Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse

by Sharley Scott

  I rechecked the payment amounts on the registration forms for the new arrivals. All correct. When Jason returned from the kitchen, I shut the laptop lid.

  “What I don’t understand is how Mrs Morris’s room was unlocked.”

  “It’s obvious. She all but told us she put it on the latch.”

  “But why would she do that?”

  He shrugged but a moment later, he said, “Wasn’t she the one who needed to be let back into her room the other day?”

  Just two days before, Mrs Morris had locked herself out of her room after leaving her keys behind. Worried she would be bothering me, she’d sat patiently in the day room until I came past. I’d rather take a minute to open her door than three hours out of our day dealing with a missing man.

  “I’ll have a chat with her.”

  “No need. She’ll bolt the door now,” Jason said.

  “He’s definitely got dementia,” I said. “But Margaret won’t have it.”

  “She knows,” he said. “Maybe she’s worried we wouldn’t have let him stay here.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded if I’d known. At least none of this would have happened.”

  ♦

  The next morning, I heaved the last of the filled trays into the kitchen and sorted the plates, teapots and cutlery, ready for the next dishwasher load, placing the cafetières beside Jason, who was arm-deep in washing-up water. It was a lovely feeling to clear the breakfast room, although it just signified round one was coming to an end. Round two was guests checking out, although this was usually a short round as it comprised a key handover, bags carried out and goodbyes. Round three, on the other hand, involved cleaning the guest rooms which could take hours, round four was shopping and round five was guests checking in. Round six was a knock-out, when we fell into bed. Today, round two would signify a moment that couldn’t come quick enough but also one I’d rather Jason endured than me.

  As Jason put a dripping saucepan onto the draining board and delved back into the soapy water, the bell rang in the hallway. I had no choice but answer.

  Tapping Jason’s shoulder, I hissed, “You need to come out now.”

  “Margaret!” I kept my voice as light as possible. “You’re off. Can Jason take your bags?”

  She dropped her room keys into my hand. “No need. Keith has taken them.”

  Through the open front door, I spotted Keith by the open boot of his car, thankfully not lost, although he looked it as he stood wringing his driving cap as if it was a damp cloth.

  “It’s a shame you missed breakfast. Can I get you water for your journey?”

  “My husband doesn’t have dementia,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business but it has been ruled out. We were hoping for a restful break while waiting on his results but that proved wishful thinking.” She paused, her mouth contorting into a sneer. “I will thank you for your help yesterday, although it should be noted that it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t leave your guest rooms open.”

  As she turned to go, I heaved a sigh of relief but then Jason strode into the hallway, slapping his hands together as if he was pleased with himself.

  “All sorted? Anything I can fetch?”

  The hand clapping was bad enough but when he used the same jovial tone as he did for happier guests, it felt like he’d walked into a funeral using his pub voice. Fancy a pint anyone? Drinks on me! Cringing, I prodded the back of his leg in warning, hoping Margaret didn’t spot it.

  “Keith’s sorted the bags and I’ve got the keys, so they’re off now,” I said.

  A moment ago, she’d been seconds away from leaving. Now she stood there, her lips pursed into a line as thin as red biro as she uncurled her fingers from the door handle.

  She turned to Jason. “Quite how you get the reviews you do is beyond me. Not only did your wife not ensure we had enough tea and coffee in our room after we went out last night, but the bin in our room was full too.”

  And with that she pulled the door shut with a clang, leaving us in shocked silence.

  “Well, if he hasn’t got dementia, he must just like getting into strange beds.”

  Jason snorted. “I’d be desperate to get away from her too.”

  We walked into the day room to watch them leave. Keith hunched forward in the driving seat with his glasses and cap – a perfect Mr Magoo – inches from the windscreen, while in the passenger seat Margaret jabbed her finger up the road, pointing him the right way out of the car park.

  “She’s got her work cut out if she has to direct him back to Hampshire,” Jason said.

  “I can’t believe she complained about the bin. It didn’t get done because I stopped cleaning to help her. Then she wouldn’t let me in the room.”

  When Jason chuckled, I punched his arm. “It’s not funny. Bet we get a bad review.”

  And we did. Our worst ever.

  Chapter 27

  The woman stood on the doorstep, her hair a vibrant auburn frizz apart from two inches of grey which sprung from her centre parting. Thick lines travelled from the corners of her mouth to the edges of her chin, giving her an unsatisfied air. She extended her hand and, with a firm grip, shook mine. Ouch. It wasn’t the handshake of a human but a gorilla.

  “Ava Opelt. And this is Louis.”

  Clenching and opening my hand to restore circulation, I turned to her companion. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eye. Great! The world’s tallest man in our smallest guest room. Hadn’t they seen the word ‘small double’ in the room name when they booked or was this another couple thinking I’d called it small for a joke. After two poor reviews in just over a week, I didn’t fancy a third. First, we’d had Margaret with her abysmal rating, followed by a couple who gave us a low score three days ago for the small double room being small and the gulls noisy. A bit like holidaying in a vicarage and complaining about the church bells.

  Now someone taller than the Harlem Globetrotters towered on my doorstep. As he ducked to get inside our front door, I wondered how he would manage to sleep in a standard-size double bed. For eight pounds more a night they could have had a kingsize one but I couldn’t invite them to swap as it had sold yesterday.

  “Can I help with your bags?” I glanced outside to see if they’d left them on the driveway.

  “We’ll get them later.”

  Their email had said they were coming by train and would be arriving around noon. While they appreciated this wasn’t our check-in time, they had to put medicines in our fridge which must be kept cool. I’d agreed and asked them to let me know if they were going to be late.

  It wasn’t long before I regretted agreeing to their request. Last night I’d seen an advert for the M&S sale and wanted to grab a few cardigans and a pair of trousers, especially with the cooler September nights drawing in, so I’d asked Jason to wait for me. If we went to Berrinton, he could do the shopping in Sainsburys, while I shot next door to M&S.

  At one o’clock I’d phoned the Opelts but left a message when it went through to answerphone. Half an hour later, I sent a text to ask their whereabouts but they didn’t respond. Finally, at two o’clock Jason got to his feet saying I should just go but with the next check-in arriving at three thirty, I couldn’t chance getting into traffic and being late. It was only after he disappeared, I realised I should have offered to do the shopping while he waited in. Unless, I wanted an evening drive out – which I didn’t – my next opportunity to do an afternoon shop was four days away, after the busy weekend. I hoped there would be some cardigans left in my size.

  As it was, Ava and Louis deigned to arrive at three thirty, bang on our standard check-in time. I kept my expression bland and a smile in place, as they traipsed into the hallway.

  “What about your medicine?”

  They gave me a blank look.

  “You wanted to use our fridge.”

  “Oh!” Ava flicked her wrist as if swatting me away. “He’s finished his course now.”

  As I took them up to their room,
I made sure to say, “You’ve booked the small double room,” as we went inside. They fell silent as they gazed around the space – or lack of space – taking in the double bed, the two bedside tables, the refreshment tray, TV, wardrobe and ensuite. No frills but a clean, budget room.

  “Where will we sit?” Ava said.

  “You’ve booked the small room. I sent an email with all the details on it.”

  Something about this couple set my teeth on edge and it wasn’t just their thoughtlessness or lack of ability to read. I’d rather lose the money for their weekend stay than have unhappy guests.

  “We’re full but if you’re not happy you are welcome to find more suitable accommodation.”

  She looked at me as if I’d gone mad. “Right, so where would we find that in Torringham at the weekend?”

  “I don’t know. But if the small room you booked is too small you could try Berrinton. I won’t charge a cancellation fee.”

  Huffing, she threw her handbag on the bed. “Berrinton? This’ll have to do.”

  I smiled. “Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay.”

  “From what we’ll see from the inside of a church.”

  As I closed the door, I puzzled over her comment but then I realised they must be going to a wedding or even a funeral. With Torringham being such a popular destination for retirees, we had quite a few bereaved guests who travelled miles to give their relatives a good send-off, one couple from Australia. But where were this couple’s wedding or funeral clothes? Or any clothes for that matter. Perhaps they’d left them round someone’s house.

  It hurt my head to think about it, so I gave up and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. When Jason staggered in with the shopping bags ten minutes later, I gave him my nicest, most loving smile. He was just in time to check-in our guests once they’d uncurled themselves from their little room.

  ♦

  Later that afternoon Kim knocked on the door. Unusually flushed, she pointed at a battered maroon 4x4 on their drive.

  “I don’t suppose you have any idea who that belongs to?”

  Arms swinging, Shona stomped over. “Some idiot has parked on our drive. Can you believe it?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m starting to believe anything nowadays. It’s not one of our guests. Have you tried elsewhere?”

  “We checked with our other neighbours but we’ve got at least a dozen more potentials.” Kim nodded to the terraced cottages opposite. “Our guests have arrived with nowhere to park. We’ll have to pay extra to put them across the road as all our permits are being used.”

  I shot off, returning with a parking permit. “One couple has come by train, so we don’t need this for the next few nights.”

  Dismayed, Kim gazed at the car. “I hope it’s gone by then.”

  “Or they’ll be getting this!” Shona held up her fist.

  While Kim went to show her guests to the car park across the road, I started knocking on the cottage doors with Shona. We agreed to start at each end and meet in the middle. With no answer from the first two cottages, I moved on to the third. The dog-shaped knocker creaked as I tapped it against the wooden door and flecks of paint drifted to the path. A noise came from inside. Someone calling out, probably to tell me they were coming. After waiting for an age, I knocked again. Then I cupped my hands against the dusty windows to peer through the yellowing nets. Nothing.

  Wiping the grime from the sides of my hands, I stepped back to let Kim and her guests shuffle past, the man with a walking stick, while the woman had a pronounced hunchback I hadn’t seen since my childhood when it was more common in elderly women. I could see why Shona had been so angry. If anyone needed to park on the driveway, these people did.

  As I turned to go, I heard someone call out again; the cry reminded me of Mrs Morris’s thin warble.

  “Shona!” I waved her over. “Come here.”

  “You found them?”

  I put my finger to my mouth. “Listen. Can you hear anything?”

  This time I rapped the door twice, but we heard nothing other than cars zooming past. As Shona took a step back to check the upstairs windows, I gave it another try, hammering the poor metal dog onto the door. When Shona’s eyes widened, I knew she’d heard the noise too. She dropped to her knees and called through the letterbox.

  “Hello!” After a moment, she turned to me. “There’s definitely someone inside. Sounds like ‘help’ but I thought this house was empty.”

  No point asking me. I could count the number of people I knew from these cottages on three fingers. The young couple who’d helped when that horrible man – James? – had tried barging his way into the guesthouse to find his estranged wife. And Moaning Mitch who we knew by sight after he’d had a blazing row with Shona in the street. When I’d asked her if she was okay, she’d rubbed her hands together and rebuffed me with, “It’s just Moaning Mitch. He loves a good row, but he’s picked the wrong person. So do I.”

  I didn’t, so I made sure to keep away from him. And Shona too, if she ever went back to book club, which she told me she wouldn’t as we were a load of ‘boring old farts who couldn’t handle a wind-up’. Apparently, that included me. If being a boring old fart meant I got to drink wine in peace and quiet, I would wear the label with pride.

  She glared at me. “So?”

  Had I missed something? Then I realised we had to decide what to do about this voice in an empty house. Would we call the police or an ambulance? Was it an emergency? Probably not.

  “Have you got your phone on you? Mine is inside.”

  Shona dragged her phone from her pocket. “999?”

  “I don’t know. Try 101. Let them decide.”

  She dialled the number. I half-listened while she spoke to the operator, my attention taken by Ava and Louis who stepped from the guesthouse door. Louis cut across the drive towards Jetsam Cottage. Following him, Ava spotted me and grabbed his arm, pointing in the direction of the harbour. He shrugged her off, but she said something and they both looked my way. Not smiling, he lifted his hand in acknowledgement, before following her. As they walked off, they kept glancing back. Most odd.

  Shona finished her call. “They’re sending someone now. Can you stay here while I tell Kim?”

  When Shona came back, I took the opportunity to shoot back to Flotsam to use the loo and tell Jason what I was doing. I found him in the lounge ironing the load of bedding I’d promised to do the day before.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Someone had to do it.”

  “I would but Shona’s got a problem with a car on her drive. Now someone’s stuck in a house across the road, so the police are coming.”

  He put the iron down. “Do you want to say that in English this time?”

  “Oh, ferme ta bouche!”

  Before going back, I went into the kitchen to find something to eat. I had a feeling we would be outside a while. Swallowing the last of a hurriedly eaten sandwich, I headed back.

  A police car sat outside the cottages, blue light flashing, while two policemen knelt by the front door peering through the letterbox. Fingers-crossed, whoever had been calling out was trapped in the house and it wasn’t some weird joke or Shona and I were going to look very silly. A few doors up, a couple leant against their doorway watching, while a child gazed down from an open window.

  One of the policemen spoke into his radio. I couldn’t make out what he said but when I got closer, Shona whispered, “They’re going to break in.”

  Somehow, I expected the policemen to smash down the front door – as featured on TV – but they headed into the alleyway that led to the back of the properties. Another police car drew up and a man and woman got out, following their colleagues down the alley.

  A larger crowd had gathered, muttering to each other. I heard a woman asking several people around her what was happening but thankfully she didn’t come over to Shona or me. I longed to move away, feeling nosey rather than needed. After ten minutes or more, the front d
oor opened and the policewoman stepped out. Ignoring us, she glanced up the road.

  “Did you speak to them?” I asked Shona.

  “They just questioned me about what I’d heard.” Shona craned her neck to look through the open doorway. “They obviously heard it themselves.”

  Soon we heard the faint sound of a siren and an ambulance came into view, heading at speed down the road. It overtook two cars and then veered across to pull up behind the police cars.

  “Amazing how quick they are when the police call them,” Shona muttered.

  “Perhaps it was nearby.”

  After the paramedics wheeled a stretcher into the cottage, nothing seemed to happen for an age. Bored, I told Shona I needed to get back, but she insisted we might be needed. How, I had no idea. Finally, a policeman came out, followed by the paramedics who carried a young man on the stretcher through the narrow doorway. The lad grimaced in pain, his face pale, his forehead mottled with dried blood.

  Thinking back to the faint cries I’d heard earlier, I said, “I thought it sounded like an older woman.”

  “So did I. Maybe he’s gay.”

  I prodded her arm. “You can’t say that!”

  “I can!”

  Deciding this led into territories I couldn’t debate, I practised what I’d advised Jason to do and shut my mouth.

  The ambulance doors slammed and one of the paramedics jumped into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. They drove away without sirens.

  “He must be okay,” Shona said. “I’ll find out.”

  She strolled over to one of the policemen who’d been first on the scene while I gazed around. A group of hardy onlookers milled by the cottages, while others moved away disinterested. I recognised a few faces but most seemed to be tourists, several from Jetsam Cottage. Thankfully, all our guests were out for the day.

  In the distance I spotted Ava and Louis heading back. He carried two full holdalls, which must be the belongings they’d said they would collect later. For some reason she flung her hands in the air, stamped her feet like a child and spun round in the direction of town. As she stomped off, Louis paused where he stood. He seemed to be shouting but she threw her arm up again – I’m sure she gave him the V sign – and carried on. Bags knocking against his legs, he ran after her.