Prue looked at me and raised the palm of her hand. She was grinning. Hope unfurled in my chest.
Until she started laughing. Tears ran down her bony cheeks.
‘Christ, Sarah. What do you think this place is? The Ritz? Stick to what you know best – running the housekeeping team and chasing out late risers.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Best Travel is a tightly run ship but not the Titanic.’
Neck burning, I stood up. Prue reminded me of Dad. It was her way or no way at all. That frustration, inside me, that had been growing for weeks rumbled like a dormant volcano considering waking up. I pressed my lips together but couldn’t stop myself turning at the door.
‘What now?’ she asked.
I should have left without saying a word.
I should have swallowed my wrath.
Instead I went back over to her.
‘Some might say your lack of vision is narrow-minded, Prue,’ I said, in a measured tone. ‘It could cost you the business. These are competitive times.’
An hour later, still shaking, I met Amy outside the underground station we’d agreed on. She’d managed to get an early shift too. I smiled and nodded in all the right places as she reluctantly fitted on skimpy clothes chosen by me. Blocking out Prue’s reaction, I somehow got through the afternoon, eating cake and laughing over a sun cream that smelt like spoiled milk. With relief, I put the key in our front door, went into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa.
Amy collapsed next to me and groaned as she eyed up our bags. ‘I’m already regretting buying that bikini.’ She linked her arm through mine.
‘But the pineapples on it are so cute,’ I said. Playfully she punched my arm. I caught her hand and held it tight. ‘Thanks, Amy. I know shopping isn’t really your thing – like this whole luxury break. You’re the best sister ever. And four weeks is long enough for me to convert you. By the time we get back you’ll be longing to book your next pedicure and facial.’
‘What’s the point of pedicures in England? No one’s going to see your feet with the weather we’ve been having. And I’ve always washed my face with soap and water. I can’t imagine a fancy facial really does any more good than that. But… but I’m looking forward to being proved wrong,’ she added quickly. ‘I must remember to pay the final amount. It’s due in a couple of days – as you keep reminding me.’
‘I just can’t wait for this break,’ I said and my voice wavered. I meant every word one hundred times over after what had happened with Prue a few hours ago. I wanted Amy to hug me tight. I wanted to open up and reveal how much I’d grown to detest working at Best Travel.
I’d forgotten what it looked like, to turn white with anger. Prue’s complexion soon brought back the worst memories of Dad. She’d slammed down her mug and said I should be grateful. Then she laughed at me for using the word vision. Sniggered and said I’d watched too many episodes of The Apprentice.
If only I could confide in Amy but I’d spent too many years protecting my little sister, to stop now. ‘The accommodation you’ve booked sounds just like the kind of place I’d love to run one day.’ I closed my eyes, picturing the designer executive suits I’d wear, to look the part of operations manager.
‘What… this break will remind you of the nine ’til five?’
‘Well, I do work in a hotel,’ I said and shot her a humorous glance. ‘Just imagine the clientele you could attract at that sort of place. I’d offer butlers and personal masseuses and waitressing staff on the beach. This holiday is going to give me a fantastic inside view of high-end hospitality. Don’t get me wrong, I… I love my assistant manager position at Best Travel, the job is great… but you know I’ve been researching working at top-notch hotels. This trip is going to provide me with brilliant insight for interviews. I shall take a notebook and write down everything we experience, from start to finish.’
She gave me a sideways glance. ‘This holiday is supposed to be a getaway – a getaway from the usual routine.’
‘And it will be.’
‘No, it won’t. By the sounds of it you’re going to spend every hour thinking about the hotel business – namely work.’
‘But I’ll be experiencing hospitality from the other side of the fence – that’s completely new. This is the perfect opportunity to make up for my lack of experience of actually working in a luxury setting. I think I’ll write a personal statement, based on this trip, to attach to my CV, explaining what I’ve learnt from living for a month as a five-star guest.’
Amy raised an eyebrow and gave an exasperated sigh.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She glanced away. ‘I’ve put the oven on for those pizzas we bought.’
‘I’ll chop up some peppers and mushrooms for the top. We can kid ourselves it’s healthy, then.’
Half an hour later we both sat on the sofa again, in our pyjamas, eating pizza and drinking squash. The day’s cloudy sky flirted with dusk. I didn’t mind. Whilst I loved eating ice cream and favoured my summer wardrobe, the best season was winter and evenings holed up in the flat. We’d drink hot chocolate and watch Netflix in our dressing gowns with a plateful of biscuits whilst diplomatic Nelly would stretch herself across both our laps.
Amy finished her last mouthful, crusts and all. It had been a busy day – although the calorie hit didn’t perk her up. Her mood had been more subdued than usual since we got back.
‘Good morning at work?’ I asked.
Amy’s lips upturned. ‘The best. You should have seen this owner’s face when she came to pick up her dog, Brutus – he’s a feisty Chihuahua…’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘He’s been so ill after eating a large bar of chocolate. He almost didn’t make it, but turned a corner after a night on an intravenous drip. Mrs Smith couldn’t stop crying when he swiped her with his paw like he always used to.’ Amy picked up some strands of melted cheese from her plate. ‘She’s a really interesting woman and works for a company that makes jewellery out of recycled household objects such as knitting needles, cutlery and vinyl records. I’m going to buy something small out of what’s left of my winnings. I think it’s fantastic, the difference businesses like that are trying to make.’ Amy stuffed the gooey splodge of cheese into her mouth and then looked at me, embarrassed.
‘I’d better take that plate off you before you lick the pattern off it,’ I said and grinned as she pretended to hide it.
‘Do you remember when you got back from guide camp, pizza was the first meal you craved?’ she said. ‘You declared you could never face eating another marshmallow or barbecued sausage again. I was so jealous. Roughing it was – and still is – my idea of heaven.’
‘Yes, I had fun on that trip.’
‘Did you? Honestly? Ten days in the outdoors, away from your bubble baths and neatly ironed clothes?’ Amy stared.
‘We slept outside, under the stars one night. I’ve never forgotten how dark the sky is, away from city lights. So pretty.’ I leant back into the cushions. ‘It was great, not having to bath every night and keep my hair tidy. Building dens. Learning about orienteering. The sense of freedom was brilliant.’
Amy gave me a curious look.
‘But you wouldn’t want to go on that camp now, would you?’
I shrugged. ‘Grown-up life can become complacent. I need to be more adventurous. That’s why it’s time for me to really go for a new job. Not that I’m desperate to leave Best Travel. It’s not awful,’ I said and forced a laugh. ‘I’m just ambitious, that’s all…’ I picked up our plates and hurried into the kitchen before Amy could ask any more questions. I fed Nelly her evening snack and relished the lingering smell of cheese, tomato and oregano. When I returned to the living room, Amy was sitting at the table in front of her laptop. I headed over and she snapped it shut.
‘Holiday secrets,’ she said and beamed.
I smiled and went into my bedroom to unpack my new clothes. When I came back Amy was still in front of her screen.
‘I’ve just paid the full amount. There’s
no room for second thoughts now.’
‘Good! Although there’s no worry on that score – why wouldn’t I want to go?’
‘No reason. I… I just hope I’ve done the right thing; chosen the best holiday.’
She bit a fingernail. A habit from childhood. She didn’t do it often now.
‘How could you not have?’ I said and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Like I said earlier – you’re older now… it’s time I took some adventures. I’ll have fun whatever this exotic stay brings.’
She caught my eye, thought for a moment and gave a thumbs-up.
‘And you’ve put so much thought into next month. It’s not as if you’ve made a spontaneous, last-minute booking.’
Amy’s cheeks reddened and she grinned. Looking more like her usual cheerful self, she stood up and gave me a hug.
Acknowledgements
Firstly I’d like to thank tattoo artist Adèle Hudson. The tattoo I had done, on my wrist, in 2018, represented a big turning point in my life, after difficult years, and reminds me daily of where I used to be and where I am now. Thanks so much, Adèle, for your fantastic artistry and friendly, caring manner. And yes, you, Immy and Beki were right, I should have got it done bigger!
I wanted to write a story strongly featuring tattoos as, even though they are mainstream these days, there is still a prejudice out there about the supposed type of person who gets inked. I love tattoos, I love hearing the stories behind them and marvel at the talent of the people who create the designs and bring them to life.
Huge thanks to my wonderful editor, Hannah Smith – for her hard work, efficient manner and sense of humour. I love working with Aria Fiction and must also mention talented Vicky Joss in marketing. Hannah, Vicky, the whole team – you are all superstars for bringing your authors’ stories to the world with such professionalism and fun, during the challenging years of 2020/2021.
I must thank my agent Clare Wallace from The Darley Anderson Agency. We speak a couple of times most weeks and Clare is a constant in what can be an up and down career. Thanks for steering me away from some of the wackier ideas, Clare, and for so neatly balancing my desire to follow my muse with commercial considerations. You’re a professional rock and one that is set with gems and never ceases to sparkle.
I’m so grateful to all the bloggers who support my stories. Thanks to all those people who take part in my blog tours and publication blitzes, to those who take the time to write reviews or help promote my latest stories. The way you give up your time to do so blows me away, especially during current times. Thanks to Rachel Gilbey for her amazing blogging services.
Martin, Immy and Jay, thanks for being there and for being you. Words cannot convey how grateful I am for how you’ve been there for me, over the years.
And lastly but certainly not least, readers thank you so much for choosing my stories; for writing reviews or getting in touch with me to say how much you’ve enjoyed a novel. You are the reason I start the next project as soon as I’ve written The End. I don’t write for myself, I write to share experience and connect with people, in what can often feel like a disconnected world.
If you enjoyed Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage I’d be enormously grateful for a review on Amazon, it only needs to be a few words long.
And I’d love to hear from you, so if you feel like reaching out you can find me at the places listed below.
Take care and stay safe.
Sam X
About the Author
SAMANTHA TONGE lives in Manchester UK with her husband and children. She studied German and French at university and has worked abroad, including a stint at Disneyland Paris. She has travelled widely.
When not writing she passes her days cycling, baking and drinking coffee. Samantha has sold many dozens of short stories to women's magazines.
She is represented by the Darley Anderson Literary Agency. In 2013, she landed a publishing deal for romantic comedy fiction with HQ Digital at HarperCollins. In 2015 her summer novel, Game of Scones, hit #5 in the UK Kindle chart and won the Love Stories Awards Best Romantic eBook category. In 2018 Forgive Me Not, heralded a new direction into darker women's fiction with publisher Canelo and in 2020 her novel Knowing You won the RNA's Jackie Collins Romantic Thriller Award.
https://twitter.com/SamTongeWriter
https://www.facebook.com/SamanthaTongeAuthor
samanthatonge.co.uk
Instagram: @samanthatongeauthor
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Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage Page 26
