Another Glass of Champagne

Book 2: The Another Cup Series

by Jenny Kane

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Amy and husband Paul are expecting their first baby – they want Amy’s best friend Jack to be godfather, but having left London to ‘find himself’ he hasn’t been heard from in months. When Jack suddenly turns up, things seem to fit nicely into place – but his motives for returning to Richmond aren’t all altruistic. He has a plan – one which could put community hub Pickwicks Coffee Shop out of business, and potentially ruin a number of old friendships. Meanwhile, Kit has problems of her own: just when her career as an author has started to take off, she finds herself unable to write – and there’s a deadline looming…not to mention two children to see through their difficult teenage years.

Release date: June 9, 2016

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 280

Sample

The beep of the low battery warning on Kit’s laptop snapped her out of the daze she had been lost in for the last half an hour.

Grateful that the sound had gone unnoticed by Peggy, who was zipping around the tables of Pickwicks Coffee Shop serving customers, Kit shut down her computer. She didn’t bother pressing the ‘save’ button first, because she hadn’t typed a single word worth saving.

Kit checked her watch. There were about twenty minutes until Amy was due to arrive for a chat and a cuppa. It would be good to see her friend; Kit just hoped Amy wouldn’t want to talk about her pregnancy too much. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t face baby talk today. It certainly wasn’t because Amy went on and on about her impending motherhood. In fact, now she thought about it, Amy talked about it surprisingly infrequently, especially considering she was coming to parenthood so late in life.

Digging her diary from her copious shoulder bag, Kit flicked through its pages. The deadline for the completion of the novel she was supposed to be working on was drawing ever closer. It was already impossibly close when she factored in that she was four weeks behind her schedule.

Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered as she wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee. She was never behind schedule. Peggy, Pickwicks’ owner and her good friend, often joked that she was as punctual as a full stop. But recently, her mind seemed to drift off into a world of its own without the slightest provocation, and she didn’t seem to have the power to stop it.

It wasn’t that her ever-fertile imagination had stopped working, or even that her mind was constantly throwing ideas for future books at her – it had always had done that. This was a new, far more disconcerting feeling of a disconnection from the words that always lived in her head.

If she was honest, this lack of control over her writing frightened the life out of her. Although it hadn’t been that many years since Kit had won her first proper publishing deal – she had since been lucky enough to have a short string of novels published – she sometimes felt life had been very much easier when she’d been a struggling writer of erotica. All she’d had to do back then was produce a couple of short stories a month for an American website. The ideas had never stopped, and if ever she got stuck over a particular story request, Peggy was always ready with a saucy suggestion.

Those days were well and truly gone, and suddenly Kit missed their simplicity.

Only once before had she felt this off-kilter. That had been when Amy first arrived in Richmond, innocently tipping Kit’s relationship with Jack – their mutual friend and mutual ex-boyfriend – into total confusion. Not least because Jack, now happily gay, had never told Kit when they’d been together that he’d once loved another girl. It hadn’t mattered that their own doomed relationship had been years before – Kit had found her always low self-confidence rocked to the extent where she began to doubt everything and everyone in her life.

Still, Kit told herself as she sat a little straighter in her wooden chair, that’s all history now. The situation between herself, Amy, and Jack had felt insurmountable at the time, and yet it had worked out for the best in the end. And so will this. It’s only writer’s block, for goodness’ sake, it happens to every writer at some point! You’re going to be fine.

‘My goodness, woman, you look like the proverbial beached whale!’

Amy grinned at the teasing smile on her former boss’s face. ‘Thanks, Peggy. I know I can rely on you to be ready with a huge compliment!’

‘Huge is the word, and you are more than welcome!’ Taking advantage of a lull in custom, Peggy followed Amy to where Kit was working, and pulled out a chair for her friend before sitting down herself. ‘So how long have you got to go now?’

‘Only two months, which is nothing like as long as I need to get ready, or even get my head around what's happening to me! I have far too much to do before the baby comes, although we’ve almost finished decorating the nursery at last. I haven’t even managed to find anyone to cover my job at Home Hunters yet.’

Amy thanked Megan, Pickwicks’ chief waitress, as she delivered a tray of drinks and half a huge carrot cake for the three friends, before asking Kit, ‘I don’t suppose that lovely husband of yours fancies coming back to the business while I’m on maternity leave?’

Kit shook her head. ‘Not a hope. It did cross my mind after Phil gave up running Home Hunters that he might have withdrawal symptoms and want to go back, but he took to running the bookshop like a duck to water. I can’t see him ever going back. And he wouldn’t have the time, to be honest. Did I tell you that they’re so busy now, he and Rob have employed a guy to help them with their new educational courses at Kew?’

Amy beamed. ‘No, you didn’t. That’s fantastic! I bet Jack would be thrilled for them if he was here.’ Suddenly pensive, she picked up her cup, ‘I don’t suppose either of you have heard from Jack?’

Peggy shook her head as Kit said, ‘Not a word. I thought he’d keep in touch with you though, Amy, even if he went quiet on the rest of us.’

‘Paul says he’ll turn up eventually, but I’d rather like to be able to tell Jack about this bundle,’ Amy patted her stomach, ‘before he or she stops being just a bump in my jumper. I might ask him if he wants to be godfather.’

Kit nodded. ‘Jack is godfather to the twins, and although he’s a dreadful role model on the morals front, both Thomas and Helena have always found him great fun, and say that having a gay godfather is, and I quote, “Well cool”.’

Peggy had never understood the loyalty Jack’s two ex-girlfriends felt for him considering how appallingly he’d treated them both. She certainly wouldn’t want anyone who’d stood her up on her wedding day – albeit only in the role of usher – to be a godparent to her child, but she simply asked, ‘How long has he been AWOL for?’

Amy frowned. ‘It must be more or less four years since I last saw him, and about twelve months since I last spoke to him. It’s not so much being AWOL as missing in action. How about you, Kit?’

Peggy and Amy exchanged glances as they saw Kit staring blankly into her soup bowl-sized cup of black coffee.

‘Kit? You with us?’

‘What? Oh, sorry, guys. I didn’t get much sleep last night, I phased out for a minute. What was the question?’

Peggy had noticed how distracted Kit had been lately, although instinct told her that she shouldn’t ask her friend about it yet. ‘When did you last hear from Jack, honey?’

‘I’m not sure, must be at least a year. That is very Jack though, isn’t it. I bet he’d get a kick out of the fact that we’re all back here wondering where he is and if he’s OK.’

Amy, who’d had similar thoughts herself, grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised – although I’d like to think that at his age he’s finally grown out of playing those games.’

Kit and Peggy laughed in unison. ‘No chance!’

‘I assume he’s either still travelling around the world – or working in someone’s garden, using that horticultural qualification he got after Paul and I got married.’

‘Sounds possible, and of course,’ Kit let her inner storyteller go in a way she wished she could on paper, ‘if Jack has spent all the inheritance his grandfather left him, he could have got a job in the grounds of some posh house, had a torrid affair with the heir to the manor, and be in the middle of a society scandal.’

Amy smiled as Peggy divided the carrot cake into mountainous slices. ‘That sounds entirely possible, and I sort of hope it’s true! The boyfriend bit, I mean, rather than the scandal bit.’

Pulling her plate closer, Kit shrugged. ‘I’m not sure he’d risk another relationship, not after Toby hurt him like that. I suspect he’s reverted to full-on sleeping around mode.’ Realising she had sounded rather curt, she added, ‘I’d like to be wrong though. If he settled down a bit, he might come home.’

Megan, laden with a tray of used cups and saucers, walked into Pickwicks’ kitchen just in time to see Scott pull open the dishwasher, ready to put in a pile of baking tins. ‘Room for a few more bits and pieces?’

Peggy’s husband winked at her. ‘For you, anything!’

‘Thanks, Scott.’ Megan began to stack the china between the trays.

Leaning his tall frame back against the sink, Scott stretched out his right leg which, ever since he’d been involved in a road accident several years earlier, had a tendency to stiffen up as soon as he stood still. ‘How busy is it out there?’

Megan frowned; Scott suddenly looked unusually serious. ‘Empty customer-wise. It’s just Amy, Kit, and Peggy chatting at the moment. Everything alright?’

‘Wait there a second.’

As Scott disappeared, a sense of foreboding crept over Megan. Did Peggy and Scott have bad news? Were they going to cut her hours? Guilt played around in the back of her mind. Had they worked out that she was considering hunting for a new job? They couldn’t have, she hadn’t told anyone. But if she and Nick were ever going to move in together, let alone save up for a home of their own, then she was going to have to start earning more than she did as a waitress...

Feeling more irrationally disloyal with every tick of the wall clock, Megan was relieved when Scott and Peggy came into the kitchen.

‘Kit’s keeping an eye on the shop for us.’ Peggy smiled at her waitress. ‘No need to look so worried, honey, we aren’t about to sack you or anything. We’ve come to a decision, and we wanted you to be in the know, as it could affect you directly.’

‘Affect me?’ Megan looked from Scott to Peggy. ‘How?’

Scott dug his wife in the ribs. ‘Don’t freak the girl out by being so mysterious, woman. Explain properly.’

‘Sorry, Megan, but we don’t want anyone else knowing, not yet anyway. This is just between the three of us, OK? Top secret.’

‘Um, yes. Right.’

‘The thing is ... we’re doing well at Pickwicks, and have been for the last few years, and a lot of that is thanks to you and your hard work. We’ve been mulling over the idea of opening another branch for a while now, and we’ve decided to go for it. So, assuming we can find suitable premises, we’d like you to manage the new place. What do you think?’

Staring out of the train window, Jack exhaled a long, slow breath. Was this how Amy had felt when she had first come to Richmond after her years of self-imposed exile in Scotland? Sort of excited, but absolutely terrified at the same time?

Jack wondered if, once he’d worked up the courage to go and see her, Amy would notice the parallels between their situations. A smile crossed his face. However she reacted, she would forgive him for not being in touch over the past few years. Amy always forgave him. For everything.

In his mind, he’d left Richmond for a good reason. Although he knew Amy accepted he’d needed to leave, he was less sure she understood why – which was why he’d decided to break off even phone and email contact with her. It was also why he hadn’t told any of his friends where he was; just to see if that helped.

It wasn’t that Jack wasn’t happy for Amy and Paul to be living the fairytale, but the fact that they were together, while he was still alone, was sometimes hard to take – especially when he knew Amy’s love could have been his if only he’d been prepared to risk it all those years ago. This nagging thought – one he accepted was utterly ridiculous, as he knew that he’d never have been able to ignore his sexuality, even for Amy – made him a rather less kind human being than he would have liked. He knew that until he could get past feeling he was missing out on something that all his friends took for granted, they were better off without him and the chip on his shoulder.

Amy would understand, he was sure. Kit, on the other hand, might not be as understanding...

Jack’s smile disappeared. Years ago, back when they were dating, Kit would have forgiven him anything – but since Amy had come back into his life, and both women had become good friends in their own right, Kit had become much stronger. Jack had learnt that Kit had always hated how he could make her doubt her strength and resilience. These days she was so much more equipped to deal with him and his bullshit – and he knew it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be coming back. After all, he knew he was as emotionally messed-up as ever – but he had to go somewhere, and anyway, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d been getting homesick.

Plus he’d had to get away from Kent...

Opening his eyes, Jack sighed as the train’s sudden slowing announced that they were arriving at St Pancras. Here he was again. Back in London, fleeing from yet another cock-up in his love life, and with nowhere to call home. He wished he hadn’t so rashly sold his place in Mortlake – he’d got far less than it was worth, too, in his haste to make a clean break.

There were several Tube connections to Richmond Jack could have chosen to see his old friends straight away, but as he stood in the bustling station, he found himself unable to move a step further.

It wasn’t like him to be assailed by doubt, but this time it was different. Whatever he did, he always managed to upset people. He never meant to; usually he never even saw his offences coming. On this occasion however, he knew that if he was going to go ahead with his latest plan and really make it work, he was going to cause trouble for some of his friends.

And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure it was the right thing to do.

Heading into the first coffee shop he came to in the station’s sizable shopping corridor, Jack ordered a gigantic latte and much-needed Danish, and forced himself to think sensibly.

He had known that his days as assistant chef at Kennedy’s Bistro were numbered, but over the last few days the tension between him and Gareth, the head chef and owner-manager, had moved far beyond the usual levels of simmering dislike and bad language found in any professional kitchen, and had become unpleasantly personal.

They should never have spent the night together. Angrily, Jack cut his Danish into four pieces, taking his annoyance at his own stupidity out on the soft, sticky pastry.

He hadn’t seen it coming, though. One evening, three weeks ago, after a particularly tough shift in the kitchen when everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, the angry banter between and Jack and his boss had taken a step into physical contact, with Gareth slapping him around the face.

They’d been the only two people left in the kitchen, and Jack’s retaliation, grabbing Gareth by the collar of his shirt to tell him in no uncertain terms exactly what he thought of him, had led to them tripping. Before he’d known what was happening, Gareth had been knocked backwards, Jack had fallen on top of him, and they were exchanging hard, angry kisses.

Still shocked by his actions, and astounded that Gareth hadn’t sacked him on the spot but had joined in with the heady episode – which had ended up with them spending a very ill-advised night together – Jack sighed into his glass mug.

The next morning, Gareth had suggested they make their partnership more of a permanent thing. Horrified, Jack had rejected Gareth’s offer of a relationship with no tact whatsoever, and his boss had reverted to his normal state of barely controlled hatred, further fuelled by his hurt pride. Jack had recognised there and then he’d have to leave, and the sooner the better.

Knowing that Gareth would never give him a good reference, Jack had realised he’d have to buy his own place if he wanted to stay working as a chef. As soon as the idea of buying a restaurant had come into his head, he’d known it was precisely the right thing for him to do. He’d loved owning and running the Reading Nature bookshop in Kew. Well, he had until Toby had come along, made Jack fall in love with him, and then screwed him over ... Shaking his head to dispel the image of his ex, who’d run off with another, far richer, man after they’d been together for nearly three years, Jack swallowed hard. At least he knew his old shop was in good hands: his friend Rob, and Kit’s husband Phil, who now owned Reading Nature between them, were making a real go of it.

Jack missed his old friends far more than he’d imagined he would. Over the past few days, he’d regretted cutting himself off from them so completely, even though it had felt like the only thing to do at the time. So, after two days of researching restaurants for sale in London, Jack had made another impulsive decision – but he was determined that this one would last. This was something he would stick with for the rest of his life.

When he’d arrived at work yesterday to tell Gareth that he was giving in his month’s notice, Jack had walked in to the kitchen to overhear the chef bad-mouthing him to one of the waiting staff about something he hadn’t actually done. With one look at Gareth, Jack quit there and then. He turned on his heel, returned to his rented bungalow, and phoned the estate agent responsible for the restaurant he was interested in.

Taking a gulp of his latte, Jack watched the throng of afternoon travellers. He couldn’t help but speculate about where they were all going, and if any of them had managed to mess up their lives as often as he had.

This time though, this time, he was going to get it right.

Knocking back the rest of his coffee and pastry, Jack got up and started talking to himself under his breath. ‘First things first. I will head to the estate agent’s office, then I’ll grab the Tube to Hounslow and book into my hotel, and then tomorrow I’ll go to Richmond and face reality. Tomorrow I will decide which friend to say sorry to first.’

Hope and relief vied for top billing in Megan’s head as she cut a path through her fellow Underground travellers to meet her boyfriend, Nick.

Megan and Nick had been an item ever since they’d met at a charity auction held at Pickwicks. Scott and Peggy had been raising money for the Royal Free Hospital, as the hospital’s Spinal Ward had done so much for Scott after his accident that he and Peggy had wanted to thank them. Megan had been in charge of liaising with the ward administrator – Nick.

For a while now, Megan had secretly been hoping he’d ask her to live with him. Now he had, though, the fact London was a ridiculously expensive place to live had stolen some of their joy. The need for Megan to earn a higher wage was becoming increasingly urgent if they were ever going to afford the rent on a decent-sized place for two, rather than continuing to live in different communal houses.

Although the thought of moving in with Nick was wonderful, Megan had been plagued by thoughts of disloyalty to Peggy and Scott – how could she leave Pickwicks? She loved the work, the customers, and the friends she worked with. Now, perhaps, she could have the best of both worlds: working for Peggy and Scott, but with more responsibility and higher wages. She hadn’t accepted their offer yet, saying she’d need to talk to Nick first, but she couldn’t imagine saying no. She felt as if a weight was being lifted from her shoulders.

‘Hey, you!’ Nick kissed Megan on the top of her head as she flew into his arms the second he walked out of the hospital reception. ‘You look happy.’

‘I am! You will never guess what Peggy and Scott are planning.’

Brimming with excitement, Megan told Nick all about their offer to make her manager of ‘Pickwicks 2’.

‘I honestly can’t believe that they want me to run the new café! I’ve always fancied having a go at working on something for myself.’

‘Really? You never said. You’re a great artist, why don’t you try and make a go of that on your own?’

‘Thanks, babe, but it isn’t easy to start up a business in London finance-wise. That’s why I didn’t mention it before – I’d far rather we used our money to move in together. Anyway, this new café idea could be the perfect solution all round. Maybe Peggy would even let me put a few of my pictures on the café walls to sell?’

Keeping his girlfriend close as they weaved their way through the crowds thronging the city streets, Nick gave her one of his huge grins. ‘That’s brilliant! It’ll certainly help us save up for a deposit. Would the wages be higher than you’re currently on?’

‘That was the impression I got, although I didn’t like to ask. I mean, I haven’t said I’ll do it yet. I wanted to tell you first.’

‘How long until this goes ahead? I don’t want to rain on your parade or anything, but it could be a while before this all happens. Do they have any premises in mind?’

Megan felt herself deflate a little. ‘Um, not yet. But surely they wouldn’t have told me if they weren’t definitely going to do it?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to put a downer on things. I just want us to move in together sooner rather than later.’

Reaching up on her tiptoes, Megan kissed her boyfriend on the lips. ‘I know; it’s OK. I do too. How about I explain our situation to Peggy properly? I haven’t told anyone we’re house-hunting, I didn’t want to jinx it. I’ll tell Peggy and Scott I’ll take the job if they have somewhere in mind to open in the next three months, but if they can’t find an appropriate place for new premises soon, I will have to look for work elsewhere.’

Even as she said it, Megan felt bad. ‘You don’t think that sounds too pushy and ungrateful, do you?’

Desperate to make up for the time she’d wasted at Pickwicks, Kit went straight to her study when she got home, determined to write at least five hundred words before Phil came back from work.

Getting comfortable in her leather desk chair and booting her computer into life, she watched the document, with the words Chapter Five written on the next new page, open. Kit placed her fingers on the keyboard.

And nothing happened.

She’d heard many authors talk about writer’s block, but had been rather dismissive of it, believing it was merely a mood that could be walked off, or a blip that could be solved by taking a quick break. Now she knew different. And although the syndrome certainly manifested itself in different ways for different people, Kit now appreciated precisely how frustrating and debilitating it could be. She could visualise the words in her brain – she could almost touch them – but for some reason they resolutely refused to come out of her fingers, through the keyboard, and onto the screen.

Her fourth novel was due to her publisher in only three months’ time, and although it was completely plotted out in her head, and she knew exactly what was going to happen, she just couldn’t write it down.

‘Damn!’ Kit swore at the screen, which was still empty but for the chapter heading, and flicked back to chapter four to re-read the end in the hope it would kick start her brain. She had gone over that paragraph so many times in the past week that she could recite it blindfold.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

Leaning back in her seat, Kit closed her eyes and spoke sternly to herself. ‘Come on, what is the matter?’ Employing some of the breathing exercises she’d picked up at the one and only yoga class Peggy had managed to drag her to, she tried to slow her pulse. It seemed to be permanently racing these days, as though she was always anxious – which of course she was – but she wasn’t really sure why. Something had to be behind her word block.

Continuing to talk to the room in general, she tried to rationalise her thoughts. ‘OK, is it Phil spending so much time at the shop that’s getting you down?’

Although Phil had worked long hours at Home Hunters, since he’d taken over the Reading Nature bookshop with Rob it had ruled his life during the weeks and most weekends since. But he was so happy and passionate about what he was doing. Kit knew that she didn’t begrudge Phil a minute of his time at work.

‘No, he’s happy, so I’m happy.’ She mentally crossed marital disharmony off her list. ‘So, is it Jack’s absence?’

Although Kit had missed her best friend like mad when he’d first disappeared to go and travel the world, she knew she hadn’t missed all his drama. Anyway, she’d have had less time to disappear off for random coffee stops with him these days – and when there was time, she had more friends than ever to have coffee with. Now she considered it she realised, with some surprise, that it had been a while before she’d even noticed Jack’s calls and emails had stopped.

‘Not Jack, then. Not this time!’ She rolled her eyes at her past irrational behaviour concerning her long-ago ex. ‘So what is it? Come on, Kit. Concentrate!’

She addressed a notion that she knew had passed through her head on more than one occasion. ‘Am I worried that this novel won’t sell as many copies as the last one?’

Even as she asked herself the question, she started to laugh. ‘Of course I’m worried about that! I always am. I was worried about the last one, and the one before, and definitely the first one. That sort of worry is normal and healthy. It’s a trademark of being a writer!’

Crossing another issue off her list, Kit murm. . .