Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse

by Sharley Scott

  Seriously, would this man ever shut up? I needed to finish this ensuite and then change my top before continuing with the cleaning. I walked into him, forcing him to retreat into the hallway. As forcefully as I could, I said, “I have to get on.”

  He reminded me of a fish, his wide bulbous eyes, his mouth dangling open. When I knelt to clean the shower tray, I could feel him there, hear him breathing. His silence unnerved me. What had Emmerdale got to do with anything? But I didn’t dare ask. It might set him off again. When I looked up, he’d gone.

  ♦

  We didn’t finish cleaning the guest rooms, kitchen and breakfast room until after two o’ clock, when Jason went shopping while I did the washing and ironing. By the time we checked in a new guest, it was gone five. With Jason slumped on the sofa, head back and snoring, I decided to see how Shona had fared after yesterday’s ‘yoga’ accident.

  She answered the door to Jetsam Cottage, grinning like a child at Christmas. Putting her finger to her lips, she waved me inside. Intrigued, I followed her. Why the need for quiet? All became clear when we reached the lounge. Kim sat on the floor, eyes closed, legs crossed, arms resting on her knees, her index fingers and thumbs together in the typical meditation pose.

  After leading me through to the kitchen, Shona clasped her hand over her mouth in a feeble attempt to mask her giggles. She pushed the door shut and all but crumpled to the floor, while I gazed at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  She jabbed her finger in Kim’s direction. “Didn’t you hear her? Ommm. Ommmm. I mean, first yoga, now this. She’s off her rocker.”

  “Isn’t meditation part of yoga?”

  Her expression became serious. “I dunno. I preferred it when she was a tree.” She held up a mug. “Coffee? We’ll have to drink it outside, unless you want to sit in silence while she ommms.”

  She bustled around making the coffees until for no reason she spun round, jabbing a teaspoon in my direction.

  “If she’s like this now, imagine what she’ll be like in a few years.”

  “Maybe it’s a phase.”

  She picked up the kettle. “She’s flipping well fazing me.”

  I smiled, even though Shona wasn’t joking anymore. The earlier churning and hissing of the boiling kettle had masked Kim’s low hum which now filtered through the closed door.

  “I tell you, she’s gonna drive me nuts.”

  Although I would have felt the same way if Jason decided to hog the lounge and meditate each night, I didn’t want to say so – if we could hear Kim, she would be able to hear us – so I changed the subject.

  “Did she spot the tile?” As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t, especially as I’d just been thinking about sound travelling between the rooms.

  Shona’s finger shot to her lips. Shush.

  She grabbed a sheet of paper and pen and wrote, ‘I told her you did it.’

  Seeing the surprise on my face she burst out laughing. ‘Only joking,’ she wrote, but I had a feeling I featured somewhere in the telling of the tale. Lifting her mug, she pointed up to the courtyard garden. My cue to follow her. She snatched a packet of biscuits from the worktop and headed out.

  Rarely did we go outside when I came around as either one of them was ironing or they were waiting for guests to arrive. Shona led the way through the dank courtyard – I resisted the urge to mention ‘Mousegate’ – and up the steps to their little garden, where she brushed the seat on one of the patio chairs before offering it to me. The metal chair grated on the patio slabs and I sat down, finding myself beside a beautiful potted bush with dainty red and white flowers. I twisted the label, ‘Hot Lips’.

  “Is this the plant version of the dog thing, where they say dogs are like their owners?”

  Shona grinned. “Most definitely. Kim says my lips are very hot.”

  She puckered her lips just as I’d seen Emily and, occasionally, Lucy do on their social media profiles, but Shona definitely fell in the trout more than pout camp. As I took a sip of my coffee, she wrestled open the biscuits and offered me one. Above a herring gull – I’d been learning about the different breeds of gull – perched on the stone wall eyeing the packet.

  “You can bugger off,” she told it.

  We chatted about guests and housework issues, moving on to talk about other B&Bs and the little snippets Shona had heard, which included Raymond who had been seen sporting a black eye. According to Shona, local gossip suggested his wandering hands had roamed around the wrong woman. If he behaved anything like the way he’d been when I’d met him at Shona and Kim’s party months before, I couldn’t blame someone for getting a bit fed up. But I pitied him too, as Shona said he’d been running his place alone for years after his wife died. His might only be a three-bed B&B, but that would be hard work for one person and he’d have no one to talk to about everyday worries. The conversation meandered along. Nothing too taxing as Shona hated debating politics, whereas Kim loved intense discussions.

  My phone beeped. I glanced at the time, surprised to see it was almost seven o’clock. No wonder Jason was texting. We hadn’t eaten yet. I glanced at the message and shook my head. What? I read it again.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Perplexed, I handed the phone to Shona. She burst into peals of laughter. “Seriously?”

  Still giggling, she read the message to me. “Why did you tell June she could watch Emmerdale in our lounge?” She grinned. “Is this your guest?”

  I snatched back the phone and texted. ‘I didn’t.’

  Shona and I both sat waiting for Jason’s response, which came within seconds. ‘Well, she’s here and she said you did.’

  A moment later, another message appeared from Jason. ‘I woke to find her sitting there.’

  Hearing Shona’s cackles of laughter, Kim appeared at the top of the steps. “What’s so funny?”

  “You should see this.” Shona handed her the phone. “It’s their guest.”

  Kim broke into a wide smile. “Poor Jason. What on earth made her think she could do that?”

  A chill ran through me. “Oh dear!” I turned to Shona. “You remember I told you about Peter stalking me in the shower this morning? Well, he said something about his wife wanting to watch Emmerdale later, but I had no idea what he was going on about.”

  Kim handed me the phone. “But even if she does want to watch Emmerdale, she’s got her own TV in the room.”

  “He said he wanted to watch something else. Maybe he thought it was like the old days with the bar when people could have a drink and watch TV.”

  “They’d have to be pretty stupid to think your lounge is a bar,” Shona said.

  “They don’t seem to have boundaries about personal space,” I said, recalling Peter standing by the shower earlier. “Jason won’t be impressed about this.”

  Shona’s eyes sparkled. “I’d love to see him sitting with this June woman watching Emmerdale. Let’s go round.”

  Kim laughed. “He won’t thank us.”

  “He will when Emmerdale finishes and we help him move June. Or, if you want to annoy him Katie, I could invite her to stay and watch Corrie too.”

  “I’d rather you helped with the eviction. Nicely though.”

  Shona rubbed her hands together. “What do you mean? I’m always nice.”

  Chapter 24

  Shona stood at the front door, craning to look over my shoulder. When she didn’t attempt to come inside, I turned to follow her gaze but, other than the full laundry bag I’d dumped at the back of the hallway, there was nothing of interest.

  “I’m not coming in if they’re still here,” she said.

  The penny dropped. “Oh them! They went days ago.”

  “Good thing too. I can’t believe you left me talking to that bloke about history. I came over to save you and you landed me with him.”

  “Be honest, you came over to see Jason stuck in the lounge with June.”

  “As soon as it finished I got her out and look how
you repaid me.”

  She’d forgotten the sequence of events. Kim had left soon after we managed to encourage June to leave the lounge, while Shona decided to stay on as she liked Coronation Street. When she finally left at nine o’clock, she’d bumped into Peter in the hallway. I’d heard his voice and, sensibly, didn’t follow her out to say goodbye but instead stood by the door eavesdropping. When he’d asked Shona if she’d seen me as he’d discovered more information about the caves near Shadwell Point, she’d said ‘Oh that sounds exciting’. Head in my hands, I’d all but wept on her behalf. Hadn’t she listened when I warned her about him?

  But, regardless of how she remembered it, I apologised and gave her a hug, even though I knew she didn’t like public displays of affection – not that anyone was around to see – and pulled her inside. As I did, I caught a glimpse of our new sign swaying in the breeze. Derrick had done us a favour when he drove into our wall and knocked down our old sign, as this one looked sleek and modern. Gold lettering on black, with the F and G for Flotsam Guesthouse entwined around each other, and the addition of our website address taking us to the heights of modernity! The sign didn’t match with the canary yellow and green guesthouse façade but come October we’d have paintbrushes at the ready and Norwich City’s colours would be relegated to the past.

  Shona eyed me with suspicion. The cuddle hadn’t softened her.

  “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t cope with Peter again. Did you learn much about Torringham?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve blanked it out. It’s too distressing. Gone ten o’clock before I finally made it home. You owe me big time.”

  “Okay, next time you find a vibrator, I’ll post it for you again.”

  She grinned. “I’m sure I can think of something better. Anyhow, I’ve come to beg a favour from Jason.”

  “He’s out with Mike.”

  “Again? Do you two actually plan it so you don’t have to spend time together?”

  She laughed as if joking but this was too close to home. Often Shona’s words could be like precision bombs, smashing into the target and leaving a trail of destruction while she waltzed off rubbing her hands in satisfaction. But this must have been an unintended direct hit. I couldn’t believe Shona would be mean about our marriage or, at least, not in such a snide way. Forcing a smile, I ushered her through to the lounge, where I lifted a pile of ironed bedding from the settee to make space for her.

  “Can I help?” I folded the still-warm towels I’d taken from the tumble drier.

  “Not unless you have a clue about clutches.”

  No need to answer. We both knew I didn’t.

  “If Jason’s out, why don’t you come out with me? Kim’s at yoga tonight.”

  I pulled a sympathetic face. “Sorry, it’s my book club night. With Laura.”

  She grimaced and fell silent. She looked so downcast I almost found myself offering to cancel but I held my nerve. If I turned it down for a second time, I risked not being invited again.

  A moment later Shona slapped her thigh. “Stuff it! I’ll join you. Laura’s asked me to go before so she won’t mind.”

  In all the time I’d known Shona, I’d never seen her hold a book, let alone open one. She must be desperate for a night out. Although we both knew Laura, I didn’t like the idea of Shona arriving unannounced, so I said, “Make sure you let Laura know you’re going as it’s being held in the back room of The Anchor’s Rest. They might need to know numbers.”

  ♦

  Late thanks to Shona being unable to find her door keys, we took a brisk half-run, half-walk down to the harbour. Through streets clogged with sunburned people with glowing faces, we dodged families clutching fishing nets and crabbing buckets and too many dogs to count. From nearby came the sound of tooting. The crowds parted and Mrs Hollacombe came through on her mobility scooter, her steering wheel set in a line as straight as her face. When a man stepped in front of her, she jabbed her horn again, but didn’t slow. He hastily jumped aside and Shona grabbed my arm to make sure I did too.

  “Twelve quid for two hours. That’s cheap,” Shona said.

  “Eh?”

  She pointed at Mrs Hollacombe’s scooter and the laminated posters for mackerel fishing tours that had been sellotaped along its back and sides.

  “Bob Langdon charges £16 so he won’t be happy with Drew dropping his rates. You watch there’ll be mackerel wars.”

  “I see.” Not that I did.

  We turned into the harbour, stepping into the road to dodge a group of people who stood chatting on the pavement, and ended up continuing along the road as people spilled from pubs blocking the paths. Opposite a busker stood by the harbour wall strumming a guitar, while further along uniformed members of Torringham brass band were setting up. Shona led the way into the pub, angling sideways to get through the people queuing at the bar of The Anchor’s Rest. I could see why everyone stood in the street enjoying the sun rather than in the gloomy bar which smelled of sweat and alcohol. To my relief, Shona headed out the back through a door marked ‘toilets’. A long alleyway led to the loos, but she took an immediate right through a thick door that creaked when pushed open. We found ourselves in a small, musty smelling room.

  A group of women sat round an oval table. I recognised Laura, Josie and one of the other women from when I’d joined Josie for a drink, but the rest were unfamiliar. Curled in the corner lay Bessie. Her tail flapped the tiled floor but she didn’t get up. Laura seemed surprised to see us and when I spotted the one free chair I understood why.

  “Hello everyone.” Shona settled herself in the chair, leaving me standing. “I’ve come with Katie.”

  I smiled but inside I fumed. Not only hadn’t Shona told Laura that she planned to come, but she’d also made it look as if I’d invited her. Before I could explain, Laura stood up.

  “Have my chair. I’ll find another one.”

  “I’ll get it. Just point me in the right direction.”

  By the time I waded through the bar to commandeer the only free seat I could find – a bar stool – I found the book club in progress. They paused their discussion to clatter round, chairs banging and scraping on the flagstones, while they made room for me. Once a stool-sized space had been created, they watched in silence until I settled down and then, as if someone released the mute button, restarted their conversation. My stool was a foot taller than everyone else’s chairs, so my knees butted the edge of the table. Worse, I felt more like the uninvited guest than Shona, who held court on the other side of the room showering us with her views on the book even though neither of us had read it. I debated whether to go and buy a drink but hemmed in on both sides I sat parched and unhappy, wishing I’d never mentioned the book club to Shona.

  About half an hour later, the woman next to me picked up her own and her neighbour’s wine glasses. She smiled at me and said the first words anyone had said since I’d sat down.

  “We don’t do rounds as it gets a bit expensive.”

  Taking the opportunity to free myself from my pen, I followed her out meaning to join her at the bar, but when I saw the size of the queue – even bigger than earlier – I found myself heading outside where I stood surrounded by a mass of revellers who bumped my arms and stepped on my toes, apologised and forgot me. Unable to decide what to do – should I stay or go? – I hovered by the doorway. If I went home, my unannounced departure would make it awkward to return in the future, but was this book club thing for me? On the other hand, could I really say that thirty minutes of discomfort was ‘giving it a go’? I enjoyed reading, I liked chatting to people and this offered both. I should stay and try harder to be part of the group. Decision made, I headed back but as I did Laura appeared with Bessie. Had she come looking for me or, more likely, did Bessie need to get out for a bit?

  “I was just getting some air,” I said.

  “We’re leaving before it blows up in there.” Laura shot a glance behind her. “No offence but Shona will insist on arguing black is
white when it comes to opinions on books. She hasn’t even read this one but won’t let up about the heroine being the antagonist. It’s Grace’s favourite book, so she won’t budge an inch either. All that jumping up and down is starting to upset Bessie.”

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I’d caused Laura to leave her own book group. As I started to apologise, a man stumbled through the door, spilling lager over the floor. The look on his face suggested it was my fault for blocking the entrance, so I stepped outside into the crowded street where Laura joined me.

  “I’m really sorry.” I had to shout above the laughter. “She said you wouldn’t mind her coming, but I did ask her to check with you.”

  “I should have guessed. Shona is lovely, but we don’t invite her to the book group anymore for good reason.” She gave me a wry smile. “How about we go over the road for a drink? It’ll be a bit quieter.”

  As we turned to go, a red-faced Josie rushed out. “Don’t leave me! It’s handbags at dawn in there.”

  Laura grinned. “That’ll be interesting to see but I vote we stick to the safety of the wine bar.”

  We waltzed away relieved to be leaving. I felt a pang of guilt for abandoning Shona again. No doubt she’d let me know her feelings tomorrow. But it had been horrible sitting there a foot higher than everyone with no one to talk to and nothing to drink, while she didn’t stop to draw breath. Had she noticed me stuck there unable to join in? Or had she been so keen to broadcast her opinion on something she hadn’t read, she’d forgotten I was there? Either way, I was looking forward to my glass of wine in quiet company, while she continued to duel over a fictional hero.

  ♦

  As I lay in bed that night, my head whirled like a helicopter. Round and round and round, faster and faster, down, down. Great! Frustrated, I twisted round to my side, hoping it would make me feel better, but the waft of Jason’s alcoholic breath made it worse. I hung my head over the edge of the bed but soon the familiar spinning resumed. How had I managed to get this ill after three glasses of wine? Large ones admittedly, but I’d made sure to sip them, rather than make my previous mistake and guzzle them down. Then I remembered the rhubarb gin the barman had insisted we try – delicious – and how we’d agreed to each have ‘a cheeky double’ in a fishbowl glass filled with pomegranates, raspberries and goodness knows what else. I burped, rewarded by the foul taste of acidic gin, followed by a wave of nausea so strong I knew I would spend the night in the loo. Blooming gin. I couldn’t be sick. Not tonight, please. Especially when we had a full house again for breakfast in the morning.