Jason replaced the hotel inspector’s shirt on the hanger and turned to pick up the first of Bill’s clothing. As he shook a shirt and hooked it over the ironing board, I burst out laughing. “How? I mean we’ve done the odd item in the past but not this many. Why not just give them the ironing board?”
“He heard me telling the hotel inspector that I’d iron his shirt. After that, I couldn’t say no, could I? I did put a limit on it. Six each.”
I sifted through Bill’s clothing. “There’s eleven pieces here. Are we ironing their clothes for when they get home?”
“I forgot to specify six each couple.” From the hallway came the sound of a bell tinkling. Jason groaned and put the iron down. “That’ll be Paul.”
He came back a minute later clutching one of the small milk bottles we used in the minifridges. “The hotel inspector. He’s run out.”
When the bell dinged again, I took the bottle from him and pushed him out the door. “I’ll sort this. If that’s Paul don’t give him any ideas about ordering a float’s worth of milk too.”
♦
The next morning, Jason and I were up ten minutes earlier than usual, even though we had half the number of guests. While Jason ran through everything, I checked the items on the buffet, fearful that I’d forget something obvious such as the orange juice. Back in the kitchen, I made a start on chopping the butter into dishes, while Jason brought through two loaves from the store cupboard.
“We’ve run out of bagels.”
I picked up the packet of muffins and counted six. We had enough of those to cover breakfast, thank goodness. “Can you wipe them off the specials board?”
Bill’s loud voice and the clatter of chairs came from the breakfast room. I gave my hands a quick wash and rushed out to greet them, passing Jason as he returned with a damp cloth.
The service went well. The hotel inspector – or Alex, but that seemed a bit informal – didn’t come down until we’d served all three couples, which meant I could focus on asking him the right questions, while keeping an eye on the other guests. While they were as important as him – after all they were paying for their stay – they’d been here several days now and knew the drill. From the back of the room, Bill waved a teapot, so I hurried over to fetch it before he called out. On my way back, I took the bowl from Alex. He wore the shirt Jason had ironed the previous evening.
“We’ve also got specials if you would like something different. Have a look at the board. I’ll come back to take your order in a few minutes.”
He smiled and picked up the menu.
Teapot replenished, I placed it next to Bill, who wiped a smear of egg yolk from his lips and thanked me. Then, pad in hand, I headed over to Alex. What would a hotel inspector order? Hopefully, nothing like as much as our Four in a Bed couple did a few months ago.
He smiled at me. “What are your specials?”
I turned to point at the framed blackboard, only to find the word ‘Specials’ in chalk-white capitals, with the little asterisks I’d drawn on either side, and nothing below. Everything had been wiped clean. I glanced from the board to the hotel inspector and back to the board. What on earth?
“Erm,” I stuttered. “It should read Eggs Benedict or there’s Salmon with either scrambled eggs or cream cheese on muffin. Usually we offer bagels, which may explain why there’s nothing on the board.”
His smile faltered as he shot me a puzzled look.
“That didn’t make sense.” I’d started to gabble but I couldn’t help it. My nerves were mounting as I imagined the coveted four stars twinkling, then fading. “I asked Jason to take the bagels off the specials and it seems he wiped everything off. Except they’re still there, if you see what I mean. Pretend it’s invisible ink.”
I flushed. What sort of waitress would tell a hotel inspector to imagine invisible ink? I could picture Jason’s face if he could hear this, although he had caused the problem in the first place by not listening.
The hotel inspector laughed. “Salmon with scrambled eggs sounds delicious but I’ll try your full English. Just one slice of bacon and no fried bread, please.”
When I took the order out to Jason, I slapped it onto the counter and hissed, “You wiped everything! I’ve just made myself look like a right idiot.”
He grinned. “No help needed there, darling. I only did as you asked.”
“I told you to wipe off the bagels. Not everything.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, not in the way I may have done several months before, but with a smile. There was no point pursuing it. I had no evidence to back up what I’d said. Instead, I headed back into the breakfast room to check on our other guests.
After clearing his plate, the hotel inspector dabbed his mouth with the napkin and pushed his chair from the table. His heels clipped against the laminate floor as he strode from the breakfast room, returning downstairs ten minutes later with his suede case to say goodbye and hand over his keys. When Jason reached for the door handle and Alex stepped forward to leave, my heart stopped. Surely, he couldn’t be just a normal guy who shared a name with a hotel inspector and my old work colleague. What were the odds on that happening? But then he reached into the inside of his jacket pocket and presented me with his business card.
I gasped in shock. (I had to. It would be odd if I didn’t).
“I’m your hotel inspector,” he said.
♦
A few days later Shona and Kim popped round. Shona slapped her thigh and burst into fits of laughter, while Kim shook her head, but a smile played at the corners of her mouth. She studied the sheets the hotel inspector had left with us, her elegant fingers flicking between the pages. Before they’d left for their recent holiday, she’d had her fingernails painted at the local nail bar and they glittered under the lamp light. It might only be four thirty but November shrouded the window in darkness. Inside we basked in the warmth of our new ornamental fire, which cast a flickering glow that danced in her eyes. Her cheeks were radiant. An unneeded bonus after their relaxing fortnight in St Lucia.
As Jason settled the tray on the coffee table and handed out the mugs, Kim turned to him. “So what part did you play in this?”
Wide eyed, he planted his hand on his chest. “Honestly. Very little.”
“Apart from wiping our specials. Luckily, the hotel inspector said I dealt with it in a humorous way.”
After two guests checked out, the hotel inspector had visited all the guest rooms bar the two being occupied by Bill and Paul, even the small double room, which we’d explained would be decorated and re-carpeted soon. He’d asked questions about the work to be undertaken, but it hadn’t proved an issue as we’d done so much in the other rooms. Our breakfast was top notch and he could only offer a few suggestions on improvements, bar the specials board featuring a few items. I’d flushed with embarrassment at that, but mostly with pleasure.
Our hard work had paid off. We were worthy of four stars. We’d have got them even if we hadn’t known the hotel inspector was coming but I was glad we’d found out. It had made the process a bit less stressful. I grinned to myself. Except for the ironing. Jason wouldn’t be offering to do that in future, although he might not have a choice. As Paul and Bill had left, they’d promised to be back. No doubt with suitcases full of ironing.
“I’m so proud of you.” Even though she wore a thick jumper, Shona snuggled into the cushions. She was the only person I knew who could spend two weeks in thirty-degree heat and come back as pale as she’d left. “You’ve learned a lot from me this year.”
Kim picked a bit of fluff from the knee of her jeans and deposited it on the tray. Then she turned and gave Shona a hard stare. “What, being devious, scheming and wily?”
Shona rubbed her hands together and all but cackled. “All of those and more. I would never have thought of the mastic. Actually, if you’re any good at doing it, give me a hand. We’ve got a few showers that need sorting out.”
I laughed. “As long as you don’t l
eave me to it, while you sit downstairs having a cup of tea.”
She grinned. “Moi?” Then she winked at Jason. “She’s definitely got more nous about her. I bet she’s got the measure of you too. I notice you’re out together more now. Less pubbing it with Mike.”
Jason stiffened and caught my eye. I shrugged. I hadn’t said a word.
“While Katie’s new improved nous has been seen on more than one occasion.” He air-fingered quotes around ‘nous’ and I made a note to look it up later. It sounded positive. “But for the other changes, we have to thank Bert.”
He gave me a warm smile, which I returned. When we were out having a romantic meal later that evening – which I had no intention of telling Shona, Mike or anyone about it – we’d raise a glass to Bert and wish him good health in his recovery. I couldn’t wait to see him back to his usual self again.
Chapter 31
Bracing myself against the cold blast as we opened the door, I tightened my scarf and pulled my woolly hat over my ears. Emily gambolled outside, calling Lucy to join her. Strange how the children – even as adults – got excited about the idea of seeing Torringham on a stormy day, while I looked forward to tonight’s promised meal and glass of wine by a crackling fire at Shadwell House Hotel.
Jason took my gloved hand in his and, head down, we walked into the wind, relieved to reach the sheltered area by the shops. The gusts picked up slightly by the harbour but, shielded by the hillside bowl, the breeze did little more than skim the water, so the moored boats bobbed up and down. The pinks, blues and yellows of the cottages rising in tiers from the harbour were muted by the mist, but winter didn’t dampen Torringham’s charm. In a few hours the Christmas lights would twinkle along the harbour to be mirrored in the sea.
The tourist boutiques and ice cream parlours may have closed for the winter but, with Torringham’s thriving fishing industry and large resident population, the food shops and pubs stayed open throughout the year. With Christmas over and New Year a few days away, businesses were making the most of the feast on offer to get them through the famine months until the season started to pick up again in April.
Not everyone packing the pubs and restaurants lived here. While we’d closed for the whole of Christmas to spend time with Lucy and Emily, many of our other B&B friends had stayed open, welcoming people visiting relatives or those who simply wanted to get away. We’d thought about staying open – we could do with the money to renovate the guesthouse – but we needed family time more. Anyhow, Emily and Lucy had proved themselves handy with the paintbrushes this morning, leaving Jason to get on with renovating room two’s ensuite.
Ahead, Emily whooped and pointed to spray crashing over the breakwater wall. Ducking low, we pushed through the shuddering wind. A faint tinkle rose in the air, dipping as the gale howled. It grew to a jangle, which seemed to come from all around, not just the trawlers opposite but the marina. As we moved closer, the noise heightened as ropes and wires chinked against the masts, the yachts making their own choir of windchimes while, beyond in the outer harbour, tall masts swayed like pendulums.
Rain splattered my eyes and I gasped as a gust hit me head on. Whose idea was this? While huge tankers had taken shelter in the bay and anyone with an ounce of sense was tucked up in front of the TV with the heating on, we’d decided to go for a walk. Hard to believe that not more than a few months ago this promenade had teemed with holidaymakers eating ice creams or strolling along with their dogs, while parents stood by crabbing buckets laughing as their children dangled lines over the harbour wall. We passed the lifeboat, thankfully moored, and headed onwards.
Jason called to the girls cautioning them to keep away from the sea but the waves crashing over the breakwater offered enough warning.
In silence, we stood well back by the car park, fighting to stand our ground against the buffeting wind, in awe of the foam-capped grey sea which thundered into the rocks and flicked spray high into the air. Pebbles rattled, dragged out by the sea, until another wave pounded them back onto the beach again. I gasped as a huge roller smashed into the breakwater, burying it beneath a wall of water at least twenty feet high.
“Whoaa!” the girls shouted. “We got that one on video!”
I gazed out to the tankers bobbing in the bay. If something their size had to shelter from the storm, what chance did the trawlers have? I was glad to have the cosy B&B to go back to. My vision had become a blur of raindrops, so I turned and pointed back to the harbour.
“Let’s go to the pub.”
No one outvoted me.
♦
In the hallway, Emily and Lucy teetered on stilettos, their necks strung with silver tinsel which flickered pink beneath their flashing bauble earrings as they posed for photos. Jason turned to show me the camera screen and I smiled. That one would make the family album.
“How do we look?” they chorused.
“Fab!”
I squeezed Lucy’s arm. Last time we’d gone to a party at Shona and Kim’s she’d had her own hurt and issues to deal with. I hoped she’d found peace and the New Year would bring her happiness. Her cheeks glowed as she smiled at me.
“You look lovely too,” she said.
With Jason bringing up the rear, we headed into the melee of Jetsam Cottage. I still couldn’t believe that Shona and Kim had chosen to have a party on New Year’s Eve, especially with Kim’s family descending en masse. According to Shona they had high standards when it came to food, with Kim’s aunt – I didn’t know if she was the infamous one who’d left behind her sex toy – insisting on a Caribbean touch to New Year’s dinner.
“She’s not jerking my turkey,” Shona had grumbled.
Kim had rolled her eyes. “If she wants to cook, just be thankful.”
For the past week Shona had moaned about eating nothing but turkey: curry, stew and sandwiches and now they were having turkey again for New Year, while our meal would be a huge beef joint. Uncle Bert would be joining us with Doreen and Callum, his first trip to ours since his operation, although we’d visited him at his home several times.
Raymond, from Waves B&B, greeted us by the Christmas tree. When I spotted a twig of mistletoe hanging from an upper bough, I steered Emily and Lucy in the direction of the kitchen, where I found Kim standing by a worktop filled with an array of bottles. As she bent to kiss my cheek, I caught the smell of perfume. Not her usual one. She gave Lucy and Emily a warm hug and took them off to Shona, who had been put in charge of the cocktails.
After an hour chatting to Laura, Mike and Josie, I spotted Maggie and Jeff, minus their dog Ozzie, standing in the lounge by the fireplace and wandered over.
“I could have done with Ozzie the other day.” I went to tell them about our thieving guests, but Maggie pointed out that Shona had beaten me to it, along with the story about the homeless man and even how I’d abandoned her at the book club.
“Our Shona pretends to have a thick skin,” Maggie said. “But it’s no thicker than a wafer.”
We glanced over to Shona who stood just inside the kitchen, balancing a pint of beer on her head. When I spotted Emily attempting to do the same thing with a glass of wine, I excused myself.
“Mum, look!” As she spoke, the glass toppled. She caught it but not before it splashed herself and me with sweet rosé.
As I reeled off a tree-worth of kitchen roll to wipe us and the tiled floor, Shona grinned. “I would help but I have a pint on my head.”
But moments later, when someone turned up the music and ‘I wish it could be Christmas everyday’ boomed into the room, she tore the glass from her head, slammed it onto the counter and shouted, “Let’s dance,” dragging Lucy and Emily into the lounge.
Kim wandered over. Eye lids heavy, movements unsteady, her Prosecco sloshed in her flute like yesterday’s stormy sea.
Slurring, she said, “I’ve had a bit to drink. Just this much though.” She held her finger and thumb a centimetre apart. “I’m trying to find the lights. Have you seen them?”
<
br /> “Lights?”
She waved me away. “You know! The disco lights.”
When I shrugged, she staggered off. A moment later she came back and jabbed a crimson-nailed finger at me. “Someone hid them in the cupboard but I found them. Give me a hand.”
She led me out to the hallway where we – or in reality me, as she kept stumbling backwards – extracted a long box from the understairs cupboard. She ripped open the lid and dragged the cumbersome lights from the box, leaving me to put it back while she lurched away.
Back in the lounge, I was surprised to find Jason and Mike dad-dancing in the middle of the floor with the girls. Behind them stood Kim, who had managed to put the two sets of lights on either side of the room. She kicked off her shoes and, plug in hand, bounced onto the settee to dangle, bum in air, over its back.
The lights flashed for a second – success! – followed by huge bang and yelps of fear. Mine included. Heart thumping, I clamped my hand to my chest, straining to see into the darkness. What on earth had she done?
A hush fell over the room, until Shona shouted, “Don’t panic! It’s just the fuse. Anyone got a light?”
A flicking sound and Lucy’s face lit up. Shona stumbled past, followed by Lucy who cupped her hand round the small flame of her lighter. It meant she must be smoking still but I vowed not to say anything.
Jason came over and hugged me. “It’s all go here.” He pulled away. I could just make out him brushing his hand on his trousers. “How come your arm’s sticky?”
Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse Page 27
