Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor

by Faith Bleasdale

  ‘But that’s so not fair,’ Pippa argued.

  ‘Why not?’ Freddie asked.

  ‘Because I really like her,’ Pippa said weakly.

  ‘You really liked your husband and look where that got you,’ Freddie pointed out.

  ‘Fred, that’s unnecessary,’ Gus said.

  ‘Sorry,’ Freddie mumbled.

  ‘Anyway, I didn’t like him that much.’

  Everyone laughed.

  Once again, Gemma marvelled at their relationship. They bickered, yes, but they were so close, and they loved each other. They were all so different but they supported each other. And Gemma was reminded, starkly, that she was an outsider. Literally, as she couldn’t pull herself away from the door.

  ‘So we’re agreed then,’ Harriet said.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Pippa huffed.

  ‘Look, Pip, I hope she works out, I really do, and I’m glad you two get on so well, I’m just saying that perhaps if we get her to do a presentation for us, then we’ll have a clearer idea about her proposals for Meadowbrook and if she even has any. I’m not doing this to be horrible, but it is business at the end of the day.’ Harriet sounded kinder.

  ‘We are paying her a decent salary, after all,’ Gus concurred.

  Gemma liked him a little bit less.

  ‘Yes, and if we’re ever going to open this hotel, we need to get plans underway,’ Freddie stated. ‘Sooner rather than later.’

  Gemma balked – it wasn’t as if he seemed to do any work, after all.

  ‘Well, I suppose asking her to present her ideas isn’t too bad. After all, I am confident she has loads of them,’ Pippa conceded. ‘But let me tell her. You guys – well not you, Gus – but you two will probably scare her off if you do it.’

  Gemma scurried away before she got caught.

  Her heart pounded as she shut the door. She had known she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. But then she had to – she had no choice. They were going to ask her to present her ideas. She didn’t have any, well she did, but she didn’t have anything like a clear plan yet. She’d have to get one done and quickly.

  She propped herself up on the bed, the bed that might not be hers for much longer, and sipped her cold tea. Then she pulled her books out from under the bed and opened one entitled A Practical Guide to Opening a Hotel, and began to read.

  Chapter 9

  ‘Ow, Fred, you kicked me,’ Pippa shouted.

  Freddie glared from across the table. Gemma let herself glance, briefly, at him. She had a good idea of what was coming but, of course, she kept quiet. They were having breakfast, and Gemma couldn’t shake the conversations she’d overheard yesterday. This always happened to her, didn’t it? No one thought she was ever good enough. Gemma tried to breathe – drowning in self-pity doesn’t do anyone any good, she heard her nan’s voice saying.

  ‘Sorry,’ Freddie mumbled, ‘it was an accident.’

  ‘Gemma, the thing is that Harry and the others, well me too, of course, but not me as much as the others—’

  ‘Pip, spit it out,’ Freddie interrupted.

  ‘Sorry.’ Poor Pippa looked both uncomfortable and distraught. ‘The thing is that well, of course, you have your month’s trial, which I didn’t want, but anyway, we were wondering if you’d be able to give us a presentation at the end of it, so we can all sort of see where we are with the hotel planning so far.’ Pippa looked down, unable to meet Gemma’s gaze.

  For selfish reasons, Gemma might not be thrilled about it, but of course they were perfectly within their rights, actually sensible, to do this. She just needed to pull the presentation off in order to keep her job. And at the moment, she was still pretty unsure if she could.

  ‘Of course, I was going to do that anyway,’ Gemma fibbed. ‘At the moment, I have so many ideas that they all need putting in some kind of order, which was my next step, so no problem.’ She smiled broadly. ‘But also, Pippa, I’ve made a list of five of the nearest small hotels in Somerset, and I thought we could visit them all – research purposes. I want to show you what’s already out there. Mostly so we make sure we do something different, stand out.

  ‘And, Freddie, we need to have a proper chat about the bar you’re planning. I have already started looking into the licences and legalities, but it would be good if we could start talking through the details.’ She felt her leg shaking under the table, but she hoped she sounded professional.

  ‘Of course,’ Freddie replied, surprise lacing his voice.

  ‘Great.’ Gemma smiled. ‘So, Pippa, how about today for the hotel visits? No time like the present.’

  ‘Oh, I’d love that,’ Pippa squealed in delight. ‘And we get to spend the day together!’ She really needed to take “boss” lessons from Harriet.

  ‘And I’ll start putting down my bar ideas today as well,’ Freddie said. ‘Then we can have a meeting.’ He seemed to have a found little bit of respect in his voice too, as he gave her one of his gorgeous smiles, which almost made her melt.

  But, it seemed as if she had dodged a bullet. For now anyway.

  Gemma felt relaxed as they visited the last hotel on her list; it had been a really good day. The idea had come to her when she read a chapter in her book about hotel identity. One of the many problems she faced with the Meadowbrook Hotel was that the family didn’t share the same vision. But, she reasoned, Pippa was the driving force, so if Gemma and Pippa could come up with a model together, then that would be a huge step forwards.

  The first hotel, The Swan, was popular with golfers. Situated very near to a major golf course, the main building was Georgian, a bit like Meadowbrook; however, it had been built on and added to through the years to make it bigger, so it looked a bit mismatched. Inside was smart, but what soon became apparent as they sat in the bar and had a coffee was that the clientele were older, mainly middle-aged, and mainly wearing golf attire.

  The next hotel, Somers House, was part of a swanky London chain, and was small and boutiquey. It was so painfully trendy and modern inside that Gemma thought they might actually be in London. It was very strange, obviously aimed at Londoners who wanted to get out of London but not actually get out of London. And pay exorbitant amounts for it. And the people staying there were young, too cool for their own good, all paying more attention to their screens than to anyone else. The art on the wall was unfathomable, and the prices were eye-watering, even for a cup of coffee, which came served in something resembling a tiny bucket rather than a cup. She could see that this might appeal to Freddie, but she didn’t voice that particular thought.

  The next two were more like guesthouses, trying to masquerade as boutique hotels. They were nice, certainly, but there was nothing unique about them, and they didn’t hold a candle to Meadowbrook with their loud patterned carpets and oversized furniture.

  The final hotel was the one closest, in distance, to Meadowbrook. The Darnley billed itself as “an exclusive, luxury, sophisticated yet cosy home from home”. It seemed a big shout.

  As Pippa parked in the car park, she looked at Gemma. ‘I have a feeling that I’m going to like this one best,’ she said.

  The Darnley was in the middle of a small town high street, the front entrance opened to the road, and the car park was around the back. It was a townhouse, really, and quite pretty, but of course, being on a busy high street, again Gemma was relieved to find there would again be no comparison to their hotel.

  ‘It’s bigger than Meadowbrook will be, more rooms I mean; although it doesn’t have much in the way of grounds, and the impression I got from the website is it’s a little bit pretentious,’ Gemma replied.

  ‘But I like it so far,’ Pippa said as they got out of the car and stared at the ivy-covered building.

  Gemma nodded. She and Pippa had worked well together today. They had both chatted throughout viewing each hotel, and Pippa had pretty much managed to keep on topic; although they did veer off into Mark territory in the golf hotel – it was one of his favourite courses. But apart from that
she had been impressively focused. Maybe Pippa was almost as worried about Gemma getting fired as Gemma was herself.

  They mounted the steps up to the tall building and found themselves in the reception area, where a number of sofas were scattered and a modern, dark wooden desk ran along one side of the entrance hall. A tall, fairly good-looking man glanced up and smiled warmly at them.

  ‘Hi, we were wondering if we could get a coffee,’ Gemma asked. Although she and Pippa had drunk so much coffee already, they would soon start bouncing off the hotel walls.

  ‘You’re not saying here?’ the man asked, who on closer inspection had a name badge on – Edward Farquhar.

  He was in his early forties, Gemma presumed, well spoken, wearing a dark navy suit and tie. His formal attire matched the hotel.

  ‘Well no, we were just in the village and popped in for a drink.’ Pippa smiled.

  ‘Well, you are most welcome at The Darnley,’ Edward said charmingly. ‘But I recognise you – aren’t you Pippa Singer?’

  ‘Yes, I am. Have we met?’ Pippa asked, eyes crinkled in question.

  ‘No, I saw your picture in the local paper to do with your animal rescue.’ He was suddenly charm personified as he smiled at Pippa as if he were going to devour her.

  ‘Our sanctuary,’ Pippa said.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ His eyes seemed to light up. ‘I’m Edward. I own this hotel, and I would be delighted if you would join me for that coffee,’ he said. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Gemma Matthews,’ Gemma mumbled, already feeling like an unwanted guest.

  Edward picked up a phone, ordered coffee to be served in the residents’ lounge and then gestured to them to follow him.

  He led them through to a room similar in size to the Meadowbrook drawing room, although it had far more furniture crowded in. The carpet was deep and cream, it was almost scary to walk on it, and there were clusters of tables with small sofas set around them.

  Pippa admired the room, which Gemma thought was too full. The windows faced the front of the building and looked out onto the village road where shoppers passed by. The coffee arrived on a silver tray, in a silver pot with bone china cups. Gemma’s head was whirring. What she was trying to do was not only ensure that Meadowbrook was different to what was on offer in the area, but also come up with its unique selling point and a clear strategy of who their target market was. So far, every hotel she’d visited had given her plenty of ideas as to what Meadowbrook shouldn’t be, rather than what it should be.

  ‘So,’ Edward said once coffees had been poured, ‘are you living at Meadowbrook?’

  ‘Yes,’ Pippa said, unusually quiet.

  Gemma snuck a glance, and she seemed to have become a little pink in the cheeks.

  ‘Ah, yes, your father was a fine man,’ Edward gushed.

  ‘Did you know him?’ Pippa asked, her eyes lighting up.

  ‘Well, no, not exactly, but I knew of him and admired him greatly. I’ve seen the house, and Parker’s Hollow is a lovely village. But the house is magnificent. Who exactly lives there?’

  ‘Well, funny you should ask that,’ Pippa started, ‘we’re opening a hotel.’

  Gemma noticed the smile freeze on Edward’s face for a moment. Gemma was hoping that that piece of information wouldn’t be made public yet, but it was too late. She was cross with herself for not telling Pippa to keep it to herself.

  ‘Really? A hotel?’ His eyes filled with suspicion.

  ‘Well, yes, perhaps.’ Gemma took over, trying to contain the conversation. ‘You see, it really depends on a lot of things. But I don’t want you to think that we’re here checking out the competition.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Pippa sounded horrified, as if she’d just realised how that sounded. ‘No, we’re here to try to make sure that our ideas for Meadowbrook don’t tread on the toes of any other local hotels,’ she explained.

  ‘So I don’t have to throw you in our dungeon for industrial espionage?’ Edward arched an eyebrow.

  ‘You have a dungeon?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘No, but we do have a very dusty wine cellar.’ He laughed, as did Pippa.

  She put her hand on his arm, in what seemed like a flirtatious gesture. ‘Oh, honestly, trust me, our hotel won’t be anything like this. It’s really lovely here though.’

  ‘It’s been in our family for years, a bit like Meadowbrook, I guess, but it only became a hotel twenty years ago with my parents,’ Edward explained. ‘I took over five years ago when they decided to retire to the South of France.’

  ‘How lovely. And how are you finding it?’ Pippa asked.

  Gemma felt invisible once again, as Pippa and Edward seemed engrossed in each other. But she didn’t mind – it gave her time to take in the details.

  ‘Oh! Wonderful. I wanted to put my own stamp on it, so I revamped the restaurant, and we’re getting quite a reputation for our food now,’ he said.

  ‘Well that’s fantastic,’ Pippa replied.

  ‘You know, if you ever want any advice or help, just call me.’

  ‘Thank you. Sorry, I should have explained that Gemma’s our hotel consultant,’ Pippa said.

  Gemma groaned inwardly as the spotlight turned to her.

  ‘Oh, well you could probably teach me a thing or two,’ Edward said, eyeing her with suspicion. ‘But I won’t pick your brains now, not when you’re working for the lovely Pippa.’

  Goodness, he was definitely on a charm offensive, Gemma thought as Pippa seemed to preen at his words.

  ‘We ought to go, Edward. Lovely to meet you and thank you for the coffee,’ Gemma stated after a few more compliments were thrown around.

  Edward stood.

  ‘Lovely to meet you too, and, Pippa?’ She nodded. ‘Take my card; if you call me, perhaps we could have dinner? I’ll even let you pick my brains,’ he joshed.

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  He held on to Pippa’s hand a second too long as he placed the card into her palm. Gemma smiled to herself; it had almost been a constructive day, and it looked as if Pippa had got herself a date out of it. Edward wouldn’t be her cup of tea, far too posh, confident and a bit too charming, but Pippa seemed quite taken with him, as she raved about him the whole drive home.

  Her happiness was short-lived. She and Pippa were still giggling as they walked through the door at Meadowbrook and headed for the kitchen.

  ‘Please, no more coffee,’ Gemma said.

  ‘No, but I thought a glass of wine might be nice.’ Pippa sounded hopeful.

  ‘Lovely.’

  For once, Gemma actually did fancy a glass of wine. Perhaps Meadowbrook was turning her into a lush; although she still couldn’t handle more than a few glasses, so she was still a fair few bottles away from both Freddie’s league or his approval.

  They burst into the kitchen and stopped short. Harriet was sitting at the kitchen table and she looked furious. Gemma automatically panicked that she was about to be fired; she almost cowered in the doorway.

  ‘Harry, what’s up?’ Pippa asked.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘Oh, visiting hotels. We’ve had a great afternoon, actually. Very constructive.’

  ‘Right, well glad someone did. Bloody Connor,’ she fumed. Gemma began to breathe again. ‘I can’t stand it anymore,’ Harriet shouted.

  ‘Wine, definitely.’ Pippa appeared unruffled as she went to get a bottle out of the wine fridge, grabbed three glasses and poured.

  ‘Should I leave you?’ Gemma asked uncertainly.

  ‘Yes,’ Harriet said.

  ‘No,’ Pippa said at the same time.

  Gemma looked anxiously between them.

  ‘Oh stay, for goodness’ sake,’ Harry said, draining her glass in a way Freddie would be proud of.

  Gemma wasn’t sure it was the warmest invitation, but she stayed put.

  ‘Why are men so annoying?’ she whined as she grabbed the bottle and refilled her glass.

  ‘What’s he done now?’ Pippa ask
ed in a way that suggested that this wasn’t a one-off.

  ‘He’s just so bloody messy. We had all that work done, knocking the two cottages together, and everything was shiny and new. Don’t get me wrong, the house is lovely, but I feel like I’m constantly tidying up after him, or tripping over his mess. And then I sound like a nagging wife, which makes me hate myself. I’m not supposed to nag or act like a wife. Why is it so hard?’ Harriet took another big gulp of wine.

  ‘Harry, I keep telling you, it’s because you haven’t lived with a man before, and Connor is good in so many other ways; after all, he always brings you coffee in bed in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, he does do that.’

  ‘And he clearly loves you so much. We all see the way he looks at you, right, Gemma?’

  ‘What, oh yes, he really does. And the other day when he was showing me the cats’ routine, he was saying what an amazing job you were doing with the sanctuary and how fantastic you are. His eyes lit up when he spoke about you, and about how lucky he is to have you.’

  Gemma remembered how his eyes crinkled at the edges as he spoke of Harriet, and she had felt a stab of sorrow that she had never had that effect on anyone. She probably never would.

  ‘Was he?’ Harriet narrowed her eyes.

  Gemma nodded.

  ‘Harry, you are just going through what any couple goes through when they start living together: teething troubles. And it’s worse for you because you lived on your own for so long,’ Pippa said. ‘You both need to learn to compromise, if you ask me.’

  ‘And don’t forget that although your cottage is big compared to many places—’ Gemma was thinking of the bungalow ‘—you were used to the space here, which is very different.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you’re both right. My apartment at New York was so tidy because I was never there, and when we lived here it was immaculate, mainly because of Gwen and the cleaners.’

  ‘That’s your answer.’ Gemma had finished her glass of wine and felt emboldened. ‘I know Pippa said that you have a cleaner once a week – just increase that.’