‘Yes, they are, Joel. Well remembered. Bit late but you got there in the end.’
‘Then you wonder why our marriage is on the rocks,’ he said bitterly. ‘Right, I have to go. Things to do. I’ll expect you home within a fortnight, shall I? I deserve time with my own daughters, you know. It’s not all about you.’
‘You know where they are,’ she said, trying to stop trembling. ‘We’ll be here until the end of the summer holidays, so if you want to speak to them, you’d better phone, or make arrangements to come to Kelsea Sands. Please give notice. You wouldn’t want to come all the way here to find us out enjoying ourselves somewhere, would you?’
The phone went dead and Jenna shoved it back in her pocket, then gripped the railings tightly, fighting back tears.
Not a word of apology. Not a word of comfort, or sadness, or – or kindness.
Just accusations and bullying. Like he didn’t care about her feelings at all.
Because he doesn’t. He never did.
She straightened, not wanting to listen to the truth, not ready to fully accept it. She felt sick and drained and wondered what to do with herself. She wasn’t ready to go back to Watersmeet. She couldn’t face Mum and Mac. Her mum would know something had upset her. She had an uncanny ability to sense these things.
Jenna turned and gazed at the solid pub opposite. The North Star, with its whitewashed walls and tiled roof, had three sash windows on the first floor and three large, square bay windows on the ground floor. A blue-painted front door separated two of the bays from the other one, but no one ever used it. Everyone walked round the side of the pub and entered that way. She wasn’t sure why. It was just what everyone did.
Joel had once said it was a dead-end pub in the middle of nowhere, but Jenna remembered from her childhood that it was the beating heart of this community, with beautiful views of the most stunning sunsets she’d ever seen.
She remembered sitting at a window table with her family one evening as they celebrated some special occasion or other. She recalled her dad giving her a gentle nudge as he urged her to look out of the window, and when she’d turned her head, she’d seen the sky streaked with amber and purple and peach, and the river rippling with liquid gold on the horizon.
Jenna blinked away tears, feeling a sudden longing for her dad that almost took her breath away. She missed him so much. If only he were here now, he would make everything all right. But he wasn’t, and she had to get on with her life somehow. Find a way to get through the pain, one moment at a time.
Within the welcoming walls of The North Star, people were laughing and talking, having fun. And if she walked through that door, people would be too busy to notice her, or to guess that she’d just taken yet another savage blow to her self-esteem and to her heart. She could sneak in and sit in a corner somewhere. Gather her thoughts. Settle her nerves before she went back to Watersmeet.
She might even treat herself to a drink. A strong one.
God knows, she really needed it.
9
Sam was trying not to lose patience, but it was wearing thin. Briar had skipped off to Majorca, and then his part-time kitchen assistant, Elsa, had handed in her notice. Well, she hadn’t even given notice. She’d just quit with no warning.
Apparently, the bright lights of Burlington-on-Sea, forty-two miles up the coast, were beckoning her. She’d had an offer of a job in a seafood restaurant and since her mother lived in the seaside town and had offered her a room in her house, she saw no reason not to accept it.
‘The only problem is,’ she’d told Sam, not sounding at all as if was any sort of problem as far as she was concerned, ‘that I have to start immediately. Well, tomorrow. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to love you and leave you, Sam.’
He could hardly force her to stay, and the truth was it was probably good that she’d found another job, with the future of The North Star so uncertain. But from a selfish point of view, he was facing an even busier time at the pub, and with his dad still slumped in front of the television, paying no attention whatsoever to Sam’s angst, it looked like he was going to be working flat out for the foreseeable.
It had briefly occurred to him to close the pub completely. How easy it would be to lock the door, pull down the blinds at the bay windows, and call Luke to tell him he was on his way back to work a few months earlier than expected.
But thinking about it rationally, he knew that the pub would be much easier to sell as a going concern. If someone came looking, they would be far more impressed if they saw The North Star as it was tonight – heaving with customers and full of lively chatter and laughter – rather than as an empty shell.
Which meant, of course, that he’d just have to get on with things, as infuriating as that was. He was still waiting for his dad to take some action. He’d have thought Seb would have contacted an estate agent by now so they could come to the pub and take down the particulars, get the ball rolling on the sale. So far, though, his dad had done nothing and when Sam mentioned it to him, he just grunted and said he’d get round to it in his own good time.
Sam tried not to think about what it would mean for him, or for his dad, when he finally did. He couldn’t allow himself to get sentimental about it. His mum wasn’t here, and his dad wasn’t interested in the place. Sam had to think about himself and his future. Besides, he’d already confirmed with Luke the good news that he’d be returning to work for him in January – earlier, if the pub sold – and the two had had a very positive and cheerful telephone conversation about the matter. There was no going back now.
‘I reckon we’re going to have to cut some of the items off the menu,’ Kenny told him, as he rushed into the kitchen with yet another order. ‘You can’t expect me to carry on as normal without Elsa here to pick up the slack. Young Ollie’s having to do most of her work, which means he can’t fetch and carry for me, and I’ve got enough to do.’
‘Whatever you want,’ Sam said wearily. ‘Just tell me what you want to cook and?—’
‘It’s not about what I want to cook,’ Kenny said haughtily. ‘It’s about what I can manage to cook under these circumstances. Briar often popped in here to help if she wasn’t too busy at the bar, and even she’s gone now, so you must see the position I’m in.’
‘I do see,’ Sam said hastily. ‘No judgement from me. Look, just do what you can tonight and tomorrow we’ll go through the menu together and whittle it down to a few basic dishes.’
Kenny gave him a suspicious look. ‘In the summer holidays?’
‘Yes,’ Sam said, hardly able to meet his eye.
