Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor

by Faith Bleasdale

  ‘Yes, I’m getting there. You know those people I was with?’ she asked.

  Gemma nodded.

  ‘They started attacking me on Snapchat, but then I told Aunt Harry, and she said I was to threaten them with the police, as we had CCTV footage of them smoking by the barn and underage drinking. It seems to have stopped them.’

  ‘But it’s not nice to be on the receiving end.’ Gemma remembered her school days when a group of girls said nasty things to her daily. Shrugging it off wasn’t easy, and she wasn’t sure she had done so. She was often thankful that social media wasn’t as prevalent in her day.

  ‘You know, I thought Lisa was cool. She seemed sophisticated, but she only cares about drinking, smoking and boys.’

  ‘And you were a bit in awe of her?’ Gemma said carefully.

  She remembered at one stage she would have done anything to be friends with those horrible girls, even though they treated her so badly. Once, they said they’d be friends with her if she stole some make-up from a shop. Of course she did it, and she didn’t get caught, but she still remembered how awful it made her feel, and after that they still didn’t let her into their group. That feeling of humiliation still burnt to this day. She didn’t want that for Fleur.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone, but until Jason I’d never even kissed a boy,’ she said.

  ‘Plenty of time for all that,’ Gemma said as Fleur leant on the fence and ran her hands through her hair.

  ‘That’s what Mum and Dad say, and I know they’re right. This guy, Jason, he was fit though, looked a bit like Justin Bieber, and I really thought I liked him, but he was lame.’

  ‘You know, when you’re young you think you need friends, even ones who treat you badly, but you do learn that you don’t.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Oh goodness, for most of my school life I was desperate to be friends with this group of girls who basically terrorised me.’ Gemma grimaced.

  ‘That sounds awful.’ Fleur look horrified. ‘I have some great friends at school. And I have Hayley, who is kind of like a younger sister, I guess.’

  ‘Right, well you stay out of trouble.’

  ‘Oh, Gemma, I am definitely going to do that. I mean for a minute I wondered if it was genetic, you know like Uncle Freddie, but then I hated the taste of the vodka and I didn’t want to smoke anyway. And when Jason kissed me, it was sloppy and it was quite horrible really.’

  ‘Well yes, I can imagine.’ Gemma resisted the urge to laugh.

  ‘And after I told them they had nearly burnt the place down and how much trouble we caused, they said I was a spoilt posh bitch who thought I was better than them because I was rich. I’m not even rich – I don’t get the biggest allowance you know, not by a long shot. One of the girls at my school gets four times more than me!’

  Gemma contained her grin. For all Fleur’s bravado she was still a kid. Straddling that awkward line between childhood and adolescence.

  Hurrying into the house, Gemma showered, dressed and went to grab breakfast. Pippa and Freddie were already in the kitchen. Since the Edward debacle, then the fire, everyone had thrown themselves into hotel plans, and there was no time for late mornings, not even for Freddie.

  ‘Morning,’ Gemma chirped.

  She was feeling happy. Her seesawing emotions, which were a novelty when she arrived at Meadowbrook, were becoming the norm now. She didn’t like to think too much about them, and with her mounting workload she didn’t have the time.

  She was grateful for that. Her work kept her from thinking of how scared she was, of how every time she visited her nan lately she seemed worse, how the bungalow had finally exchanged and they had a completion date of late July, when her childhood home would be well and truly gone. It kept the fears buried, but of course they were still there.

  ‘Hey, Gemma, are you set for today?’ Pippa asked.

  She was as warm as ever, and they spent more time than ever together; late-night chats were commonplace, and Pippa had opened up about how she felt about Edward’s betrayal on a number of occasions. But she was also businesslike, and they were working together as an effective team.

  ‘Sure am. I took an early run knowing the builders will be here this morning.’ She was determined to not put a foot wrong.

  Freddie yawned loudly. Gemma tried not to look at him. Even bedraggled first thing in the morning he looked hot. Oh God, she was trying, and failing, to keep those thoughts at bay.

  ‘Oh! And Pippa, I think we should look at Gwen’s apartment today, see what needs to be done to it, for whoever is going to end up living or staying there.’

  This was yet another issue that both Pippa and Freddie had been reluctant to address – where they would be living when the hotel was open. They were so used to living at Meadowbrook that trying to drum into them that the house wasn’t going to be their home wasn’t proving easy. Although Gemma didn’t expect the hotel to be full at all times, because there were only ten bedrooms they would all need to be available for guests. She had spent ages compiling plans for offering late deals, discounts and special weekends for them to push when they needed more people, and she knew it would be important that the rooms were available – it would feel more professional that way.

  Also, Freddie needed to stop leaving his socks around and learn that guests would have priority. Pippa, and to a slightly lesser extent Freddie, was so excited about opening the hotel, but the reality, the details, seemed to be something they were in denial about.

  The builders were splitting their time between the barn and stables and the house. Today they were starting on the attic rooms, while they waited for some materials they had to order for the barns. It wasn’t ideal but they were managing.

  ‘Oh, OK, well Freddie and I haven’t spoken about it, but we will. We’ve got a meeting with Charlotte Stiles, and I’m sure she’ll have some ideas.’

  ‘Who’s Charlotte Stiles?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘Our interior designer. Stiles Design; she’s from Bath. Her parents were Dad’s designers on this house, would you believe?’

  ‘Her parents?’ Gemma was aware of this different world – one of family businesses – and wouldn’t she have been lucky to have someone to give her a leg up when she started out? She tried to push the bitterness away – it was so unattractive, yet it was another reminder that she was an alien in this world, this Meadowbrook bubble.

  As much as they said she was one of them, she still wasn’t. In Meadowbrook, family meant something, and being abandoned by your parents wasn’t it. The builders were a firm that Andrew Singer used; nearly everyone who worked at Meadowbrook had some kind of family connection. She guessed she should just thank her lucky stars they had never used a hotel consultant before, or had one in their extended family.

  ‘Yes, they were a team, quite eccentric. I used to think they were so exotic when they came here. Sasha, Charlotte’s mum, always wore her hair up in a tall beehive, and I never saw her without a tiara, and her father wore a three-piece suit at all times. They were really something. Anyway, Charlotte has taken over the business and she’s a great designer but not as eccentric as her parents. So I’ve made lists for her, but if you think of anything I’ve forgotten, then please bring it up in the meeting. She’s coming in at two.’

  Gemma tried to figure out which pieces of information she needed to retain and which to get rid of, as was often the case when Pippa was excited.

  ‘So you want me there too?’ Gemma asked.

  Pippa nodded. She and Pippa had discussed plans for the rooms but they hadn’t made any decisions, and she felt irrationally put out that the interior designer had been called in without her knowledge. Gemma had to remember that Pippa was her boss. The lines were blurred, they were hazy, they were confusing, but they were still there.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the builders, led by Roger, an affable man, about fifty at a guess, with greying hair, a slight paunch and an infectious laugh; Gemma liked dealing with him. He had a
team of five at the moment. Most importantly, he was a professional and knew a lot about houses like Meadowbrook, which he’d worked on for years, taught by his own father, of course. He talked about the house with a reverence and respect that Gemma loved.

  She nodded hello to his team: Jake, good-looking, young and confident enough to try and fail to flirt with Pippa; Harry, Roger’s son who was an apprentice; Tommy, who looked the same age as Roger; Heather, the only female member, and Don, a man of indistinct age, who was a jack of all trades and also seemed to be Roger’s right-hand man.

  ‘Please help yourselves to tea or coffee in the kitchen when you want,’ Pippa said. ‘There will normally be one of us around if you need anything.’

  ‘Thanks, love, we’ll crack on,’ Roger said with a chortle as he led his team, as if they were a small army troop, upstairs to the attic rooms.

  ‘Now there is one man who loves his job,’ Gemma mused.

  ‘And how fabulous to have a female here as well,’ Pippa said. ‘Although Heather is Roger’s niece, so it really is like a family business.’

  And just as Gemma was getting a grip, there it was again: family. Was she the only person in Somerset without one?

  Yet again pushing the thoughts that were threatening to topple her aside, she readied the office for the meeting. She still had it to herself a lot of the time. Pippa didn’t spend that much time in there – she wasn’t a desk kind of girl. But Freddie used it sometimes to revise for his licensee exam, Harriet would come in to do the figures – she kept close control on the money being spent on the hotel – and Gus came in sometimes to bring her a cup of tea and have a chat. He liked to sit on the sofas, and Gemma looked forward to those times. It not only gave her a break, but Gus’s calm exterior also gave her confidence. She was beginning to think of it as her office, hers and Andrew’s. She was struck with the wish that she had met him. Looking at his portrait every day, she felt she knew him, maybe because she saw him in all his children and the house.

  Pippa pushed open the door, balancing some huge books.

  ‘Let me help,’ Gemma said, taking them from her. ‘What have you got here?’

  ‘Sample books, carpets, wallpaper, that sort of thing. I’ve been collecting them. I know it’s silly, but I worked so hard on our townhouse when I was married to Mark that I feel that interiors is something I’m not too bad at. Do you mind?’

  ‘It’s your hotel,’ Gemma pointed out. Although, ridiculously, she did mind a bit.

  Gemma knew she shouldn’t, but she liked it when Pippa confided in her, asked her advice, made her feel as if her views were important. She was a child craving praise. It was time to grow up.

  ‘Thanks, I’m not pushing you out, but I know you’ve got a lot on. So although I think you should sit in on the meetings, and actually I’d be glad of the help with Gwen’s apartment, I’ll do the brunt of the work with Charlotte.’

  ‘That makes perfect sense to me.’

  And it should have done; after all, Gemma was getting to grips with the practicalities rather than the cosmetic, which was definitely where her strength lay. She was thinking about storage and housekeeping, and who would launder all the linen – an outside service. She had drawn up plans for that, and she was proud of her attention to detail. The way she was working had taken her by surprise; she was growing in confidence every day. She actually was beginning to believe that she was capable of the job she’d been doing for months now.

  Gemma heard the doorbell go, and Pippa rushed to get it. Gemma saved the spreadsheet she’d been working on as Pippa returned with Charlotte.

  ‘Gemma, this is Charlotte,’ Pippa introduced. ‘Gemma’s our hotel consultant, in charge of getting us open really.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Charlotte said, extending a hand.

  Gemma took it and tried to smile. Charlotte was nothing like she expected. For some reason, Pippa’s description of her eccentric parents had led Gemma to expect someone a little wild, but she wasn’t. Well-spoken, tall, blonde and wearing an amazing floral jumpsuit that showed off her slightly curvy figure to perfection. Her nails were painted a fashionable grey, her hair highlighted. She was attractive and held herself with a confidence that Gemma could only envy.

  ‘Sit down,’ Pippa said as Charlotte sat on the sofa, Pippa next to her.

  Gemma, unsure of her place, stayed behind the desk.

  ‘So, did you look at the list I gave you?’ Pippa asked.

  ‘I did, and I’ve got loads of ideas. I remember when Mum and Dad worked here, and boy I loved this house so much. I used to pretend I lived here. Sorry, Pippa, don’t think I’m a mad stalker who’ll move in when your back is turned.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘Were you a child then?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘No, goodness, I’m forty-two now, so the last time I was here, let me think …’ She pursed her lips. ‘Oh! I know, I was twenty and at uni, but I did some work experience with Mum and Dad. Remember, Pippa, we did some of the rooms and the summer house?’

  ‘Yes, I do. You and your parents seemed so glamorous to me, and you worked on my bedroom I think later on.’

  ‘Goodness, yes, I was so jealous of that room!’ Charlotte laughed. She was posh, yes, she was confident, yes, but she was also warm and friendly. ‘So, Gemma, tell me where you are with the hotel at the moment.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Gemma said, meaning it. It gave her a chance to talk about it and the more she did, the more it seemed it was becoming a reality.

  The afternoon passed quickly as Charlotte looked at the apartment, had a tour of the rooms and spoke extensively to Roger. She was efficient, and Gemma couldn’t fault her.

  ‘Right, I’m just about done.’ Charlotte came to find them in the office. ‘It’s still amazing but I have to go and put my hotel head on. I know you want to keep it with the feel of a home, and I love that, but we also need to be practical. God, I hate that word.’

  ‘I know, it’s so dull,’ Pippa agreed.

  If only you knew that that was all I am, Gemma thought.

  ‘So, I’ll go away, do a proposal, and we’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Yes, but, Charlotte, time is of the essence,’ Pippa said.

  ‘Of course, and you’ll be my priority. I can’t wait to get started.’

  Freddie appeared. ‘Oh, hi, I remember you – you came here years ago.’ Freddie beamed as if greeting an old friend.

  ‘Yes, well remembered. You kept offering me wine, if my memory serves right.’

  ‘God, I was a terror even then. I had a massive crush on you.’ Freddie laughed.

  Gemma felt her insides burn.

  ‘Oh! If only I’d known. Well actually, the age difference might have caused a bit of an issue.’

  ‘I was just a teenager then. But well, anyway, nice to see you again.’

  ‘I’m just leaving, actually.’

  ‘Can’t I offer you some wine again?’ Freddie smiled. ‘Come on, I’ll show you out.’

  The irrational jealousy that Gemma felt refused to go away; it burned away in the pit of her stomach. Especially as Freddie didn’t come back in for ages. When he did, he was whistling tunelessly.

  ‘God, Fred, what’s is up with you?’ Pippa said as she noticed his red cheeks.

  ‘Oh, you know, I’ve got a date with Charlotte,’ he said proudly.

  ‘Bloody hell, Fred, fast work.’ Pippa’s eyes were wide.

  ‘Is that a good idea?’ Gemma said, sounding like a prig. ‘I mean she’s about to start working here – what if things go wrong?’

  ‘Gem has a point. What if you go on a date with her, scare her so much she refuses to work here, and then I’ve lost the best interior designer I’ve ever had,’ Pippa pointed out.

  ‘The only interior designer you’ve ever had, even.’ Freddie laughed. ‘She did bring up that objection, but I promised that we would remain professional even if it was the worst date ever. And besides, I’m hard to hate.’

  ‘Isn’t she
a bit old for you?’ Pippa asked.

  Gemma wanted to hug her. She was too old, too successful, too confident, too not Gemma.

  ‘Oh she mentioned that too, but you know, age is nothing, it’s not even ten years. She’s divorced, she’s lovely and I am taking her out. I didn’t realise I needed to ask your permission.’ With that, he flounced out of the room.

  Pippa raised her eyebrows. ‘That told us then.’

  And Gemma sadly thought that it really did.

  Chapter 28

  ‘So, as you can see, with the documents I have carefully put together, my contract is up in August, and we’ve still got a way to go. May is already speeding past and thanks to Roger and his team, and Charlotte of course, I do believe the hotel may be there, or almost there cosmetically, although I think that’s cutting it fine. And the marketing plan is still not set, nor are the plans for attracting visitors or, in fact, for characterising the hotel.’ Gemma felt her cheeks flame, but she had done it and the words gushed out. She had taken control, and it felt amazing. Unless they didn’t agree with her, of course.

  Gemma was so nervous, it reminded her of the time when she had been asked to present at the end of her probationary period. Although she felt she was doing a good job, and she certainly felt part of Meadowbrook, she took nothing for granted. They could easily get rid of her and the thought terrified her.

  She had gathered all the Singers together, having put together a bundle of documents, which covered every aspect of the hotel, from the staffing needs, to the building work, to the legal permits, to details of getting from physically being a hotel to being a hotel with paying guests. She was feeling quite proud of herself, as she was pretty sure she had left no stone unturned.

  ‘So, do you want us to extend your contract?’ Harriet asked, but she didn’t sound as if she hated the idea.

  ‘If you so wish. I accept you might want someone else, or to do it yourselves, but I feel we’ve come so far, and what I would like to do is to lock down an opening date. A date when we open the doors to the Meadowbrook Hotel and start having paying guests as something to aim for. I’ve been realistic, I believe, in saying February next year. It will be a year since I arrived, yes, but of course these things do take time. If we’re ready before then that’s great, but at least we have something to aim for.’