Hotel By The Loch

by Iris Danbury

  ‘I thought everything displeased you, Miss Sutherland,’ he snapped. ‘It’s good to find that something amuses you.’

  She had stopped laughing in mid-breath, but now she spluttered again. ‘It’s only that you look like—like a Roman senator—except for the clothes.’

  ‘Thank you. I take your compliment, but I gather that you think I look more like a lumberjack.’

  ‘I didn’t say so,’ she protested. ‘Anyway, it’s started to rain, so you won’t be able to carry on very much this morning with the outside work.’

  His hazel eyes were fiery with angry triumph.

  ‘I’m glad to say you’re wrong,’ he said. ‘My men are prepared for wet climates. They have all the protection they need.’

  Even as he spoke, men began to erect awnings of heavy plastic sheets, others carried saw-horses and benches to shelter.

  ‘You’ll get your woollen twin-set very wet indeed, Miss Sutherland,’ Mr. Ramsay continued with an icy smile, ‘if you don’t hurry indoors.’

  That was true, and she wished she had brought a raincoat with her, but the rain was falling heavily now and she turned and ran into the hotel.

  Upstairs she took off the damp cardigan and jumper, changed into another set and walked along a corridor towards a bedroom giving a view of the extension. Mr. Ramsay was apparently heedless of rain, although he had draped a sack around his shoulders. Some of the men were now wearing yellow oilskins.

  ‘The lifeboat crews!’ murmured Fenella.

  As she left the bedroom she noticed a man in painter’s overalls. She paused to watch him for a moment. He was painting out most of the room numbers.

  ‘Why is this being done?’ she demanded. ‘Are the numbers to be altered?’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ the man answered cheerfully. ‘All the first floor begin with 101, all the second with 201 and so on.’

  ‘And I suppose the seventeenth floor begins with a million and seven?’ she queried.

  He chuckled. ‘This is no skyscraper, miss, but it makes it easier to remember if you know the floor.’ He moved on towards the next door, daubing a square of thick cream paint over Number 20. ‘When the patches are dry,’ he said, ‘I’ll come back and put the numbers on.’

  ‘What fun it would be if you muddled the numbers.’

  ‘Oh, no, miss. They’ll be labelled before I begin.’

  She walked downstairs and found Miriam.

  ‘Does the new boss realize that if the room numbers are changed, some of the keys won’t fit?’ she asked.

  Miriam grinned. ‘He’s thought of that one. Either new keys will be made or the locks will be changed to suit. The re-numbering is an advantage. I’ve often had to stop and think quickly exactly which floor some of the bedrooms were on.’

  Fenella was eating an early lunch before making ready for her usual afternoon trip to Fort William to visit her father. She had taken a tray of food into a corner of the closed bar because there were at least a dozen men at work on the hotel restaurant, many more on the lounge, and she could not even get into the snug for ladders and trestles in the corridor.

  Mr. Ramsay came through and stood for a moment without speaking. He wore an old, stained duffel coat and mud dripped off his boots.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, Miss Sutherland, but I’d be obliged if you’d kindly stop interfering in hotel matters,’ he said at last after a long pause.

  ‘What have I done now?’ Fenella queried.

  ‘This morning I’ve had visits from Angus Maclaren, who used to be a sort of odd-job man here.’

  ‘He was also the gardener, and what you’ve done to his borders and flower beds has pretty well broken his heart,’ she retorted.

  ‘Then there was a Mrs. Mac-something-else.’

  ‘Her name is Mrs. Macgregor,’ Fenella put in with exaggerated emphasis,

  ‘She wanted to know if she could start cleaning up and putting the place in order.’

  Fenella faced him, ‘What was wrong about that?’

  Exasperation crossed his tanned features and his eyes hardened. ‘Do I understand that you invited these people to call?’

  ‘Certainly. Angus will be glad to do whatever he’s asked as soon as the lorries have finished making a shambles of the grounds. He’s a good worker. As for Mrs. Macgregor, we’ve always had her to keep house and do the rough work in the winter. It’s obvious that you’re going to load plenty of work on to Miriam in the next three weeks and I thought Mrs. Macgregor could help with the cleaning and so on, so that Miriam wouldn’t be bothered with getting someone.’

  He had now sat down, straddling a chair and leaning his chin on his folded arms. ‘Perhaps I should really thank you for taking so much trouble, Miss Sutherland, to bring in these old members of the staff, but if you don’t mind, I have my own plans for staffing the Gairmorlie. The company has given me quite a free hand to get whatever labour I need.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ she said flippantly, and began to eat again.

  ‘So I’d better tell you quite definitely that I won’t stand for your meddling. When I want gardeners or cleaners, I’ll engage them myself.’

  ‘But you can’t mean that—that you’re sacking Angus and Mrs. Macgregor? They’ve worked for us for years and years.’

  ‘Then they could do with a rest now,’ he snapped. ‘If I need them I’ll re-engage them—if that means so much to you. But allow me to decide, please. You haven’t the slightest knowledge of how hotels should be run.’

  ‘And you have!’

  ‘I think so,’ he admitted with mock modesty. ‘I’ve done a certain amount of training. I believe your talents lie in a different direction and perhaps it would be better if you returned to your dress-designing.’

  Fenella was on her feet instantly. ‘You may be the new manager here, but you have no right to try to dictate what I shall do or where I shall go!’

  He, too, had risen from his chair and towered over her. ‘I apologize for that remark, Miss Sutherland, but you must understand that there can’t be two people giving different instructions to members of the staff or making promises to former helpers.’

  He left the bar before her angry frustration even allowed her to frame a suitable answer. For a few moments she stared with tear-blinded eyes at the door which he had just slammed. Then she picked up the tray of dishes and took it back to the kitchen.

  Miriam was frying a panful of sausages and tomatoes and glanced at Fenella. ‘Oh! You haven’t eaten half your lunch!’ she complained.

  ‘No appetite!’ Fenella said curtly. ‘My parents brought me up never to have quarrels during a meal, but Mr. Ramsay has no such scruples.’

  ‘Well, you won’t have to put up with him for long. You’ll soon forget the irritation when you’re back in London.’

  Fenella found that even getting her car out of the garage was a problem, for two lorries and a cement-mixer were stuck in the way. Mr. Ramsay appeared just when one of the lorries backed to give her space.

  ‘Either I should park my car on the roof,’ she told him stormily, ‘or buy a helicopter.’

  ‘Good idea!’ he called, as she bumped and bounced over the uneven drive, but she would not bother to ask which alternative he favoured.

  As she drove along the lochside it occurred to her that she was being adequately reminded that she was only a temporary resident at Gairmorlie. Miriam had offered comforting remarks about returning to London and now Mr. Ramsay had almost ordered her to get out of his way and follow her own career.

  With practically no traffic on the road she had the opportunity to observe the surroundings she had known in many seasons and moods. Today, now that the rain had stopped, towering clouds billowed in a clear turquoise sky, the loch rippled and danced in a ruffled pattern of silver and blue. Away to the right the hills were mistily grey-green. Soon spring would change the colours, the distant woods become a blurred jigsaw of plum, pale brown, or blue until each tree developed its own shades of green.

  This
familiar countryside always held the power to soothe Fenella, and at this moment London and its excitements seemed very far away. But of course, once her father was really recovering from his illness, she would return to the city and take up the threads again.

  At the hospital Mr. Sutherland was much brighter and boasted that he had been allowed out of bed this morning to take a few tottery steps.

  ‘That’s good news,’ Fenella said, eager for her father to make speedy progress so that he could at least see for himself what was happening to his hotel. Then it occurred to her that he might be distressed by the apparent muddle and chaos. Better for him not to come back to Gairmorlie until everything was running smoothly.

  He asked her how matters were shaping and she replied quickly, ‘Oh, a few workmen have arrived and are busy on various jobs—painting, putting in windows and so on.’ She made it sound as casual as possible and vowed that she would not mention the earlier opening date.

  ‘I suppose you know by now that I haven’t much responsibility there,’ he said slowly.

  Fenella leaned forward and hugged him. ‘You did the best possible thing you could,’ she assured him. ‘Now the company can worry about profits and losses instead of you. You can still take an interest in the hotel. You’re a director.’

  He nodded. ‘Aye, a director. When I get out of here, I’ll still be allowed to potter about the place, I suppose.’ ‘Think of it, Father. You’ll have more time for fishing.’ He smiled, but she knew that he regretted the prospect of too much time on his hands.

  ‘I’m glad you realize the state of affairs,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s been worrying me. Have the company sent anyone to be in charge?’

  Fenella hesitated. ‘They’ve sent a Mr. Ramsay,’ she told him after a pause.

  His face brightened. ‘Oh, Cameron Ramsay? A young Canadian chap?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then everything will go well. He’s a fine lad and really knows his trade.’

  Fenella stared at her father. ‘Have you met him?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He came several times with others from the company when we were discussing terms and so on.’

  ‘I see. Miriam didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘Well, sometimes we met in Fort William or Edinburgh. The company’s head office is in London. You’ll like this man, Fenella, and I shall be happy to leave all the hotel management in his hands. He’s most competent.’

  Fenella managed an understanding smile, but when she left her father she hardy knew whether to be angry or reassured. So Cameron Ramsay had already ingratiated himself with the former owner! No doubt his head office had instructed him to co-operate with Mr. Sutherland as much as possible during the awkward transition period, but after that? She could foresee that Mr. Ramsay would then have little use for anyone whose opinion might differ from his own.

  Outside the hospital Alex was waiting for her.

  ‘I had to come in on some business affair for my father,’ he explained, ‘so I thought I might as well wait for you.’

  Over tea and toasted scones in a nearby cafe, Fenella poured out her grievances.

  ‘How clever of him to get my father on his side!’ she said scornfully.

  Alex smiled indulgently. ‘Just as well. It wouldn’t be a very happy position if the hotel had two managers at war with each other.’

  She sighed. ‘I suppose not. Anyway, it seems to be one less worry for my father, so the rest of us have to put up with the new boss.’

  ‘Perhaps you can endure him for the time you’re staying in Scotland. What are your plans?’

  Fenella played with her teacup. ‘I don’t know yet, Alex. So much depends on my father’s progress. I feel I’d like to wait until he comes out of hospital.’

  ‘Of course. You could probably take a holiday somewhere with him. No responsibilities now.’

  ‘Maybe. It’s later on that my father is going to realize that he’s superfluous.’

  ‘Not in the least!’ objected Alex. ‘Nothing wrong with enjoying himself in a quiet way. He’d retire sooner or later. This is just a bit sooner, that’s all.’

  When she was silent, Alex continued, ‘If you stayed on at Gairmorlie for a while, your father might become more accustomed to idling.’

  She looked up to meet the intensity of his blue eyes. ‘My father,’ he added, ‘wants me to take over some of the headaches in farming matters. I shan’t be able to spend much time down in London during the summer. I suppose you’re committed to this new job in the world of fashion?’

  ‘In a way I am committed,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t need to start until about June. The point is—can I bear to live under the same roof as that man?’

  Alex laughed. ‘You do dislike him, don’t you? Well, forget him for five minutes while I remember to tell you that Laurie wants us all to go to a dance next Saturday.’

  ‘Oh? Where?’

  ‘Aviemore, I think. One of the hotels. She seems to have organized a party of us, so I hope you’ll come with me?’

  ‘Of course, Alex, I’ll be only too glad to get away from that mud-hole with Mr. Ramsay crashing about like a water-buffalo.’

  ‘Forget him, I said!’ commanded Alex. ‘Come on, time we went home. Whose car shall we take? Yours or mine?’

  ‘Mine, I think,’ decided Fenella. ‘All right, you can drive,’ she added, seeing his dubious expression. ‘You can come in next time on one of your farm cars or have it driven home for you, but it’s my only vehicle.’

  Alex agreed, and Fenella was content to relax by his side as he drove home. She was remembering her father’s relief that she knew the true state of affairs at the hotel, but she now had to face the fact that he could no longer afford to pay her expenses in London and give her an allowance. Naturally, she would soon be earning a salary, but the almost nominal amount she would receive at first as a designer would probably cover her cost of living but leave no surplus for minor luxuries. For a start, she would have to cancel her trip to Paris. Then instead of a spacious flat to herself she would have to find a companion to share the expenses.

  Alex’s reference to her new job jolted her into the full realization of how much her father’s changed circumstances affected her own future.

  As Alex drove along the loch road several lorries crammed with workmen passed in the opposite direction.

  One or two men waved and cheered when they spotted Fenella’s small red car.

  ‘Who were they?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Mr. Ramsay’s chain gang,’ she answered. ‘They came this morning in dozens—or hundreds, for all I know.’

  ‘He seems to have tackled the job with energy.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you start admiring him!’ snapped Fenella indignantly. ‘He can do that for himself.’

  Alex merely shook with laughter and drove into what was left of the hotel drive.

  Miriam was in the snug when Fenella entered with Alex following.

  ‘Tea, Alex?’ enquired Miriam. ‘Or have you had some?’

  ‘We stopped in Fort William,’ explained Fenella.

  Jamie hopped down from his chair to present his plastered wrist for Alex’s inspection.

  ‘Sign, please!’ he commanded. Alex took the pencil and obediently inscribed his name.

  ‘You’ve quite a collection, Jamie,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, aye,’ the boy answered. ‘The big Canadian man gave me this. Look, here it is. Cameron Ramsay. I shall call him Mr. Cam-Ram.’

  ‘Oh, hush, Jamie!’ exclaimed his mother. ‘You mustn’t give him such a nickname.’

  Alex was laughing. ‘That’s nothing to what Fenella calls him. She says he’s a crashing water-buffalo.’

  Fenella joined in the laughter. Then she turned her head sharply. Mr. Ramsay was just inside the open doorway.

  Miriam was the first to recover. ‘Let me introduce you two men,’ she said.

  They acknowledged the introduction with casual handshakes. Then Mr. Ramsay said, ‘Mrs. Erksine, could you give me a few
minutes in the reception office?’

  Miriam hastened to follow him out of the room, while Fenella put up her hands to her burning cheeks.

  ‘Well, I don’t care if he heard!’ she said rebelliously. ‘He shouldn’t come creeping in here.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Fenella,’ Alex consoled her. ‘I expect he’s been called far worse names than that in his time.’

  After Alex had gone, Fenella was on her way to her bedroom when Miriam met her on the landing.

  ‘Fenella,’ began Miriam, ‘I don’t want to sound preachy, but if you could be rather more careful about annoying Mr. Ramsay, I think it would help all of us.’

  ‘Sorry, Miriam,’ Fenella answered, ‘but I’m not going to pretend to like him when I detest the man and all his methods. He shouldn’t snoop about listening to other people’s conversations.’

  Miriam smiled and shrugged.

  ‘I expect by now he thinks your conversations are not really fit for his ears,’ she said with good humour.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Fenella went into her room and pulled open the wardrobe door. Most of her clothes were still in the London flat, for she had left hastily and brought little luggage with her. Now she had nothing to wear for the dance to which Alex was taking her.

  She spent the following morning in Fort William’s most elegant dress shop and later in the day, after visiting her father, when she returned to Gairmorlie, she eagerly displayed the new cyclamen chiffon for Miriam’s approval.

  ‘Luscious!’ was Miriam’s verdict.

  ‘Why don’t you come with us to the dance?’ It occurred to Fenella that Miriam had few chances of gaiety.

  ‘I couldn’t leave Jamie alone,’ Miriam replied.

  ‘We could get someone in for the evening,’ Fenella’s eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘And there’s always the Grand Cham himself. Our illustrious manager never does anything at nights except huddle over his accounts and plans and reports.’

  Miriam laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. How could I ask him to child-sit? Later on, perhaps, there’ll be opportunities for going places.’

  Yet when Alex called on Saturday evening Fenella noticed the despondent, almost wistful, look on Miriam’s face. It must be maddening, thought Fenella, to watch other people going out for a gay evening.