by Lulu Taylor
‘Gentlemen, hello,’ Alan said nervously, as everyone sat down. He was looking very smart, at least by his standards, in a well-worn brown suit, mustard yellow shirt and green checked tie. Daisy privately thought that he looked better in his usual battered get up, but he’d obviously made an effort. ‘I hope the trip here wasn’t too dreadful. Please sit down.’
Daisy became aware that she was staring at the young director when he looked over at her, frowning, and said, ‘So, Alan, who is this?’
He jumped and looked at her as though he had no idea who she was, then his face cleared. ‘Oh yes, sorry – this is my assistant Daphne. She’s new here but an absolute godsend. She’s taking minutes today. Now, Daffy, this is John Montgomery, division managing director –’ Alan indicated the older man, who nodded at Daisy but couldn’t be bothered to speak to her ‘– and Christopher Cellan-Jones, who is deputy MD. A notch down, you might say, Christopher.’ Alan laughed a little, then added, ‘But I’m sure you’re on your way up!’
‘It’s Christophe, actually,’ the other man said lightly. ‘Not Christopher.’
‘Oh! Sorry. Christophe.’ Alan laughed again. ‘What happened, did your father spell it wrong on the birth certificate? Did the registrar spill his tea on the “r” by mistake?’
Daisy looked over at him imploringly. He was nervous and that was making him clumsy. If only he would shut up and stop trying to be funny. Alan caught her eye and stopped laughing at once, trying to turn it into a cough instead.
‘No. It’s Christophe, the French version of Christopher,’ the young man said. ‘And my surname is Welsh, pronounced Kethlan. Confusing, I know. Blame my parents for the ethnic mix.’ Then he smiled at Alan, and instantly became dazzlingly handsome. Daisy felt something inside her melt and her head whirled with a strange dizziness. She dropped her gaze to the table in case he saw in her eyes that she had just been so strongly affected by him. ‘But please, don’t worry about it,’ he went on, oblivious to the effect he’d had on her. ‘I’m used to being called Christopher. Shall we get on?’
‘Of course,’ Alan said, solemn and businesslike now. ‘Right, gentlemen. I’ll start by giving you an overview of how things have improved.’ He picked up the speech that Daphne had prepared for him and began to read it out. It outlined how the hotel had performed over the last six months and the efficiencies that had been made to reduce costs and overheads. Alan stuck to the script just as she’d told him to and, when he finished, cast a quick look at her as though asking for approval. Daisy gave him an encouraging smile and raised her eyebrows at a couple of neatly bound folders. ‘Oh, yes,’ Alan said quickly. ‘Here is a printed version along with the necessary figures and graphs.’ He handed them over to the two directors.
‘I see,’ John Montgomery said, taking his copy. ‘Well, Alan, I’m rather impressed by this.’ He shot a look at his deputy and added, ‘To be honest, we thought we were about to hear the familiar litany of problems compounded by the usual chaos, and I wasn’t really prepared to let things continue in that vein for much longer. But you seem to have halted the decline. How have you managed it?’
‘Gentlemen,’ Alan said importantly, ‘it’s been relatively simple. I’ve instigated some new systems such as an invoice … er … payment process that … er …’ He looked over at Daisy for help. ‘What was it, Daffy?’
‘A fairly straightforward cashiering system, some cuts in staffing numbers, longer lines of credit with suppliers, some renegotiations of terms,’ she prompted.
‘Oh, yes –’ Alan nodded ‘– what she said. Anyway, that’s helped the bottom line quite a bit – you’ll see some better results coming in the next few months. And we’ve worked on promotions as well as … er … what else did we do, Daffs?’
This is it. This is the moment. Daisy breathed in and then said in a calm but authoritative voice, ‘Alan, would you mind if I just outline for the directors a few of the improvements we’ve put in place?’
‘Oh.’ He looked startled. ‘N-n-no. Go ahead.’
‘Thank you.’ She rose smoothly to her feet and fixed the two men with a clear, candid gaze. ‘Gentlemen, for the last five months, we’ve been on a serious drive to streamline our systems and overhaul every part of the operation. This has seen significant improvement in our outgoings. But, as you’ll see from the figures, we do also need to improve visitor numbers.’ On cue, the overhead projector hummed smoothly into life, thanks to the plug extension she’d put by her foot and now pressed down to connect, and she brought the laptop on the table next to her into life with a movement of the mouse. Then, with clarity and focus and aided by her on-screen visuals, she outlined what the local competition was like and how the Excalibur could target more of the market.
‘This place looks old and feels tired. We’re up against the new ranges of budget hotels that have sophisticated systems of room bookings – offering cheap rates when rooms are empty, higher when there’s more demand – and have a strong internet presence and loyalty schemes. They also don’t look cheap. They’ve got a simple, clean, stylish feel that’s a world away from this place. Alan and I feel that we need to look hard at our promotion and marketing strategy, and invest in the look and feel of the hotel. To be honest, it’s only our location that’s keeping us going. We could be doing so much more.’
When she’d finished and sat down, there was a pause that carried the weight of approval from the directors, while Alan looked astonished.
John Montgomery nodded his head with quiet satisfaction. He tapped his pen on the table. ‘Well, Alan, I must say that is very impressive. A huge turnaround. Some excellent planning there, and good creative thinking. You’re really taking on your role as manager here. I was worried that this was beyond you. Well done.’
‘Oh, er … thank you,’ Alan said, nodding importantly. ‘Yes, I like to think that the Excalibur has turned a corner under my direction.’
Daisy stared over at her boss, hurt by his refusal to acknowledge her input, but Alan was studiously avoiding looking at her. Surely he’s going to say something! she thought indignantly.
‘Actually …’ A cool voice cut into her thoughts and she turned to see Christophe Cellan-Jones had spoken. He had fixed Alan with his intense brown stare. ‘Actually, Mr Armstrong, would you mind telling me when your assistant started?’
Alan glanced over at him, a little ruffled. ‘Certainly, certainly … let me see … Daphne’s been here four months now.’
‘Six,’ Daisy said in a quiet but clear voice.
‘Six, is it? Goodness, are you sure?’ Alan laughed and leaned back in his chair. ‘Time does go fast. She’s a good sort. Learns quickly. I called her Daffy. You know, like the duck – quack, quack!’
‘Then it’s rather a coincidence, isn’t it?’ Christophe continued. He looked over at Daisy, something like kindness glimmering in his eyes. ‘Previously your situation was pretty hopeless and your position among our managers about as low as it could be … and then Miss Fraser starts work and, hey presto, everything starts improving in ways you’ve never dreamed of implementing before.’
Alan began to turn dark red. ‘Well … she has helped, that can’t be denied.’
‘Helped?’ Christophe stared at him unblinkingly.
‘Yes,’ spluttered Alan. ‘Credit where it’s due. She’s been a great help.’
‘Then I assume you’ll be rewarding her – say, with some sort of bonus?’
‘Of course. I was just about to say that when you interrupted.’
‘Hmm.’ A glimmer of amusement twitched at the corners of Christophe’s lips. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He looked over at Daisy. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling back, as though the two of them were part of a special conspiracy.
I don’t even know him. But he saw through Alan. He knew it was me. A delicious tingle ran over her skin and she wanted to shiver.
John Montgomery pushed back his chair and made to stand up. ‘Well, we’ll go through the figures and projections in more
detail this afternoon, but I think we should break for lunch and a tour.’
‘Excellent, excellent,’ Alan said, also standing up. ‘We’ll go through to the restaurant. Daffy’s arranged a very nice menu so the chef can really display his skills. I think you’ll like it.’
As they all headed out of the office, Christophe lingered for a moment so that he was next to Daisy. ‘You’ve worked a miracle here,’ he said quietly as they walked into the corridor. ‘I’m very impressed. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the credit.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘To be fair, Alan and I worked on this together.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Alan could never have done this in a million years. He was going to be sacked today. You’ve just saved his bacon in a big way. He owes you, believe me.’
31
COCO SAT ON her suitcase to make it shut over her pile of stuff. She hadn’t thought she owned all that much, but it turned out to be quite a lot. It was mostly clothes and shoes, along with a ton of make-up and hair products: irons, tongs, curlers, straighteners, and all the rest. She still had the teddy her mother had given for Christmas ages ago, and a few photos and ornaments, but nothing else to show for her twenty-one years.
That’s all gonna change. I’m gonna hit the big time, I just know it. I’m on my way, properly.
She managed to close the case, and fastened it shut. Then she stood up and looked around at the empty room. It was smaller somehow now that it was bare: a couple of metres square, with a window that looked over the back of a Chinese restaurant, and full of the constant reek of fat, sizzling meat and soy sauce.
As she stared at it, she took a vow.
I fuckin’ swear that I ain’t never coming back here. This is it. I’m not coming back. I’d rather die trying than come back to this place.
Then she hauled her cases out to where the minicab was waiting, and left.
Her next stop was at the club. She left the driver outside waiting for her while she went in. The place always looked grim during the day, before the lights had been turned down. In the daylight, you could see how shitty all the furniture was, how scuffed the floor and how grimy and cheap all the fittings. Without pounding music, make-up and spotlights, girls in their underwear just looked oddly underdressed, skinny and rather cold.
‘Hiya, Sam,’ Coco sang out as she walked in. She was wearing tight jeans, a plunging top that showed off her cleavage, sunglasses and very high heels. I’m a glamorous woman, and I’m on the up, she thought, pleased with the reflection she glimpsed in the mirror.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he growled, emerging from the door behind the bar. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’ve come in for my last pay packet, innit?’ she said, putting her white leather handbag down on the bar. ‘You got it?’
‘I ought to give you fuckin’ nothing, you ungrateful bitch!’ Sam glowered at her.
‘Ah, come on. You’ve had my best years, mate! I’ve been nothing but reliable, and brought you in plenty of dough, too. Give us a break and be happy for us, yeah? And hurry up, I’ve got a cab waiting.’
Sam harrumphed and went back into the darkness of the office. Roberto appeared from the stage, shrieking with delight when he saw Coco standing at the counter.
‘Babe! You come in to say goodbye?’
‘Yep.’ She took off her sunglasses and smiled at him. ‘I’m moving up West today.’
‘Ah, honey!’ Roberto came up and enveloped her in a hug. ‘You take care, you hear? Shit, I’m gonna miss you!’
‘Yeah, me too,’ she said, hugging him back, sad at the thought that she might not see him again. After all, she’d known him for a long time now. He’d been a friend to her.
‘But you done real good.’ Roberto stood back, grinning, his eyes admiring. ‘I might have known that you’d pull something like this out of the bag.’ He shook his head. ‘I should have been furious with you when you locked Haley in the bog and took her spot, but you were fuckin’ amazing – and I obviously wasn’t the only one who thought so, eh? Well done, babe. You enjoy it, that’s all.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So …’ He took her hand. ‘When are you going?’
‘Right now, soon as Sam gets my dosh.’
‘Now?’ Roberto looked surprised. ‘Aren’t you gonna stay and say goodbye to Blanche? She’ll be in soon. And what about your mum? You been to see her?’
Coco tensed. ‘Nah,’ she said briefly. She wasn’t in the business of goodbyes. She’d never have come back here at all if she hadn’t had some wages to collect. When something was over, it was over. She travelled alone, that was how it was.
‘Oh. OK. Well, stay in touch, yeah? Let me know how it goes. Come back and see us.’
‘Yeah.’ She grinned at him. ‘When I make it big, we’ll do something, yeah? Remember the dream!’
Between them they’d planned a fantasy future, where they owned a string of dance studios. Sometimes Coco was a famous dancer, sometimes a mega-successful businesswoman with Roberto helping to run her empire, but the basic premise of the fantasy was the same: money, security and some fun.
‘You betcha, babe!’ Roberto said, laughing, as Sam came back through with a brown envelope for her.
She was itching to be gone. It felt as though her future was waiting for her just beyond the club door, the taxi with its engine still running eager to take her there. She took the proffered envelope and said, ‘Thanks. See ya later.’ Then she put on her sunglasses and began to stride for the door, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.
‘Bye!’ Roberto called after her as she headed towards the sunlight outside.
She didn’t look back but raised one hand in farewell, then she was gone.
32
SITTING IN ALAN’S office, Daisy scrolled down the website until she found the link. Yes, there it was. The Dangerfield Foundation. She clicked on it and was taken to a page. Instantly she felt sick. There was a photograph of her father staring out at her. It had been airbrushed to the point of ridiculousness – Daddy’s skin was almost wrinkle-free, which seemed absurd in a man of his age. And he was definitely thinner too, the jowls hanging loosely like a turkey gizzard around his neck.
What the hell is this Dangerfield Foundation? she wondered. What’s it all about?
She read on. The Foundation must still be in its early stages: there were just two short paragraphs that did not give away much, but from what she could glean, it had been set up by Daddy to investigate aspects of health, youth and vitality.
‘We are living longer,’ proclaimed the text, ‘and we want to live WELL. That means we must eliminate the physical problems that can occur as we progress through our lives. The human body has a built-in obsolescence that we must begin to tackle if we are to enjoy our later years. The Dangerfield Foundation is dedicated to scientific progress in this area.’
This sounds kind of weird, she thought. Daddy was never interested in this stuff before. It was money, money and more money with him.
The phone on the desk buzzed, making her jump. She picked it up. Muriel was calling her.
‘There’s a visitor here for you and Alan, from Head Office. Shall I show him in?’
‘Oh. Yes, please, Muriel.’
Daisy barely had time to close the website down, erase the browsing history and stand up before Muriel was showing in the visitor. Daisy’s heart skipped a beat. It was the very handsome Christophe Cellan-Jones, currently smiling at her in the friendliest manner she’d yet seen from him. It was only a week since the directors’ last visit. What did he want?
‘Hello,’ he said as he came in. He looked impressive in a well-cut suit and a dark blue silk tie with a fat Windsor knot. ‘Sorry to surprise you.’
Daisy got to her feet. ‘I’m afraid Alan’s not here,’ she said, feeling her cheeks get warmer. Get a grip, Daisy, she told herself. This is one of the directors you’re supposed to be trying to impress.
‘I know.’ Christophe smiled again
. ‘I wanted to talk to you actually. I’ve come to take you out to lunch. Unless you have some other plans …?’
‘No … no, of course not,’ Daisy said, puzzled. ‘I know somewhere nearby we can go. I’ll just let Muriel know I’m going out.’
They headed out to a small café across the road and settled themselves at a table. When they’d ordered, Christophe, who looked rather out of place there in his smart suit, said, ‘Right. I expect you’re wondering why I’m here.’
‘I was a bit,’ Daisy admitted. ‘I just hope it’s not bad news.’ She looked at him anxiously. ‘I thought the presentation went well.’
‘It did, yes. And as I told you at the time, you saved Alan’s job for him.’
‘Yes. I’m pleased about that. I know he’s a muddler but he’s a decent man and tries his best. He just needs a bit of direction.’
Christophe nodded, his dark brown eyes serious. He had a delicious olive complexion and the intensity in his eyes was distracting Daisy every time he looked at her. She sternly told herself to concentrate. During the hotel tour last week, Christophe had paid no attention to her at all, and had said nothing more to her directly either. The last thing she’d been expecting was a personal visit.
He leaned back and looked thoughtful. ‘It’s not ideal when the manager needs a bit of direction. Especially when it’s one of the maids who’s doing it.’
‘Oh.’ Daisy flushed again, her heart sinking. It was going to be bad news after all.
‘After I left last week, I decided to do a little research. You see, Alan doesn’t officially have an assistant, so it was rather strange to find you there. Then I discovered that you started as a chambermaid over six months ago, and now here you are, virtually running the place. I found your emailed CV on the system.’ He leaned towards her again, his expression quizzical. ‘And you’ve got a diploma from St Prudence’s in International Hotel Management.’
‘Ah.’ Daisy knew she was blushing even harder. ‘Well … you see—’
