but still keeping my sunglasses firmly in place. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
‘Much,’ she beamed, ‘thanks. And clearly better than you. Good night, was it?’
‘Tess,’ said Sam, appearing before I could answer and carrying two plates groaning under the weight of a hefty Sunday lunch. ‘I wasn’t excepting to see you today.’
‘Let me serve these,’ said Hope, quickly taking the plates from him. ‘Which table are they going to?’
Once she had gone, I hopped up behind the bar and followed Sam to the kitchen.
‘Look,’ I said, not going fully into the room, ‘about last night . . .’
‘What about it?’ he said, picking up a carving knife and making short work of a massive joint of beef.
‘You know what,’ I said, feeling both too hungover and embarrassed to spell out the incident which had almost, but thankfully not quite, happened.
‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘I do and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
From what I could remember, he hadn’t said anything much and I was the one who was supposed to be apologizing. I was the one who had very nearly caused us to kiss.
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Neither do I,’ he said, briefly looking up. ‘Know what came over me, I mean.’
Although I wasn’t sure why he was feeling so guilty about something I had instigated, it did make apologizing a little less mortifying.
‘So,’ I tentatively asked, ‘can we just forget about it then?’
‘No one’s going to hear about it from me,’ he said resolutely, ‘and besides, nothing happened, did it?’
‘That’s right,’ I agreed, standing a little taller, ‘absolutely nothing happened.’
I shrugged off the thought that it so easily could have.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘great.’
‘Really great,’ I nodded, ‘and can I say, just for the record, that making a play for . . .’
I was going to add ‘someone’s other half isn’t my style’ but I could hear Hope coming through the bar behind me and stopped. Sam looked at me, but I shook my head. I could hardly carry on now.
‘Two more chicken dinners, please, Sam!’ she called out, ‘and they both want Yorkshire puddings with them.’
I stepped aside to let her through.
‘It’s busy out there,’ she said, sounding glad. ‘I thought you’d already gone again, Tess.’
‘Not yet,’ I said, ‘I’m just about to.’
The smell of the roasting meat was making me feel nauseous. Not that there was anything wrong with Sam’s culinary skills, but my hangover was still doing a fine job of making its presence felt.
‘I don’t suppose you could spare an hour to help out, could you?’ Hope asked me, ‘there’ll be a lunch in it for you and it would save Sam from having to keep walking in and out of the bar.’
It was the very last thing I felt like doing, but given that I’d almost kissed her boyfriend the second her back was turned, I didn’t feel in a position to refuse.
‘If that’s okay with you, Sam?’ she said, turning to him.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘but only as long as you haven’t got other plans, Tess.’
‘Other than nursing this hangover,’ I said trying to laugh as I eased off my sunglasses, ‘I haven’t got plans to do anything.’
‘That’s settled then,’ said Hope, ‘come with me and I’ll run you through the menu.’
Chapter 18
I might not have been initially in the mood – physically or mentally – to be doling out platefuls of Sunday dinner, but my busy stint in the pub was the perfect way to get over what had happened the night before and by the time the rush was over, and I was tucking into the succulent roast beef I suddenly found I fancied, everything was back to normal and on an even keel.
I spent all day Monday at the café helping Sophie and Hope check the final details of the beach clean and solstice party and on Tuesday, as it was so hot, I went back to the beach for a lazy day of paddling, exploring the pools and soaking up the sun.
Not surprisingly, given where I was, my head was full of Mum in her yellow sundress, but left to its own devices, my mind skipped ahead and I saw her as the wealthy but solitary shopper who spent her days trying to make herself feel better about life by maxing out her credit cards and lunching alone.
Conversely, when I thought of Dad, first reading a newspaper in his deckchair and then years later, the only images I could conjure