Three hours later, Libby found herself sitting at the little downstairs kitchen table with a plate of sliced apple, cheese and biscuits before her. Everything she’d put even near her mouth over the previous week had set her stomach heaving. Panicked about not getting enough nutrition inside her for the baby, she’d forced herself to eat then instantly regretted it. Before long, it had become a spiral of panic, sickness, tears and more panic. Desperate for a distraction, she’d thrown herself into clearing and cleaning the large kitchen behind the shop. They’d used it mostly for preparation, storage and baking the pies they served alongside the fish and chips.
The oven sparkled like new, and the cupboards had been ruthlessly stripped of their contents and restocked thanks to a supermarket online delivery service. Her eyes strayed to the plate in front of her, and miracle of miracles, her tummy gave a little rumble of pleasure rather than warning. Snapping off a tiny piece of biscuit, she nibbled at it then washed it down with a gulp of ice-cold ginger ale. Her lashes fluttered down in bliss. Had anything ever tasted so good?
Before she knew it, the plate was empty, and she was eyeing the beaded curtain separating the kitchen from the front-of-house area. Owen Coburn was some kind of bloody wizard. A loud thump and a curse stirred her from her seat and she swept through the curtain to find Owen bent over the counter clutching the top of his head. ‘Are you all right?’
Turning, he favoured her with a rueful grin. The front of his pale grey T-shirt was covered in grease stains, and further streaks decorated his arms. ‘I was trying to get into the back of the fryer and managed to catch my head on the edge of the warming cabinet. I’ll live.’
‘Let me see.’ When he ducked his head low enough for her to check, she ran careful fingers over his scalp. There was a thin line of red visible through his close-cropped dark hair, but no blood, thank goodness. ‘You might have a bit of a bump. Do you feel okay? Not dizzy or anything?’
Tilting up to meet her eyes, he grinned. ‘No matching concussion, I don’t think.’ He straightened up. ‘I reckon another half-hour and I’ll be finished here. How are you doing?’
‘Oven’s done.’ Feeling a little bit shy, she glanced away. ‘Thank you for the food, it was exactly what I needed.’
Gentle fingers touched her chin. ‘You’ve got a bit more colour in your cheeks, which is a good thing. I’m going to check out the restaurant once I’m finished here. Why don’t you have a shower and a nap whilst I’m out?’
Her first instinct was to bristle against the suggestion. If she let him, he’d keep pushing and worming his way in beneath her defences. But she was tired, and filthy having fallen out of bed and straight into her work clothes with little more than a brush of her teeth. ‘We still need to talk.’
Face solemn, he nodded. ‘We will, I promise, but you look half dead on your feet, and it won’t be a five-minute conversation.’
As it turned out, the shower and the nap were exactly what she wanted, and she didn’t stir until she heard a gentle knock on her bedroom door. Struggling to sit up, she was surprised to see Eliza peering in. ‘Hello, how are you feeling?’
Libby pushed back her quilt and swung herself out of bed. ‘Better than I have in ages.’ A soft orange glow spilled in from behind her bedroom curtains and she then realised just how dark her room was. ‘What time is it?’
‘Just after six. Owen asked me to pop over because he’s caught up with some crisis at Subterranean. Something to do with the lighting.’ She shrugged. ‘It all got a bit complicated, so I left him, Jack and Sam crawling around under the seating units with the electrician.’ Holding the door wide, she held her arm out towards the landing. ‘Why don’t you come downstairs? Mum sent over a pot of her chicken soup and Beth’s just heating it up.’
The creamy, rich, familiar smell of Annie’s homemade soup wafted up the stairs towards her as Libby padded down still in her pyjamas. ‘Gosh, that smells good.’
‘Doesn’t it? I’ve been freezing my bum off in the shed all day so I’m in dire need of thawing out.’
They were soon settled around the upstairs kitchen table with steaming bowls and hunks of freshly baked bread before them. Libby took a couple of cautious spoonfuls, then sat back to nibble on a bit of bread. ‘This is yummy.’
Eliza grinned. ‘Sally’s contribution to the cause. She’s been trying to teach me to bake bread, but I think I’ll stick to making soap.’
‘I’d love the recipe.’ Nutty, with just the right hint of malt, the brown bread would be perfect for the Ploughman’s style basket lunches she had in mind for the teashop. Filing the thought away for later, she turned her attention to Eliza’s other comment. ‘How’s the soap coming along. Do you think you’ll be ready in time?’
Her friend nodded. ‘I think so. Sally’s been an absolute star. I’ve had her on potpourri mixing duties. I’ve found some fantastic net bags covered in silver snowflakes and stars to fill with it. I think they’ll make perfect stocking filler gifts.’ The Christmas market weekend festival was fast approaching. The wooden huts were booked and each business along the promenade had agreed to take one, together with lots of individual local artists and a few local charities.
The shop windows would all be decorated, and the promenade Christmas lights would be switched on to mark the start of the festival on the Friday evening. Beth was planning to fill her hut with a selection of wares from the emporium, while Annie and Paul would be serving mulled wine and hot spiced cider from their hut outside The Siren.
Libby’s original plan had been to hire her own hut to run alongside the one her dad should’ve taken to serve their usual fish and chips, but now he was away she’d decided to concentrate on testing the water with things she planned to sell if she managed to get the teashop up and running.
Her meeting with the mortgage broker had been non-committal. He couldn’t give her any real reassurances until the mystery surrounding the buyer of the chip shop had come to light, or until Libby could persuade her dad to change his mind. Things with him were still a bit delicate, and their regular Skype chats had been kept to general pleasantries and frantic reassurances on both sides that everything was fine. As frustrated as she was with him, nothing was worth losing him over and if the worst came to the worst, she’d look for another premises to fulfil her dream.
‘Downstairs is all ready to go, so I plan to start baking tomorrow.’ A bit of food and a decent nap had done wonders for her general mood, and she was feeling a lot more positive about everything. She refused to listen to the little voice whispering in her head that some of her relief might have anything to do with Owen’s return to town.
‘I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better, Libs, and I really like your idea for the mince pies,’ Beth said as she wiped the bottom of her bowl with a chunk of bread. In addition to selling mince pies on the day, Libby planned to batch bake a load and freeze them so people could order and collect them at any point running up to Christmas.
She nodded. ‘It feels like a good way to trial the idea I had for doing special order bakes alongside the day-to-day stuff in the teashop.’
‘So.’ Eliza set her spoon down beside her empty bowl. ‘Are we going to talk about Owen showing up and you letting him move in here?’
Libby ducked her head. ‘He’s not moving in. I haven’t agreed to anything until we sit down and have a talk. If I do decide to let him stay, he’ll be sleeping in the spare room for a few days at the most until he can find a better solution.’
Beth raised her brows. ‘You know he’s put his flat on the market? I overheard him chatting to Sam about it earlier.’
‘He didn’t say as much, but I did wonder when he turned up with a car full of his possessions. He told me he wants to take care of me.’ Her hand fluttered over her middle. ‘Of us.’ Glancing between her two best friends she knew she could tell them anything and they’d understand. ‘I was just so relieved to see him, I didn’t really care why he was on the doorstep.’ She’d told him they needed to talk, and she was determined to get him to open up, but there was no denying the way her heart had soared at the sight of him on her back step.
‘Ah, Libs.’ Eliza reached out to cover her hand. ‘This is a proper tangle you’ve got yourself into, isn’t it?’
Cursing herself for getting all teary—bloody hormones!—Libby shrugged. ‘He deserves to be a part of the baby’s life, and whatever else happens, I need him as my friend. As for the rest…’ She’d like to believe it was true, that she could rely on Owen and he’d not let her down, but something was holding her back. There was still time for him to change his mind, especially once the baby actually arrived and he had to deal with the reality of it. At least he’d have that option should he choose it. The prospect of being responsible for something so delicate and vulnerable was terrifying right now.
‘All right, I won’t push. I will say I feel better that you’ve got someone here with you.’ Eliza raised her hands when she glared at her. ‘Not because I think you’re helpless, but I’m still not quite over the fright you gave us when you fainted.’
Mollified, Libby gave her a weak smile. ‘I must admit I scared myself, too. It’ll be good to have someone around while Dad’s away. I just hope it isn’t too awkward.’
‘Speaking of which…’ Beth folded her arms and rested them on the table before her. ‘Are you still coming to the opening for Subterranean tomorrow?’
‘Oh.’ It had entirely slipped her mind that the six of them had planned to celebrate the first night of the restaurant together. She was so proud of all the hard work both Sam and Owen had put into the place, and had been really looking forward to seeing it all come to fruition. ‘Do you think I should? I mean, I want to, but I suppose it’s up to them.’ Another thought occurred to her and she lifted a strand of her limp, faded hair. ‘I look an absolute fright.’
‘We can help you with that,’ Eliza said. ‘The guys will probably be stressing like mad tomorrow and be glad to have us out of the way. Why don’t we have a bit of a pampering session and all get ready together?’
‘Count me in!’ Beth agreed. ‘I haven’t even had a chance to paint my nails lately, never mind anything else.’
‘I’ve been really worried about dyeing my hair, in case it does something bad to the baby,’ Libby admitted.
‘Is that a thing?’ Eliza reached for her phone and started tapping away. ‘Hmm, it says here on the NHS website that although some women choose to avoid it for the first twelve weeks, there’s no evidence of a risk given the small amount of chemicals in a single batch of hair dye.’ Two spots of colour highlighted her cheeks. ‘Has it been twelve weeks since you and Owen started…you know?’
Libby bit her lip and nodded. ‘Remember that first night we all came to the pub to check Jack out?’ The midwife had told her at the scan that from the baby’s rate of development it was likely she’d fallen pregnant during one of her earliest encounters with Owen.
Eliza’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. ‘Blimey, Libs, I didn’t think you were even talking to Owen back then.’
She covered her face with her hands. ‘It was a heat of the moment thing. And then we had lots of other moments, and…oh, shut up!’ she finished as the other two burst out laughing. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘It kind of is,’ Beth managed between giggles. ‘Lord, you made such a hoo-ha about how much you couldn’t stand him, and all that time you were sneaking around together!’
‘All right, all right, don’t rub it in!’ Libby gave in and started to chuckle.
‘That’s what he said!’ Eliza chimed in and it was enough to finish them all off.
‘Everything okay?’ Owen’s deep voice stopped them all in their tracks, and as one they turned towards the door where he stood with his hands on his hips staring at them all in bemusement.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. Biting her lip, Libby made the mistake of catching Beth’s eye and the three of them burst into a screaming fit of laughter. With an affronted shake of his head, he turned on his heel muttering something about ‘mad bloody women’.
‘Oh, oh, poor Owen,’ Eliza said as she flapped a hand in front of her face to fan herself.
‘Poor Owen, my arse. It’s at least fifty per cent his fault I’m in this mess to begin with!’
Feeling better than she had since her accident, Libby waved goodbye to the girls about half an hour later then headed to the downstairs kitchen which was where Owen had retreated to. She found him bent over his laptop, a cup of coffee in one hand. Glancing up, he gave her a smile. ‘Well, you’re in better spirits.’
Cheeks heating, she returned his smile. ‘Sorry about that, we weren’t really laughing at you, it was just a bit of bad timing.’
‘My ego will just about survive, I reckon. It was good to see you enjoying yourself.’
Feeling a bit awkward, she twisted her hand in the bottom of her baggy top. ‘We were talking about the restaurant opening tomorrow night. The girls want to come around and get ready here…assuming you still wanted me to come along.’ She studied her toes, noting the chipped nail polish was something else she needed to sort out. God, she’d really let herself go.
A whisper of sound and he was at her side, taking her hand in his. ‘I’d love for you to be there. It wouldn’t be the same without you after all those hours you listened to me moaning on about it.’ His words cast her back to those nights curled up side by side in the little beach hut. Everything had seemed so simple then.
‘Well, you spent plenty of time listening to me talking about my plans for this place.’
He was silent for a few moments. ‘How are you getting on with those? Any further forward?’
Here it was, the chance to tell him about what her dad had done, to ask his advice on what she should do, maybe even see if he’d be willing to help. She swallowed the temptation down. It wouldn’t be fair on him, not now with the baby and everything. He’d feel obliged to do something. Feeling torn, she traced a pattern through the thick pile of the carpet with her toe. ‘I’m doing a bit of a test run for the Christmas market, just to see what people think about a change in direction.’ It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t close to an honest answer to his question.
‘Well, that sounds like a good idea. I’m glad you’re making some progress with it.’ He stepped away, stealing his warmth as he went. When she glanced up, his back was turned to her and the set of his shoulders screamed with tension. Did he know something? Had Eliza or Beth let something slip which had found its way back to Owen? They’d promised not to breathe a word to anyone, and they’d never betrayed a confidence before. She gave herself a shake. She was just being paranoid, reading too much into everything.
‘Are you ready for that talk now?’
Hands on his hips, he huffed out a breath. ‘Not really, but let’s do it.’ Once she’d slid into a chair, he resumed his seat then reached down for something by his feet. ‘You’d better start with these,’ he said, offering her a carrier bag.
Peering inside, she saw a stack of handwritten letters mixed in with a few cards. ‘Where did you get these?’ Haltingly at first, Owen told her about meeting Doris and how that had led to meeting Margery. ‘Your great-aunt? And she’s been here all this time?’
‘They left town when it all happened. Couldn’t handle the shame apparently.’
Unable to bear the bitterness in his voice, she clasped his hand and squeezed it tight. ‘That’s their pride talking, nothing to do with you. There’s nothing shameful about you.’
He gave her a nod, but she wasn’t sure he believed her. ‘Margery’s the only one of them left now, so it’s not like it matters anyway. She moved back to the bay a few years ago. I don’t have all the ins and outs of it; it was all a bit much to take in at once.’ Leaning back in his chair, he stared up at the ceiling. ‘I kind of ran out on her. I need to stop doing that.’
It was the same thing he’d said to her earlier. ‘You’re here now.’
‘I didn’t know where else to go.’ Sitting up, he tightened his grip on her hand. ‘No. That’s not right. This was the only place I wanted to be—with you. I feel like I’m at home with you, Libby, and that’s something I’ve never had before.’
The tears stinging her eyes had nothing to do with hormones this time. ‘Oh, Owen.’
‘There’s a lot of stuff I need to deal with, I know that, but it’s hard for me because I’ve always just shoved it all down inside and ignored it. The people who were supposed to take care of me never did, so I don’t have any kind of example to follow. I’m so scared that I’ll get it wrong. That I’ll mess up and hurt you, or the baby.’
‘You don’t have to be perfect, Owen. No one is. I’m scared to death about the baby, too, and I’m sure I’ll make mistakes—we both will. But that’s not why I didn’t want you to be involved. I was scared you’d feel trapped or obligated to do the right thing.’
He nodded. ‘I want to tell you that I don’t, but I also don’t want to be saying that because I’m so used to pushing my emotions to one side and getting on with things.’
Not exactly a declaration of undying love, but that was a good thing. Her head knew it, even if her heart felt as fragile as a piece of blown glass. ‘So, we’ll take our time. You can stay here in the spare room for now and we can see how things go.’
Taking a deep breath, Libby glanced between Beth and Eliza as they waited at the top of the stairs. Sam had asked them to come early so they’d have a chance to look around in peace before the first of the official guests arrived. The door swung open, and Libby was sure she wasn’t the only one who gasped at the sight of Sam in all his splendour. Gone were his casual T-shirts and jeans, the tumbling curls and laughing eyes. Clad in a crisp white chef’s jacket with a row of black buttons up the right-hand side and a pair of smart black slacks, he looked the epitome of a professional chef. His hair had been tamed with a handful of gel, and there was an air of authority about him she’d never seen before.
‘Wow, Sam, you look the bee’s knees!’ She popped up on tiptoes to brush a kiss to his cheek and a glimpse of the cheeky guy she knew and adored showed in a flash of white teeth.
‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’ Taking her hand, he twirled her in a slow circle. ‘You’ve got legs!’
Blushing, Libby dropped a hand to smooth the soft jersey of the navy dress she’d fished from the back of her wardrobe. The material draped gently from nape to just below the knee, clinging just a little to the beginning swell over her stomach. Not quite willing to give up her usual style, she’d teamed it with thick dark tights and a pair of black ankle boots covered in studs. She watched as Sam greeted his sister with a quick kiss, and Beth with a more lingering one. He whispered something which turned her cheeks a delicate rose pink and she ducked her face into his shoulder. ‘Behave,’ Libby heard her murmur, and felt a pang of wistfulness strike her heart.
Letting his fiancée go, Sam faced the three of them with open arms. ‘Welcome to Subterranean. Please follow me.’
Whatever regrets she might have about her own situation vanished beneath a sense of wonderment the moment they started down the steps. Low-level lighting cast shafts of light up the dark walls, picking out bright rainbow specks in the smooth surface. ‘What is this?’ she asked as she trailed a hand over the hard surface. It felt almost like plastic, yet shimmered with the colours of a rich black opal.
Sam paused below her to glance back. ‘Isn’t it fab? Owen recommended it. The company that makes it usually supplies schools, and hospitals. High traffic areas which need to be kept clean. It’s really hard-wearing and easy to wipe down as well as coming in a whole range of incredible designs and patterns.’
Owen again. He’d really made his mark on the place, for all it had been Sam’s dream. She never got the sense from Sam he was anything less than grateful for Owen stepping in to assist him with the project. His experience had enhanced Sam’s vision, without altering it from the original theme. ‘I love it.’
Her appreciation only grew as they entered the main dining area. There was so much to look at, she didn’t know where to start. The ethereal glow of the fish tank was the first thing to catch her eye, its occupants swimming gracefully through their own little world. Lights glittered everywhere, from the fake gems studded into the rough stone-effect walls to the embedded fairy lights in the smoked Perspex backs of the seating units. It really was like entering another world—a dragon’s treasure trove, or a deep mine the dwarves from Snow White might spend their days working in. Soft music drifted from hidden speakers, just low enough she couldn’t quite focus on the tune carried by the heavenly choir. It added to the otherworldly experience.
‘Come and see.’ Like a kid in a candy shop, Sam led them over to one of the custom-made booths. ‘Look, there’s a control panel here so you can adjust the lighting and the volume of the music.’ He pressed a couple of buttons and the embedded lights switched from a rainbow to emerald green. The music was a little louder, but still not enough to distract from conversation or to disturb diners at the surrounding tables. The booths had also been offset to afford each grouping with a sense of privacy. It really was brilliantly thought out.
A hidden door swung open, spilling a bright shaft of light into the far end of the room as Jack and Owen entered from the kitchen area. ‘What do you think?’ Owen asked as he approached them.
‘Isn’t it fantastic?’ Jack said to Eliza as he bent to kiss her cheek.
‘I can’t believe it. I mean we’ve seen it in all its different stages, but I still couldn’t imagine how breathtaking the whole effect is.’ She held out a hand to her brother, tears glistening on her lashes. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
Blushing, Sam grinned at her. ‘You haven’t tasted the food yet.’
Owen clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I’ve been tasting it all day, and you’ve got nothing to worry about.’ Catching Libby’s eye, he moved towards her. ‘You look lovely.’ He teased one of the curls Beth had set into her hair with a hot wand. ‘I love this.’
Not knowing what else to do to cover the mess left thanks to her previous pink-yellow dye job, she’d opted for a single colour. It looked black at first glance, until the light caught it and showed it to be a deep, sapphire blue. Even with the reassurance from the NHS website, she’d been nervous about getting any of the dye upon her skin, so Eliza and Beth had coloured it for her, making sure to wipe away as much of the dye from her scalp as possible once they’d coated her hair. She felt enough like herself while retaining the ability to blend in. Tonight wasn’t about her, it was about the man in front of her and one of her oldest friends. It would be their triumph on everyone’s lips, not the weird girl with the rainbow hair.
‘You look nice, too.’ His black-on-black look drew all attention to the sharp lines and plains of his face. He looked hard, uncompromising and completely in control of his environment. All that brash confidence which had first turned her head was oozing from every pore. His heart could be racing a mile a minute, his back damp with a nervous sweat, but nobody would see that.
His eyes strayed down her body, and in a moment he’d twirled her away from the others so they were half-hidden behind one of the seating units. Clutching his arm to steady herself, she followed his gaze down to where it was locked on the little curve outlined by her dress. ‘It’s really real.’ His voice was hushed, tone almost reverent.
She nodded. ‘Really, really real. I was in the shower last week and all of sudden it was there. I’ve got a scan at home.’
His head shot up. ‘Can I see it?’ He sounded so excited, she felt awful for not showing it to him the night before.
‘Of course. They did it at the hospital so it’s a couple of weeks out of date.’ His gaze flicked down again and something softened and flowered inside her at the sheer fascination written large upon his face. Reaching for his hand, she placed it gently on her belly. ‘It’ll be a while before we can feel anything.’
He nodded. ‘I was reading a book about it last night.’
‘You were?’ She didn’t know why that would surprise her; he was the kind of man who’d do all the research he could.
‘Yeah.’ His hand pressed gently before he let it fall away. ‘I’ve bought every title I could find in the book shop. The cashier said they regularly get that happen. Called it new dad panic buying.’
She laughed softly. ‘You’re going to be better prepared than me. I’ll have to borrow some.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘Nothing with any gory photos, though. I’m not quite ready to face that reality.’
‘I’ll vet them for you, first.’ He touched a finger to her cheek, the merest breath of a caress. ‘Thank you for letting me be a part of this.’
‘Thank you for wanting to be. I feel a bit less scared now I know you’re around.’ The concession was worth it for the look of sheer delight he gave her. ‘Come on, let’s celebrate. I’ve got a bottle of ginger ale on ice with your name on it.’