‘Oliver!’
Oliver looked over his shoulder, back towards the way he’d come in. One of the locals was calling for service. He placed a hand on Pippa’s shoulder. ‘I’d better get back.’ He squeezed it. ‘Come on. We can get through this...together.’
‘Service!’
A different voice called out from the bar. Pippa grimaced. ‘You’d better get back. Just discourage them from ordering any more food.’
Oliver laughed. ‘Shall I tell them the beer pumps have dried up, too?’ He smiled a dazzling smile and the stresses of the kitchen instantly vanished. ‘Nice try, Pippa Pickles.’
‘Hey!’ Pippa laughed. ‘It’s Pippa Bramwell, as you rightly know. Don’t reignite the use of that ghastly name the kids at schoolapparentlycalled me, or I might just have to start addressing you as Ollie Onions.’
‘Touché. Sorry. That was a little tactless of me. Especially as it was the catalyst of our break-up.’
Pippa lifted her eyebrows at his comment and stared directly into the brown pools of his eyes, but instantly regretted it, as she was now drowning in them. She blinked to snap out of the trance they’d cast over her. ‘No. I’d say that was down to you alone.’ Oliver looked taken aback. Pippa turned her back on him dismissively. The stab of hurt from the mention of the break-up followed by the sizzling attraction she’d just felt had taken her by surprise. They were young when they’d dated. It’s not as if Oliver had beenthe one...or had he? ‘You’d better get back.’
‘Yes, I betterhad.’ Pippa couldn’t see his face, but she knew exactly how he’d look from the curt tone of his reply. She’d hit a nerve...good.
The rest of the evening flew by. There were more food orders, but no more conversation between them when Oliver came into the kitchen to deliver the orders. In fact, Pippa noticed he barely even looked her in the eye. She was glad. It was hard enough concentrating on cooking without the added distraction from him, his dashing good looks, and hisnotso clever comments.
When it was five minutes to the cut-off time for food orders, and the door to the kitchen opened again, Pippa was seriously considering telling Oliver to go away in a not so very polite manner. But when she turned around, to her relief, it was her aunt Morgan and not him.
‘Crikey! Have you brought fairy dust with you? Where did all those people come from? You’ve even attracted locals we usually only see on special occasions such as Christmas.’
Pippa’s shoulders dropped with relief when she realised her aunt wasn’t here to issue her with another food order. ‘Oh, Aunt Morgan. What a day. I forgot how much there was to do. I’m used to sitting behind my laptop all day, with the only body parts moving being my fingers.’
Aunt Morgan laughed and walked over to Pippa, pulling her into her arms for a hug. ‘You’ve done amazingly well—both you and Oliver. But more so you, because in my opinion, being the cook is the tougher of the two roles. Plus, you’ve had to act as server too.’
Pippa sighed heavily into her aunt’s shoulder. ‘You’re not kidding.’ She pulled away and looked at her through tired eyes. ‘Anyway, how did the appointment go? I’m guessing by your body language this morning it wasn’t really for his arthritis.’
Aunt Morgan gave Pippa a small smile. ‘It wasn’t all doom and gloom. The consultant was actually very pleased with the limited progression of the disease. He said the tablets he’d prescribed to slow it down are doing their job. He did however mention it might be beneficial if Brett were to go to a memory clinic, a weekly one, even possibly a weekend one too. That would mean missing some of the lunchtime business hours, but you already know you’re here to help out while I persuade him to sell up. However, if it continues to be busy like this, until the business is on the market, I think we need to hire a chef again as soon as possible. Otherwise, you’ll be returning to Ireland, needing a holiday to get over your visit here.’
Pippa sighed and smiled. ‘Thank goodness the dementia hasn’t progressed any more. I’ve been a bag of nerves since I received your letter.’
Aunt Morgan pulled Pippa in for another hug. ‘I’m sorry for the distress I’ve caused you, Kiddo.’
‘It’s not your fault, aunt.’ She pulled away to look her in the eyes. ‘I’m glad you made me come...I really am. I’m just sorry it’s taken so long for me to come back. I bet you thought I’ve been heartless staying away for so long. Especially as it’s only been three years since mom’s passing.’
Aunt Morgan shook her head. ‘Not at all, my darling. We all deal with grief in different ways. It was obviously too raw for you to be here.’
‘It was with all the photos dad hung up on the walls straight after the funeral, aunt.’ Pippa blurted out. ‘It was just too much...a constant reminder I’d lost one of the most important people in the world to me.’
Aunt Morgan rubbed her hand up and down the top of Pippa’s arm. ‘I did wonder about them when Brett hung them up. But then, that was his way of coping with grief.’
Pippa nodded. ‘I know, Aunt. I just wish I could have manned up and been here more for dad. Especially now, knowing of his dementia.’
‘Hey, don’t beat yourself up, Kiddo... At your father’s request, he doesn’t want you to know about it, remember? Anyway, you are here now, so that’s all that counts.’ Pippa sighed again and nodded. ‘You look exhausted, Pippa. Have you and Oliver eaten yet?’
‘I haven’t. I’m not sure if Oliver ate before he came to work.’
‘Go and sit at the bar. I’ll clean up here and rustle up something for both of you.’
‘But your MS, aunt.’
Aunt Morgan gave Pippa a small smile. ‘At times I might be slightly impaired physically, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look after my wonderful niece when she needs it. Now go...do as you are told.’ She ended the sentence with a bigger smile as she pointed to the kitchen door with her walking stick.
Pippa partly grimaced and partly smiled. ‘Yes, Aunt.’
Her father was behind the bar counter, pulling a pint, and Oliver was sitting at the bar on the customer’s side when Pippa entered the pub lounge. Pippa raised her eyebrows questioningly as she approached.
