Harriet turned her head to Gemma. ‘You mean get Vicky to come in more often to pick up his mess?’
‘Why not? You’ll pay her to do it, after all. Say, Vicky comes to your house for one hour every morning, on her way here. She gets a bit of extra cash, and you have a tidy house.’
‘You make it sound so simple,’ Harriet said. ‘Why does she make it sound so simple?’ She turned to Pippa.
‘Because it is. Why didn’t we think of it?’ Pippa asked.
‘God knows, but thanks, Gemma, yes, that’s what I’ll do. But I am still going to tell Connor to try to be tidier.’
‘I’m sure he will be. You tell him you’re hiring a housekeeper and as his mum was a housekeeper, I expect it might actually make him think,’ Gemma pointed out.
‘Bloody hell, you’re right,’ Harriet said grudgingly. ‘OK, so maybe I got you wrong,’ she conceded.
‘I told you that she’s good.’ Pippa was hopping around like an excited kitten as she reached for another bottle of wine.
‘OK, Gemma, thank you, that’s almost brilliant. But Connor needs to stew a bit more. What we need is a girls’ night.’ Harriet took a large swig of wine.
‘I’m in, shall I unearth some pizza and put it in the oven?’ Pippa asked.
‘Yes, God, I’m so hungry now I’m not upset,’ Harriet said. ‘Gemma, you’re in?’ It sounded more like a command than a question, but quite a nice command.
‘I absolutely am,’ Gemma said, raising her wine glass. She could do this, she told herself. Today she had leapt over hurdles, in work, and now with Harriet. She was almost not scared of Harriet at all really, well only a bit. ‘Where’s Freddie though?’ she asked.
‘Pub with Gus. Connor might be there too, for all I know. But anyway, boys, even brothers, are a banned topic tonight.’
‘Oh, I will definitely drink to that,’ Pippa said, giggling. ‘Although can I just tell you about Edward Farquhar?’
‘Who the hell is he?’ Harriet asked, and Gemma sat back and relaxed as Pippa explained.
‘And, Gemma, what did you think of him?’ she asked as Pippa finished.
‘He seemed charming.’ Gemma chose her words carefully.
Harriet seemed as if she were going to ask more, but she just nodded.
‘What about you, Gemma, have you got a boyfriend?’ Harriet asked. Her voice was softening with the wine, as was Gemma.
‘No, I had one, Chris. It didn’t go well – he was after a free home really,’ she said.
‘Like Mark. No wonder you two get on so well.’ Harriet grinned. ‘But you know before Connor, I had terrible taste in men too.’ She leant in conspiratorially. ‘I am ashamed to admit, but I had an affair with a married man, who turned out to be a total dick.’
‘Wow.’ Gemma was stunned. She wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was.
‘But you know, I was a dick too, as I should never have done that. We women, we need to stick together.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Pippa grinned.
They clinked glasses and Gemma forgot to feel intimidated as she actually began to have fun.
Chapter 10
‘My God, are you hungover?’ Freddie asked as Gemma walked into the kitchen.
Gemma tried to move her head to look at him, but pain ripped through it, and she bashed her elbow on the doorframe. God, that hurt. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she had barely slept last night because the room wouldn’t stop spinning. Her mouth was thick and furry, and she was also feeling pretty nauseous.
‘Ow,’ she answered, rubbing her elbow and trying to stem the threatened tears.
‘And you look like you’ve just woken up in a hedge. Well done.’
She would have glared at him if she could.
‘Now, tell me, Gemma – who doesn’t drink – how did this happen?’
‘Harriet had a row with Connor.’
‘Oh yes, he came to the pub with me and Gus; those two argue a lot. Harry’s bossy, Connor’s too laid-back, but they do really love each other, have done since they were kids, really. A match made in heaven, but when they row then maybe hell? Anyway, he was pretty miserable.’
‘Harriet wanted us to have a girls’ night and there seemed to be a lot of wine.’
‘And yet when I try to get you to drink you never do.’ Freddie shook his head.
‘This might be why.’
‘Yes, I see your point.’ Freddie grinned. ‘Right, drink this tea. I know you don’t want to but honestly, you’ll start to feel better. And here …’ He reached into a drawer and handed her some paracetamol. ‘I won’t try to get you to eat, but we can have our meeting outside – fresh air will definitely help.’
Gemma was startled – he was being nice.
‘Our meeting?’ She rubbed her head. Bang went the idea of going back to bed.
‘Yes, we were going to talk about the cocktail bar this morning and what we can do, because obviously my time is precious.’
‘I can see that,’ Gemma replied, thinking that Freddie didn’t seem to do an awful lot as far as she could see. He did go to the sanctuary for a bit every day, and he played with social media, but apart from that, he seemed to swan around in his buggy most of the time.
‘As I was saying, what we can do is to go for a walk around the estate. I’ll tell you what I am thinking about with the bar and you can listen, and ask questions if you’re up to it. What do you think?’
‘Sounds great.’ It really didn’t.
Half an hour later, she met Freddie by the back door. There was no sign of Pippa, but Gemma had left them singing to Eighties songs in the snug at some point last night. It must have been late, she was sure, as she literally crawled up to bed.
She looked in the wall mirror trying not to recoil in horror at what she saw. Gosh, she looked terrible. Her hair seemed to have taken on a life of its own and was sticking out in all directions. She wished it was summer; she could have done with hiding behind sunglasses.
‘Hangovers suck, don’t they?’ Freddie said.
‘How come you’re never hungover?’ Gemma asked as they set off. Freddie seemed to drink like a fish yet always look amazing.
‘Oh, I’m hardened. I don’t really get hangovers. And actually, I don’t go as mad as I used to. Maybe compared to you, but not compared to the old me.’ A serious look crossed his face before he wiped it away with a smile. ‘We just had a few pints in the pub then we had a couple of brandies back at Connor and Harriet’s – it wasn’t exactly wild. Especially as Gus was talking about Amanda and how much he loved her, and Connor the same about Harriet, so basically it was more like a bloody coffee morning.’
Gemma raised her eyebrows. ‘I see.’
‘But anyway,’ he said as they headed out through the garden and towards the public footpath, ‘I have been giving the bar a lot of thought. Serious thought.’
‘Well that’s good.’
The fresh air was beginning to help with the headache, Gemma decided. Although she still felt rough, so her plan was to try to let Freddie speak and merely listen. It was pretty much her plan in life, in actual fact. And she was impressed – it was practically the first time he had been serious around her.
‘I was thinking that the garden room would be the best room for the bar.’
‘I agree, not least because it opens up, so in the summer you could have outdoor drinking.’ Gemma wondered why she hadn’t already told him she thought this. She really needed to be more vocal about the hotel.
‘And a smoking area, because let’s face it, people still smoke,’ he pointed out.
‘There’s a decision to make, and that’s whether you open the bar to the public or if it’s just for residents.’ Gemma felt herself clicking into work mode.
‘Residents only. For one, Parker’s Hollow is a very small village, and the pub should benefit from us having a hotel, not worry about losing customers. Also, it’s only going to be a small bar, so I would rather keep it to residents, unless we are hosting a pr
ivate party, but surely that’s the same, because we’re still not open to the public.’
That made things easier, Gemma knew, as she had been looking into this. A small residents-only bar in the garden room would be much simpler to set up and get authorisation for. And as Freddie talked, Gemma was impressed. No joking, he had really thought this through, and his passion was clear in his ideas. Gemma thought she must have misjudged him a bit; there was nothing lazy or entitled about the man she was with right now.
‘Which brings me to the practicalities,’ she said, determined to support him. ‘We need to draw up a proposal for the bar, and we also need to look at the legalities and get a licence.’
‘A licence?’
‘Yes, you’ll need an on-premises licence, and it shouldn’t be a problem but there’s a lot of admin involved. Basically, the licence has to be held by a person, not the hotel as such, and there’s an exam involved, legal checks, that sort of thing. And we obviously have to hope that no one objects to it. We can go through the process together, but I think we could easily do it ourselves.’
‘What do you mean?’ He stopped walking and turned to face her.
‘You can pay companies who specialise in licences. Obviously you still have to sit the exam, but I think we can handle the application ourselves. And save some money.’ As far as Gemma could tell, it seemed fairly straightforward.
‘Great, if you say so. Harry’ll be pleased if we save money, but I am definitely one hundred per cent going to be the licensee. It’s my baby, the bar I mean.’
‘So you don’t have criminal history then?’
‘Of course I bloody don’t – what kind of question is that?’ he asked, his voice incredulous.
‘A very sensible question,’ she replied, forgetting to be nervous. ‘You might have been drunk and disorderly, or caught with drugs or anything really.’
‘Well I definitely have not,’ he huffed. ‘You can do all the checks and I’ll come out squeaky clean.’
‘Well that’s great, glad to hear it. It’s good to know you are a law-abiding citizen,’ she said, trying to pacify him.
‘Oh no, I’ve just been lucky. You see, I never got caught.’ His grin returned. ‘Oh look, there’s Gus,’ Freddie said, waving frantically.
Gus was heading towards the summer house, a beautiful building, full of light, not far from the main house. When Gemma had had her tour, Freddie had explained it used to be their mother’s studio, then it became the Singers’ den when they were teenagers, and now it was mainly Gus’s studio. Freddie hadn’t wanted to take her inside then, as it was full of Gus’s work and he wasn’t there. But she was dying to see his paintings.
‘Hey,’ Gus said as he unlocked the door, a big canvas under his arm.
Freddie gestured for Gemma to follow him in.
‘Welcome to my studio. Would you like to see my etchings?’ Gus laughed, and Gemma joined in.
‘Gus has all the lines,’ Freddie joked. ‘Lucky he’s spoken for, otherwise we’d be beating the women off,’ he said sarcastically.
‘Right, Gemma, would you like a grand tour?’
‘I really would, Gus.’
‘You look different, what is it?’ Gus turned and stared at her.
‘She’s hungover.’
‘Oh yes, right. So, there is the small kitchen area, mainly used for cleaning brushes now and making the odd cup of tea.’
Gemma was still getting used to their idea of “small”. It was bigger than the kitchen in the bungalow, with a coffee machine, kettle, small oven and even a slim dishwasher. The summer house was really only one big, light airy room, but Gus showed her there was a small wet room, and a storage cupboard behind two doors. She could have happily lived here, although of course Gus and his paintings would probably object.
‘So the main space, which used to be stuffed with furniture, is now just a painting space.’ He gestured to the room where a couple of easels were set up.
She sneaked a look and on one was a picture of some flowers, quite traditional but with a bit of a twist, not that Gemma knew much about art. On the other was the beginnings of a painting of a pig: Geoffrey. Along the wall were some finished paintings – again, traditional in style but with a bit of a different perspective to the normal landscapes and portraits. They were good, Gemma thought. Bold, attractive, she could imagine them hanging on the walls at Meadowbrook …
‘Have you thought about using Gus’s art in the house when it’s a hotel?’ she asked.
They both shook their heads.
‘I do have some pictures up there, actually, but only in the attic rooms,’ Gus said.
Gemma nodded; she’d seen them but hadn’t realised he had painted them. Her head was buzzing with ideas, pushing the headache away.
‘Think about it, they could be for sale; it could be a character of the hotel. Maybe just in the bar to start with, or in the bar and the hallways. I mean, I know the art in the house is gorgeous and, for example, I wouldn’t change the drawing room, but give it some thought. Especially if Gus also offers painting classes to the guests.’
‘What? Why would I do that?’
‘Well, people could come here and do a day or two painting course. I mean there’s no reason why not, and if you also sold your paintings then they would have something special to take away from their stay here.’
‘But I only paint for fun and I’m not a teacher. I’ve never taught anything, and I’m not even that good.’ The colour drained from his face.
‘You are incredibly good,’ Freddie argued, giving him an affectionate pat on the back. ‘And if it makes you happier, we can call them workshops, which sounds a bit more casual, doesn’t it?’ Freddie suggested. ‘Harry would like that; it fits in with her idea of corporate retreats.’
‘Yes.’ Gemma could suddenly see ideas gelling. ‘Imagine, you could set them up in here, and people would love it,’ Gemma added. ‘You said you wanted the Meadowbrook Hotel to have a creative element, so there you go.’
‘Well I suppose it’s an idea,’ Gus said uncertainly.
‘God, sometimes I almost think you know what you’re talking about,’ Freddie said, patting Gemma on her shoulder. She immediately turned as pink as one of Gus’s pigs. ‘Perhaps you should be hungover more often.’
‘Fred, leave her alone.’ Gus grinned. ‘But yes, those are definitely things to think about.’
Gemma felt so pleased with herself that she spun round, lost her balance and knocked into one of Gus’s easels. Luckily it was empty, as it crashed to the ground with her on top of it.
‘God, I’m so sorry,’ Gemma said as she tried and failed to get up, tangled as she was in the wooden frame, but both Freddie and Gus were too busy laughing to help her up.
Chapter 11
‘Hello, Albert, how are you today?’ Gemma asked in a voice that sounded as if she were talking to a baby.
She’d never even spoken to a baby, so why she’d suddenly developed this ridiculous voice she had no idea. She was growing fond of all of the cats, and Albert and she had quite a bond. He reminded her of herself. Not the most attractive, a bit scared of people, unloved, alone, living in a cage. Of course that wasn’t quite her, and she didn’t live in a cage … yet.
‘You’re pretty great with the cats,’ Connor said as he came up behind her. ‘Did you have a cat?’
‘No, I didn’t have any pets, which is why I thought this would be terrifying, but I love being around them – they are quite calming for some reason.’ Gemma realised she meant the words as soon as they were spoken. The cats could be loud, demanding, but when they let her pet them and rewarded her with a purr or two she felt content. ‘It makes me sad to think they’ve been abandoned.’
‘I know, it’s tough working here; even Harriet finds it hard.’ He laughed. ‘But you have a way with the cats, and they are the best judge of character.’
‘Thanks. You and Harriet seem so different,’ she said carefully.
She was intrigued by each
of the Singers, even more so than when she first arrived at Meadowbrook. They were all different, yet alike. They bickered but were fiercely loyal. They were all manner of contradictions and contrasts, and she found them all fascinating. She worried she was growing a bit too fond of life with them; after all, the end of her first month was almost upon her and it could all be over soon enough. Hence her bravery in talking about them. She wanted to drink in every detail while she still could.
‘We are. We grew up together though, so we know each other inside out. She was my first best friend really, so I guess although we are different, we are the same person in many ways too. If that makes sense?’
‘That sounds romantic.’ Gemma stroked Albert and wondered if anyone would ever think that about her. Doubtful.
‘I’m the romantic one, she certainly isn’t.’ He laughed again. ‘But she’s got a soft centre has H, a heart of gold, and when she cares about you, well let’s just say no one will get away with hurting you.’
Gemma continued to stroke Albert. Connor’s eyes were full of love, and she couldn’t help but wish someone would look like that when they spoke about her, but why would they? Harriet was attractive, clever, funny (when she wasn’t scary) and successful. She might not be like Connor, who seemed softer, calmer, more laid-back, but she was certainly nothing like Gemma, either.
‘Next you’ll be telling me her bark’s worse than her bite,’ she said.
‘Oh God no, her bite is actually worse than her bark.’ Connor grinned.
The door swung open and in walked Harriet.
‘My ears are burning,’ she said simply, and Gemma stared very intently at the cat as she willed herself not to blush.
‘Oh God, H, we were talking about you, but only good things.’ He kissed the top of her head and she smiled.
‘I was joking, but anyway, what else would you talk about, Con?’ She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
‘Where’s Hilda?’ he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
‘With the dog group – she likes hanging out with her pals,’ she explained to Gemma.
‘Was Hilda from here?’ Gemma asked, slightly embarrassed by their affection, but not wanting to let on she was uncomfortable.
Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor Page 9
