Chapter 11
C onrad finished reading a message from Colton, who was on his way to pick them up and drive them to Southsea. Having a car on the island might come in handy, but what could be more memorable than a hovercraft ride? Besides, the hotel he’d booked was close to the local bars and the beach, so the car would probably be more of a nuisance than a help.
The rattling of wheels on the floor caught his attention, and he looked up.
“Oh dear. We’re only going for a couple of nights, not a month-long holiday.” He laughed, eyeing Louise’s suitcase.
She shrugged and wheeled it closer to the door. “This is all I have anyway. No point in splitting it up.”
Was that a subtle hint he should finalise this deal and stop stalling so she could retrieve her things from home? Conrad shivered. Until he knew exactly where she stood, he wasn’t going to step foot in the lions’ den. Her father gave him the creeps.
“Aren’t we going yet?” She stood by the door, with her hand gripping the handle, clearly waiting for him to lead the way.
“Oh, no. Sorry. Not yet. Colton’s on his way, but he has to make a pit stop first so, at least half an hour or more.”
“Colton? Is he driving us to the Isle of Wight?” Her eyebrows shoot up.
Conrad chuckled. “No, just to the port. We’re taking a ho ... ferry.” Better to keep it as a surprise for later.
He wandered over to the kitchen area and opened the cupboard. “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee while we wait?”
“Tea, please.” His wife let go of the handle and sauntered toward the breakfast table, then turned on her heel and continued toward the bathroom. “Be right back.”
While the kettle boiled, Conrad placed tea bags in two colour-coordinated mugs—black and white, with Yin and Yang symbols. His mind wandered, playing out scenarios for the trip. Should he start the big conversation on the hovercraft, where she couldn’t simply escape to her room? But what if that made her feel trapped and scared of him? Maybe an evening meal at some picturesque location by the sea would be better?
“So, what’s the story behind that bathrobe?”
He dropped a spoonful of sugar onto the counter, crystals spreading everywhere. “Gee, woman.”
“Sorry.” His wife stood less than a foot away from him, holding the white piece of a gourmet in her hands.
Scooping the sugar with a cloth, Conrad ignored her question, hoping she’d forget about it.
“So, what’s the story?”
Not a chance.
“You seem awfully interested in that bathrobe.” He winked. “Are you jealous?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not jealous. I just want to know what happened. We both have our share of experiences that affect us, and it’s part of getting to know each other.”
Conrad sighed. “The bathrobe is just a reminder of something I should have learned years ago. Sugar?”
“No, thanks.” She shook her head, and then her eyes twinkled with interest. “So, what happened?”
“It’s a long and very old story.” Conrad picked up the mugs and walked over to the sofa in the living room.
She followed him, still with the bathrobe in her hands. “We’re not going anywhere until Colton gets here. I’ve got time.”
After placing the mugs on the coasters, he collapsed on the sofa and raised his hands in surrender. “Fine.”
His wife placed the bathrobe on the back of the chair before nestling herself in the other corner of the sofa, with her legs curled up. Then she looked at him with eyes wide open, like a kidwaiting for a bedtime story. There was no more stalling.
“I was engaged once, to my first love. I was young—about your age.” He glanced at Louise, who raised an eyebrow in response.
“Maybe a little younger. And she was much older, wiser.” He took a sip of tea, sinking deeper into the sofa. “My grandfather insisted on a prenup because I was supposed to take over the family business soon. But my fiancée didn’t want to sign it. Grandpa warned me that if I married her without the prenup, I’d be cut off from the family business.”
“Wow, that’s harsh.” Her concern seemed genuine, and she moved closer, like she wanted to hear better, their arms almost touching.
Conrad shrugged. “I was ready to build my own future. As long as I was with her, you know?” He glanced at his wife, catching her gaze. It stirred that longing in him again. A sip of tea helped.
“But she wasn’t having it. She was upset that I’d even considered the prenup and broke off the engagement.” A bitter chuckle escaped him. “I blamed my grandpa for years.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” His wife brushed his arm with her fingers.
Yeah, I was too. It was the biggest lesson life had taught him—about women.
“One day, a police officer came to our house, asking if we’d heard from my ex-fiancé. Turns out she was wanted as a con artist who posed as a bride.”
Louise gasped, covering her mouth.
“It wasn’t her first scam. She’d done it a few times—marrying wealthy men, then vanishing with half their fortunes. In a twisted way, I got lucky, thanks to my grandpa. But at the time, it didn’t feel that way, as I deeply loved her.”
She looked at him, her eyes filled with empathy. “So, that’s why you never got married?”
“Pretty much. There were other women in my life, but I always had this nagging doubt of whether it was for real or not.”
Her gaze drifted to the bathrobe. “So, why keep that after all these years?”
“It’s not hers.” Conrad paused, choosing his words carefully. “It belonged to ... someone else.” He shrugged, trying to play it off, but the image of Elisabeth’s face flashed through his mind, sharp and uninvited. That wound was still too fresh, too complicated to share. “I kept it as a reminder that things aren’t always what they seem.”
She wrapped a strand of hair around her finger, its rich colour shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the living room windows.
“After such experience, I’m surprised you agreed to our marriage. It’s about as fake as it gets.”
She had a point.
“You’d think so, but at least it’s not built on false assumptions, right?”
She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her full lip. “What do you mean?”
Conrad leaned closer to Louise, looking into her eyes and feeling the warmth radiating from her body, the scent of jasmine and lilac mingling together. “We’re not pretending to be in love.”
Though he wouldn’t mind if that changed. Wouldn’t mind at all.
Their eyes locked, and the air grew thick with tension. Just then, his phone buzzed, making them both jump and pull away.
He checked the notification bar. Not a text. The phone rang again, displaying a number belonging to Sophie, the bartender at The White Horse.
Odd. Every staff member had his direct number, but he could count on one hand the times they’d called him directly—and it was never good news
Conrad’s heart pumped faster. “Hello?”
“Mr Brenman, I don’t know what to do,” Sophie blurted out in a high-pitched, trembling voice. His stomach clenched.
“Slow down, Sophie. What happened?”
A warm hand touched his shoulder, and Louise looked at him, a question in her eyes. He waved her off, waiting for his bartender to reveal the catastrophe. There must have been a disaster, he was sure of it. For a polite young Sophie to call him and not even say hello, that said a lot.
“Nobody is here.” Conrad could clearly hear a voice in the background, so it wasn’t about a quiet day in the pub. “Donna and Bobby are in the hospital with food poisoning. Jackie’s away on her holiday, so she can’t come in, and that temp that was supposed to cover for her didn’t show up.”
“Food poisoning?” His voice came out louder than expected. He couldn’t sit still any longer. Pacing around the living room like a caged tiger, he fired off questions like a machine gun. “How are they? Were any guests affected? Do we know what food caused this?”
His mind flashed with nightmare headlines: “The White Horse responsible for Hospitalising Guests.” He shook the image off and pressed the phone to his ear.
“No, no, sir. They were on a date night in that new fancy restaurant last night—that’s where it happened. Salmonella. But they’re okay.”
Conrad exhaled and staggered back to the sofa as the room started spinning.
“So, none of our guests were affected then. Good.” And then it hit him. “Oh my God, Sophie. You’re on your own, and it’s The Hikers Club.”
“Yes, sir.”
Droplets of sweat appeared on his forehead. Thirty-plus people for lunch, plus the regular Tuesday quiz crowd.
“I don’t know what to do,” she cried out and started sobbing.
He didn’t know either. His mind raced. A glass of water appeared in front of his eyes, held by his wife. Conrad accepted and gulped it in one go. A few drops spilt on his T-shirt.
“I’ll be there in half an hour and will try to get some help.” Conrad took a deep breath, slowing down his pumping heart, and used his most reassuring voice. “Everything will be fine. Thank you so much for calling it in. You’re a star.”
He hung up and hid his head in his hands.
“That bad?” Louise’s light touch and warm voice made him look.
“You have no idea.” Conrad shook his head, trying to clear his mind, searching for options.
“I think I do. I used to work at the bar.”
He blinked. “You did?”
“Yeah, summer job.” His wife marched toward the door, where she grabbed her abandoned suitcase.
Oh shit.
“I’m sorry. The trip ... ”
She simply waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” She pulled the suitcase and rolled it deeper into the house. “You’re short three people?”
“Yeah. At least. With two at the bar and two on the floor, it’s usually challenging on Tuesdays in The White Horse.”
“So, you’re going?” Her voice sounded distant. Conrad looked up and saw her suitcase disappearing into Grandma Ann’s room.
“Of course. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” But where the heck would he find more staff on such short notice? Maybe he could pull someone from another pub?
“Call Colton.” Her voice came muffled through the door, followed by a thud that made him jump up from the sofa and dash toward the bedroom.
“What was that? Are you hurt?”
She reappeared, now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail. “I’m fine. It was my suitcase—I dropped it.”
Conrad exhaled, and his heart slowed down. He had enough of disasters for one day.
“Call Colton and tell him about the change of plans. He can meet us there. Let’s go.”
“What? Where?”
Colton? Change of plans? This was all too confusing, and he had no time for charades. He could almost hear the crowd in the unmanned pub.
“You and Colton on the floor, me and Sophie manning the bar. Four.” She held up four fingers, as if he might need the visual aid.
He just stared at her, struggling to process what she was saying.
Louise shook her head and took the phone from his hand, pressing his thumb to unlock it.
“Colton? Mrs Brenman here. Sorry to bother you, but we have an emergency situation at The White Horse—” She looked at him with a question in her eyes, and Conrad’s head bobbed up and down as if someone else were pulling the strings. “—Yes, The White Horse. We have a staff shortage, and we need your help.”
Conrad stretched his neck as he regained control over his muscles and brain.
She said we. He smiled, catching the murmur of his driver’s voice, followed by his wife’s crisp and clear, “Thank you. We’ll meet you there.”
Without slowing down, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. “He’ll meet us at the pub. Get the keys.”
***
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A nnie wiped down the bar and stacked coasters together, making space for new orders. Sophie was pouring pints of Doom Bar from the tap for a group of local lads. Annie scanned the room for the next customer, but for the moment, everyone nursed a drink.
At the far end of the pub, a group of tourists ploughed through their lunch at a long wooden table, nestled beneath low, exposed beams. Only a few of the guests were visible from Annie’s angle, as the rest were tucked away in a cosy alcove. Most had opted for soft drinks, with only a couple choosing a light beer. This lot wasn’t here to stay but on their bus tour to see all the white horses of Wiltshire. They were in for a treat, with the oldest one located a mile away on the Salisbury Plain. Annie had seen it as a kid, the giant chalk figure etched into the hillside. It had left an impression—like a direct link to a distant past.
She glanced around the rustic pub, with its wonky cushioned wooden chairs, the long, polished tables, the old fireplace, and the walls covered with framed pictures of the old days. The place looked oddly familiar. She might have even stopped here for lunch back then.
“My, my. If this isn’t a lucky coincidence, I don’t know what is.”
Annie turned to see a woman at the bar in a teal blouse with a brown scarf that matched her short red hair. The woman took a small sip of her white wine, then nodded toward the window. Annie’s eyes followed her gaze.
Framed by the bay window stood Conrad, talking to a tall, slim woman with blonde hair cascading down her back. The highlights shimmered as she turned her head.
“Look at our Elisabeth and Conrad.” The redhead clicked her tongue. “I’d challenge anyone who says they’re not meant for each other.”
“It’s an absolute nonsense, Linda.” Sophie shook her head, taking a sheepish glance at Annie. “Mr Brenman is married now.”
“Oh, do tell?” Linda’s eyes lit up as she leaned forward on her bar stool.
Annie gave Sophie a quick, subtle squeeze on the hand and a tiny shake of her head, reminding her she wanted to stay anonymous.
“They got married just last week. But we were short-staffed today, so he came to the rescue.”
“As he always does, doesn’t he? A golden boy, our Conrad, isn’t he?”
She clasped her hands together and focused her gaze on Annie. “And you are?”
Sophie’s face turned pink, and she shuffled on her feet. Annie knew there was no sidestepping this question—gossipers like Linda were relentless. Better to bite the bullet.
“I’m Mr Brenman’s wife’s sister,” she said loud and clear.
And not even a lie.
Linda’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with one hand. “Please forgive an old woman prattling on.” She reached over and patted Annie’s hand with her own, her skin almost translucent over fragile-looking bones.
“No worries.” Annie smiled politely, then turned to the till, tapping a few buttons that brought up a summary display she didn’t actually care about. Her gaze drifted back to the bay window.
Elisabeth, huh? Was she his ex? His lover? How long ago? Elisabeth’s hand lingered on Conrad’s shoulder, and he didn’t seem to mind. Not long, then. Was he still in love?
A pang of unease twisted in Annie’s stomach. She’d been in love a couple of times—blinded by it, missing what was right in front of her. Was it always like this, ending in tears?
“Oh, young love,” Linda sighed wistfully. Annie turned back just as an older gentleman in a brown turtleneck sweater approached the bar.
“What can I get you, sir?” Annie looked at the man, ignoring Linda’s comment yet hoping she’d say more.
“Two pints of Guinness, please, if you’d be so kind.”
“Right away, sir. Anything else?”
He shook his head, his eyes drifting toward the window where Conrad and Elisabeth stood deep in conversation. “I thought they broke up?”
It seemed everyone in this darn pub knew about Conrad and Elisabeth.
Linda opened her mouth to respond, but Sophie beat her to it. “They did. And there’s nothing going on between them.”
“I don’t know.” Linda sucked the air in. “You’re still young, Sophie. Those two have been on and off for years. Isn’t that right, Victor?”
Annie finished pouring the golden liquid into the tankard and set the heavy glass down on the coaster in front of the man, then reached for another empty one.
“You’re absolutely right, Lin.”
“Here’s your beer, sir. Cash or card?” Annie placed the second tankard next to the first.
“Card, please. As for Mr Brenman, I thought their last breakup was ... different.”
Different how?
Annie entered the order into the till and handed the card reader to the man. He tapped his card, and the payment was accepted.
“Oh, just usual lovers’ quarrel, I’m sure of that.” Linda waved a dismissive hand, taking another sip. “They split during the pandemic, didn’t they? COVID was hard on everyone.” She sighed, her gaze drifting to the rows of liquor bottles behind Annie.
“Yes, I heard. I’m sorry for your loss, Lin.” Victor touched her shoulder briefly before lifting his beers, and headed for a table in the far corner, away from the tourists.
Linda watched him go, then turned back to Annie with a wistful smile. “But you know, life goes on.” She took a deep breath and looked at Annie, her expression brightening. “Would you make me an Aperol Spritz, love?”
Everyone had a history. The pandemic spared nobody. “Sure, on the house.”
A wide smile cracked Linda’s face. COVID long forgotten.
“You made my day, love.”
Linda’s eyes wandered back to the window, where Elisabeth’s hand rested on Conrad’s shoulder in an intimate gesture. “And look at them. What did I tell you?” She clapped her hands. “Love is in the air.”
Sophie rolled her eyes and leaned in. “Linda, Mr Brenman is married now, remember? That’s his ex out there. It’s not what it looks like.”
Linda blinked, then tilted her head with a knowing smile. “Right, right. Old habits die hard, don’t they? But you can’t tell me there’s not something still there.”
Annie forced a polite smile, hoping the topic would die down, but Linda’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she took another sip of her drink.?