d put on some make-up and prepared herself for what lay ahead. Now it was ten-thirty and there was no
time left for anything; JoJo and her bridesmaids were due any minute.