The Carlswick Affair (The Carlswick Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  He looked up. “Sorry love, will be with ya soon,” he said.

  Stephanie grinned back. “No problem – are you on your own?”

  “Yeah – I haven’t long opened and I think I slightly under estimated demand,” he said laughing.

  Stephanie stood up from the bar stool that she had propped herself against.

  “Can I help? I can clear tables, maybe?” she asked, looking around at the tables, several of which were covered with used cups and plates.

  He looked at her for a moment, assessing whether she was serious, and then smiled gratefully.

  “That would be fantastic. I just haven’t managed to even get to the tables, since I opened. Come around and get an apron - on that hook there.” He indicated behind him, with a toss of his head. Stephanie walked around the end of the counter and helped herself to a brand new black apron with THE CAFÉ written in white lettering across the front.

  “I’m Stephanie,” she said, introducing herself to him as she pulled the apron over her head and crossed the ties behind her back, securing them in a bow at the front.

  He took one hand off the milk steamer and shook her hand. “Andy.” The girls at the counter were busy chatting and took no notice of her.

  Stephanie was busy for the next half hour clearing tables, taking orders and laughing and joking with Andy. The atmosphere in the café was laid back. The music which had seemed loud from outside was at a level which still allowed conversation. Andy fostered the relaxed mood, greeting his customers by name more often than not.

  “Thanks,” he said to her when they had a pause between customers. “You don’t want a job do ya?”

  “No,” Stephanie replied shaking her head.

  “I’m serious – you’ve obviously worked in a café before,” he said.

  “No I haven’t – just spent way too much time drinking coffee in them,” she replied.

  The conversation ended there for the time being as they got busy again. About half an hour later, Stephanie looked up to find Michael and a friend, waiting to be served.

  “Steph – you do realise that you’re on the wrong side of the counter?” Michael teased.

  She laughed.

  “You must be Stephanie – we used to play together when you came to visit your grandmother,” Michael’s friend, a short, chunky girl with a kind face and a big smile, said. “You probably don’t remember me, I’m Mary.”

  “Of course, hi Mary,” Stephanie smiled, but she had no recollection of the girl.

  “So are you really working here?” Michael asked.

  “I’m trying to convince her,” Andy said. “Wadda ya think?”

  Michael grinned. “So long as she doesn’t do a haka and scare off all your customers, I guess it’ll be ok.”

  Andy cracked up laughing.

  “Yeah, yeah, amuse yourselves.” Stephanie couldn’t help, but grin. A haka was a traditional Maori war dance, which was now only performed in cultural shows or by sports teams from New Zealand, not something she was likely to do in a coffee shop.

  “Well, I think it’s lovely to have someone from ‘down under’ living in Carlswick,” Mary offered kindly.

  “Thank you Mary. I knew I liked you,” Stephanie replied, pulling a face at Michael.

  She took their order and said she’d bring it over to them.

  Andy had gone to clear the tables, so Stephanie decided to make her friend’s drinks. Andy’s machine didn’t look a lot different to the one her father had at the house in London – just bigger. She worked quickly to grind the beans and steam the milk, and in no time had the two coffees made. Satisfied, she stepped back to admire her creations.

  “So when can you start?” Andy asked. He was standing at the dishwasher with another load of dirty cups.

  “Andy – I am only here for a couple of months until Uni starts. Here – these are for Michael and Mary,” she replied.

  Andy delivered them and returned to start loading the dishwasher, his face thoughtful.

  “Ok – a couple of months will give me the breathing space I need to get on my feet with running this place. You can pick your hours and days – but I’m doing live music, poetry and comedy on Sunday nights. It’ll be a lotta fun. And I will need a barista who can handle themselves – because I expect it will be the hottest gig in town. Why don’t you start then?” he said enthusiastically.

  “Well….” Stephanie hesitated. Maybe earning a few pounds would keep her from dipping into her savings too much before she started Uni, and the afternoon with Andy had been fun. Working at the coffee shop might be a good way to get out of the house and get to know a few more people too, especially if this was to be her base in the holidays. Maybe I will fit in around here, after all, she thought hopefully, after the uncertain start with James and Victoria.

  “I can’t pay you much more than the minimum wage – but you can have free coffee,” Andy said, pouncing on her hesitation.

  “Well now, that settles it – deal,” she smiled, making a snap decision.

  “Well, this is all very cosy,” said a husky voice. Stephanie whirled around. James was standing at the counter with an odd expression on his face. “Do you know who you just employed, Andy?”

  Stephanie frowned, confused by his attitude.

  Andy shook his head and looked at her, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

  “Stephanie, ah, Cooper,” she said hesitantly.

  “What - a Wakefield House Cooper?” Andy asked and grinned when she nodded in affirmation. “The enemy,” he said with a knowing nod at James.

  “I’m sorry, am I missing something here?” Stephanie said, looking from one to the other.

  “From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,” Andy quoted Shakespeare.

  Realisation dawned on her and she looked at James. “Really? You were serious yesterday, eh?”

  James shrugged nonchalantly. “History has shown that your family are liars and troublemakers.”

  Ouch. Stephanie was visibly shocked at his rudeness.

  “Dude, what can we get ya?” Andy asked, quickly changing the subject.

  “Latte please? Double shot,” James replied.

  He propped himself up on a bar stool and watched Stephanie as she busied herself tidying and wiping down the counter top and emptying the first dishwasher which had finished washing. She kept her head down feeling very self-conscious under his scrutiny. Andy watched the interaction between the two, with interest.

  Stephanie looked at her watch – it was 4:30. Where had the afternoon gone?

  “Andy, I’m gonna have to go shortly,” she said.

  “Sure darlin’. Let me make you a coffee first – you never got one in the end did you?” he replied.

  “Has he had you working all day?” James asked sipping his latte. “You’re a rogue,” he grinned at Andy, shaking his head in disbelief. Andy had the reputation for being able to talk anyone into doing anything for him – girls especially. Andy merely inclined his head and shrugged.

  “Society produces rogues, and education makes one rogue cleverer than another,” he replied quoting Oscar Wilde dramatically.

  Stephanie rolled her eyes and smiled, as she hung up her apron and waited while Andy made her latte.

  “Back home, we have something called a flat white, which is like a cross between a latte and a cappuccino. I’ll make you one next time, see what ya think,” she said to Andy.

  Andy looked up interested. “I’ve heard of that. If I like it, we could add it to the board,” he said.

  Stephanie nodded and took her cup, “Thanks. So I’ll see you on Sunday at 7?” she said.

  “Perfect,” he replied.

  James snapped his head up and looked questioningly at Andy, as Stephanie walked over to join Michael and Mary on one of the sofas.

  “Are you taking her out on Sunday?” he asked as soon as Stephanie was out of earshot, his voice cold.

  “I’d love to say yes, just to wind you up,” Andy laughed, “but sadly no –
she’ll be working here then.”

  James let out the breath he had been holding and visibly relaxed.

  “Intention declared then, dude?” Andy asked, his eyebrows raised.

  “Nah,” said James dismissively, scowling. “She’s a Wakefield. Grandpa won’t be happy to hear that there is another one in town.”

  Chapter 4

  The following afternoon, Stephanie was lying in the sun in her grandmother’s garden reading one of her new history texts, The Histories by Tacitus. Her mind kept drifting back to the previous day – to James and his comments about the feud between their families. He actually seemed to buy into the whole idea, which is weird given that a feud seems such an outdated concept. She decided to ask her grandmother about it.

  Her mobile chimed announcing an incoming text.

  She rolled over and picked it up off the edge of the rug, waving her hand lazily at a bee that was buzzing about the flower beds. She flopped on her back and tapped the screen to open the message.

  Wanna see The Fury tonight? Pick you up 7:30. Matt

  Stephanie smiled and text back: Love 2. Ok if Michael comes?

  No probs, was the reply.

  A little while later, Stephanie gathered her things and wandered inside. She paused on the stairs studying the photographs.

  “Oh, there you are dear,” her grandmother said walking out of the kitchen. “Did Matthew get hold of you?”

  “Yes, thanks, Grandma. I’m going to see a band with him tonight,” Stephanie replied, her attention being captured by an old black and white photo of two men and two women laughing. “I have been meaning to ask you, who are these people?” she asked.

  Ellie came to join her on the stairs, putting her hand on the banister and leaning against it slightly. “That’s me with my brother David and sister Sophie, just before the War,” she said. “And the other man is Edward Knox.”

  “Knox?” Stephanie asked. “I think I met his grandson yesterday.”

  Ellie looked stricken. “That would be his great-nephew, not grandson.” She clutched the banister.

  “Grandma, are you ok?” Stephanie asked alarmed, reaching for her.

  “We have nothing to do with that family, Stephanie.” Her voice rang out stronger than Stephanie had ever heard it.

  Stephanie opened and closed her mouth. So this was ‘the feud’ in action – James was right.

  “Grandma,” she began.

  “I know it may seem old-fashioned to you, but if it weren’t for them, my darling sister, Sophie, would still be alive.” Ellie’s strength of a moment earlier seemed to have deserted her, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

  “Really, Grandma? What happened?” Stephanie asked wide eyed, shocked.

  “Well, it’s a long story, but she died in a car accident in 1940. It was all very suspicious,” Ellie replied, a faraway look in her eye.

  Stephanie opened her mouth to ask another question, when the doorbell buzzed. Sighing slightly, Ellie released the banister and walked over to open the front door. A lady of her age stood there. “I don’t suppose you have the kettle on Ellie?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Ellie said opening the door wider and letting her friend into the hall.

  Stephanie smiled at them both, suppressing her annoyance that the story had been interrupted. What could she mean that her sister would still be alive? Was Edward Knox a murderer? She looked back at the faces smiling back at her from the photo – I wonder what secrets you hold? she thought, vowing to find out more, as she wandered upstairs to her room.

  * * *

  Later that evening, as the sky darkened, Stephanie pushed open the door of The Smugglers Inn. Matt, his girlfriend Fiona and Michael followed her through. Matt nudged Stephanie. “You can legally drink here this time, Steph,” he teased. She stuck her tongue out at him. Matt was tall and solid, with short cropped blond hair. Typical rugby player build, with a nose that looked to have been broken on more than one occasion. It somehow gave his face character. “Come on little cousin, come and meet some of the guys.”

  The half-timbered building was one of the oldest in the village, proudly displaying a sign which read ‘since 1550’ above its low Tudor doorway. Above the windows at the front, a dozen hanging baskets, overflowing with colourful flowers, swayed gently. Inside, the front room was a traditional old style English pub, with wood panelling and busy patterned carpets and a long wooden bar along one wall with a food serving hatch on opposite side. Through a large archway at the back of the room a modern extension had been added, with a stage at the far end hung with red velvet curtains. Tables and chairs were clustered throughout. The carpet ended about ten metres before the stage and in its place a wooden dance floor stretched across the width of the room.

  The lights were dim and the tables were full of groups of people, none older than about thirty. The area in front of the bar was crowded with people standing around talking and laughing. The stage, which was lit with coloured lights, had a drum kit on a raised platform towards the back, a keyboard on one side and three microphones across the front. A mixing desk stood off to one side with two racks each holding five different guitars. The whole setup looked very professional.

  Not what you’d expect from a country pub, thought Stephanie, her excitement rising. I think I am going to like spending my holidays here. From around the age of fifteen, whenever she was visiting London, Stephanie and Anna had gone to as many concerts and music festivals as they were allowed.

  “Hey, you’re quiet,” Matt boomed. “Wanna drink?”

  “Yeah, just taking it all in.” she said. “Let me buy you one, since you drove me, eh?”

  “Ok. Just a diet coke for me. Pre-season training,” he explained, pulling a face. “Fi will have white wine,” he added smiling at his girlfriend who was already deep in conversation with several people sitting at a nearby table.

  “Coming right up. Michael?” she raised her eyebrows, silently asking him the same question.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said.

  Stephanie and Michael pushed their way to the bar, excusing themselves around people who were standing drinking and chatting. The bar staff were busy working the crowd, but it took Stephanie less than a minute to attract attention.

  “What can I get you?” The young barman gave Stephanie a flirty smile.

  Stephanie and Michael gave their orders and showed their IDs to the barman.

  “Geez, you got served, like, 20 minutes quicker than I would’ve,” Michael complained pushing his glasses up his nose. “It is so unfair that the less attractive amongst us get ignored,” he complained dramatically.

  Stephanie laughed. “I don’t think it’s attractiveness, just assertiveness. Catch their eye and don’t let it go and they feel compelled to serve you.”

  “Who are you trying to bewitch now?” a voice on the other side of her said.

  Stephanie spun around. James was at her shoulder looking every inch a rock star in fitted black jeans, tight black t-shirt and denim jacket. His dark fringe was pushed back off his forehead with hair product and his eyes were amused, as he smiled down at her. She was speechless for once.

  “Glad you could make it Stephanie,” he said.

  “Yeah, looking forward to hearing the ‘local band’. I do hope I won’t be disappointed,” she replied cheekily, recovering her composure somewhat.

  James grinned at her teasing understatement and said, “Well, we’ll just have to blow you away then, won’t we? See you after the gig? We’re having a small get together at the café.”

  “Maybe,” she said indifferently, but underneath she felt her blood racing. So much for having nothing to do with me, she thought.

  The barman placed Michael’s bottle of Heineken in front of them and Stephanie turned to pay for the drinks. When she turned back, James was gone. She and Michael wound their way back to where they had left Matthew, balancing their drinks carefully.

  She handed Matthew his coke and he introduced her around his
group of rugby mates and their girlfriends. Everyone was really friendly, although she had to correct them when they assumed that she was Australian.

  “Love your shoes,” a girl named Felicity commented smiling and looking down at Stephanie’s three inch denim wedges, which put her on eye level with most of the guys in their group.

  “Thanks,” Stephanie replied. “Shoes are a bit of an obsession, I’m afraid.” Whilst shoes really had become something of a passion of Stephanie’s, she had learned fairly young that the way to direct people’s attention away from a spotty face and round tummy, was by having something gorgeous or unusual on your feet. And now that the acne and puppy fat were, mostly, a thing of the past, she still had a wardrobe full of great shoes.

  A loud guitar chord cut across the room and the lights immediately dimmed further. The stage was plunged momentarily into darkness and suddenly the room was alive with a wall of sound and flashing lights as the band launched unannounced into their first song.

  Stephanie watched mesmerised as the lead singer strutted his stuff across the stage. Boy does he own it, she thought. By contrast, Andy was a laid back figure holding it all together with a tight bass track, his eyes roving the crowd. Her attention was inevitably drawn to James on lead guitar. His hair now flopped over his forehead as he concentrated on a guitar riff and flicked back as he launched into the fast strumming of the chorus and stepped forward to the microphone to harmonise with Liam. Wow, he is really hot, Stephanie thought, blushing as she watched him.

  The rest of the set continued at the same frenetic pace. Dave’s dreadlocks bounced as he danced and played the keyboard. During a couple of songs he broke away from his position and joined Liam at the front of the stage, performing a fast and furious rap. Jack was a demon behind the drums, beating out frantic fills and occasionally tossing a stick into the crowd. Stephanie danced with Michael, Matt, Fiona and others in their group.

  The band took a break after a long first set and James sought her out, beer in one hand, G&T in the other. His hair was wet with sweat and pushed back up on top of his head making him seem even taller. He offered her the G&T.