Authors: Sue Brown

Isle of Waves (21 page)

“The redhead was hot.”

“The bloke that was causing the trouble for your partner, and you think he was hot?”

“Wig, he was a redhead.” Nibs sounded like that explained everything. Wig knew him well enough to know that it did. “He could have looked like Boris Johnson and behaved like Paul on speed, and I’d have thought he was hot.”

“If you think the mayor of London is hot, you need your fucking eyes checked.”

“Of course I don’t. He hasn’t got red hair.”

Wig rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to dye my hair.”

Nibs turned Wig to face him. “You’re perfect just as you are,” he said huskily.

“Are you sure?” Wig hated the neediness in his voice, but he was feeling so uncertain.

“I don’t need to be sure. I haven’t wanted another man since the moment I laid eyes on you wiggling your hips at that prick, Joe Michaels.” His eyes were so huge and serious that Wig knew he meant every word.

“Not my finest moment.”

“You have a habit of being a total idiot at times,” Nibs agreed.

“That’s why you love me, yes?”

“Yes.” Nibs slapped Wig’s arse. “Now get back to work, wench.”

“Wench?
Wench
?” Wig screeched. “So you think I’m a girl?”

Nibs pulled Wig hard against him. “Ask me that again when your cock is down my throat.”

“If you can talk when your mouth is full, then I’ve either got a really small dick, or you’ve got a skill that could be marketed.”

“Just get inside.” Nibs guided Wig into the Lagoon.

Liam looked at them from the bar, a concerned expression on his face. Nibs headed into the kitchen, and Wig went over to the bar.

“Thanks,” he said to Liam.

“You’re welcome,” Liam said. “I hope you didn’t think I was interfering.”

“Of course I do, but I needed it.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome, then.”

Wig looked at the clock. “What time are you going to the hospital?”

“I’m waiting for a call from Sam. He’s going to call me when he’s bored Paul into submission.”

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall to see that happen.”

“Owens against Owens?” Liam shuddered. “It has the potential to be very messy.”

“Liam, I know this is none of my business, but keep in contact with Olaf, whatever happens. The man desperately needs some friends.”

“I… my first priority is Sam.”

“Sam, not Paul. Olaf is floundering, and he needs someone who understands.”

“You could call him,” Liam pointed out.

“I can and I will,” Wig said, “but you’re an American, and you’ve been through shit yourself. Don’t desert him because Sam’s loyalty is to Paul.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Cool.” Wig would phone Skandik after work. He probably wouldn’t speak to him due to the time difference, but he could leave a message telling him that he still had friends in him and Nibs.

“That’s my phone.” Liam dug out his vibrating phone from his pocket. He frowned. “It’s Paul.”

“God, perhaps Paul has killed Sam and buried his body somewhere.”

Liam poked his tongue out at Wig. “Arse. Hey, Paul, you still in one piece? What? When? I’m on my way.” The amusement drained from his face and with a sinking feeling, Wig realized the news Liam had just received. “Where’s Sam? Do Mattie and Jim know? Okay, I’ll let everyone know here. Do you want me to phone anyone? Okay, okay, hold on, let me grab a pen.” He flailed around, and Wig handed his pad and pen over without question. Liam wrote down a list and disconnected the call. “She’s gone. Rose’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Liam.”

The restaurant was empty, so Wig stepped around the bar to pull Liam into his arms. Liam collapsed against him. “She’s dead, and I should have been there.”

“Rose would have hated you to be there,” Wig said. “You of all people. She would have hung on until last possible moment to avoid that.”

“But….”

Wig stroked Liam’s hair. “Liam, Rose was tired and it was her time. She got to see her beloved grandson married to a man she loved, and leave this world happy and content. What more can you ask?”

“Rose was supposed to live forever.”

“No one lives forever, dude, not even superwomen like Rose Owens.”

Liam pulled away, wiping his eyes. “Sam needs me.”

“Yes, he does,” Wig agreed.

“Can you do without me?”

Wig looked around at the restaurant. “I think we can manage,” he said drily. “Go get your things, and I’ll let Nibs know.”

“Thanks.” Liam pulled Wig into a fierce hug and ran up to the flat.

Wig walked into the kitchen. Nibs smiled at him, the smile fading when Wig gave him the news.

“We need to let everyone know they can come here as they need to. We’ll find a place for them to sleep. Between Rose’s place and here we can find somewhere for everyone to sleep.” Nibs rubbed at his eyes. He’d known Rose since he was a kid. She was family to him.

“Liam’s got a mass of people to call. Then he’s going to the hospital.”

“Why don’t you do the calling, then he can get off?” Nibs suggested. “He’s not in the best place to deliver that sort of news.”

Wig smacked his forehead. “God, I didn’t think of that.”

He ran out of the kitchen and up to the flat, Nibs following. Wig was not surprised to find Liam staring at the phone as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Hey,” Wig said very gently, not wanting to spook him. “Let me make the phone calls. You get off to the hospital, okay?”

Liam nodded but didn’t move.

“Steve is going to drive you, Liam,” Nibs said. “We’re closing for the evening. Give the list to Wig so he can check if he needs any numbers and get your jacket.”

“’Kay.” Liam handed Wig the list and left the lounge.

Wig scanned it quickly, checking that he had all the numbers. “Got ’em all.” He looked at Nibs. “Are you sure about closing?”

Nibs shrugged. “It’s been a quiet day, and our friends need us. Steve and Ben have said if we need them to come back they will. I’m going to close up.”

“Good. I’ll start phoning around.” Wig looked out the window at the late-afternoon view. “At least she went on a fine day.”

“We’ll mourn Rose later, love. Now we’ve got work to do.” Nibs hugged Wig and kissed the top of his head before he went back downstairs.

Wig looked at the list of people who had no idea what news he was about to impart. “Just don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”

Chapter 16

A
T
NINE
o’clock the youngest four of the seven Owens siblings sat in the restaurant with their parents and other relatives. The older three—Brian, Tim, and Mick—would be down the next day sans family. Wig gave up trying to remember all their names, but the Owenses were obvious by their dark blond hair and large brown eyes.

Nibs and Wig had offered everyone a chance to congregate at the restaurant for a late dinner, and they had accepted, knowing Rose’s place was too small. They had fourteen at the table including Chrissie, who had just arrived.

She bustled in, kissing Wig on the cheek. “I thought I was never going to get away.”

“Busy night?” he asked.

“No, just staff crises. Why do they always throw a wobbler at the worst possible moment?”

“Human nature, love. Come on over. Your mum and dad are here.”

“Dear God, I bet my mother is crying.”

Wig smirked. “She hasn’t stopped.”

“She didn’t even like Gran, and Rose certainly couldn’t stand her.”

“She’s such a drama queen.” With a sniff, Chrissie dismissed her mother. “Are Uncle Pete and Aunty Wendy here?”

“I’m not sure who they are.”

Chrissie scanned the crowd. “I can see Kylie, she’s their daughter. Yep, there’s Uncle Pete. That’s good. Ma can cry on Wendy for the rest of the evening.”

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Nibs’s fish and chips would be great.”

“Cool. Go take a seat, and I’ll let Nibs know you’re here.”

Wig relocked the door and gave the order to Nibs. They’d decided not to call in Ben and Steve, figuring the Owens would prefer not to have too many strangers around them while they were grieving.

“Is that everyone?” Nibs asked as he handed over the order.

“According to Paul. Everyone else is coming down tomorrow.”

Nibs put another piece of fish in the fryer. “Who’ve we got staying with us?”

“Col and Fee, Dan, Liam and Sam, and Paul. Jim’s brothers and family are staying at Chrissie’s or Rose’s. I thought Paul could sleep in with Liam and Sam, and Dan, Col, and Fee can have the front room.”

“I thought you’d expect us to give up our bed.”

Wig shook his head. “Not again. I’m not sleeping on the floor for anyone.”

“Thank gawd for that. I miss my bed too much.”

“We could, of course, invite Paul into bed with us,” Wig suggested and gave Nibs his wickedest smirk.

Nibs flipped him and the fish. “You can take a long walk off the pier. Now deliver these to our guests.”

Efficiently, Wig delivered the food and topped up the drinks where necessary. He left the Owens family alone to talk and mourn.

Liam smiled at him, his eyes tired and strained. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine. You stay with Sam.”

While Sam’s attention was diverted by Fiona, Col’s girlfriend, Wig asked quietly, “How is he?”

Liam shrugged. “Devastated. He adored Rose.”

“If there’s anything you need, just ask.” Wig was sure Liam was just as devastated, but he was trying to hold it together for Sam’s sake.

He checked that everyone was fine, then retreated to the bar and cashed up the till. Loud voices disturbed him, and he looked up to see Colin glaring at Paul.

“You’re always such a drama queen.”

“What would you fucking know about it?” Paul said. “You’re never around to find out.”

“Says the man who’s fucked his way through most of south London.”

“At least I paid attention to her and visited Rose regularly.”

Col snorted. “That’s total bollocks. You saw Rose once a month, if that.”

“That’s more than you fucking visited her, gobshite.”

Wig opened his eyes wide. Paul was virtually foaming at the mouth.

“Colin, Paul, control yourselves,” Mattie snapped.

“He started it,” Colin said.

“You’re not a five-year-old, even if you are behaving like one. Now leave your brother alone. He’s had—we all have—had an awful day. Rose would be mortified to see you behaving like this.”

“She’d probably join in,” Paul muttered.

“Paul Owens, how could you say such a thing?”

“He’s right, though,” Colin said. “Rose was the first one to join in with a fight.”

“She did no such thing,” Mattie said.

“What about the time she clocked that political candidate for suggesting women should stay out of politics and go back to the kitchen?” Sam said. It was the first time he’d joined in a conversation since he’d arrived at the Lagoon.

“And when she told that vicar that if God had meant us to give ten percent of our money every month, we’d have been born with a standing order tattooed to our forehead,” Dan said.

Kylie nodded. She was another one of Rose’s grandchildren, in her late teens, and from what Wig could see, a typical Owens. “Gran told the woman next door that if her grandson was going to practice the drums every night when
The Archers
was on, she’d learn to play the saxophone—at three in the morning.”

“What happened?” Mattie asked.

“He kept playing, so she got her friends from the jazz band along to rehearse all night.”

“I’d have killed her,” Jim said.

Kylie gave him a wicked grin. “The neighbors weren’t very happy.”

Col snapped his fingers. “What about the woman in the café who tried to preach to Sam about the danger to his immortal soul of being gay. She was in full flood about eternal damnation, and Rose tipped a cup of tea over her.”

“She didn’t?” Fiona giggled.

“She did. Rose was lucky not to get arrested that time.”

“That time?” Kylie asked. “You mean Gran has been arrested before?”

“I don’t think we should be talking about Rose like this. It’s not appropriate,” Wendy said primly.

“Gran would have loved it, Aunty Wendy,” Sam said. “She hated being boring.”

“So when did she get arrested?” Kylie asked again.

“She was one of the Greenham Common women.”

“Greenham Common? I don’t think I’ve heard of that.”

Mattie turned to her. “What? You haven’t heard of Greenham Common? What the hell do they teach you kids these days?”

“Uh, I’m learning British and American World War II history,” Kylie said.

“So nothing recent, then?”

Kylie frowned. “It wouldn’t be called history if it was recent, would it, Aunty Mattie?”