Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse

by Sharley Scott

  I staggered to the loo and sat there for an age, praying I’d be able to go to bed soon and not spin. My eyes stung, my back prickled with cold and my throat felt like a worm, coiling and straightening. Ugh. A worm. I dropped to my knees and head in the depths of the bowl, I plastered it pomegranate red. Minutes later, I sat back, eyes watering, mouth burning. Now was the hour for bargaining. Eyes to the ceiling, I prayed. If I didn’t drink again, please let me get to sleep. Maybe that would be too challenging. Change of plan. How about I drink again but next time I won’t have gin after three wines.

  I brushed my teeth and stumbled back into bed beside a comatose, snoring Jason. How I longed to be like him: drunk, yet asleep.

  A buzzing sound woke me. In my dream it had been a bee but when the noise continued, I woke with a jolt. My phone. Who would call at this early hour? Lucy! And at four o’clock too! Something must have happened. Scrabbling to pick up the mobile, I knocked it from the bedside table to the floor.

  I pressed the phone to my ear and kept my voice to a whisper, conscious of guests in the nearby rooms. “Is everything alright?”

  Beside me, Jason groaned in his sleep and shifted round, dragging the duvet across him. I elbowed him. Hard.

  “Katie, it’s me. Listen…” She paused while something clattered past her. “Emily’s been in an accident.”

  Heart pounding, I leapt from the bed. “Is she okay? What sort of accident?”

  “She’s unconscious. They’re taking her for a scan.”

  “Where are you? We’ll come up.”

  As soon as I said it, I realised the impossibility of the situation. Even if we hadn’t been drinking, we were a four-hour drive away. Worse, we had a guesthouse full of people who we couldn’t abandon to dash off to see our daughter. Maybe one of us could get up there but how would the other cope alone with sixteen people? Would they understand our situation? I’d seen the reviews when another guesthouse owner had learned of her mother’s sudden death and she’d shot off to be with her father, leaving her husband to hold the fort. Instead of receiving sympathy and understanding, two couples had given appalling reviews even though they acknowledged the bereavement.

  Stuff the reviews. OUR DAUGHTER NEEDED US. Emily was injured and unconscious, while we were miles away, stuck in our sodding utopian ideal of a guesthouse by the sea.

  “Stay there,” Lucy said. “At least until we find out more. There’s no point you coming all the way here if you don’t need to.”

  Jason wiped his eyes and pulled himself upright. “What idiot is calling at this time in the morning?”

  Hadn’t he heard anything? Or had he been too drunk to notice me elbow him? I’d been tipsy but at least I answered the phone, whereas he just lay there looking like a village idiot with his stupid mouth open in the ‘What have I done now?’ pose he favoured.

  It took all my willpower not to kick him. Instead I mouthed ‘Shut up!’ and stomped into the ensuite. It reeked of sick and in the harsh LED light I could see crimson flecks littering the bowl. Ugh. I lowered the lid and sat on it.

  “What happened? Have they said anything?”

  In the background, I heard a muffled voice. Then Lucy spoke, “Hold on. I’ll call you back.”

  She hung up, leaving me sitting in silence. When I went back into the warmth of the room, Jason had propped himself up on pillows. I couldn’t stay in the bedroom, especially with other guests asleep nearby, so I headed to the door.

  He smeared his hand down his face. “Are you going to tell me what is going on?”

  “Our daughter. That’s what.” I kept my voice to a low hiss. “Lucy called. Emily’s been in an accident.”

  He leapt from the bed. “What happened?”

  “You heard as much as me. Lucy’s phoning back soon. I’ll be downstairs.”

  In the lounge, I sat with my head in my hands, overwhelmed and powerless. What could I do other than wait for a phone call? For all I knew Emily could be dead or dying. A sob wrenched my throat and I pressed the heel of my palms to my eyes as I fought to stem the tears. How would I live without my lovely daughter? Why had we moved so far away?

  The door clicked open and Jason appeared, ashen-faced. He dropped onto the sofa beside me. “Any news.”

  I shook my head and checked the signal on my mobile phone. Three bars. How I wished it was a teleportation device rather than just a phone. I needed to be there with her.

  It began to vibrate.

  “Lucy! How is she?”

  Jason planted his ear next to mine so he could hear too.

  “They’ve brought her back from the scan. We’re waiting on the results. She’s still unconscious.”

  “Still unconscious?”

  “They don’t know if it’s a knock on the head from the accident or something else.”

  “Something else?” I’d become a parrot but this was frustrating. Lucy needed to give us more information.

  “The person driving has been arrested for drink-driving. Look, I wasn’t there so I don’t know much.” She sighed. “And I haven’t got much battery, so I’ll call you when they’ve got news.”

  She hung up, leaving me staring at the phone. Why on earth would Emily have got in a car with a drink-driver? Also, what did Lucy mean by ‘something else’? Emily would be unconscious because of a head injury. What other possible explanation could there be? Questions raced round without an answer.

  Frustrated, I leapt to my feet. “We have to do something!”

  “What do you propose?”

  “Go up there. What if she gets worse? We can’t sit here doing nothing.”

  Jason got to his feet and placed his hands on my shoulder, his blood-shot eyes scrutinising mine. Prickling with discomfort and unable to bear his scrutiny – we didn’t get close anymore, not like this – I dropped my gaze to his chest, but not before noticing his hollow orbs, as if the grey-smudged skin had sunk into his sockets. Tiredness from the constant churn of the B&B, a night on the tiles or the fear about Emily? Probably all three. Like me.

  “You know as well as I do that we have no option but to be patient. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can make plans.”

  A balloon of hurt expanded in my chest. As if someone was pumping it harder and harder, until it grew so full there was no room to breathe. I gasped in shock. I COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT MY DAUGHTER. If I’d been alone I would have bawled my eyes out but not with guests just six feet above us. Even in my terror I thought of them. Why, oh why did we live so far away? And why, oh why had Emily got into a car with a drink driver?

  We had no choice but to sit and wait. And breathe.

  Agony. That’s the only way I could describe it. A minute seemed to last ten, ten minutes felt like forever and we’d been waiting twenty minutes with no news. Anguish and fear stabbed me each time my thoughts turned to Emily lying there, hopefully alive, hopefully awake, although that seemed too much to hope for.

  A car zoomed past, its headlights cutting through a crack in the curtains. Soon it would be dawn. In a few days it would be September. I pressed my hands together and prayed she would live another day, another year, a lifetime. I couldn’t imagine living an Emily-less life. It mustn’t happen. Please.

  Jason’s knees cracked as he got up. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “Not for me.”

  As he disappeared, I checked my phone again. No missed calls and three signal bars, but I turned it from vibrate to full volume just in case. If I answered quickly we wouldn’t disturb guests. My screensaver was a picture of myself, Jason, Lucy and Emily, taken years ago when Emily was a foot smaller than Lucy. They were about the same height now. Back then, Emily had worn a wide grin and her dimples cut into her cheeks. Her hair had been pulled back into a pony tail, while Lucy’s had lain loose around her shoulders, in a centre parting, the fashion at the time. Jason stood in between the girls, his arms strung over their shoulders, and I stood at the edge beside Emily. Poor Emily. Please let her be okay. They must know something
by now. What if Lucy’s phone battery had gone and she couldn’t call us? Should I call the hospital? As I hesitated, my phone beeped and a message appeared.

  ‘She’s woken up. Will call soon.’

  Burying my head in my hands, I whispered, “Thank goodness.”

  When Jason came back a moment later, I handed him the phone. “It doesn’t say Emily’s okay, just that she’s woken up.”

  The sofa creaked as Jason sat beside me and scratched his bristled chin. “But it’s a step in the right direction.”

  While he went back out to make a coffee, I nestled into the cushions. A chill seeped through my flimsy pyjama top, yet my palm sweated from the heat of the phone which I couldn’t put down. From outside, the faint chime of the church bells filtered in. Five dongs. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. Usually, in just over an hour I would be getting up.

  The phone rang – Emily’s number this time – and I hurriedly jabbed the answer button. “Are you okay?”

  It was Lucy. When Jason shot back a moment later, I hit the loudspeaker button and her voice filled the room.

  “They’ve given an all-clear on the scan. They’ve done blood tests, just to check and I’ll let you know about them. But she’s talking and, other than a bruise on her cheek and a cut arm, which they’re going to stitch, she’s okay. I’ve got Em’s phone as my battery is knackered. Can you believe it? What a night for me to forget to charge it.”

  The squeal of an ambulance siren made her pause, which was probably a good thing as she hadn’t stopped for breath.

  “It’s cold out here. Em’s phone hasn’t got a signal inside, so I’ll call you back later.”

  As I cut the call, Jason smiled and gave me a cuddle. “I’m sure the blood tests will be fine. It’s just a precaution. Changed your mind about coffee?”

  The thought of coffee in a belly tender from the night before didn’t appeal but my stomach rumbled. “Just water, but I could do with a piece of toast, please.”

  When Lucy called half an hour later, she sounded more buoyant. “Everything’s clear. They’re letting her home.”

  “Home? But she was unconscious not an hour ago.”

  “Umm.” She paused. “That may have been something else. When they put her on a drip, she came round pretty quickly. She’s confessed to having over a bottle of wine and quite a few cocktails too.”

  I mouthed to Jason ‘They’re letting her home’ and frowned to let him know I wasn’t happy about it. Being unconscious that long must be serious. He signalled that he wanted to speak with Lucy, so I handed over the phone. It was frustrating to catch bits and pieces of the conversation and even more so when Jason’s expression darkened and he pursed his lips. I wished I’d put it back on loudspeaker. He hung up.

  “First she gets in a car with a drink driver and then she’s just admitted to Lucy that she was swigging cider while they drove to a party. It’s unbelievable. She’d already had enough to put herself in hospital even without the car accident, but they think she may have become unconscious in the car and that may have contributed to the accident. Of course, the driver is at fault. Not only did he have a skin full, but the car was going so fast it ended up on its roof. But Emily’s not come out of this well. What on earth made her behave like that?”

  We fell silent. If we hadn’t moved away, would Emily have done this? I couldn’t say either way but at least we would have been at the hospital and having words about her behaviour. An image of me kneeling over the toilet bowl swam to mind, but I pushed it aside. There was a world of difference between getting tipsy and drinking to the point of unconsciousness. We’d have words when Jason and I called her. For now, we were thankful. Yes, we’d have to smile, forget our exhaustion and make it through a busy day, but it was one in which we still had our daughter. I got to my feet.

  “I’ll make a start on the breakfast room.”

  Chapter 25

  The woman’s hands flew to her mouth. Bewildered, I fought to maintain a concerned appearance as she sank onto the pyramid of towels on the bed.

  “You let him go on his own?”

  “It’s just over the road.”

  Margaret shook her head, leaving me under no doubt I’d done the wrong thing in directing a seventy-year-old man to the car park not more than twenty yards opposite. I gritted my teeth and refreshed my sympathetic smile. Now wasn’t the time to tell her she’d been happy enough when I’d suggested there was no point the two of them getting soaked, so she may as well go straight to the guest room while her husband parked the car.

  “You’ve checked Keith’s definitely not there?”

  “I’ve been out twice.” As if to prove the point, another raindrop trickled from my fringe and rolled down my cheek. “Jason is getting the car to go out looking for him. I’m going back outside in case he drives past.”

  She gave me a small smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I’m over-reacting but he is terrible with directions.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.” I patted her shoulder and left the room.

  Back on the roadside, I stood under an umbrella buffeted by the wind, grimacing as cars passed, splatting me with grimy water that streamed down my bare legs. After cleaning this morning I’d thrown on a pair of shorts, expecting the weather to be like the Indian summer we’d been having since the start of September. Now dark clouds sat overhead spewing bucketfuls of rain. I pitied today’s arrivals. It looked like this foul weather was settling in for a few days. Another car passed, spraying more water over my sodden shoes, so I edged back to the lip of the driveway, unable to go much further as I needed to see his car if it passed. I glanced across to the car park over the road. How could anyone get lost driving twenty yards? If he’d decided to go to the shops or something why hadn’t he phoned his wife? Each time we’d tried to call him, his phone had rung off without being answered. Most odd. But one thing I’d learned in the past five months is that some people do the strangest things.

  The dusk deepened, turning everything to grey hues, including the terrace opposite and most of the passing cars, which made it more difficult to spot Keith’s blue Fiesta. The rain had become never-ending rods of water, crashing to the road which now resembled a river, flowing in thick channels on each side, bypassing choked drains. Water bubbled from a nearby manhole cover, while the streetlights and headlamps of passing cars barely cut through the gloom. I shivered and checked my watch. Eight thirty. He’d been gone over an hour. Behind me, the guesthouse door clanked shut and Margaret strode across the drive, sidestepping between the parked cars. She’d put her coat back on, a beige hoodless thing with long collars that were now pulled up to cover her ears. As she reached me, I lifted the umbrella to fit her in.

  “He’s still missing?”

  I nodded. “I’ll call Jason in a bit.”

  We fell silent, scanning the cars passing in either direction, up and down, up and down. Our heads rotating like the kids in the Green Cross Code advert, except we weren’t going anywhere.

  “That’s him!” She pointed up the road.

  What looked like a blue – it was impossible to tell – Fiesta headed down the road, fourth in a line of cars. How she knew, I had no idea, but she clapped her hands together in glee and ran towards the kerb, ignoring the spray pelting her legs. Lifting the umbrella aside so we could be seen, I was rewarded by jabs of rain stinging my face, cascading into my eyes and mouth. Margaret wasn’t doing much better. Now blackened and soaked, her once silver curls plastered her forehead. Behind her glasses, droplets clung to her eyelashes. I couldn’t leave her to stand on the roadside waving like a loon, so I joined her, alternating between waving to attract his attention and pointing towards Margaret. After all he was more likely to recognise his wife. The car slowed as it came towards us and a man stared open-mouthed, clearly baffled by the attention of two older women. Not only was it the wrong man but he was forty years too young.

  Still Margaret waved, “Keith! Keith! Yoohoo!”

  She needed better
glasses. I touched her arm but as the man came alongside us she turned to me, shoulders drooping. “Oh! It’s not him.”

  Embarrassed, I hid behind the umbrella as the car shot off. Fingers-crossed he was a tourist and not a local who would one day end up beside me in the queue at Co-op and remember me as the mad, waving woman.

  I squeezed her arm. “He can’t go far. This is Torringham, not some big city.”

  “You don’t know him,” she said. “He could be heading home for all I know.”

  “Did you have a bit of a to-do?” I didn’t like to pry but some questions needed to be asked. It might explain why he’d disappeared for so long.

  “No! We’re not like that.” She turned back to gaze at the traffic and sighed. “As I said, he’s always been bad with directions.”

  “I’ll give Jason a ring.” I handed her the umbrella and headed inside.

  After a dozen fruitless attempts at calling Jason – to be honest, I needed respite from the rain, so I kept trying even though I knew he must be driving – I headed back out. The sound of tyres on wet tarmac scarred the night air but the rain had eased and just a few drops smattered my face, one scoring a direct hit in my eye.

  I couldn’t see Margaret in the darkness, even aided by the glow of nearby street lamps and the headlights of passing cars cutting through the night. Had she disappeared too or gone back to her room while I phoned Jason? As I debated going back inside to check, I spotted a figure standing at the entrance to the car park.