Chapter Four
The café was busy, but Vicky was enjoying herself — she had always enjoyed working in the little place near her digs when she had been at university. Though the view here was definitely a bonus — and so were the happy customers enjoying their holidays.
She served up every variety of coffee, served tea in pretty china teapots with matching cups and saucers, home-made scones with Devonshire cream, slices of cake, pasties, bacon baps and triangles of quiche and pizza.
She was clearing a couple of tables when Debbie returned, a little mini-me at her side — the same soft brown curls, the same wide eyes and shy gaze.
“Are you okay?” Debbie asked. “How’s it gone?”
“Absolutely fine — it’s been fun. We’re nearly out of the coffee-and-walnut cake — it’s very popular.”
“There’s another one in the pantry — I’ll fetch it. Amy, say hello to Auntie Vicky.”
“Hello.” A shy voice, a small hand gripping her mother’s sleeve.
“Hello, Amy.” Vicky smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Now pop up and change out of your school uniform, then you can bring your colouring book down and sit at one of the tables.”
The little girl nodded solemnly and scampered through the door that led to the family’s apartment upstairs.
“I’ll fetch the cake.”
More customers had come in, the children excited by the selection of iced cupcakes. Vicky was pouring an espresso when the door opened again. She glanced around — and almost spilled the hot coffee on her hand.
With the light behind him she couldn’t be sure at first, but as he strolled into the café she felt an odd little tingle scud down her spine. Tom. Quickly she turned her attention back to serving up the coffees, before she felt able to turn to him, a bright smile fixed in place.
“Hello.” He raised one dark eyebrow in sardonic question. “Got a new job already?”
“I’m just helping out.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Something in his tone lacked sincerity. But she wasn’t going to get into another brangle with him.
Debbie bustled through from the kitchen with the cake. “Hello, Tom. Your usual?”
“Yes, please. Make it a very special one for Bill.” He winked at her. “You know how he loves your pasties.”
To Vicky’s surprise, Debbie blushed scarlet and turned away to fuss with putting a couple of pasties in a paper bag. What was that about? She glanced from one to the other. Of course it was none of her business if there was something between them — she really couldn’t care less.
Tom grinned teasingly as Debbie handed over the bag of pasties. “I’ll be sure and tell Bill you sent them with your love.”
“No! I mean . . . uh . . .”
He laughed. “Okay, I’ll keep schtum.” As he tapped his card on the reader he leaned over the counter and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “But don’t keep him waiting too long. He’s liable to turn all the milk sour.”
He nodded briefly to Vicky, and strolled out of the café.
So... Debbie and Bill? Vicky felt herself breathe again — she hadn’t even realised she had stopped. Debbie and Bill... that was sweet. But clearly there was a problem there.
The café was beginning to quieten down a bit. Vicky cleared a few more tables, carefully loading the dishwasher as she turned that conversation over in her mind.
It seemed that Debbie’s marriage had been something of a disaster — but Bill the stockman apparently held a candle for her. And just mentioning his name could make Debbie blush. Was there a chance for a happy ending there? Maybe one or both of them just needed a little nudge...
“Excuse me, miss, could we have another pot of tea here, please?”
* * *
“So I’m like, No! And she’s like, Yeah! So I’m like, But he’s got freckles. And she’s like, So what? And I goes, Has he got them on his dong? And then she’s like completely shot, like she didn’t even know I was joking or nothing.”
Vicky laughed in what she hoped were the appropriate places. Jayde had been nattering since she had picked her up from the train station. It was always difficult to follow these stream-of-consciousness monologues, delivered at machine-gun speed and frequently featuring people she’d never heard of but was apparently supposed to know.
She was fond of her stepsister, but she could be very tiring at times. Now she launched into another of her pet subjects.
“You know you really ought to lighten your hair — go proper blonde instead of that nothing colour. I could do it for you while I’m here, and film it for my channel.”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, go on. I need some new content and that’d be great. That’s the trouble with you — you’ve not got no ambition.”
Vicky smiled to herself. Jayde’s ambition consisted of wanting to be an ‘influencer’. She was certainly working hard at it. She had her own YouTube channel, TikTok, whatever the latest thing was, and eagerly checked the number of subscribers at least half a dozen times a day.
Of course it left her no time for a boring old nine-to-five job. Fortunately her maternal grandmother seemed quite happy to subsidise her lifestyle.
But that accusation that she had no ambition — Vicky had to acknowledge that it was probably fair. The trouble was, she didn’t know what she wanted to do, and so she had drifted.
Maybe her mum had been right — she should have chosen a more sensible career-orientated degree than medieval history. She hadn’t fancied teaching, and her dream of being a writer seemed destined to remain just that — a dream.
“Is it much farther?” Jayde had been nosing in the contents of the glove compartment. Now she sat back and glanced out of the window. “This is like the back end of beyond. Is there anything to do in this place?”
“Not much. I did warn you. There’s a pub — in fact a couple of pubs, I think. I haven’t been in any of them yet. And there’s the beach, of course.”
Jayde rolled her eyes. “I mean do — like clubs and things.”
“No — nothing like that.” Vicky smiled to herself. “It’s only quite a small village. There’s a mini-golf.”
Jayde sighed. “Oh, well. I’ll just have to make the most of it, I suppose.”
“Why did you come down, if you think it’s going to be such a bore?”
“To top up my tan on the beach.”
“You can do that in the back garden,” Vicky pointed out.
“You get a better tan on the beach. Besides, I wanted to check out this neighbour of yours. And I need some new content for my channel. I was going to go to Ibiza, but I’m a bit low on funds at the moment. And flying’s just a nightmare, what with all the queues at the airport. Anyway, I wanted a few days away. I’ve split up with David.”
“Again?”
“This time it’s for good. And I thought when he comes round looking for me and I’m not there, it’ll serve him right for being such a pig.”
“What did he do?”
“He was talking to Caroline Bailey at Tamsin’s party — all night! And when I had a go at him about it, he said I was being stupid and she was just a friend. Well, she’s not my friend, and if she wants him she can have him and good luck to her!”
She folded her mouth tightly, and for a few moments there was blessed silence in the car.
Vicky ignored the first turn-off for Sturcombe — much to the satnav’s annoyance. She took the next junction and drove down the long hill towards the village. Tom’s cows were grazing in the field beside the road — a couple of them lifted their heads to stare with benign disinterest at the car as it passed.
Turning into the lane, she felt a little glow of pleasure as the cottage came into view. Hers. At least for now.
Jayde was less than impressed. “Is that it?”
“Yes.”
Her sister looked as if she’d swallowed a wasp. “I didn’t think it would be so small.”
“It’s got three bedrooms,” Vicky protested. “And a really nice garden.”
“It’s practically falling down.”
“Not quite.” The tyres crunched on the drive as she turned through the gate. “It does need quite a lot of work, but once that’s done it’ll be great.”
Jayde grunted something unintelligible and opened her door — and squawked loudly as she took a step up the path, wobbling on the gravel in her precariously high heels. “Damn! If I break these heels you have to pay for them.”
Vicky sighed. “Just walk carefully — you’ll be okay.”
“Huh!” She tottered up the path, leaving Vicky to bring her suitcase from the car.
She was no more impressed when they got inside. She gazed around the kitchen, wrinkling her nose. “It smells.”
“It is a bit musty,” Vicky conceded. “There were some vegetables left in the cupboard when I arrived. I’ve thrown them out, but the smell still sticks around. Come on, I’ll show you your room. I’ve been sleeping in the spare room, so you can have Molly’s.”
That seemed to cheer her sister — until she saw the room. “You don’t expect me to sleep in here,do you? It’s hideous — all those roses! And the smell makes me want to puke. And just look at that picture — it’s like the most gruesome thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’ll give me nightmares.”
Vicky rolled her eyes behind her sister’s back. “Okay — we’ll swap rooms. I’ll just need to change the sheets on the other bed.”
Jayde didn’t offer to help. Instead she wheeled her suitcase into the smaller room and began to unpack it, shoving Vicky’s clothes aside to hang hers in the wardrobe.
Suddenly she paused and looked out of the window. “Is that him?”
Vicky glanced over to check. Tom was walking round the field, going to each cow in turn, stroking its neck gently and talking to it. The cows seemed to respond, rubbing their heads against his arm.
“Yes. That’s him.”
“Wow — how could you say he isn’t, like, a hunk? Were you worried Jeremy would find out?”
“Find out what?” Hopefully her sister was too distracted to notice the slight catch in her voice. “There’s nothing to find out. He’s just a rather annoying neighbour.”
As if he was aware of them watching him, Tom glanced up briefly at the window. Jayde waved, but he had already turned his attention back to the cows.
Jayde continued to stand there, staring at him unashamedly. “Does he ever take his T-shirt off?”
“What? No. At least I’ve never seen him. I suppose he takes it off in the shower.”
Jayde giggled. “Ah, now there’s a thought.”
Vicky felt a stab of irritation. She could only hope that Jayde wouldn’t embarrass her while she was here.
“I’ll just take my things into the other room, then I’ll make some dinner. What would you like?”
“Oh, anything. Whatever’s easiest.”
“You’re not still on that vegan diet then?”
“Oh, no.” Jayde made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Amanda said she lost a whole stone in two weeks on it, but I don’t believe a word of it. I didn’t lose an ounce.”
Vicky smiled to herself. She suspected that the main reason it hadn’t worked was because her sister hadn’t stuck to it as strictly as she wanted to believe. She was a little too fond of her wine to give it up.
* * *
“Mmm.” Vicky glanced around the pub. “This is a nice place.”
Jayde shrugged, her pretty face registering bored indifference. “I suppose.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a lot better than most of the pubs at home, all with the same sticky carpets and fake wooden beams.” She pointed at the ceiling. “These are real.”
The floor was wooden too, rich dark oak, uneven in places from years of wear. The bar was the same dark wood, lined with brass beer-pumps. One of the walls was rough stone, with a large inglenook fireplace — there was no fire in it at present, but a wrought-iron basket of hewn logs stood beside it waiting to be used.
“I need to sit down,” Jayde complained. “My feet are killing me.”
“I’m not surprised, in those shoes.”
Jayde tottered over to a table in the corner, leaving Vicky to go to the bar.
The place was quite busy — mostly locals, with a scattering of holidaymakers. It wasn’t difficult to tell the difference — the holidaymakers in bright well-pressed clothes, the locals rugged in well-worn denim and saggy polo shirts.
As she waited to be served, she was aware that several of the younger men — and some of the older ones — were looking her over with mild curiosity. News of her identity would have already spread. She could only wait and see if there was going to be any hostility.
She ordered two glasses of white wine and carried them back to their table. Jayde already had her phone out, checking her messages and accepted her wine without a word. As she sipped it, Vicky wondered if she even tasted it.
At least with Jayde occupied she didn’t need to try to make conversation. As she sipped her own wine, she glanced at her sister across the table. Just one year apart in age, they had got on well when her mother had married Jayde’s father. Both having lost a parent had helped them bond. She had enjoyed having a big sister to follow, and Jayde had enjoyed being the one to benevolently lead the way.
Then Vicky had decided to stay on at school to do her A levels and go to university. For reasons Vicky had never been able to fathom, Jayde had seemed to take that as some kind of betrayal. And gradually they had grown apart. Now it sometimes seemed as if they were from different planets.
She was just beginning to relax when Jayde abruptly put down her phone and sat up straighter.
“That’s him!” she hissed.
“Who?” Vicky glanced towards the door. Tom. And suddenly it felt as if there was a fizz of static electricity in the air.
“Mmm.” Jayde’s eyes were wide. “He’s even more gorgeous up close and in the flesh.”
Vicky held back a sigh. Jayde in full flirting mode was a sight to behold. As Tom passed their table she flashed him a smile that could have lit up the National Grid. He hesitated, one dark eyebrow raised in question, as if wondering if he was supposed to recognise her.
Then he noticed Vicky, and the question resolved. “Good evening. Come to sample our local night life? Hope it isn’t too wild for you.”
“Oh, I think we can cope.” Jayde slanted him one of her patented seductive gazes from beneath her lashes. “I’m Vicky’s sister — Jayde.” She patted the table invitingly. “Why don’t you join us?”
He glanced at Vicky, then back to Jayde, an enigmatic glint in his dark eyes. “Thank you.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and peeled off a banknote, handing it to Bill, who had followed him into the pub. “Get them in, mate. And another one for you, ladies?”
“Thank you.” Jayde smiled coyly. “White wine, please.”
“White wine it is. Thanks, Bill.” He sat down. “So you’re sisters? You don’t look much alike.”
Jayde giggled. “Oh, we’re just stepsisters really. I’ve come down for a few days to help Vicky with clearing out the house.”
Yes — I’ll believe that when I see it, Vicky reflected silently.
“That’s very kind of you.” Again that enigmatic glint. “What do you think of our little village?”
“I haven’t had a chance to see much of it yet, but it looks very pretty.”
Vicky sat watching them. She wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or amused — she chose amused. Jayde’s eyes were wide and glowing, her mouth a pretty pout. It was impossible to tell what Tom was thinking.
Up close and in the flesh...Phew — had it suddenly grown hot in here? Jayde’s words about him taking off his T-shirt were running through her head. Those wide shoulders, those hard biceps beneath his sun-bronzed skin...
Dammit, what was she thinking? She was engaged to Jeremy — she shouldn’t be drooling over another man, however attractive he was. And he was attractive — she couldn’t deny that.
Well, okay — there was no harm in looking. Just so long as she wasn’t tempted to take it further. Not that there was much chance of that, she acknowledged wryly. He wasn’t remotely interested in her — all his attention was on Jayde.
Not that she was jealous, of course — even if she had been interested in Tom. Her sister never had any trouble in hooking any man who took her fancy. She was used to it.
Bill returned with their drinks. She thanked him with a smile, and he bobbed his head in shy acknowledgement as he sat down.
She studied him covertly from beneath her lashes. His shoulders were hunched, his gaze focussed on the table as if afraid that he might accidentally make eye contact.
So this was the guy who had a fancy for Debbie — the guy whose name could make her blush. She smiled wryly to herself. Given how shy they both were, they were likely to need a boot in the butt to get them to do anything about it.
She would guess that he was maybe a year or two older than her. He was almost as tall as Tom, almost as wide across the shoulders. But he was... wholesome, rather than attractive, with ginger hair and sandy lashes and soft ruddy cheeks.
Jayde was leaning forward, resting her arms on the table to display her cleavage to the best advantage. She was using every trick she possessed — but Vicky suspected that Tom might not be so easy to reel in.
Or was that just wishful thinking?
He turned on a smile that was all smooth charm. “So what do you do, Jayde?”
She preened, delicately sipping her wine. “I’m an influencer — on social media.”
“Oh?”
“I have a YouTube channel and a blog.” Her lashes fluttered. “And TikTok, Instagram — well, all of them, of course.”
“Of course.”
If Jayde had picked up the note of dry humour in his voice, she wasn’t disturbed by it. “I vlog about beauty products mostly.”
“Vlog?”
“It’s what we call a video blog,” Jayde explained kindly.
Vicky kept a covert watch on Tom as she sipped her wine. If he was aware that Jayde was patronising him, apparently under the impression that she was speaking to an unsophisticated country bumpkin, the only clue to his amusement was the slight lift at the corner of his mouth.
Jayde had picked up her phone, and with a few clicks she accessed her vlog. “See?” She showed him the screen. Vicky could hear her commentary — something about choosing the correct shade of lipstick.
“Ah.” He nodded, a hint of amusement lurking behind his bland expression.
Jayde clearly believed he was impressed, glowing with satisfaction as she showed him another one, about applying mascara, and then a third.
“Very interesting. I’m sure you’ll be a great success.”
Jayde beamed with pleasure. “What do you do?” she asked as if she hadn’t already done her research.
“I’m a farmer.”
“Oh — with cows and things?”
“Cows mostly.”
His West Country accent had thickened perceptibly, and Vicky was finding it difficult not to laugh out loud. He flicked a brief glance in her direction, sharing the moment.
“I like cows.” Jayde had propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand, and was gazing at him like a starving man offered a thick juicy steak. “They have such lovely long eyelashes.”
“Perhaps you should put them on your flog,” Tom suggested with an innocence that was entirely bogus. “You could demonstrate how to put on mascara.”
Jayde trilled with laughter. “It’s vlog,not flog — video and blog put together, see?”
“Ah yes. I thought it was because you use it to flog things.”
Vicky watched the interaction between the two with trepidation. Jayde could be annoyingly patronising at times. So far Tom seemed to be responding with just a touch of subtle humour — she could only hope that he wouldn’t give her stepsister a harsh put-down.
She glanced at Bill across the table. He hadn’t spoken since he had sat down. He had one hand wrapped around his beer-glass, gazing into it as if it held all the secrets of the universe. It wouldn’t be easy to engage him in conversation, but this was a good opportunity to get to know him a little better.
“Um... are you from Sturcombe?” she ventured. “Were you born here?”
He glanced up at her with a nervous smile. “Yes.”
Ah. Well, that’s a start. Try to think of something that won’t have a monosyllabic answer.“It must have been a great place to grow up. Do you live in the village?”
“No.”
Damn — monosyllable again.
She tried the approach she sometimes needed with nervous clients at the estate agent — leaning forward and smiling encouragingly but not filling the silence, giving them space to speak.
“I... um...” His gaze was fixed somewhere over her left shoulder. “I live at the farm. Over the stables.”
“That’s convenient.” She made her voice warm. “You don’t have to get up so early to get to work.”
He grinned, beginning to ease a little. “Well, five o’clock is still quite early, but I’m used to it.”
Jayde heard that and gasped, horrified. “Five o’clock? Every day?”
Tom laughed. “That’s the life of a farmer. Up at five, clean up the shed, then out to the fields with the dogs to bring in the girls. An hour or so to milk them, then it’s time to clean up the shed again, shovel all the shit into the composter, feed the calves and clean out their pens. It’s a good healthy life — invigorating.”
Vicky suppressed a bubble of laughter. If her sister had been harbouring any designs on Tom, the picture he had painted of life on a dairy farm had thoroughly disabused her of the fantasy. Possibly deliberately.
She had suspected, listening to his conversation with Jayde, that he concealed a very dry sense of humour behind those enigmatic eyes. She could tell by the way Bill was trying to suppress a smile that he too knew that Tom was teasing.
Unfortunately Jayde was too self-absorbed to be aware of it. And however irritating her stepsister could be, Vicky didn’t want her to be made to feel a fool when the penny dropped.
As Jayde was distracted by eagerly searching through her phone for another vlog to show him, she slanted him a warning glance, and shook her head. He smiled, and nodded — he understood.
He rose easily to his feet. “Another drink, ladies?”
“Oh... thank you.” Jayde’s smile was all sweetness. “White wine, please.” She watched him walk to the bar, a smug smile on her face, then leaned towards Vicky. “I think he fancies me,” she whispered.
Vicky managed not to roll her eyes. “You could be right.”