***
Number 5, Anwen Road was a large, redbrick building with a bright red front door. Ivy was crawling over most of the exterior, and it was covering the vast majority of what was probably once a clean white sign. A large brass ‘5’ had been screwed into the door, and that was enough identification for Robyn.
She parked half on and half off the pavement, got out of her car, and walked up the path, leaving her suitcase in the boot.
She knocked once and a few seconds later the door was opened by a tall, dark-haired man who looked to be in his fifties. He had a long scar down his right cheek, but it didn’t take too much away from his cheery face; he was beaming at Robyn as if she were his first ever customer.
“Hi, my name’s Robyn Reddick. My friend, Maggie, booked me a room here.”
The man was nodding enthusiastically. “Come in, come in! We’ll get you signed in and then I can bring in any luggage you may have.” He was looking at Robyn’s car over her shoulder and she nodded to acknowledge that she did indeed have luggage.
Stepping aside, the man waved Robyn into the foyer and closed the door behind her.
Her mouth momentarily dropped open at the sight of her surroundings.
The B&B was amazing. Robyn was currently standing in a little foyer which consisted of a small reception desk, a roaring fire with two old-fashioned chairs placed next to it, and countless framed works of art adorning the walls. Wall-mounted candles glimmered around her, adding their light to that of the fire and creating a soothing, cosy feel to the place. She could also see a long hallway with several doors leading off it, and a spiral staircase that looked at least a hundred years old, leading up towards the first floor.
It was a dream of a place, and she could definitely see why Maggie had chosen it for her, but there was something niggling at the back of Robyn’s mind. Even though she was sure she’d never been to Crickley Bay before – although, if she had, it would explain where she had come up with the name – the B&B seemed familiar. Extremely familiar. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why that would be, though; her mind was still in a bit of a muddle after seeing the name of the town she was in.
The man with the scar had now crossed over to the desk and had opened a large, black ledger. He brandished a fountain pen at her, something she saw only from the corner of her eye as she was still mesmerised by the foyer.
“Now, Mrs Reddick. If you could sign in here for me, I just need your full name, address, mobile number if you have one, car registration, and your signature. You pay your bill when you leave.”
Robyn pulled her gaze away from the staircase and walked over to the desk, smiling at the man with the scar. Leaning over, she filled in her details and signed her name.
The man looked at it for a few seconds, was seemingly satisfied, and pulled a key out of his trouser pocket. “Your room is on the top floor, and I’m afraid we don’t have a lift, is that alright?”
Robyn tried not to laugh; did she really look that decrepit? “That’s fine, thank you.” She hesitated before asking the next question. “Do you mind if I ask you something? The sign I saw on the way in said ‘Welcome to Crickley Bay’, but I was under the impression I was staying in Llan… Llanfwe… er…”
The man laughed, holding his hands out to make her stop. “You’ve just demonstrated why the name was changed. We get a lot of tourists here – as you can imagine – and they can’t always pronounce the name. We also have a very similar name to another coastal town a few miles south, so a while ago the locals started referring to the place as ‘Crickley Bay’. It caught on, and now the tourists are starting to call it that, too. The town’s still officially under the Welsh name, so none of the addresses have Crickley Bay in them, but I suppose it’s only a matter of time. Take the sign, for instance: that was put up just yesterday.”
Her stomach dropped. “Only yesterday?”
The man nodded. “Now, if you’ll give me your car keys, I’ll be happy to bring your luggage in, and then I can show you to your room.”
“Thank you.” Robyn fished the keys out of her bag and handed them over, still slightly dazed by the information he’d just given her. “There’s just the one case in the boot. Is the car OK parked there or should I move it?”
“It’s fine where it is. You can park anywhere along Anwen Road, for future reference.”
“Thank you, Mr…?”
The man chuckled. “Ever so sorry, I don’t know where my manners are. My name’s Aled Church, I’m ‘the man of the house’, as it were. I’m sure you’ll meet my wife, Katherine, later.”
With that, the man turned round and let himself out the front door.
Robyn waited until he was out of sight before she started laughing hysterically.
Character Building Page 3
