A lanky teenager was vacuuming the empty snug. He kicked the off switch as they walked in. ‘Come in. Come in. Hullo, Judge Evans, haven’t seen you for a while. How are you?’ Then he turned to Emily with a smile. ‘What can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?’
The Judge seemed to make a beeline for a particular corner of the pub that she assumed was his usual seat, and sat down, picking up a discarded newspaper. The place had hardly changed since the last time she’d been in here; flock wallpaper, a pungent aroma of hops, mirrors on the walls advertising age-old beer. But, different staff. And all the windows present and correct. Thank goodness. She did not particularly feel up to confronting her past at this time in the morning.
The Judge boomed across the room, ‘Coffee will do. Hot, black and sweet. Anything to eat? I’m starving.’
Emily frowned. ‘We’ve only just had breakfa… never mind.’ The more she could get down him to fill out that loose skin, the better. ‘Can I have a look at the menu?’
The lad shook his head, swiping a hand over a muss of mousey hair. He looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed. ‘We haven’t got anything, not yet. To be honest, it’s a bit early and you’ve caught us on the hop. Give us another hour or so. But I can nip over to the Cosy Café and grab something for you? They do a mean custard tart.’
The Judge raised his hand. ‘Yes, and make it quick, lad. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. And this one’s no help. She’s starving me, I swear it.’
The boy didn’t bother to smother his grin as he looked from The Judge to Emily. ‘This one?’
‘Is called Emily. Pleased to meet you.’ She leaned a little closer. ‘I don’t think he has an inside voice. So apologies in advance. Black coffee for him and a cappuccino for me, please.’
‘Tom. Pot collector and general dogsbody.’ He thrust out thin fingers. ‘And we all know Judge Evans, no need to apologise. His voice is bigger than his bite.’
Unless you’re in any way related to him. ‘Nice to meet you, Tom.’
He let her hand drop and his face brightened. ‘Who are you? A new carer? New… er… wife?’
If there’d been coffee in Emily’s mouth Tom would have been wearing it. ‘I’m his daughter.’ It still felt so strange to say that, but it was easier than giving everyone she met her whole life story.
‘He has another one?’
‘You haven’t heard about me?’ Why would he have? It was old news. Everyone had moved on; the only person who cared about her past was Emily. Clearly. ‘It’s like a reverse Cinderella: the evil youngest one and the gorgeous, harassed and saintly older two.’
‘Evil? No. What? Sister? You’re Tamara and Matilda’s sister? Blimey.’ He whooshed the milk in the frother while the coffee machine made spluttering noises. There was a sudden and delicious smell of coffee in the air. ‘You don’t look much like them.’
She fiddled with a beer mat while Tom made the coffee. It was good to see that not everyone here held a grudge against her. Either he was too young or too innocent to have heard the details of her misdemeanours. Or… maybe she’d blown everything out of all proportion and things hadn’t been as bad as she remembered? He was still looking at her with a bemused expression. ‘Without going into too much boring detail – we’re a stepfamily. My mum married Judge Evans. A long time ago, obviously.’
Placing the cups onto a tray Tom nodded. ‘Yes, steppies – I get it. I’ve got a couple of them myself, plus two half-blood sibs and one full-muggle brother. That’s too many people trying to play happy families in one house, and also why I’m here and not at home – couldn’t wait to get out, to be honest.’ He rang the price up on the till. ‘Four-fifty, please – I’ll let you know the price of the tart later. Liam, my brother, runs this place so, if I’m not at college, I try to doss upstairs in one of the B and B rooms. Which is all too much information. If you don’t mind my saying, Emily, you’re not a bit like the other two.’
‘That is definitely a compliment. Now, I’d better take these over before he dies of starvation – because that can happen, you know, after a double serving of scrambled eggs on toast less than an hour ago. Can you tell me the Wi-Fi password, please?’
‘No problem, it’s here...’ Tom handed over a piece of paper. ‘Here’s the spiel I have to say: no illegal downloads; no large files; no longer than thirty minutes, if possible.’
She took the paper and glanced up at a noticeboard on the wall. ‘Hot yoga classes at the community hall? Zumba? Wow, Little Duxbury is moving slowly into this century. And what’s that? Oh, really? Do you still have that quaint country fair? Do people still come to it?’
‘No, ‘fraid not.’ Tom shrugged. ‘That’s why they’re asking for volunteers for the committee. It’s died a death and they either need to stop it altogether or ramp it up a bit to attract new people.’
She laughed, remembering the sad little home-made chutneys, drop-stitched, crocheted doilies and donkey rides. ‘It was old-fashioned twenty years ago. But it was very popular, must have made a mint for the stall holders.’
‘Not any more. Not a lot of interest in knitted toilet-roll holders these days. Don’t suppose you’re interested in helping out? Jazz it up a bit?’
She laughed. ‘No. Sorry, I’m back in New York at the weekend. Otherwise I’d have loved to help.’
‘Liar.’
She raised her hands. ‘Yes. You got me. Really not my kind of thing.’
‘Don’t suppose it is, being all New York and everything.’ Grinning, he lifted the bar hatch and walked through. ‘Right then, at least I tried. The boss said I had to ask around. Done my bit; now I’ll go get that tart.’
‘Thanks!’ So that was the second person in Little Duxbury who seemed friendly. Two out of three wasn’t bad.
She punched in the password. Held her breath. And…
Wi-Fi! Never had a black triangle in the top corner of her laptop been so damned welcome. ‘Back in the land of the living, Judge. Right here.’
She scrolled to the email she wanted to read first;
Babe,
I hope the Brits are making you welcome. Although, from what you’ve told me about them, that may not be happening. Hang in there, it’s only a week.
Don’t worry about your clients, I’ve asked Martha and Gez to take some on board, so if you could liaise with them that’d be great.
Let me know when we can touch base. Mum and Dad send their love – I still haven’t mentioned anything so it’s all hush hush until we see them. Hopefully that’ll be real soon.
Miss you.
BF x
Miss you, too. Emily pressed her thumb and finger on the bridge of her nose and tried to control the emotions whirring around her. The rock was still on her finger, glinting brightly in the pub wall lights. She ran her fingers over the sharp edges.
Her heart ached at the thought of him, but there had been times she’d been so consumed with her current problems that he hadn’t flickered across her radar.
Was that a bad sign?
Her laptop pinged with more incoming messages, including one from Tam.
Emily,
We