The Easter Egg Hunt – XXIX

Since Ben and Joss Beckett took over The Fair Maid and Falcon, they have had to deal with ghosts, gangsters and well dodgy goings-on. Despite that they have their own family of twin daughters and dogs, and a fabulous ‘found family’ of friends.

I was a bit over optimistic when I spoke of finished business, but at least the hanging ends tied themselves off with no unseemly drama.

As August rolled into September, and the kids went back to school, we received a visitor. Danilo turned up just before lunchtime on a cloudy Tuesday in the company of a stocky guy with a big beard, a leather waistcoat, and a lot of tattoos. Danilo offered his best television smile and introduced Bartley Proudley.
“He is the newly elected baro rom of his family and wanted to come and build a bridge with you if you will.”
I looked at the set of Bartley’s chin, and the muscles that rippled under his tattoos, and wondered what ‘elected’ actually consisted of. I kept the thought to myself, though, and smiled as graciously as I could.
Ben inclined his head. “The baro rom of the Proudlys is welcome to our vardo. Though I would like to be assured that the woman of his household who chose to declare war on me and mine is no longer in a position to aggravate me.”
Bartley showed a set of very white teeth in a wide grin.
“You have my word. That one is now the wife of my brother and under the eye of my own wife.”
I understood the bleak implications of that and leaned into Ben’s warm strength. He gave me a quick squeeze and I made my escape to the kitchen where I donned an apron and helped out in the tapas kitchen. It wasn’t too long before Ben came to find me.
“It’s okay to come out now. Mister Proudly has departed. Danilo too. Although Danilo wasn’t best pleased to be leaving – I think the tapas was calling. But Proudly doesn’t eat in the vardo of gadjos.”
“Normally I hate to lose a sale but I’ll make an exception for that guy. I thought him misogynistic, nasty, and firmly stuck in the nineteenth century, so I bailed out before I lashed out. Sorry.”
Ben pulled me in for a hug. “No need to apologise. You did right. Mister creepy even complimented me on having a properly behaved woman. I accepted the compliment, before telling him, in my best berserker tones, that I was prepared to let bygones be bygones. This once. And only as long as there was no backsliding. I think Danilo enjoyed that bit, as he reminded Proudly that this family is under the protection of the Lovells, and the Smiths, who would take a dim view. Even Mister Inky didn’t fancy that and he gave me his word, backed by a rom vow.”
“So. Do we think we’ve seen the last of his shitty little family?”
Ben’s smile was that of a very happy predator. “We do. Especially when Finoula turned up and harried the retreat. It was beautiful to watch.”
That cheered me no end, as a true Romany clairvoyant putting the fear of god is an irresistible force.
“Is Finoula still here?”
“Yup. And Jed. I talked them into tapas with us in the private garden.”
“Do you need me here?”
Neil shook his head. “No. Were okay, though the extra salads will be a godsend. Bugger off the pair of you. I’ll send over tapas and wine.”
I stripped off my apron and threw it at him. He caught it in one big hand and pretended to mop his brow with it.

Fortunately the autumn weather turned cool and dampish, so trade tapered off from the absolute mania of a record-breaking summer and we had leisure to look about us and make such changes as we could to bulwark the business against further surges. By the middle of October our various protectors had returned to their day jobs, except Simeon, of course, who spent every hour he wasn’t working trying to persuade Morgan to marry him.
I worried that this was a stumbling block in their relationship, but another part of me thought it was a game they both enjoyed immensely. Ben laughed at me, and at their antics.
“They’re young,” he said, “but they know they are meant to be together. For now, it pleases Morgan to pretend she doesn’t know it, and it pleases Simeon to try and trick an admission of commitment out of her.”
I must have looked mulish because he kissed me fondly.
“Morgan has had a lot of shit in her life and she needs to enjoy just being Morgan before she makes an honest man of Simeon.”
“I see that. But does Simeon.”
“Yes. Very clearly. He understands and he loves her enough to let her have her fun.”
“And we know this because?”
“Because he talks to me about her.”
With which I had to be satisfied, until Morgan wanted to talk to me. We were in the office sorting Christmas menus and setting upper limits for party sizes. Etcetera. We finished and I stretched my aching fingers.
“In October I loathe Christmas. But when it comes around I rather love it. Even more so since we have Roz and Allie.”
She tidied her stack of papers and looked at me a bit wistfully.
“What is is, love? What’s put sad in your eyes?”
“It’s Simeon. He wants me to commit to him. To us.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“I do want to. But I’m a bit scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared I might love him too much. And I’m scared we’re too young.”
She looked at me like I was the Delphic oracle, which might have been scary if I stopped to think about it. So I didn’t stop.
“You’re nineteen aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“And Simeon is twenty-three?”
Another nod.
“So. When I agreed to marry Ben. I was twenty-one and he was twenty-five. I would have said yes before, but we were interrupted by a small misunderstanding over a predatory female who took flirting as an invitation, and who wanted anything that was mine.”
“How did you manage to get over that?”
“I waited for the scales to fall from his eyes. Which happened pretty quick. What took much longer was him forgiving himself enough to hope we could be together.”
Morgan looked at me. “But you’re never jealous even when Ben flirts outrageously.”
“No. I’m not. I know now that he doesn’t see anybody but me. Also I love him without restraint or restriction. In my book you’re never too young to grasp happiness and you can never love too much.”
She launched herself into my arms and wept a little weep.
“You don’t know how much you helped me. I can’t talk to Mum about this stuff because she’s going to worry if I do and I don’t want to spoil her happy pregnancy with my silly dithering.”
I gave her a little shake. “Debs is wise enough hot to worry about a bit of maidenly dithering, as is Simeon if I don’t miss my guess.”
We left it at that and got on with the work.
Much later, in the comfortable warmth of our bed, I talked to Ben about Morgan. He heard me out in silence before kissing me tenderly.
“I think that about covered it.”
“And I didn’t do wrong by mentioning our little bump in the road?”
“No. You were just explaining.”
I don’t remember what I was going to say next as he distracted me. Masterfully.

There will be more from Joss, Ben and their friends, courtesy of Jane Jago, next week, or you can catch up with their earlier adventures in Who Put Her In and Who Pulled Her Out.