Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse

by Sharley Scott

  “How much do they owe?”

  The taxi driver frowned. “Forty quid.”

  “You don’t deserve this.” I stabbed my finger at the lad. “I’ll pay but I want you and your friend out first thing tomorrow morning. No breakfast. No refund. You don’t deserve this.”

  The lad smiled. “Thanks!”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  I headed inside to unlock the lounge door, certain I’d last seen my purse on the coffee table. At least I hoped I had, or else it could be in the kitchen, bedroom or the glove box of the car. Heaving a sigh of relief, I dragged it from where it poked from beneath the bookings’ diary. It contained thirty pounds but, by hoovering up all the loose change on the sides, I made the required forty.

  “I need a receipt,” I told the taxi driver. “Give me your name and phone number too, in case I need to contact you.”

  As he handed me his business card and a receipt, I grasped the lad’s arm, yanking him towards the guesthouse.

  “You make the tiniest bit of noise and I’ll be the one to call the police. And don’t think I’m joking.”

  ♦

  When the alarm went off at seven o’clock, I lay there in dismay wishing for a few hours more sleep. My eyes burned with tiredness and kept flickering shut. It took all my willpower to pull myself upright, rather than snuggle back into my cosy duvet. Beside me Jason lay mouth open, snoring gently, his face lined with tiredness. Stubble grazed his face and chin, wisps of hair peeking from the v of his white top. I shook him awake and relayed the previous night’s events. Without warning, he leapt from the bed and stomped out of the bedroom, the bottoms of his checked pyjama bottoms flapping round his bare feet. I caught hold of him on the landing en route to turf the lads from the bedroom.

  He tried to shrug his arm from my grip, but I hissed, “Leave it for now!”

  With my finger to my mouth, I nodded in the direction of the guestroom neighbouring the lads’. The strip of darkness under their door told us they were asleep. I prayed the one under the lad’s door meant they’d already left, although I doubted it. We couldn’t find out though. After last night’s episode, we couldn’t risk waking our guests. The eviction would have to wait until later. I towed Jason by the arm back into the bedroom.

  “I told the lad they had to go first thing and he agreed.”

  “First thing is now. We might not have time later.”

  The snooze on my alarm sounded. I’d set the tune to ‘By the Seaside’. Corny but apt. I rushed over to the bedside table to turn off the jingle, Jason’s remark forgotten.

  I’d hoped to find a set of keys in the box in the hallway but no such luck. Thankfully, none of the guests mentioned hearing anything untoward the previous night and I didn’t plan on inviting comment by asking how they’d slept. When Alan and Sharon came downstairs relaxed and looking forward to their planned fishing trip, my worries subsided. Stifling my yawns, I smiled and made sure everyone left well fed and happy.

  After we’d cleared up the breakfast room, Jason gave me a kiss on the forehead and stretched behind me to lift the car keys from the rack.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Have you forgotten my hospital appointment?”

  I gazed at him in confusion. “But that was Friday morning.”

  “It is Friday.”

  “I’m going mad. There’s me thinking it’s Saturday, what with those lads partying until the small hours.” Then it dawned on me. “You’re leaving me with them?”

  “I said we may not have time if we didn’t do it then.” He sighed and checked his watch. “Come on, we’ll have to be quick. The traffic’s going to be terrible.”

  I couldn’t risk him missing his hospital appointment. It wouldn’t be fair. He’d waited weeks to see the specialist to get his mole checked. He’d be gone from the guesthouse for a couple of hours, three at most. With check-out less than an hour away, it wouldn’t be long before those lads would be on their way too. I could handle it.

  “Go,” I said. “It’ll be fine. Good luck.”

  As I cleaned room four, guests passed by in their shorts and sunhats. Apart from the lads, no one was leaving today, so servicing the rooms was a breeze, even on my own. Wishing each group a lovely day, I moved onto another room and another until by eleven forty-five I had just the one room left: the lads. After their behaviour last night, I couldn’t believe they had the audacity to hang around. But any anger I felt was dampened by anxiety. Should I deal with them or wait for Jason to come back? There were two of them, after all. But they hadn’t come across as aggressive.

  From where I stood on the landing, I could hear muffled snores. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. After two loud knocks I slid the key into the lock and shoved the door open. The stench of vomit overlaid the smell of stale alcohol. The tall lad, Carl, still lay spread-eagled over the bed, while his friend huddled on the floor. In the half-light I took care clambering across – making sure I didn’t step on him or on anything he may have done on the floor – and opened the curtains to inspect the room. I couldn’t spot sick, thank goodness, but the smell turned my stomach. Rancid. I prayed they’d made it to the loo.

  I’d check once they’d gone. I clapped my hands together.

  “Come on! You’ve got to get out.”

  “Whaaa?” Blinking in the bright sunlight, Carl lifted his head. “We’ve paid for today.”

  “And I paid for your taxi last night, so you and your friend are leaving.”

  He wrenched the duvet cover over his head and curled into a tight ball. I tugged his arm, but he didn’t budge.

  “Get up!” I screeched, furious with myself and them. Why was I such a weakling? Jason would have sorted them out. I jabbed the lad on the floor with my foot. “Get out. What sort of people do you think you are stealing from a taxi driver? I don’t want you here. If you’re not out in five minutes, I’ll call the police.”

  From beneath the covers, Carl sniggered. “Yeah, right. We’ve paid, we stay.”

  “The form you signed said you had to behave or else you lose your money.”

  I didn’t bother going on. I wasted my breath.

  I stomped out, snatching their room keys from where they sat by the tea tray and jammed the bedroom door open. I had no idea what to do. Call the police or wait for Jason? I paced up-and-down the landing. Perhaps I should tip a bucket of water over them. Except that would wreck the bedding. Stuff it! I would call the police. Those lads deserved it.

  As I headed downstairs to grab the phone, a figure appeared through the other side of the opaque door pane. Hoping it would be Jason, I flung the door open, to find Shona holding a jug.

  “I don’t suppo… Fricking heck, you look fed up!”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  When I recounted the story about last night and how I couldn’t get them out of bed, her expression became grim. Shoving the jug into my hand, she stomped off in the direction of Jetsam Cottage, shouting, “I’ll just be a mo!”

  Minutes later she shot back with Maggie who held a spray gun, while Shona had armed herself with a saucepan and wooden spoon.

  I stared at them. “What are you planning to do?”

  “They sound like right nasty pieces,” Maggie said. “If this doesn’t work, I’ve called Jeff and he’s on his way with Ozzie.”

  Puzzled, I turned to Shona.

  “Their dog.” She grinned. “Jeff used to be a police-dog handler.”

  “Ozzie wasn’t his dog but an ex-colleague’s. When they moved abroad a few years ago, we agreed to take him as we no longer had the guesthouse. Anyhow, let’s get to it.” Maggie grinned. “This should be fun.”

  I didn’t know what to think about an ex-police dog being used to help evict our unwanted guests. Would it drag the lads out with its teeth? But I didn’t have a chance to ask as Maggie took the lead, holding the spray gun in front of her as if it were a real weapon. She looked so ridiculous, it took all my willpower not to laugh. She
didn’t ask if she was heading in the right direction but carried on up the second flight of stairs. Maybe the sound of snoring gave it away. When we reached the landing, she pointed towards the open door. Through there? I nodded. She stood with her back pressed into the landing wall and took a deep breath as if readying herself for battle.

  As she swung through the doorway, she screeched, “Get up!” and sprayed water – or, at least I assumed it was water – all over the face of the lad sleeping on the floor.

  He barricaded his face with his arms. “Go away!”

  Maggie moved onto Carl who lay in the bed, while Shona stayed with the lad on the floor banging the saucepan centimetres from his ears.

  “Are you lot mental or something,” the short lad shouted. Shona gave him a swift kick and he yelped.

  “I’ll do it again! Get out!”

  As she drew back her leg, ready for another boot, I touched her arm to warn her against it, but I didn’t need to worry.

  “Alright, alright!” The lad crawled towards the door. I grabbed his arm to help him up, but he shook me off, snatching his rucksack as he got to his feet. Once in the landing he shouted, “You coming, Carl?”

  “These old biddies don’t frighten me,” Carl’s muffled voice came from beneath the duvet. The only visible part of him was his fingers pinning the duvet down.

  “But Ozzie will,” Maggie laughed.

  “A police dog,” I said.

  “The police? Carl!” he shouted. “They’ve called the pigs.”

  Carl didn’t move. But his knuckles had become the colour of bone.

  “I’d go if I was you,” I said to the lad, who shot a glance at Carl and fled down the stairs.

  Moments later, ferocious barks reverberated through the guesthouse and the lad’s voice echoed up the stairs, “I’m going, I’m going!” He must have met Ozzie and Jeff at the door.

  Maggie smiled in satisfaction. “Ozzie’s arrived. Shona, be a love and show them up.”

  As Shona disappeared, Maggie bent over to bellow at the mound. “The dog’s called Ozzie because he bites the head off things! Don’t think I’m joking either.”

  I gazed at her in horror. If Ozzie bit Carl, we could be sued. The stairs creaked and a strange snaffling noise rose, like someone or something was being strangled and fighting for breath. We could hear Jeff’s voice, urging Ozzie to be calm.

  “I don’t like this,” I said to Maggie. “He won’t bite, will he?”

  Maggie winked at me. “He’s trained to bite on command. Jeff and Shona will be our witnesses that this lad went to attack you and Ozzie stopped him.”

  A German Shepherd dog rounded the corner, straining at his lead, followed by a stocky, balding man who kept a tight grip on the leather handle. He shot Maggie a brief smile without taking his eyes from Ozzie and wound the lead round his hand to draw the dog closer. Shona smirked, clearly enjoying this. I should have known better than to involve her. This would end in tears. Most likely mine, when I was arrested for allowing guests to be mauled. The furious barking started again. I prayed all our other guests were at the harbour enjoying the sun and nowhere near this hell hound with its snapping jaw and fearsome teeth. Froths of saliva coated its mouth, making it appear rabid. Perhaps it was.

  “Let him go, Jeff!” Maggie hollered.

  “Okay, okay!” Carl shouted. He tossed the covers aside and leapt from the bed. “Just keep that thing away from me.”

  Skirting the wall, he kept as far away from Ozzie as possible. I couldn’t blame him. From where I stood by the door, Ozzie was an awesome sight on his two hind legs, twisting and tugging, dagger-like fangs aching to get hold of Carl’s skinny arm. By the look of it, those long canine teeth would pierce through to the other side.

  I stepped back to let a white-faced Carl past. “Silly bitch,” he muttered and shot down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I went to follow but Ozzie’s hot breath on the back of my calf made me rethink my position and I stepped aside to let him and Jeff through. I met them moments later on the front drive. In the distance, arms pumping, Carl sprinted away towards the harbour, while a disinterested Ozzie munched on a dog biscuit.

  Jeff laughed and hugged Maggie. “Oh love, I haven’t had that much fun in ages. Reminds me of the olden days.”

  “Thank you,” I said, relieved to see the back of Carl and his friend, but worried about possible repercussions. Hopefully, Jason would be here if those lads came back.

  Maggie chuckled and held out a wallet. “I found this on the stairs. Mind if I hand it in at the police station? It’d be nice to have an excuse to pop in to see them all. Imagine those boys’ faces when they have to go there to collect it.”

  I doubted they’d go to the police station for a wallet containing a driving licence, railcard and empty prepayment card. If they did though, the police might not be happy to hear what we’d done.

  “But what would the police say about an ex-police dog being used on those lads?”

  Maggie laughed. “Ozzie? He wasn’t a police dog. He failed to get in so Barry, Jeff’s old colleague took him on till he moved away. That’s when we had him. He looks and sounds vicious, but Jeff’ll tell you, it’s all show.”

  “A right softie. He’d licked them to death.” He patted the large dog. By way of thanks, Ozzie slopped his long, dripping tongue across Jeff’s face.

  I knelt to stroke Ozzie’s silky head. His wet nose nuzzled my cheek – I made sure to keep away from his tongue – and his gentle brown eyes met mine. Hard to believe that moments before, I’d thought him capable of hurting those lads.

  “That’s one for the book. They won’t be doing that again in a hurry.” Shona slapped her forehead. “Duh! I almost forgot why I came round. I don’t suppose you’ve got some spare milk. Kim needs a cup of tea and we’ve run dry.”

  I grinned. “I did wonder if the jug was a gift.”

  We both stood for a few moments watching as Maggie, Jeff and Ozzie left in the direction of Torringham Police Station with Carl’s wallet. Unconsciously, Shona tapped the wooden spoon against her thigh, the saucepan dangling from her other hand. Had she used them to get rid of guests before? They had made a terrible racket; one as loud as Ozzie but not quite as frightening. Then I remembered her kicking the poor lad on the floor and I amended that thought. Ozzie looked scary, whereas Shona was scary.

  Chapter 17

  Book in hand, I sat on the rock, letting the clear water lap against my toes. Children’s voices echoed from the nearby outdoor pool. Before making my way down the steps to the tiny cove, I’d watched them jump feet first into the water, laughing. Rather them than me. It had taken a full ten minutes for my feet to adjust to the temperature of the sea, let alone the rest of my body. As if to prove the point a wave rolled in, splashing my calves and making me wince. In the past hour, the tide had turned. Soon this rock would be submerged and much of the cove too. I checked my watch. Two thirty. Half an hour before I needed to head back for the new arrivals.

  Beneath the shimmering water, my feet appeared pale but from the point my calves jutted above the waterline my skin was lightly tanned. Quite odd. Especially as I spent more time within the confines of the B&B than outside. As another large wave headed my way, I shuffled onto a higher rock shaped like a chair and, placing my book in my lap, leaned back against its craggy surface and closed my eyes. Without the cooling water to temper the heat, the sun prickled my skin. It felt decadent lazing here but strange too being alone here while Jason was stuck at Mike’s fixing his macerator for the second time. Why didn’t they get a new one? Who wanted constant toilet issues at a B&B?

  I’d wondered if it had been an excuse to spend the afternoon with Mike, especially as we’d finally agreed to take a few hours off and go for a meal by the harbour. Instead, Jason’s lunch had been a ham sandwich stuffed into his mouth while standing in the kitchen, aided by loud gulps of coffee. I’d turned down Josie’s invitation to join her for a cup of tea. As much as I wouldn’t mind a chat, especiall
y now we’d found a joint love of books, it was ten days since I’d last gone anywhere other than food shopping and I didn’t want to sit indoors. Not when I could spend a couple of hours beneath an azure sky, listening to the waves lapping the rocks.

  Clumps of lime-green and russet-brown seaweed blanketed the boulder-strewn cove, while gulls lined the limestone outcrops, taking turns to lift into the air, cawing and circling in the sky. As much as other people found them a nuisance, I loved their cries. On days when I was trapped inside the B&B ironing and waiting for guests to arrive, the only thing that reminded me I lived by the sea was the sound of the gulls. For that I forgave them their five o’clock wake-up calls. Although, if they ever stole my food, I might revise my opinion of them. I checked my watch – not time to leave yet – and settled back to listen to the waves, the gulls and the screeches of excited children.

  Fifteen minutes later, I packed away my towel and book and pulled on my deck shoes to hop across the rocks to the concrete steps. As I reached the quieter top road, which steered around the bustle of the marina, my mobile beeped.

  ‘We’re at the guesthouse,’ the message read. ‘Where are you?’

  I sighed. Our check-in time didn’t start for another thirty minutes. Then another notification popped up. Two missed calls from the same number, one at two o’clock and the other at two fifteen. I must have been out of signal range. What sort of mood would the guests be in? If I’d got the message I could have told them they were early and advised them to go for a stroll but ignoring them – even unintentionally – wasn’t going to be the best start. I typed back to say I would be back for the check-in time and picked up speed. Soon my fast walk became a jog and before I knew it, I found myself sprinting through Torringham harbour, hurdling dog leads and slaloming between clusters of tourists.

  By the time I reached the guesthouse, fifteen minutes ahead of our usual check-in time, I gasped for breath and sweat poured down my face, plastering my fringe to my forehead. My nose had become a waterslide upon which my sunglasses slithered, no matter how many times I pushed them back.