Isle of Waves (3 page)

Biggs glanced over to Paul. Wig couldn’t translate the look between the two men, but he got the feeling they had seen something like this before. He wouldn’t be surprised; bigots were everywhere, after all.

It took Wig and Nibs more than an hour to remember the trail of events that had led to this moment, and by that time, the Owens family, apart from Paul and Skandik, had gone home, and Wig felt like he was asleep with his eyes open.

Paul sat pressed up against Skandik on one of the sofas, asking his own questions when he felt the answer wasn’t clear. Initially Biggs had half-jokingly asked who was doing the interview, but Paul promised to only interfere when he thought it necessary, although Wig had a feeling Paul was going to fly apart with the effort to keep quiet. Skandik, a major crimes detective in a sheriff’s office, said nothing, but Wig knew he didn’t miss a trick.

Nibs grew quieter and quieter as time rolled on, leaving most of the talking to Wig. Eventually Biggs said, “I think we have enough now. I’ll let you know where our inquiries lead us.” He picked up the list and the flyer.

Which Wig took to mean he’d throw it in the back of the drawer and forget about it. Wig wasn’t stupid. He knew the only reason Biggs had hung around for so long was because Paul Owens was watching his every move.

Paul showed Biggs and PC Mayer to the door while Skandik cleared up the cups.

Wig looked at Nibs, alarmed to see his closed expression. “What do you think?”

“Nothing’s gonna happen. Nothing at all. They’re not interested in helping a couple of queers keep their business.”

Wig agreed but felt he ought to make the argument for Paul’s sake. “At least he listened to us, which is more than the others did.”

Nibs shrugged. “What difference does it make? We’re finished whether they catch the bastards or not. I’m going to bed.”

He got up and left the room before Wig could respond. Wig stared after him, angry and bewildered. Unsure whether to follow, Wig walked out into the restaurant to discover that the Owenses had cleaned the place from top to bottom. There was no sign of the mess that had been there an hour previous.

“Has Nibs gone to bed?” Skandik asked from behind him.

Wig looked over his shoulder. “I guess we’ll have a sleep-in today.”

“Why’s that? Don’t you have to open up in—” Skandik looked at his watch. “—four hours’ time?”

“What’s the point? We can’t serve anyone. We’ve got few plates and bowls, and even fewer customers. The restaurant is finished. The arseholes have won. I’m going to join Nibs and hide.”

Wig gave Skandik a tight smile and left the room, then climbed the stairs toward the small guest room he and Nibs were sharing while Paul and Skandik were with them. Wig wished he could climb into his big king bed, his and Nibs’s refuge against the world, but tonight he would have to manage with a small double. He hoped Nibs was asleep by the time he got to bed, because Wig didn’t have enough left in him to talk or comfort him, and he was angry that Nibs had walked away and left him alone. Closing his eyes couldn’t come soon enough.

W
IG
OPENED
his eyes, wondering where he was for a moment. Nibs was beside him, so he was in the right place, but something was wrong. He wasn’t in his bedroom, for starters, and the sun was far too bright for six in the morning.

He squinted at the clock and yelped. It was eight, not six, and he was late for opening up. Why the hell hadn’t his alarm gone off? Then he remembered. There was no restaurant. And he hadn’t bothered to set an alarm. Wig flopped back on the pillows and sighed. He lay back beside Nibs and stared up at the ceiling. It needed replastering and painting. Perhaps they’d have time to do that now, before they sold the place. Fuck it, the new owners could do it themselves. They’d be lucky to get half the value of the property now that they were being forced to sell up.

Nibs moaned and snuffled next to him, fidgeting until he’d buried his face between Wig’s arm and the sheet. Awkwardly, Wig stroked his short hair, knowing he wouldn’t stay there long, because he’d get too hot and unable to breathe.

The concept of sleeping in late was something he hadn’t been able to consider for so long now, Wig took a deep breath and tried to go back to sleep. He opened his eyes immediately. Aside from the whole break-in debacle, something had woken him up, and he wasn’t sure what it was.

Careful not to disturb Nibs, Wig slid out of bed and headed to the small bathroom. Despite the fact that he needed to investigate what was happening downstairs. Wig took the time to splash his face with water,
clean his teeth, and brush his hair. He couldn’t bear to be seen
unkempt.

Paul and Skandik must have been already awake, by the fact their bedroom door was open and the bed made. He could hear talking and the clink of crockery. He went downstairs and stepped into the restaurant to hear a sudden burst of laughter.

“At least someone is happy,” Wig muttered under his breath.

He wasn’t surprised to see the Owens family, this time complete with Liam, but he
was
astounded to see that apparently, judging from the tables, they were open and serving customers. At least half the tables were occupied, making it the busiest morning for months.

Liam was by the till, Paul and Colin were waiting on the tables, and through the open doors onto the deck, he could see Sam. He had no idea what Sam was doing and decided he didn’t want to know.

“What’s going on?” Wig asked, as calmly as he could manage under the circumstances. He aimed the question at Liam, knowing he’d be more likely to give a sensible answer.

Liam looked wan and pale, but he managed a smile. “Morning, Wig. Do you want a coffee?”

“I’d prefer a tea and an answer to my question.”

Paul handed him a cup. “Morning, Wig, keep your hair on.”

Wig scowled at him. “Ha bloody ha. Now answer my question.”

“We all pitched in to open up this morning,” Paul said hastily.

“But why?”

Liam shrugged. “You helped us, now we’re helping you. I don’t know how you manage to do this all day every day.”

“Nibs wanted the restaurant. I wanted—want—Nibs.” Wig sipped at his tea. He preferred Earl Grey, but this would do for now. “Who’s manning the kitchen?”

“Chrissie’s here until midmorning, then she’s got to get to the pub,” Paul said.

Chrissie was a fine cook; even Nibs grudgingly admitted she was better than him.

“Mattie’s in there and so is your dad. They’re having a whale of a time.”

“Where did you get the crockery from?” The tables were laid with a glaring mismatch of plates and cups.

“Begged, borrowed, and stole from everyone we knew. Plus everything you brought to the wedding.”

Wig had forgotten that some of the restaurant’s crockery had been at Rose’s house. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “It’s very kind of you,” he said unsteadily. Life had been so bad for so many months that an act of kindness from his friends had him blinking his eyes to hold back the tears. He looked around at the customers who were enjoying their breakfasts in the summer sunshine, unaware of the crisis that had occurred, and shook his head. “There are more people in here than have been in here for weeks. What the hell is Sam doing to push them across the doorstep?”

Liam snorted softly. “It’s Sam,” he said as if that was sufficient explanation.

It was, in a way. Sam Owens was a force of nature. People’s resistance crumbled before him like pine trees in a hurricane. You didn’t say
no
to Sam. The word did not enter his vocabulary.

“I need more tea,” Wig muttered and wandered over to where they served the hot drinks. Before he could help himself, Skandik hove into view.

“Morning, Wig. What can I get you?”

Skandik was huge, even by Nibs’s standards, and he made Wig, who was five foot eight if he stood on tiptoes, feel like a kid.

“A black Earl Grey, please.”

Asking for a drink in his own restaurant was peculiar, but no one seemed to be anxious for him to start work, so he accepted the tea from Skandik and sauntered out onto the decking.

It was a glorious day, even by Isle of Wight standards, which was pretty damn glorious in all weathers. From the minute Wig had stepped off the ferry for the first time, he had fallen in love with the place. He’d never thought that would change—until now.

Sunlight sparkled off the waves and, as it was a Sunday, kids already ran laughing and screaming along the beach, playing with balls and buckets and spades, and dodging people out for an early morning walk.

“God, I’m not asking for much, but help us stay here, please.”

Wig wasn’t religious. He didn’t even believe in an all-powerful being up there, and he certainly had no time for a church that had no time for him. But occasionally he sent up a prayer without any expectation it would be answered.

Sam bounded over to him. “Morning, Wig.”

Wig eyed him sourly. “Morning, Tigger.”

“It’s a great day, isn’t it?” Sam sucked in great lungfuls of air.

“If you say so.”

Everyone was taller than Wig. His partner, the entire Owens family with the possible exception of Rose, even that snotty-nosed kid who was banging a stick on the railings was taller than Wig. Maybe that was a slight exaggeration. There were times—like now—when standing next to someone twice his size really hacked him off. He clenched his hands around the mug, the heat burning his skin.

Sam touched Wig’s arm, drawing his attention. “I’m sorry life has been so shit lately. We should have paid more attention to what was going on.”

“It’s not like your life has been easy,” Wig conceded. “This is small potatoes compared to what’s happened to you.”

Since Liam’s sudden disappearance in Wisconsin, and Sam and Paul’s search for him only to discover Liam in the hospital after a hit and run, the couple had been trying to recover from the accident and the loss of earnings.

Wig looked away, suddenly embarrassed by his selfish prayer. Things were going down the crapper for him and Nibs, but at least they were healthy.

Sam shivered in the sunshine. “You can say that again. I’ll be glad to see the end of the year, and we’re only halfway through this one.”

“Amen, brother, amen.”

“Was this the wrong thing to do?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“Opening the restaurant this morning. You don’t seem pleased with the idea.”

Wig sucked in a deep breath. “I’m worn down by the harassment, Sam. Today is great, but then you go home, and something happens again. I’m touched by your help, and you’ve made such a success of this morning, but what happens tomorrow and the day after that? Whoever these people are, they want us out, and they don’t really care how they do it.”

“Oh, Wig, that sucks. You should have told us sooner.” Sam squeezed his arm.

“Yeah.”

“Still, you’re not going to let the bullies win, are you? Nibs never gives in to anyone.”

Wig chewed on his bottom lip, fighting the urge to scream at Sam. Could no one see the effect this was having on Nibs? The big man with a grouchy exterior and an inside as gooey as marshmallow. He was ready to cave under the stress, and no one could see it except Wig.

“What can we do to help?” Sam asked, his voice soft as if Wig was a skittish horse, ready to bolt.

Wig sighed. That was the million-dollar question. “Who knows? I think maybe our time here is over. I can’t take much more of this.”

“No. That’s not right. Sell up and retire if you want to, but being forced out is wrong.”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Wig said.

“Don’t be so bloody defeatist,” Paul said as he took Wig’s mug out of his hand and replaced it with a fresh one.

“I’m being practical,” Wig snapped. “You’re all going home. We have to stay here.”

Paul shook his head. “Skandik and I are going to stay for a few days. We’ve got holiday, and Skandik’s just as happy to stay here as go anywhere else.”

“Here?” Wig asked suspiciously.

Sam grinned at them. “Liam and I made the same decision this morning.”

“You’re supposed to be going for a honeymoon.”

“We hadn’t booked anywhere, and I’m happy to stay here. We can stay at the hotel or Rose’s, and you two can stay here. Sorted.”

“Do Nibs and I get any say in this?” Wig knew the Owens family of old. With the best of intentions, they had a tendency to run roughshod over everyone, and Sam and Paul were the worst. Rose was probably involved in the plans as well.

“None,” Sam said cheerfully.

“Nibs won’t like it.”

“What won’t I like?” Nibs asked, stepping onto the deck.

“You can tell him,” Sam said to his brother as he spied people in the distance. “I have customers to catch.”

“What’s he doing?” Wig asked.

“He’s rounding up customers.”

“Random strangers don’t like being hassled.” Wig watched the alarm on their faces as Sam bounded up to them. “People are funny like that.”

“They haven’t met Sam before. Have you ever said no to him?” Paul echoed Wig’s thoughts of moments before.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” Nibs said. “We’re finished now. One day won’t make a difference.”