She ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts charging ahead like a runaway horse. Was she overthinking this? It was an informal office. The secretaries called their bosses by their first names. Maybe it was normal there to call their wives and husbands by their first names, too.
But there’d been something in the woman’s tone. Something Jenna’s subconscious had registered but she hadn’t paid attention to at the time. Something she didn’t want to think about too closely.
Her phone beeped an alarm, reminding her that break was almost over. She switched it off automatically.
Slowly she got to her feet and smoothed her skirt. Okay, so this had happened. Joel had decided he ‘needed space’ and had moved in with ‘a friend’. She knew there was no point in her calling him back now. He wouldn’t take the call. There’d be some excuse from his secretary. He was busy. He had a meeting. He couldn’t be disturbed.
No, Joel would only speak to her again when he was ready, and since she had no idea where he was staying, she couldn’t exactly go round to his place and demand a face-to-face confrontation with him.
And hell would freeze over before she’d go to his workplace. She might not have much dignity left but she had that much.
She would have to explain all this to the girls somehow. Not the full truth. Maybe tell them their dad was away at a conference again. They’d believe that. There was no point telling them that he ‘needed space’. They’d have no more idea what that meant than she did, and why worry them?
Joel had, after all, left her before. And within eight weeks he’d been back. Adventure over. Ready to play house again. This would be the same, surely? He couldn’t really mean that their marriage was over. He just got restless sometimes. Hadn’t she always known that? There was no way she was going to upset the twins unless she really, really had to.
‘Joel, it’s Jenna.’
The voice echoed through her brain as she made her way back to her own classroom, the secretary’s change of tone sounding alarm bells that she refused to listen to.
Joel wouldn’t do that to her again. He just wouldn’t. This was a break. A bit of space to help him get some perspective. He’d soon realise he missed his family.
He’d be back.
If she was going to get through the rest of the day, the rest of the week, she had to believe that. For the sake of her sanity and her daughters, she couldn’t accept any other reality.
3
‘What do you think,’ Sam said, ‘to starting a weekly carvery in the dining room?’
Across the table, his dad cradled his mug of tea, making no reply. Sam watched him closely, scanning his face for some sort of reaction. Nothing.
‘I just think the dining room’s wasted,’ Sam persisted. ‘There’s plenty of room in there to set up the food bar and I’ve been talking to Kenny about it. He’s keen to give it a go.’
Maybe keen was a bit of an exaggeration, but the head chef had promised to think it over. He’d been working at The North Star for over thirty years now and didn’t take kindly to change. Sam had a feeling Kenny still thought of him as the boss’s son who was maybe getting above his station. The chef had made no secret of the fact that he wanted things back the way they used to be.
Well, he wasn’t the only one. Sam ran a hand through his hair, trying hard not to feel impatient, but bloody hell, it was hard. He glanced out of the kitchen window across the car park to the woodland beyond and smothered a sigh. To think, he could be out on a building site right now, working alongside his best mate in the fresh air and sunshine instead of being cooped up in the pub every day, trying to coax some signs of life out of his father.
‘Well,’ Seb said with a slight shrug, ‘if Kenny’s all right with it, why are you asking me?’
Sam closed his eyes and counted to ten.
‘Because, Dad,’ he said at last, ‘you’re still the owner of this place. The landlord. It’s your name above the door.’
Seb gave a short laugh. ‘As if that means anything! You’re in charge now, lad. Do what you please.’ He got up, took his mug over to the sink and placed it in the washing up bowl, then left the kitchen without a backward glance.
Sam put his head in his hands. Well, that had gone well. Although, if he was being honest, he’d not expected anything else. It was just a tiny seedling of hope that refused to give up and wither away. Even though his dad refused to water it. Even though it never seemed to get any sunshine. Even though it never grew any bigger. It just stayed there, clinging to life. Just enough to keep Sam trying.
He drained his tea then carried his own mug to the sink. Now what? Since taking over the running of the pub, he’d not made any changes because he still considered his dad to be in charge and hadn’t wanted to do anything that would rock the boat. The fact was, though, he’d been here full-time for two years now, and the temporary job had seemingly become permanent.
His friend and former boss had long ago found a replacement for him – reluctantly – and Sam had given up the lease on his flat in Millensea as soon as he’d quit his job. No point paying rent when he was stuck in Kelsea Sands all hours, running the pub while his dad refused to set foot in the bar, and keeping Seb company every spare moment he had.
And as if all that wasn’t bad enough, Layla had dumped him not long after he’d lost everything else. As Sam headed to his bedroom to put on a smarter shirt for work, he recalled that bitter day all too clearly.
Layla worked at the Tourist Information Centre in the local seaside town of Millensea, and Sam had really liked her. Two years older than him, she was confident, chatty, and very easy to be around. Sam had enjoyed her company and even started to hope that this could be the real deal. He was ready to settle down. Maybe Layla was the one he could settle down with.
They’d been dating for over eighteen months when Sam’s mum, Donna, had died. Layla had been sympathetic and compassionate, and very kind to his dad. But over the following year, as Seb had withdrawn from the world and Sam had found himself having to work evening shifts at The North Star because Seb didn’t want to, she’d started to get a bit testy about the situation.
When Seb listlessly announced one Sunday that he’d had enough and was going to sell the pub, Sam had been appalled. He knew how much his dad loved the place. How much his mum had loved it. Before their time, Sam’s grandad and great-grandad had been the landlords. The North Star meant everything to his family, and he knew his dad wasn’t thinking straight.
