the table’s number to her order pad, looked up in surprise.
Harry Gilchrist was one of the four young people who had recently been shown to a table in the window. He and another man Fliss knew by sight were sitting opposite two young women she didn’t recognise. Pasting on a friendly smile, she returned his greeting and then said, ‘Are you ready to order?’
‘What are your specials?’ asked the other man, nodding towards the extra dishes that were posted on a board beside the bar. He raised his eyebrows at his companion. ‘I fancy a steak.’
‘Do you?’ she said archly. ‘I fancy something else entirely.’
Fliss ignored this and recited the evening’s special dishes, but she could see that Harry wasn’t comfortable with his friends’ behaviour. ‘Are you OK, Fliss?’ he asked, showing her the kind of attention he should have been showing his girlfriend. ‘I heard you’d gone to work for our local celebrity. What’s he like?’
Fliss’s lips tightened. ‘You should know, Harry. I saw you talking to him yourself the other afternoon.’
Harry looked a little put out now and Fliss knew she shouldn’t have taken her bad mood out on him. ‘I only meant what’s he like to work for,’ he muttered. ‘He’s bit of a weirdo, isn’t he?’
‘Who, Matthew Quinn?’ asked his male companion with interest. ‘I didn’t know you knew him, Gil.’
‘I don’t,’ said Harry shortly, giving Fliss a resentful look. ‘He came into the store, that’s all.’ He paused, before returning to his earlier comment. ‘That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.’
‘Well, you heard wrong,’ said Fliss, her nails digging into her pad. ‘Now, have you decided what you want to eat or shall I come back?’
She was flushed when she got back to the kitchen and Eileen Reardon regarded her curiously. ‘Is something wrong, love?’ she asked, her gentle Irish brogue soft with concern. ‘I saw Harry Gilchrist come in. What’s he been saying to you?’
‘Oh—nothing.’ Fliss couldn’t let Eileen think Harry was to blame. In all honesty, he had only been trying to be friendly, as always. ‘I—it’s very warm in there, that’s all.’
‘Are you sure?’
Eileen was looking at her with such compassion in her eyes that Fliss was tempted to confide in her. This was when she missed her mother most. Her father did his best, but he was a man. He didn’t always understand how she was feeling.
But she didn’t have the right to discuss Matt’s affairs with anyone, and, forcing a rueful smile, she said, ‘It’s been a long day. Thank goodness it’s the weekend.’
Eileen hesitated. ‘Is the job at the big house getting too much for you?’
‘Oh—no.’ Once again, Fliss’s colour deepened. ‘Um—I’d better give these orders in,’ she added, easing past her employer’s wife with some relief. ‘Or your customers will be complaining.’
Eileen let her go, but Fliss knew she wasn’t entirely satisfied with her answer. She hoped the older woman thought it was just because she was tired. She would hate any more gossip to find its way to Matt’s ears.
Fliss had hoped to stay in bed a little later the next morning, but at seven o’clock Amy came bounding into the room. She’d taken to copying her mother’s example and sleeping in cotton boxers and a T-shirt, and now she bounced onto the bed and crossed her bare legs.
‘It’s another lovely morning, Mum,’ she announced brightly, as her mother struggled to get her bearings. ‘Do you think we could go to the beach?’
‘The beach?’ Fliss shook her head in some bewilderment. She’d slept only fitfully again and she was having trouble in assimilating the fact that it was Saturday and she didn’t have to go to work. ‘Oh, I don’t know…’
‘Come on, Mum,’ Amy was pleading. ‘You know we always have a good time at the beach. And we haven’t been for ages and ages.’
‘At least a month,’ agreed her mother drily. ‘Amy, I’ve got housework to do. And shopping. You can come into Westerbury with me, if you like.’
‘I don’t want to go shopping,’ said Amy moodily. ‘We always go shopping. I wanted us to have some fun together. Kelly Mason says that her mum and dad always take her out at weekends.’
Fliss expelled a weary breath and eased up against her pillows. She could have pointed out that Kelly Mason’s mother had all week to do her household chores. She didn’t have a job outside of looking after her husband and family, but Amy didn’t want to hear that.
Besides, Fliss had to admit she was right. She did usually spend Saturdays shopping or working in the garden, and it was only natural that Amy resented her preoccupation with such matters. But going to the beach…
‘How about having lunch at McDonalds?’ she compromised, knowing Amy loved eating out, but the little girl only picked disconsolately at a thread hanging off the bed sheet.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she muttered, pursing her lips, and Fliss sighed.
‘Amy—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said indifferently, sliding off the bed. ‘I’m going to give Buttons his breakfast.’
Which was something else she had to do, Fliss reminded herself, unable to suppress a yawn. Unless she got some netting, the rabbit’s enclosure would never be made. Her father had made his order and he wouldn’t do anything else until she supplied the materials.
With a feeling of tiredness that had little to do with her restless night, Fliss swung her legs out of bed and got up. When she opened her bedroom door she found that her father had beaten her into the bathroom. She could hear the shower running, and, realising he was going to be some time yet, she went downstairs to use the toilet there.
There was no sign of Amy, but she wasn’t worried. Although the child was unlikely to have got dressed before she went out, it was a warm, sunny morning and she’d come to no harm going outside in just her sleeping shorts and T-shirt. Besides, Harvey was obviously with her, and he’d bark if anyone was about.
After attending to her immediate needs, Fliss washed her hands and then spooned coffee grains into the filter. With the reassuring sound of the coffee straining into the pot, she linked her hands together and stretched her arms above her head.
It was so good to feel her spine expanding, to feel all the kinks disappearing beneath a sudden wave of well-being. At least she was fit and healthy, she reminded herself firmly, her spirits lifting. She should be grateful for that.
She frowned as she looped one arm over her shoulder to meet the arm she’d twisted behind her back. Perhaps she and Amy could go to the beach, after all. She was up early enough, goodness knew. If she hurried and got her chores done straight after breakfast, she could leave the shopping until they got back.
She was reversing the exercise when the back door opened behind her. Guessing it was Amy, she didn’t immediately turn to look at her. She was too busy anticipating how delighted her daughter was going to be when she broke the news, and only when the cooler air from outside drifted about her bare midriff did
