Sarvan waited for a response from Sam, who looked up from his plate. ‘It’s some of the best I’ve tasted.’ A beaming smile spread across Sarvan’s face and it stayed there as he went off to the next table.
‘Is this better than your London Town fancy pants restaurants?’ asked Vicky.
‘I’m not really into those. But there are some excellent places for Asian food and the street food in Borough Market is particularly good.’ Vicky was frowning at him and Blythe could see the fear in Sam’s eyes as he quickly added, ‘But not as good as here.’ Vicky’s frown disappeared.
‘I’m just going to check on Eden,’ said Vicky, and she left the table.
‘See, she’s scary,’ said Sam, pointing after her with his fork.
‘She’s not – you’re just a big wuss,’ said Blythe.
Phyllis slipped into Vicky’s vacated seat and Blythe felt Sam’s light mood instantly evaporate and saw his shoulders tense. ‘Hello, Mr Ashton,’ said Phyllis.
‘You can call me, Sam. And you’re Phyllis, right?’
Phyllis’s cheeks coloured. ‘You remembered my name.’
‘Are you okay, Phyll?’ asked Blythe, trying to draw her attention away from Sam.
‘I’m fine. I wanted to ask Sam here a couple of questions.’
Blythe was already shaking her head. ‘Can they wait? Because we’re just having a quiet meal.’ As soon as she’d said it she was aware of the loud noise level in the pub, and a burst of laughter from a crowd in the corner only emphasised it.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were on a date,’ said Phyllis.
Sam choked on his bhaji and Blythe had to slap him on the back and offer him a glass of water.
‘Not a date,’ said Blythe, and Sam nodded vigorously. A little more forcefully than her ego would have liked.
Phyllis looked confused. ‘Okay. Anyway, Blythe tells me you work with film stars.’ Blythe could almost see Phyllis’s eyes sparkle at the thought of it. ‘Have you met Sean Connery?’
‘I’m afraid not but I was once behind Daniel Craig in a coffee queue on the set ofNo Time To Die.’
Phyllis screwed up her features. ‘He’s not Bond. Well, not in my eyes. Too violent and he’s not funny like Sean Connery or Roger Moore. Have you met Roger Moore?’ Sam shook his head. Phyllis looked disappointed. ‘How about Hugh Grant? I quite like him.’
‘Sorry, no. I’ve met Simon Pegg a few times. He’s nice.’ Blythe could tell he was trying desperately to please Phyllis.
‘Who?’ Phyllis scowled at him.
‘David Jason!’ said Sam, as if the name had suddenly struck him.
Phyllis clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, I like Del Boy! What’s he like?’
They chatted for a while and Sam regaled them with titbits from the sets he’d worked on and Phyllis was enthralled. When she went to top up her sherry he turned to Blythe. ‘See, I told you I was fun.’ She had to concede that tonight he definitely was.
Before Blythe could respond, Phyllis was back. She pulled her chair up close to the table and leaned in. ‘What I wanted to know was did you find anything in Murray’s cottage? Any clues?’ Phyllis propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands, as if settling down for a long story.
‘Clues to what?’ asked Sam, drinking some more water.
‘His family of course,’ said Phyllis.
Sam looked at Blythe to fill in the gaps. ‘Murray lived here for quite a while—’
‘Definitely over ten years,’ said Phyllis, with a firm nod.
‘And he was a big part of the community,’ explained Blythe. ‘We all thought we knew him well. But it turns out he must have had family up north because he was buried in Manchester. He’s turned out to be a bit of a mystery and we’re trying to piece things together.’
‘That’s not anyone else’s business.’ Sam had a stern look about him.
