Seeing Stars by Christina Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

and—’
    ‘What it takes in your case madam, is a flaming business what’s been set up for a couple of generations handed to you three
     on a flaming silver plate along with a bucketful of inherited money,’ Mrs Jupp muttered as the Motions filed away. ‘Hard work
     my eye!’
    Timmy frowned as the Motions pushed two-abreast through The Weasel and Bucket’s door. ‘What was all that about? Not the spat
     with Mrs Jupp, that’s ongoing. Their change of heart over the food, I mean. Not that I’m complaining of course, but I wonder
     what Perpetua said to change old Con’s mind?’
    ‘No idea,’ Zillah blew strands of hair away from her sweating face as she heaved at the Pegasus Pale pump. ‘But whatever it
     was it seems to have caught on …’
    As the Pegasus Pale foamed merrily over the top of the glasses, Timmy and Zillah watched as at least a dozen customers, gathering
     up their drinks and snackettes, followed the Motions and headed for the beer garden.

    Mrs Jupp’s nose wrinkled like an inquisitive kitten’s as she paid for her two pints. ‘I’ll just go and find out, shall I?
     I quite fancy having me lunch in the fresh air. I’ll have one of your pasties, Timmy, if you don’t mind. Zil can bring it
     out when she fetches the sarnies for the flaming miserable buggers.’
    ‘Yes, milady,’ Zillah muttered as Mrs Jupp clattered out of the door.
    Timmy paused in the kitchen doorway. ‘When you’ve got a minute, Zil …’
    ‘Sometime next year, then,’ Zillah hissed as she attacked the next order of three pints of Andromeda, a half of Hearty Hercules
     and a bitter lemon with a dash of Worcester sauce.
    In fact it was about ten minutes before all the customers had been served, by which time Timmy was just putting the final
     prettying touches to the lunches arrayed across the kitchen table.
    The Weasel and Bucket’s spotless kitchen was the only part of the pub that had been dragged into the twenty-first century.
     Timmy was very proud of his granite and stainless steel and multitudinous gadgets, not to mention his lunchtime snacks and
     rather more adventurous evening menu. Not that the Fiddlestickers had ever really got to grips with blanched leeks, sweated
     onions, sun-dried tomatoes, balsamic vinegar or lemon-drizzled sea bass, being steak and kidney pie and chips people to a
     man, but vis-itors from Hazy Hassocks and Bagley-cum-Russet, or even Winterbrook, certainly appreciated them.
    Timmy looked at Zillah with some concern. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? If you’re feeling off-colour you know you can go home.
     I can manage.’
    ‘I told you I’m fine,’ Zillah slid the plates of sandwiches up her left arm and took Mrs Jupp’s pasty in the other hand. ‘It
     was just a simple mistake. It’s so damn hot and you know what Billy’s like – can’t keep his eyes or his hands off the merchandise.’

    ‘Hmmm,’ Timmy snorted. ‘Not that I can blame him – you look good enough to eat.’
    ‘Oh, come on! At my age I’d be far too tough and gristly for him,’ Zillah smiled gently. ‘Or anyone else for that matter.
     I’m way past my best-before date.’
    ‘You haven’t even reached it yet. You’re the funniest, kindest, most beautiful woman in the world and why some man hasn’t
     snapped you up I have no idea. Well –’ he paused in slicing a lump of buffalo mozzarella ‘– apart from the fact that your
     heart clearly belongs elsewhere, of course.’
    Zillah smiled at him. If only he knew.
    Timmy was such a nice man. He’d make her Mrs Pluckrose tomorrow, she knew that. He’d give her a wonderful life. Shame there
     was no spark whatsoever. Shame that he was spot on about her heart.
    ‘Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?’ He looked at her in concern. ‘Is that a rash on your arms?’
    Smiling, Zillah shook her head. Big Ida’s ministrations in removing her from the spandex had left large swathes of her skin
     looking and feeling like sunburn. She