Isle of Waves (15 page)

“I wouldn’t expect a woman just to fall into line either. I’m not your mother.”

Wig flinched from Nibs’s hurtful words.

“Wig, I didn’t mean that.” Nibs took a step toward him, but Wig held him at bay.

“Yes, you did, and I deserved it. You’ve never treated me like my father treated my mother.”

“No, I haven’t, and I’m hurt you’d accuse me of something like that, but I was out of order too. We should listen to each other’s fears.”

Wig looked anywhere but Nibs’s face. “I’m happy here, Nibs.”

“We
were
happy here,” Nibs corrected. “You can’t honestly say we’ve been happy for the last year.”

“I suppose not.”

“Maybe it’s time, babe.”

Wig snapped. “Make a fucking decision already,” he yelled, and headed into the bathroom, locking the door before Nibs could respond, which was kind of cowardly, but he was sick of the fucking “maybes.” When he came out, the bedroom was empty. Wig took a shuddering breath, swallowing hard to quell the rising nausea.

One of the wardrobes in the spare bedroom was filled to the brim with Wig’s clothes—or as Nibs put it, “If you stuff any more crap in there it will explode, and then what will you wear?” He picked out a pale lemon shirt and a pair of trousers that molded his arse and made Nibs horny every time he wore them. Totally unsuitable for work, but maybe a peace offering.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Skandik was resting against the counter while Paul kissed him. Neither of them noticed Wig’s entrance. He backed out quietly and headed down to the restaurant to find a cup of coffee. He grinned quietly as he thought of Paul’s total absorption in the large American. Paul Owens had got his comeuppance for years of teasing everyone else about being whipped.

The coffee machine was already full, and Wig filled a mug to the brim, then moaned with happiness as the hot liquid slid over his taste buds.

“Hey, I made that for me,” Nibs said without rancor.

“There’s plenty left for you.” Wig poured Nibs a mug and handed it over. “Did you encounter the boys in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. They were… er… busy, so I left them to it and came down here.”

“Are you ready to open?”

“Coffee, customers, cooking.”

“Aren’t you the alliterative bunny?” Wig murmured into his mug.

“Eh?” Nibs stared at him blankly.

“I don’t think we’re going to get many customers today.” Wig changed the subject. It was too early to explain grammar to his lover. He looked out the big doors, watching the heavy rain driving along the road. “I wonder if Paul’s checked whether the ferries are still running.”

“When they put each other down we can ask them. They’re up early. I don’t know if they had to visit Rose during the night.”

As if on cue, Paul appeared.

“We’re going via the hospital now,” Paul said. “Is there enough coffee for Olaf?”

“Yep.” Wig poured another mug and handed it to Skandik.

“I’ll make a tea,” Paul said. “The ferries are running this morning, but after that it’s dependent on the storm. We’re packed and ready to go.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

Skandik sipped at his coffee with a contented sigh.

“When are you going back home?” Nibs asked.

“Not until next week, but I’d like to spend some time alone with Paul.”

“It’s been… an unusual week,” Wig said. “We’re not normally so drama packed.”

Skandik smiled at them both. “Thank goodness for that, but I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“You like being press-ganged into working in a restaurant and nearly getting burnt in your bed?”

“I like seeing Paul with his family and friends.”

“We’re all one incestuous mess,” Nibs agreed. “Oh, I think we’ve got customers.”

Wig looked over to see a couple peering in hopefully. He grabbed the keys and opened up the door. “Come in,” he said, “before you get blown away.”

“Thanks. We couldn’t find anywhere that was open.” The woman pushed back her sopping hair and smiled gratefully at him. She looked at the men gathered around the coffeepot. “Is there one of those for us?” she asked.

“I’ll make you a fresh pot,” Paul said.

Wig guided them to the warmest seats so they could dry off.

“Do you mind having a crowd?” the man asked as he shed his coat. “Our family is waiting for us to call them before they venture out.”

“No problem,” Wig said. “The more the merrier.”

“Could we order now to save time? We’re booked on the nine o’clock ferry.”

“Give me the orders. We can have it ready in fifteen minutes.” He waited patiently as the man talked on the phone.

Paul brought over the fresh coffee, and Nibs brought some toast. Wig looked at him in surprise.

“They need something warm,” Nibs said defensively.

Wig grinned. “You’re getting soft, old man.”

Nibs gave him a look that promised retribution. Wig couldn’t wait.

After a protracted discussion and reading of the menu, seven large breakfasts and three children’s versions—plus toast all round—were ordered. Nibs disappeared into the kitchen to start cooking.

Wig and Skandik joined up tables so the party could sit together, and they were ready. Wig took the opportunity to wolf down a slice of toast and another coffee before they turned up.

“We’re going to have to go,” Paul said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Not a problem. Ben and Steve will be here soon, and this is child’s play. You go and see Rose. Text me to let us know how she is.”

Wig led the two men into the kitchen to say their good-byes. “We can’t thank you enough,” he said.

“He’s right, you know. We’d never have reopened without you,” Nibs said over the hiss and spit of frying sausages and bacon.

Paul shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”

Wig hugged him and then Skandik. “Whoa, you give good hugs,” he said, grinning up at the big man. “Do that again.”

“He’s mine,” Paul said.

“What are you saying about my hugs?” Nibs pouted.

Skandik just twinkled down at him and hugged him again.

“Down, boys.” Wig smoothed his hair and stepped back. “Time to face the foray. Bye, guys.”

In the restaurant the other customers were just arriving. Wig poked his head around the kitchen door. “We’re on, Nibs.”

“Are you sure…,” Paul started.

“Go!” Nibs boomed.

Paul held up his hands. “We’re going, we’re going.”

Wig left the kitchen and pasted on his best professional smile. “Good morning, everyone. Isn’t it awful? What would you like to drink to warm you up?”

Within minutes all the party had shed their coats over the available radiators and were tucking into fresh breakfasts. Wig made sure everyone had a drink, then left them to it, smiling at the mumbled thanks.

Ben came in about five minutes later, shaking his head. Water sprayed everywhere from his dark hair.

“Haven’t you heard of towels?” Wig grumbled.

Ben raised an eyebrow at the number of customers already ensconced. “Busy start.”

“Yep. They couldn’t find anywhere else open in the rain at dark thirty.”

“I’ll dry off and get started.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s gone to the cashpoint. Look, here he is.”

Soaked and bedraggled, Steve skirted around the table full of customers. “Morning, boss. Damn, it’s awful out there.”

“I can see that, thanks,” Wig said.

“I saw Paul and Wig leave. They off to the ferry?”

“I think they’re off to see Rose first. Can you bring in more white toast?”

“Okay.” Steve headed into the kitchen.

Wig noticed Ben yawning. “Are we keeping you awake?”

“Sorry, Wig. I didn’t sleep all that well.”

“Are you okay to work?”

“I’m fine. I just need a cuppa. I’ll make a fresh pot for everyone.”

Wig brought over the teapot while Ben served coffee. “Would you like another tea, madam?” He offered the pot to an elderly lady who frowned at him.

“Are you one of them nancy boys?”

“Mum, you can’t say things like that.” The woman who’d come in first mouthed an apology at Wig.

Wig bowed his head. “Yes, I am, madam. But I do make a good cup of tea.”

She pointed at her cup. “That remains to be seen.”

Wig wanted to point out she’d slurped her way through two cups already, but he’d learnt to shut his mouth. He poured her tea.

“Do you have a man friend?” she asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Shame. You’re a bit old, but my grandson needs a man in his life.”

The elderly man next to her snorted loudly. “Lizzie, Michael’s not one of them. He’s just shy with the ladies.”

To Wig’s amusement, one of the men ducked his head, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Oh yeah, definitely shy with the ladies. Wig caught the strangled amusement on Ben’s face.

Wig bent down to whisper in Lizzie’s ear, “Sadly I’m too old and very taken, but I’m sure I could introduce him to someone nice.”

“What about him?” Lizzie pointed at Ben. “He’s the right age.”

“Also taken,” Ben said hastily.

Michael rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to be introduced to anyone, Gran. I’m happy on my own.”

“Everyone needs someone,” Lizzie said. “You don’t want to end up old and lonely like Uncle Bert.”

“Thanks, Lizzie.” The elderly man at the other end of the table waved his cup. “Tactful as ever.”

“Tact doesn’t keep you warm at night,” she snapped. “Warm bodies keep you warm at night.”

“So do electric blankets,” Bert retorted.

“There is not enough coffee that can deal with this.” Her daughter, presumably Michael’s mother, looked at Wig in desperation.

“I could give you a slug of brandy,” Wig said.

“Is it five o’clock somewhere?” she asked.

“You have to drive home,” said the man who’d come in with her. “No brandy until we get home.”

“Damn. I guess it will have to be a latte.” She smiled at Wig. “Can you do that?”

“I certainly can,” Wig said. “Anybody else?”

Michael raised his head. “Hot chocolate with plenty of whipped cream, please.” He couldn’t quite look at Wig as he placed his order.

Ben bolted for the kitchen before he disgraced himself completely, and Wig filled the drinks order, thinking Rose had competition for the most disgraceful granny.

T
HE
RAIN
continued unabated all day, and the waves continued to pound the sea walls in the high wind.

Customers were few and far between, as most decided to stay away from the beachfront. A few hardy souls braved the storm for lunch, but they soon scurried back to their homes.

The restaurant empty of customers, Wig ate a sandwich and spent a few minutes looking out the window. It seemed hard to believe that yesterday he and Nibs had been walking on the pier in the sunshine. As he watched, a car pulled up outside the restaurant in one of the empty parking bays.

“I wouldn’t leave it there. It might get swept out to sea,” Wig said.

“What might get swept out to sea?” Ben asked.

“The car.” Wig frowned. “I think that’s Liam and Sam. I don’t recognize the car.”

The two men ran across the road and headed into the restaurant.

“Fuck me, it’s disgusting out here.” Sam ran his hand through his shaggy hair, spraying water everywhere.

“What are you doing here?” Wig asked.

“Hoping for some food. We’re starving.” Liam peeled off his coat. “Ugh, I think I’m wet through to the bone just from running across the road.”

“Give me your coats,” Ben said. “I’ll dry them over near the radiator. Sit down over here. It’s our favorite table of the day, the warmest place in the house.” He took Liam and Sam’s coats over to the coat stand by a radiator.

“Have you been to the hospital?” Wig asked, pouring them tea and coffee.

Liam’s face looked bleak. “We’ve been there since six this morning. It doesn’t look good.”

“Poor Rose.”

“Rose is fine,” Sam said. “Wherever she is, she’s warm and content. It’s the rest of us that are falling apart.”

Wig held out his arms, and Sam stepped forward into a hug. He’d known Sam since he was a teenager and knew, of all the Owenses, that Sam adored his grandmother most. Wig ignored the feel of Sam’s wet hair as he buried his face in Wig’s neck. His shoulders shook for a moment, and then he stepped back, his face wrecked. Wig pushed Sam into Liam’s arms.

“Come here,” Liam said and led him over to the warm table.

“I’ll bring you out some food. Soup to start? Nibs made thick veggie soup this morning.”

“Sounds good,” Liam said.

“May I have some?” Ben asked. “I love Nibs’s soups.”

“Sure. I’ll get the boys out. I think we ought to think about closing up and preparing for the worst of the storm. It’s nearly five, and I don’t think we’re going to get any more customers now. The wind is getting worse. You ought to move the car, Liam. Now Paul’s gone, you can park it around the back.”

Liam pulled a face. “You mean I’ve got to go out in that weather again?”

“You don’t
have
to. On the other hand you might not have a car in an hour’s time.”

“Heh.” Liam kissed Sam’s forehead and picked up his sopping wet coat. “We should have brought spares.” Grumbling again, he vanished back outside, only just hanging on to the door as the wind caught it.