Iggy snapped her fingers a bare inch from his nose, making Tristan flinch back in surprise.
‘Hey, stop that.’ He batted her hand away.
‘Well, if you’d stop daydreaming for five minutes, I wouldn’t have to.’ His sister slouched back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. ‘It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do other than give up our time to help you out.’
Tristan didn’t know what the hell had got into her, but Iggy had been in a foul mood from the moment he’d returned to the apartment she shared with Will. They’d gathered around the big island in the kitchen that doubled as a table to discuss how to transform the castle grounds into something spectacular, but she’d done nothing but snipe and snap at him since they’d sat down.’
Will leaned over from his seat to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. ‘Leave your poor brother alone, he’s not going to ruin your garden.’
Iggy scowled at Will, but there was no mistaking the way her body language softened when he tucked his hand under her hair to stroke a light caress. ‘He can’t even pay attention long enough to listen to what we have to say about it, how can I trust him?’
Now he understood what was at the heart of her mood, Tristan had nothing but sympathy for his sister’s position. She loved Bluebell Castle – probably more than he and Arthur did combined – and she’d surprised them all by her decision to move away. It was clear to anyone she adored Will, and he her, and his horticultural business was based in London so the move made sense. They were working to diversify the brand, to leave the refurbishment projects which had been the bread and butter of the business in the hands of their experienced installation team so Will and Iggy could focus on their new passion for bringing gardening to schools and deprived inner city areas, and Tristan understood how important it was for his sister to strive to build a life away from their childhood home. Not because she didn’t love it there, but because she’d been the de facto mistress of the castle for several years and she was determined to surrender that role to Lucie. But the gardens were her baby, and Tristan needed her to know that he understood that, that he would honour all the hard work she had put into them and preserve her legacy.
Pulling his chair close on her other side, he slung an affectionate arm around her waist. ‘I won’t screw this up, Iggle-Piggle, I swear.’
Though his use of her hated nickname earned him a punch in the arm, it was immediately followed by a swift, hard hug. ‘I know, it’s just …’
‘I know.’ Tristan gave her a squeeze before shuffling his chair back. ‘When it comes to the grounds, you’re still the boss. Consider me your on-site eyes and ears, but I won’t do anything that the three of us haven’t agreed in advance.’
‘And we’ll go up for as many weekends as we can spare. And a whole week at half-term,’ Will assured her.
‘That’s a lot of unnecessary miles,’ Iggy protested. ‘When I’m just being precious about it.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ Will retorted, before digging in his pocket with a sigh and dropping a pound coin into a jar on the table. ‘I can’t believe that meddling assistant of mine talked you into having a swear jar at home as well as in the office. A man should be able to eff and blind in the peace of his own bloody kitchen.’
Giving him an evil grin, Iggy tapped the side of the jar with her finger until he fished out a fifty-pence piece and flipped it in after the pound. ‘She showed me a brochure for that luxury spa she visited last month on the back of your dirty mouth,’ she said.
Will leaned forward to steal a kiss. ‘I thought you liked my dirty mouth.’
‘Okay, okay, time out.’ Tristan waved his arms to draw their attention away from each other. As happy as he was that his siblings had both found love, it was bad enough watching his brother moon after Lucie every day at home without being subjected to these two and their public displays of affection. ‘Can we get back to the matter at hand?’
The door of the pub swung open and Jess cursed herself not only for her Pavlovian response to it, but the little dip of disappointment she felt when once again it wasn’t Tristan who walked through it. She checked her watch surreptitiously, giving a weak smile as a gale of laughter went around the table to some comment she’d missed.
‘Here, get this down your neck!’ A large glass of rosé was thrust in her face.
‘Thanks.’ Accepting the drink, she set it down untasted beside the half-full one she’d been nursing for a while. Apart from the odd bottle at the weekend when she was curled up in her pyjamas after the boys were asleep, she was grossly out of practice. From the ever-increasing volume of her friends and colleagues, they were having no such problem sticking with the pace.
‘Everything all right, Jess?’ Tim was watching her with a frown of concern, making her feel guilty. He and Charlie had put a lot of money behind the bar, she needed to buck up and a least make an effort to have a good time.
‘I’m fine, just not used to being away from the boys.’ Sitting up straighter, she reached for the fresh glass of wine and took a sip. It wasn’t bad at all for a house wine, though not as cold as she preferred it. ‘I could do with some ice.’ She cast a forlorn look towards the bar. Hemmed in as she was along the back row of a group of tables they’d shoved together, there was no chance of her getting out short of getting on her hands and knees and crawling underneath.
‘I’ll get you some.’ Tim rose at once. ‘I’ll order some food while I’m at it to soak up some of this booze.’
‘That’d be great.’ She shot him a grateful smile.
He was back in moments with a large tumbler full of ice which he placed on the table between them. ‘I hate warm wine,’ he said, fishing out a couple of cubes for himself after Jess had added what she wanted to her glass. Leaning across the table, he lowered his voice with a conspiratorial wink. ‘And it won’t do any harm to water it down a touch. I can’t keep pace these days.’
‘We should be at home with our pipes and slippers.’ She grinned and finally allowed herself to relax. This would be the last night out she was going to get for a long time, it would be stupid to waste it. Besides, she’d worked with the people gathered around her for the past seven years, and she would miss them. Her eyes flicked to the end of the table to where Michelle, the company receptionist, was holding court with a couple of the guys from accounts hanging on her every word. Well she’d miss most of them, she mentally amended.
Even if she could get away with sneaking out early, it wouldn’t be fair to Steve or the boys. This was their last weekend together before Steve moved out, and he’d planned a special night in. Knowing how much Elijah and Isaac were going to miss him, she’d told Steve to take the bedroom he’d surrendered to her when they’d finally admitted things were over between them.
They’d been as honest as it was possible to be with a five and a two year old, but little Isaac in particular had become very clingy and spent more nights curled up with one or other of them than he did in the bunk beds they’d put into Elijah’s room to allow Steve to move into the box room which had previously served as their youngest son’s bedroom. She had no doubt the three of them were already sprawled across the king-sized bed, watching cartoons and eating pizza. A pang of sadness struck deep in her middle as she thought about other Friday nights
