*
‘Well now,’ said George when I walked into the Smuggler’s that evening, ‘we’d all but given up on you, hadn’t we, Sam?’
‘I have to admit,’ Sam confirmed, with a twinkle in his eyes, ‘that I was beginning to think the weather had got the better of you and you’d left already.’
His mischievous tone was exactly what I needed to round off the day. It might have been dangerous stepping closer to that smouldering touchpaper again, but with George acting as chaperone I was willing to risk it.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, lads,’ I told them both with a grin to match Sam’s, ‘but you’re stuck with me for a bit longer yet.’
‘Oh no,’ George chuckled, ‘now that really is bad news, isn’t it, Sam?’
Sam looked at George and shook his head and I got the impression that my presence in the village might well have been the topic of conversation between the pair and I would have very much liked to know what had been said.
‘So, what can I get you, Tess?’ Sam asked me, ignoring George who then went to sit with another customer.
‘Um,’ I said, looking along the row of pumps, ‘I think I’ll have half a pint of Wherry please.’
‘Coming right up.’
The pub was far more crowded than when I had been in earlier in the week. It was hardly heaving but the level of chatter and laughter seemed to bring the place to life and coupled with the palpable relief that it was finally Friday, it felt like a merry place to be.
‘One half,’ said Sam, setting the glass on the bar and taking the five-pound note I proffered.
I craned my neck to look behind him and then back over my shoulder.
‘What?’ He frowned, following my gaze.
‘Nothing,’ I shrugged.
‘Okay’ he shrugged back, going to get my change.
‘No,’ I told him, ‘I don’t mean there’s nothing wrong. I mean there actually is nothing.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘When I was in before you said you had your bank holiday plans in hand,’ I reminded him, ‘but I can’t see anything advertised. I thought you’d have a few posters up by now.’
Sam rolled his eyes.
What was it with the Wynmouth folk? First Sophie had seemed reluctant to get her café online and now Sam looked as if he’d rather do anything other than sell more beer. Was it just my marketing brain refusing to switch off, or were the local business owners I had come across so far genuinely unwilling to do a decent amount of business?
‘Don’t tell me,’ I sighed dramatically as I picked up my glass, ‘you haven’t really got anything planned at all, have you? You just said you had before to shut me up.’
I raised my eyebrows waiting for an answer.
‘Am I right,’ I pushed, ‘or am I right?’
‘No,’ Sam huffed, ‘you’re not.’
There didn’t seem to be much conviction behind his words.
‘Convince me,’ I said challengingly.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I have had a couple of ideas, but nothing concrete.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because,’ he said, sounding suddenly frustrated, ‘I really don’t have the time to organize anything properly. In case you hadn’t noticed, mine and some part-time help are the only pairs of hands running this pub. It might not be that busy, but there’s really no free time, Tess and I can’t afford to throw money at some half-arsed attempt at entertainment. If I can’t do it right, then I’d rather not do it at all.’
That rather took the wind out of my sails. When I first struck up the conversation, I had assumed he just couldn’t be bothered, but now it seemed that it was a timing issue rather than not making an effort.
‘That’s pretty ironic, isn’t it?’ I said, just as he was about to walk away.
‘What is?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘you have no time at all, and since I’ve arrived, I’ve found I’ve got far too much of it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Too much time twiddling my thumbs waiting for the weather to clear,’ I said, taking a pull at my beer, ‘it’s just got to me a bit, that’s all.’
‘Well, you can take this on if you want,’ he said. ‘If you’ve got nothing better to do.’
‘Take what on?’
‘Organizing the pub’s bank holiday entertainment.’
My gaze snapped back up to his.
‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’m kidding.’
He went to move again.
‘Must be a nice problem to have though,’ he said pointedly, ‘too much time.’
I wasn’t really listening.
‘I suppose I could lend a hand,’ I said thoughtfully as the cogs started to whirr. On my walk back along the beach I had been mulling over the importance of not shutting myself away. If I couldn’t help Sophie get the café online, then perhaps I could help Sam pull in some extra punters.
‘Are you being serious?’ he frowned.
‘Yeah,’ I smiled up at him. ‘Why not? But only if you agree to me staying on in the cottage.’
Sam looked at me for a long moment. He seemed to be weighing something up. I steadily returned his scrutiny and once he’d settled on an answer, he held out his hand.
‘All right,’ he said as I firmly grasped it, that increasingly familiar tingle shooting up my arm as our skin touched, ‘you’re on. Although why anyone would want to spend their holiday helping this place out is beyond me.’
Part of the reason I had agreed to help was because I wanted to see Wynmouth thrive. The little village wasn’t quite the place I had always idolized but it was still wonderful, not that I could tell Sam that. And neither was I prepared to share the more personal reasons behind my desire to keep occupied.
He squeezed my hand a little tighter, obviously expecting a response.
‘Let’s just say getting away and switching off hasn’t quite worked out,’ I began.
‘Getting away from what?’
‘My job. I’m a bit of a workaholic and going cold turkey hasn’t gone according to plan.’
‘So, in helping me out, you’d be helping yourself?’
‘Exactly.’
He seemed to accept that as a good enough reason and let go of my hand.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘you come up with some ideas and we’ll compare notes.’
‘Excellent,’ I smiled.
‘But no bloody karaoke or Abba tribute band, all right?’ he laughed.
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing along with him.
‘I tried that a couple of Christmases ago,’ he grinned, ‘and it was a total flop.’
Chapter 6
I was delighted that Sam had agreed to let me come up with some ideas to entertain the fine folk of Wynmouth, even though working with him was going to play havoc with my libido, but there was one thing capable of taking the edge off my enthusiasm for the venture.
Securing a longer stay in Crow’s Nest Cottage was exactly what I had wanted, but the thought of breaking the news to Dad I could live without. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get away with another text and a quick message via Joan but I was going to go all out and try not to worry about it for the next few days. I could leave my phone undisturbed in the cottage and immerse myself in the role of joint pub event organizer, safe in the knowledge that I now had plenty of time to work my way through Mum’s diary at a healthier pace.