Anne Douglas

by The Wardens Daughters

  ‘I shall not be going to the shop.’ Monnie was already fiddling with her door, but Torquil leaned across and opened it for her and she climbed out. From the gate, she called, ‘Goodnight, Torquil, and thank you again.’

  ‘See you Tuesday!’ he called back, and then the van went roaring away and after standing watching for a moment she turned and walked slowly up the drive.

  ‘Monnie, is that you?’ came her sister’s voice, as she opened the main door of the hostel and Lynette came rushing to meet her. ‘Oh, Monnie – amazing news! I’ve got the job! The letter came this afternoon.’

  ‘Lynette, congratulations – that’s terrific!’

  ‘It is, eh?’ But Lynette’s face was puzzled. ‘Dad,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘Monnie’s back!’

  ‘Already?’ asked Frank, coming out of his office, and kicking aside a pile of boots still waiting to be put away. ‘Well!’

  ‘You’re awful early, aren’t you?’ Lynette asked, fingering the still damp sleeve of Monnie’s coat. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Of course. We had a lovely time. Went to see those ancient towers – the brochs – then had tea in Glenelg.’

  ‘The brochs?’ Frank glanced at Lynette. ‘Torquil think you’re interested in ancient monuments, then?’

  ‘He says everyone has to see the towers.’

  ‘Not exactly romantic,’ Lynette commented.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, there was something very romantic about them. You should see them yourself.’

  ‘If you say so. But why are you back so early?’

  Monnie looked away. ‘Torquil had to go over to Kyle to see his brother. He’d arranged it earlier.’

  ‘The famous brother? Fancy.’ Lynette shrugged. ‘Shall we go and make something to eat, then? We’ve been having a pretty busy time, haven’t we, Dad? Quite a load of folk came booking in. I had to help again.’

  ‘I’m not really hungry – too much teacake – but I’ll give you a hand.’ Monnie, feeling she was appearing too subdued, smiled at her father. ‘Be ready soon, Dad.’

  ‘Fine. Glad you enjoyed your outing, Monnie.’

  Later, in their own kitchen, Lynette, sliding a large dish of macaroni cheese under the grill, asked, ‘Mind if I ask, but did you really enjoy it?’

  ‘My outing? Yes. Yes, I did.’

  ‘Just thought you seemed a bit down, when you first came in.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Bit of an anticlimax, was it, coming home so early?’

  Monnie sighed. ‘Suppose it was.’

  ‘Don’t blame you for being upset, when Torquil was only going to see his brother.’

  ‘It wasn’t seeing his brother that upset me, more he didn’t seem to mind. I mean, he thought it was all right to leave me early. Said he didn’t want to upset Dad by making me late.’

  ‘I suppose that might have been true, as it was your first time out together. Things could be different next time.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Monnie brightened. ‘Well, you may be right. Next time could be better.’

  ‘And you do want a next time, I take it?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Monnie’s tone was soft. ‘Yes, I do.

  For a long moment, the sisters were silent, busying themselves cutting up tomatoes, slicing bread for toast, until Lynette asked, ‘Things aren’t so bad, are they? After all, you’ve got your job, I’ve got mine, and you’re been out with Torquil. I reckon we’ve made a pretty good start to our new life, eh? Even if I do have to work with Mr Difficult.’

  ‘You’ll soon sort him out.’

  ‘Too right, he won’t know what’s hit him.’ Lynette shook her head. ‘Och, wish we had a glass of wine or something to celebrate, don’t you?’

  ‘We don’t need any wine to celebrate. Come on, let’s make our tea.’

  ‘The only people ever known to celebrate with macaroni cheese, eh?’

  As the sisters began to laugh, Frank came in and began to laugh himself, seeing his girls so happy. Things were working out, then, just as he’d hoped. Life in the Highlands – it had been a gamble, and he was no gambling man, but now, seemed he’d hit the jackpot.

  ‘Should be having a wee dram,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Whatever for?’ asked Monnie.

  ‘To celebrate.’

  ‘Just what I said,’ Lynette cried. ‘We should have been celebrating our new jobs, shouldn’t we?’

  ‘Not just new jobs.

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘You know, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course we do,’ Monnie declared. ‘You mean, being here, together.’

  ‘And being happy. You are happy, eh?’

  ‘Dad, I think you’ve asked us that before,’ Lynette told him lightly.

  ‘Well, is the answer still the same?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘More so,’ Monnie murmured. ‘If you see what I mean.’

  Frank gave a little sigh. ‘That’s nice to hear, then. Thank you, girls.’

  They were giving him quick hugs, when Lynette cried, ‘Help, the macaroni! Still under the grill! Quick, the oven gloves!’

  ‘Thought I could smell something,’ Frank said cheerfully.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Monnie told them, bringing the dish to the table. ‘Just caught on a bit.’

  ‘I like things caught on.’ Frank was in his place, knife and fork at the ready. ‘As a matter of fact, I like pretty well everything at the moment.’

  And the girls agreed.

  Twenty

  Lynette managed only a week into her new job at the Talisman before she crossed swords with Mr Allan.

  That might have been, she reflected afterwards, because she’d scarcely seen him after his polite welcome and had spent all her time being shown round by Mrs Atkinson and young Fionola MacLewis, Joanna Burnett having already departed. Quite pleasant that had been, for though there’d been a lot to learn, Mrs Atkinson had turned out to be a good teacher and Fionola much more efficient than Lynette had expected.

  ‘But how old is Fionola?’ Lynette had felt constrained to ask Mrs Atkinson in private, who had smiled and answered that she was nineteen.

  ‘Nineteen? I thought she might only be seventeen.’

  ‘No, no, she’d have to be older than that to take charge when you’re not here. Don’t forget you spell each other for evening duty and weekends.’

  ‘She’s a beautiful girl.’

  ‘She is, and that could have caused trouble if we’d had a lot of young men as guests, but luckily, most of our clientele are a little on the elderly side. This isn’t a hotel for the active, more for folk wanting a nice relaxed holiday.’

  So, those two young men the Foresters had met on their first bus trip to Conair weren’t the usual types for the Talisman, a fact which was certainly borne out by the guests Lynette saw in her first week at work. Retired, well to do, not too sprightly, but fit enough to sit in the lounge or conservatory, and enjoy excellent meals in the dining room. Maybe take short walks to the shore, or drives out to admire the scenery, but as different from the young folk at the hostel as it was possible to be.

  Ah well, no one could stay young for ever, but Lynette couldn’t help feeling a little oppressed from time to time, by the atmosphere of comfort and effortlessness that hung over the whole hotel. Apart from the reception desk, and behind the scenes, where the young staff worked flat out to provide all the lovely comfort.

  It soon became apparent to Lynette that the place she liked best in the hotel was the kitchen. Buzzing with vitality, everything zipping along to a certain goal and coming together with efficiency and confidence, it was exactly where she could feel at home. Just as the staff there were her sort of people. Young, friendly, hard working and full of fun, she guessed at once that they took their tone from the top and the top was a lanky young man with carroty hair and a good-natured, freckled face. Scott Crosbie was his name, Mrs Atkinson told her, when she introduced him.

  ‘And he comes from your neck of the
woods,’ she added, as Lynette and Scott shook hands. ‘Yes, Edinburgh.’

  ‘Edinburgh?’ Lynette’s eyes shone. ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Och, no’ the New Town,’ he answered with a laugh. ‘Wee flat in Dalry. How about you?’

  ‘Old Town tenement.’ She too had laughed. ‘We’re not New Town, either.’

  He’d grinned at that and then Mrs Atkinson had whisked her away, saying they’d lots more to see, but Lynette had known she’d be going back. Maybe to pretend she wanted to collect the day’s menus, really to soak up the atmosphere, smile at Scott and his three assistants – Hamish, Fergus and Brigid – and give herself a reminder that there still was a real world outside the comfort zone.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Monnie asked her at the end of the week. ‘Are you enjoying it?’

  ‘Sure. It’s a nice little number.’

  ‘Work no problem?’

  ‘None at all. Mrs A. says I’m a natural, whatever that means. Working the switchboard, being nice to the guests, or whatever, she seems to think I’m good at it, anyway. And Fionola’s sweet, and good at her job, which I was surprised about, though maybe I was just prejudiced because she’s so pretty.’

  ‘And how abut Mr Difficult?’

  ‘Never see him. In fact, he’s away this weekend at a managers’ conference, Mrs Atkinson will be standing in. She’s a bit sharp, but quite friendly, and very efficient.’

  ‘So, everything’s all right for you, then?’

  ‘For now.’ Lynette gave her sister a considering look. ‘And for you too, I take it?’

  ‘Me? I’m just working for Dad.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of work. I mean, seeing Torquil. You told me he’d asked you out again when he came on Tuesday.’

  Monnie eyes were very bright. ‘That’s right. But not for this Saturday. He has to go to Inverness for some part for the boat’s engine.’

  ‘At least he’s not going to see his brother. So, when did you say you were going out, then?’

  ‘Wednesday week. We’re going to Kyle for a meal. Torquil’s going to try to finish early.’

  ‘And you’ll be coming back late. That’s better than last time, eh?’

  ‘Look, I just wish you’d stop going on, Lynette. Are you taking over from Dad, or what?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Lynette smiled apologetically. ‘I don’t mean to act the bossy sister. It’s just that I want everything to be all right for you. You understand?’

  ‘I suppose I do.’ Monnie smiled back. ‘I’d probably be the same with you, if you were going out with someone new.’

  ‘Nothing like that to worry about on my horizon at the moment. Only Mr Allan, coming back on Monday.’ Lynette yawned and stretched. ‘But I’m certainly not worrying about him. Maybe we’ll get on better than I thought.’

  When Monday came, however, she changed her mind on that.

  Twenty-One

  Monday morning shone with such bright April sunshine, Lynette, taking out her dark suit again, decided to put it back.

  ‘Now, why should we all look like we’re going to a funeral?’ she asked Monnie, who was hastily dressing, ready to check on the hostellers at breakfast. ‘I mean, there’s Mrs Atkinson in black, Fiona in black, and Mr Allan, probably in black, too. Why don’t I bring a bit of spring into their lives, eh?’

  ‘And do what?’ asked Monnie, then stared as her sister took a familiar suit from the wardrobe. ‘Why, you’re never going to wear that red suit to work, are you? After all you said about being on the safe side?’

  Lynette, fondly holding the suit against herself, was smiling. ‘I told you, I want to bring a bit of spring into the hotel, a bit of colour. I bet it’ll cheer the old buffers up no end.’

  ‘Put it on quick, then, or you’ll be missing your bus.’

  ‘Wish I could drive and had a car,’ Lynette said with a sigh. ‘Or, even a bike. Maybe I’ll get a second-hand one when the summer comes. Put a wee card in Mrs MacNicol’s window.’

  For the present, she had to catch the old, lumbering bus, wearing a raincoat over her suit. She knew all the drivers now, Tim Maclean being one and on duty that day. He smiled and waved as he put her off at the hotel and she ran in through still cold air, even if the sun was shining.

  ‘Good morning, Lynette!’ called Mrs Atkinson, pausing on her way to her office. ‘You don’t mind my using your first name, now that you’re part of our family, so to speak?’

  ‘No, no, Mrs Atkinson,’ Lynette answered, noting that the other woman didn’t offer her own first name, which was known, in fact, to be Ailsa. ‘I prefer it.’

  ‘And you’re quite happy to be in charge of the desk now?’

  ‘Quite happy, thanks.’

  ‘That’s excellent. Please don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any help.’

  ‘Thank you, I won’t.’

  How well we’re getting on, thought Lynette, but as she slipped off her raincoat, did not miss the flash of surprise in Mrs Atkinson’s eyes as she took in the red suit. Surprise, was it, or disapproval? She made no comment, however, only nodded briefly as she moved away, leaving Lynette to speak to Fionola, who had just arrived at Reception.

  ‘Shan’t be a tick, I’m just going to hang my coat up.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Fionola smiled. ‘Lynette, I like your suit. What a lovely colour.’

  ‘Think so? Hope everyone agrees with you.’

  In the staff cloakroom, Lynette hung up her raincoat and combed her hair at the mirror, observing before she hurried back to Reception that she looked well, with a high colour and a sparkle to her eyes. Not as striking as Fionola, of course, but who was?

  ‘Is the boss in yet?’ Lynette asked, straightening the register, putting things in order as she liked.

  ‘Mr Allan? Oh, yes, I saw him going into his office.’

  With no one around at that moment, most of the guests being still at breakfast, Lynette, perching herself on a stool, studied her assistant.

  ‘Listen – haven’t asked you before – but is he really as tough as he seems?’

  Fionola’s lovely eyes widened. ‘Tough? No, he’s very nice. At least, he’s always been nice to me.’

  ‘Must be just me, then, that brings out the worst, eh?’

  ‘Why, you’ve hardly seen him, Lynette! When you get to know him, you’ll find out he’s OK.’

  ‘Hope you’re right.’

  Suddenly, the entrance doors opened, as Ken and Barty, the day porters, appeared with luggage, followed by three new guests making for Reception, just as the phone began to ring, and an elderly man limped from the lift, asking for his bill.

  Oh, joy, the day’s begun, thought Lynette, I think this is the way I’m going to like it, nice and busy.

  ‘If I can ask you to wait for a moment, sir, I shan’t keep you,’ she said to the elderly gentleman, picking up the phone and assuring the caller that she had confirmation for a Saturday booking. ‘Certainly, madam, I have the details right here—’

  ‘My bill is supposed to be ready,’ put in the elderly party. ‘Mr Rowlandson is my name.’

  ‘And it is ready, sir,’ Lynette told him, while Fionola booked in the new guests. ‘If you’d just like to check it through? And book you a taxi? Of course, sir. One moment . . .’

  Nice and busy, Lynette had said she liked it, but really that Monday morning was almost too hectic, and when a slight lull did come, she was glad to take time to stretch and walk up and down the corridor, after shooing Fionola away for a coffee break. It was then that she saw Mr Allan’s tall figure moving deliberately towards her, for all the world like some sort of policeman.

  Oh, Lord, what was he going to say? Hallo, Hallo, what have we here?

  All he said was, ‘Good morning, Miss Forester. Having a quiet moment?’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Allan. As a matter of fact, it’s been very busy until now. I’m just snatching a moment while Fionola’s at coffee.’

  ‘I see.’ For some moments, his eyes rested on her, taking
in the red suit as Mrs Atkinson had done, though with no flicker of reaction. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been able to speak to you before about your work here. Are you enjoying it? Finding it easy to cope?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Allan. I’m enjoying it very much. Haven’t found any problems so far.’

  ‘Good, good.’ He seemed to be hesitating, was even a little ill at ease. ‘I notice, Miss Forester, you have a change of outfit today from last week.’

  ‘Thought I’d provide a spot of colour.’

  ‘It is a colourful suit, certainly.’

  Guessing what was coming, Lynette felt irritation rising. ‘You don’t think it’s appropriate?’

  Again, he hesitated. ‘Perhaps I should just explain, here at the Talisman we have a staff dress code – everyone presenting a rather similar appearance, rather than being strikingly different.’

  ‘No one told me about a dress code.’

  ‘Perhaps it didn’t seem necessary. What you were wearing was exactly right.’

  ‘And now it’s exactly wrong?’ she flared up, turning scarlet. ‘Honestly, Mr Allan, I take exception to that!’

  ‘No, no, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with what you’ve chosen to wear. It’s most attractive, would be perfectly suitable for one of the smart London hotels, for instance, but we’re just a rather old-fashioned place with perhaps an older clientele—’

  ‘Who might just like to see a spot of colour. Please answer me this, Mr Allan, are you telling me not to wear my red suit again?’

  He slightly shook his head. ‘I’m just saying I’d prefer you to have the look of the rest of the staff who serve the public directly.’

  ‘No dress code for the porters, I take it?’

  The manager tightened his lips. ‘I think you understand me, Miss Forester.’

  ‘Perfectly.’ Lynette, breathing hard, stared at him with glittering eyes. ‘May I go for my coffee now? I see Fionola has returned.’

  ‘Certainly. I don’t wish to keep you.’

  Turning on his heel, Mr Allan left her, and Lynette, trying to contain her simmering anger which was in danger of boiling over, ran, not to the staff dining room, but the kitchen, where she cried, ‘Quick, you folks, give me a strong coffee, before I explode!’