Isle of Waves (18 page)

“That’s kind of her. I see the power’s back on. I guess we’d better open up.”

“Let’s wait until eleven. I still haven’t managed a coffee yet.” Wig stood on tiptoe for a kiss. “Morning, babe.”

“Morning.” Nibs put his arm around Wig’s shoulders and guided him into the kitchen. “Let’s go and see what a mess Mattie’s made of my kitchen.”

“I heard that,” Mattie said as she slipped eggs and bacon onto a plate.

“Morning, darling.” Nibs went over to give Mattie a kiss on the cheek.

“Mmmm, nice smell. Kind of lemony.”

“It’s my shower gel,” Nibs said. “Wig hates it. He said I smell like kitchen cleaner.”

He raised one eyebrow at Wig as if daring him to say anything, but Wig decided to keep quiet and drink his cooling latte.

Jim came down and greeted Nibs with a cheery, “Good morning.”

“You were a long time,” Mattie said.

“I was talking to Sam about Rose. He’s going to sit with her this afternoon so we can have a nap.”

“Good. Okay, breakfast’s up. Wig, be a dear and yell for the others, will you?”

“Liam and Sam are on their way, and I heard noises from the lounge.” Jim flushed, giving Wig a fair idea what sort of noises he’d heard.

“I’ll yell up the stairs. After that, it’s up to them. I’m not missing my breakfast.”

Looking disheveled and sleepy, Liam and Sam turned up before he had to shout. They’d obviously just rolled out of bed.

“I’ll do it,” Nibs said. “Ben, Steve, get your arses down here.”

They sat at the big table by the window, and Mattie brought over the food with Jim’s help. Wig put on a pot of coffee to brew while they ate.

Ben and Steve joined them, and no one made mention of the fact they looked and smelled freshly fucked. Wig decided to shove them back up the stairs to the shower before they started work.

“Nice food, Mum,” Sam mumbled as he shoveled eggs into his mouth.

“You can chew,” Mattie said tartly.

“Sorry.” Sam paused for breath. “I just want to get to the hospital.”

“Are you going with him?” Wig asked Liam.

Liam shook his head. “Sam wants to spend some time alone with Rose. I thought I’d run him over there and come back here to help, if you guys don’t mind.”

“Love to have you,” Nibs said, catching Wig’s eye.

Wig nodded and smiled, thinking it would be a good idea to lay the groundwork for their suggestion that Liam and Sam come and work for them, wherever they might be.

“We’ll take Sam to the hospital,” Jim said.

“I can drive myself,” Sam grumbled.

Liam clipped the back of Sam’s head. “Not in this lifetime. How many more times do we have to have this conversation? You’re not going anywhere near my car.”

“Bad driver?” Steve asked.

“Mr. Bean meets the
Magic Roundabout
cast,” Nibs said.

“I’m not that bad,” Sam protested. “Don’t listen to them, Steve.”

Steve looked around at the incredulous faces of the rest of the occupants of the table. “So never get in a car with him?”

“Not if you value your life,” Liam said.

Sam buttered a piece of toast and sulked as the others laughed.

Wig frowned as someone knocked on the door. He’d placed a sign saying the restaurant would be open at eleven, and it was only just past ten now.

“It’s Sergeant Biggs. We haven’t seen him since Monday.” Nibs got up to unlock the door. “Morning, Sergeant. Would you like a cuppa?”

“If there’s any of that coffee going that’d be great.” Biggs smiled at everyone. He looked exhausted. “I’ve just finished my shift, and I thought I’d see how everyone was. Glad to see you all survived the storm. Any damage at all?”

“Not that we know of, although I’m going to get the roof checked just to make sure next door’s crash didn’t damage our property.” Nibs offered him a mug. “Sit here. Help yourself to toast.”

“Thanks. I don’t mind if I do. I’m sorry to hear about Rose, Mr. and Mrs. Owens.”

Jim nodded. “How did you hear about her?”

“Paul called me last night. He wanted to make sure I kept an eye on this place in case someone took advantage of the storm to cause trouble, only last night was so busy, I didn’t get a chance to get over here.”

“We spent most of the night looking after the Sawars.”

“I heard that too. It was a good thing you did for them, considering the circumstances.”

Nibs shrugged. “We could have left them standing out in the storm.”

“We could’ve, but you’re a softie,” Wig said.

“Oh yeah? Who was the one who insisted in putting everyone into dry clothes?”

Biggs shook his head. “I hope they appreciate everything you did for them.”

“I think they do,” Wig said.

Sam wiped his mouth and got to his feet. “I need to get going.”

“We’ll leave as well,” Jim said.

“And Steve and I should set up the kitchen,” Nibs said.

Biggs yawned. “I need some sleep.”

Wig waited for everyone to depart before he said, “Sergeant, could I have a quick word?”

Biggs looked at him curiously. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

“The Sawars, Ghuram and Khalil, approached us the day before yesterday with another offer for us to leave this place. They were very insistent they had nothing to do with the trouble at the weekend.”

“But you don’t believe them?”

“Actually I do.” Wig hesitated. “Look, this is only speculation, but their waiters—cousins, I think—they wouldn’t look Nibs and me in the face. Khalil and Ghuram are businessmen. Yeah, they used dirty tricks, but that’s business to them. They don’t seem like the type to resort to violence when it could destroy Khalil’s political career.”

“But you wouldn’t say the same thing about the cousins?”

“I don’t know. I’m not accusing them, but there is something about them that bothers me.”

Biggs drained the last of his coffee and stood up. “I’ll look into it,” he said.

“Thanks.” Wig unlocked and opened the door.

Biggs paused. “Don’t discount your gut feeling.”

Wig narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying I’m right?”

“I’m saying I don’t think Khalil and Ghuram were involved.”

“And the cousins?”

“I’ll check it out. By the way, your ex-employee, Karen…?”

“Yes?”

“She was off the island both nights you had the break-ins.”

“So she’s not a suspect.”

“It seems unlikely. There’s still a question of where the perpetrators got hold of your front door key. Ms. Johnson swears it never left her handbag the whole time she had it.”

“Well, thanks for the coffee.” Biggs smiled briefly and walked down the steps to the pavement. Wig watched him walk down the road.

“Are you open?”

Startled from his thoughts, Wig looked at the family standing by the steps, hopeful expressions on the adults’ faces. “Well… come on in. We’re still setting up, but if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I’ll get you drinks and some toys for your children.”

“Cool.” The man held the hand of the little girl. “Careful on the stairs, Bridget.”

She picked her way up the steps and smiled shyly at Wig. “I hungry.”

Wig knelt down to her level, noticing the girl had stunning blue eyes, almost the color of the sea when the sun shone. “What would you like to eat, Bridget?”

“Fish fingers, chips, and beans.”

“We can do that for you.” Wig stood and held out his hand. “May I show you to your table?”

She hesitated, then put her hand in his, and he led her to a table nearest the toys.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Fruit Shoot.”

“Please,” her mother corrected.

“Please.” Bridget had a hint of a lisp.

Wig got everyone sat down, then took their drinks and food order because they knew what they wanted.

Liam was lurking by the bar. “Will you get these, Liam? Two Cokes and a Fruit Shoot. The young lady is called Bridget, and she wanted the Fruit Shoot.”

Liam smiled. “You’re a sucker for the kids, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I like the kids.”

“Did you ever think about having your own?”

“Nibs, kids? It’s like pale skin and suntans. The two do not mix.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

Wig thought about it for a moment. “There’s the occasional regret, but Nibs is more than enough to handle all by himself.”

“I know just how you feel.”

“Ah, you’re married to an Owens. You have an entire family to handle.”

Liam grinned at him. “Great, isn’t it?”

Wig snorted. “You’re so whipped.”

“You’d better get that order in before Miss Bridget starts complaining.”

“Yep.”

“Who’s whipped?” Liam muttered.

Wig poked his tongue out and walked into the kitchen. “First order, two fish fingers and chips, scampi and a mushroom omelet, both with chips.”

Nibs headed for the freezer. “Cool.”

“Another order,” Ben said, almost sending Wig flying. “And there’s a motor coach party of sixty looking for somewhere to eat at two.”

“Do you think we could get Jim and Mattie over to help?” Wig asked, only half joking.

“You call them, and we’ll say yes to the coach party,” Nibs said as he brought out large packs of fish fingers and scampi.

Wig pulled a face. “Awesome. Hungry OAPs. My favorite.”

“You like the old people,” Ben said.

“No, I don’t. Who said that?”

“You did.”

“I lied.”

“They’re a church party.”

“Hallelujah. We’re bringing them into Satan’s den.”

Ben frowned. “Dragon’s Den.”

“What?”

“It’s Dragon’s Den, not Satan’s.”

Wig stared at Ben and laughed. Sometimes Ben could be very pretty.

A
COACHLOAD
of OAPs, while welcome for the revenue, brought its own logistic problems. Wig call
ed all their previous staff to see if any of them were free and willing to help for the afternoon, and Ben and Liam got the place ready, pushing tables together to fit in the extra numbers. To Wig’s relief, three of his old staff were willing to come in for a few hours, and one agreed to help in the kitchen. Mattie was on hand for the kitchen, but Jim wanted to spend time at the hospital with Rose.

Wig made sure everyone had had a break and lunch by the time the first trickle of pensioners poured through the door.

To his surprise, Bel and Maggie led the charge of old ladies.

“Afternoon, ladies, I didn’t expect to see you today.” He leant forward to give them a kiss on the cheek.

“We like our trips out. It gets us away from the four walls,” Maggie said.

“But you live here. Why would you want to do a tour of the place?”

“It’s amazing what you learn about the area you live in,” she said.

Wig gave a wry smile. “I don’t think I’ve managed to tour the place the whole time I’ve lived here. From the moment I met Nibs, he had me working. I don’t know the Isle of Wight. God, I’ve lived here over a decade, and I’ve never been on a tour.”

“Sweetheart,” Bel said as she patted his cheek. “You come out with me and Mags one day, and we’ll show you a good time.”

“I bet you would. Tell you what, we get to the end of the season, and you ladies can take me out, and I’ll treat you to an evening out with a show.”

“Deal.” Bel shook his hand, as did Maggie. “Let’s grab a table before these old coots take over.”

“Who do you want to sit with?” Wig asked.

“How about those gentlemen over there?” Bel pointed to a couple sitting in the far corner.

Wig’s gaydar was pinging off the scale. “You do realize they’re—”

“Light in their loafers? Oh yes, but they’re a good laugh, and it means we can stay away from Jolly Shirley and her clique.”

Wig had no idea who Jolly Shirley was, but he led Bel and Maggie over to the table next to the gentlemen.

“Good afternoon, sirs. I hope you don’t mind, but these young ladies are looking for big, strong gentlemen to protect them.”

Bel rolled her eyes and sat down. “We’re hiding from Shirley and her mob.”

One of the men, short and dapper, grinned at her. “I don’t blame you. We’ve been hiding from her all day. She’s set her sights on Stan, and she won’t leave him alone.”

Stan nodded. “She’s insatiable.”

“If you snogged Ernie, she’d leave you alone,” Maggie said. “She still thinks you’re available. You’d think after five years she’d get the picture.”

“How long have you two been together?” Wig asked.

“Sixty years,” Stan said.

“Sixty-one,” Ernie corrected. “We met when we were nineteen.”

Stan gave him a fond smile. “Sixty-one.”

Wig wanted to drag Nibs over to meet the couple. He wanted to show him what they were going to be like when they were old and gray.

“What can I get you, gentlemen? Not you two.” Wig fixed a mock frown on Bel and Maggie. “You have the same thing every time you come in here.”

Bel opened her mouth to argue and shut it again.

“That doesn’t happen very often,” Maggie observed.

Wig ignored them and took the order from Stan and Ernie. Then he worked his way around the tables, making sure the customers were seated and had their drinks orders. Early on he spotted Shirley casting lascivious glances at poor Stan. Someone needed to set the poor woman straight. It wasn’t fair not to tell her that her hopes were forever to be dashed. Someone, not him. He had more sense than to get involved.