Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5)

by Madalyn Morgan

  Bess watched the vehicle drive off and went inside. She couldn’t tell Frank what Katherine had said, he would go after Hawksley and McGann - and not only would he get Katherine into trouble, he would more than likely get himself killed. She would tell Ena, and she would tell Henry and the inspector as soon as they returned from wherever it was they had gone.

  In the meantime, she must do what she had advised Katherine Hawksley to do: put this business with David Sutherland out of her mind. She had work to do, Nancy to look after, her mother coming for lunch and her sister and new baby to visit in hospital. ‘Any messages?’ she asked Jack as she passed.

  ‘No, Mrs Donnelly.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Frank picked Bess up and swung her round. ‘We are three-quarters of the way through the first year of business and things are looking pretty good.’ Setting her down, Frank took Bess by the hand and led her to the desk. He turned the accounts ledger round so it was facing her. ‘And the bottom line is?’

  ‘Hooray!’ Bess shouted, throwing her arms around Frank’s neck. ‘I’m not crying, honestly,’ she said, wiping her tears. ‘These,’ she lied, pointing to her eyes, ‘are tears of happiness.’ Bess picked up the ledger, ran her finger down the incoming column then the outgoing column and laughed loudly. ‘We’ve broken even. I can hardly believe it.’

  ‘It’s all there in black and white. And,’ Frank said, kissing Bess, ‘by this New Year’s Eve, we’ll be making a profit.’

  Bess blew out her cheeks. ‘There have been so many problems that could have set us back.’

  ‘But they didn’t,’ Frank said, ‘and nothing is going to. Come on, you’re on reception duty with Jack, and I have to feed the animals. I’ll go and put my old togs on.’

  ‘I’ll check on the kitchen first,’ Bess said, following Frank out of the office. ‘I’ll be with you in five minutes, Jack.’

  Bess stuck her head round the kitchen door. ‘Need anything, Chef?’ she called, expecting the usual mutterings of, “A second pair of hands” or “A twin would be good.”

  Instead he sang ‘All is bravo in my kitchen, gracias!’ He was more Spanish than ever. ‘Oh, the laundry was delivered this morning. If you would like to check it, I do not have the time.’

  The laundry had been done well and stacked neatly as always. Bess ticked everything off the list. Leaving the laundry room, a pile of half-a-dozen new chefs’ aprons caught her eye. ‘Going into business selling pinnies, Chef?’ she said, closing the door.

  ‘Noooo!’ the chef threw back his head and looked to the heavens. ‘A mistake was made when they were ordered. By the supplier, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But I decided to keep them. I believe you have complained in the past about me going into the dining room in a dirty apron, so I thought you would rather me have a few spare.’

  Resisting the urge to argue that, at the speed the Lowarth Laundry collected and returned the hotel’s linen and kitchen-whites, Chef only needed one extra apron, not six, Bess said, ‘Good!’ and left.

  As she neared the dining room door she heard Alice Arkwright, the senior waitress in charge of the dining room and its staff, ticking Sylvie off for coming to work in laddered nylons. Sylvie said she had snagged her stockings on a box in the staff room, but it seemed the senior waitress wasn’t listening or, like Chef, didn’t want to back down and admit she could be wrong. ‘This once,’ Alice Arkwright said, ‘you can take a pair from my cupboard, but do not come to work in shabby attire again!’

  Bess had thought about intervening, but thankfully didn’t have to. As the sounds of, ‘No, Miss Arkwright,’ and ‘Thank you, Miss Arkwright’ grew louder, Bess realised the grateful waitress was near the door, so she moved away from it. Deciding to check the dining tables later, she turned on her heels and went back to reception to do her shift.

  ‘Hello?’ Bess said, beaming at Nancy who dropped Ena’s hand as soon as she saw Bess and was running across the marble hall to her. ‘Have you had a nice time at--’ Bess wasn’t sure what Nancy should call her mother.

  ‘Yes. I played with Grandpa Dudley’s pipes in the front room. And Grandma Dudley gave me some chocolate,’ Nancy said, showing off by swinging from left to right. Something she’d picked up from Aimee.

  Bess’s mother strolled in behind them. ‘Hello, love. I’ve brought a recipe for Chef. I’ll pop through to the kitchen and give it to him,’ Lily Dudley said, without pausing for breath.

  ‘He’s busy, so don’t expect him to stop and chat.’

  Bess’s mother shrugged off her coat, gave it to Ena, and with her handbag swinging on her arm waltzed across the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

  Bess pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing. ‘Are you hungry, Nancy?’ she asked. Nancy shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t think you would be.’

  ‘I did tell Mam not to give her cake, or she wouldn’t want her lunch, but she didn’t listen,’ Ena said.

  ‘Cake? I thought she had chocolate?’

  ‘She did. She had cake too, with a drink of milk. Sorry, I’m not very good at saying no to children, and there isn’t a way of saying no to our Mam.’

  ‘Ah, here’s Jack.’ Another heart won, Bess thought, as Jack arrived, leaning forward ready to pick Nancy up. ‘My but you’re getting a big girl. Is Mrs Donnelly feeding you too much cake?’

  ‘No, but my mother is,’ Bess said. Jack gave Nancy a wide-eyed, open mouthed look of surprise and she giggled. ‘I’ll take my lunch break now, Jack, if it’s all right with you?’

  ‘Of course, Mrs Donnelly. See you later, Nancy,’ the young receptionist said, standing Nancy down.

  Bess and Ena’s mother came out of the kitchen as her daughters and Nancy turned from the hall into the passage leading to the dining room. Nancy took the extended hand of her new Grandma - and the sixty-eight year old and the eight year old walked into the dining room together.

  Ena stopped short of the door and turned to Bess. ‘What happened with Katherine Hawksley?’

  ‘She’s had a terrible life, poor kid. Her mother died when she was little, she has an aunt somewhere who hates her father.’

  ‘I wonder why?’

  ‘Exactly. He told Katherine that her mother didn’t want her.’

  ‘The bastard!’

  ‘What are you two cooking up?’ Frank called, from the far end of the passage.

  Bess waited for Frank to join her. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she whispered. And taking hold of Frank’s hand, they walked into the dining room behind Ena.

  By the time they’d finished eating the afternoon light was fading. Chef, in a pristine and newly laundered white apron, swanned into the dining room and began making a fuss of Bess’s mother. ‘Lily, lo-v-ely Lily,’ he gushed, lowering his large frame onto the chair next to her. ‘I have created a new pudding especially for you. She is called, Chef’s Lily.’

  Hardly able to stop herself from laughing, Bess left her mother to the chef’s charms and returned to reception. Ena asked if she could make a couple of telephone calls from the office, and Frank took Nancy out to see the animals.

  Reception was busy. It always was at weekends. Bess stood back so she could observe Jack, letting him deal with guests on his own unless two came to reception at the same time. He was polite, he listened, he answered their questions confidently, and was very patient with an elderly lady who was hard of hearing. Bess couldn’t help but smile. The old lady made Jack repeat everything he said. He did, and he was charming without being sickly.

  Jack was good at his job, Bess observed, but then he’d had an excellent teacher. Bess was wondering how Maeve was getting on when Ena stuck her head round the door and beckoned her.

  ‘Will you be all right if I pop into the office, Jack? My sister wants a word with me. I won’t be long. Call me if you need me.’

  ‘There’s no record of Katherine Hawksley’s mother after Katherine’s birth. It’s a
s if she disappeared into thin air. Or she never existed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Katherine Hawksley’s birth is registered at Somerset House. Father, Gerald Hawksley; mother, Dorothy Hawksley, nee Pemberton from Cumberland - and that’s it! There’s no wedding certificate or death certificate in the name of Dorothy Hawksley, or Dorothy Pemberton. Nor is there a divorce petition, or a decree absolute, registered in her name, or his name. I can’t access some of the government’s classified records from outside the building where I work in London, so I telephoned a pal who works in the same department, and asked her to look for me.’ Ena shook her head slowly. ‘There is no marriage, divorce, or death certificate.’

  ‘Then what happened to her?’

  ‘I’m wondering whether she ever existed. I managed to get hold of Henry and I told him what I’d found out. He wants me to go up to Cumberland to check out the Pemberton family who, like Hawksley, are wealthy business people. If Dorothy Pemberton was only a name on Katherine’s birth certificate, it could mean the Pembertons are Nazi sympathisers too, in which case they could be involved with Hawksley.’ Bess stood open mouthed. ‘Don’t look so shocked, it’s work.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes. And it’s linked to Inspector Masters’ investigation. But apart from that, there was once a woman in Katherine Hawksley’s life when she was small who she called mummy - and if this woman is still alive I want to find her for Katherine.’

  ‘But Henry wants you to find the woman for MI5.’

  ‘It isn’t quite as simple as that,’ Ena said. ‘If the Pembertons are part of Hawksley’s Fascist Association, MI5 is worried that when the net starts closing in on Hawksley he’ll do a moonlight flit and disappear to a bolt hole in the wilds of North West England.’

  ‘Isn’t Henry worried about your safety?’

  ‘Of course he is. And I’m worried about his safety, but it’s our job, Bess. It’s what we signed up for after Bletchley.’ Neither sister spoke for some time. ‘So,’ Ena said, first to break the silence, ‘I shall have to leave early in the morning. Will you drive me into Lowarth?’

  ‘Where to, the station?’

  ‘No, I’m driving up. The office are arranging for a car to be brought from a company in Leicester. It should be at Burton’s garage for me to collect at nine.’

  ‘I’m glad you got to speak to Henry.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ena sighed loudly and blew out a long stream of air. ‘He couldn’t say anything about the operation, in case someone was listening to the call, but my pal at the London office said they’re closing in on the men who provide the documents and money for the Fascist Association that Hawksley runs.

  ‘Before they can shut down the escape route, they need to know the names and addresses of every member of Hawksley’s organisation. They need to arrest them all at the same time. They can’t risk one person falling through the net. It’s going to be a huge operation. Don’t look so worried, Bess, I’m not involved in any of that.’

  ‘Maybe not, but going to Cumberland on your own could be dangerous.’

  ‘Yes, well, as I said, it’s part of the job.’

  ‘I wondered what you did all day in that big flat of yours in London, when Henry was working.’

  ‘I’m working too,’ Ena said. ‘I’m rarely at home these days.’

  The sounds of guests arriving seeped through the door. ‘I’d better get back to reception and help Jack.’ Ena didn’t reply, nor did she lift her head from the hotel’s road atlas of the British Isles. ‘I’ll see you later,’ Bess said, to which her sister mumbled an acknowledgement.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Bess asked a couple standing at the reception desk.

  ‘No thank you, we’re being dealt with.’

  The new porter arrived a second later, Jack gave him the key to a room with a view on the first floor and, as smooth as clockwork, the porter swept up the couple’s cases and led the way to the stairs.

  Bess was feeling slightly redundant and a little unwanted when Frank returned with Nancy. ‘We’re going to take your mother home,’ he said. ‘It’s getting dark, so we’ll run her down in the car.’

  ‘I’ll get Nancy’s coat.’ Bess turned towards the office door.

  ‘I’ll get it. I’ll get your mum’s too. Did Ena put it in the office?’

  Bess looked up at the ceiling, and then at her husband. ‘Sorry, were you asking me?’

  ‘Are you feeling left out? Or is it that you’re a little under-employed?’ Frank teased, opening the office door. Appearing with two coats over his arm, he said, ‘If you are, there are plenty of maintenance jobs I can give you to do.’ Bess ripped a sheet of notepaper from the jotting pad, screwed it into a ball and lobbed it at him. As Frank bent down to help Nancy into her coat the paper ball bounced off his chest onto Nancy’s head, making her giggle. ‘That’s no way to treat your guests.’

  ‘You are not a guest.’

  ‘No, but Nancy is.’

  ‘Take Uncle Frank away before I throw something heavy at him,’ Bess said, winking at Nancy. She watched the little girl pull Frank, who pretended to resist, across reception to where Bess’s mother stood talking to the chef. With a grand gesture of his arms, Chef took her mother’s coat from Frank and like a matador swirled it in the air as if it was a capote. Then, with a deep bow, he held it for her while she slipped one arm at a time down each sleeve. Smiling like the proverbial cat who got the cream, Lily Dudley waved goodbye to Bess - and a second later she had gone. Chef, stamping his feet and clicking his fingers like a flamenco dancer, threw back his head and, after a dramatic bow to Jack and Bess, returned the kitchen.

  ‘Alfredo’s got a real way with him, hasn’t he Mrs Donnelly?’ Jack said, smiling with admiration.

  ‘He certainly has,’ Bess said. ‘Watching that performance, you’d think he really was Alfredo from Madrid, not Alfred from Oldham.’

  Bess yawned. It had been a long day. A disconcerting day in many ways. She laughed thinking about her mother and the chef. What a pair of old ducks. She didn’t know who was the most comical. She was delighted that the hotel was at last holding its own. She had told Frank when Lord and Lady Foxden had insisted on standing guarantor for them, that if they hadn’t begun to break even by the end of the first year, she was not prepared to borrow any more money using the Foxden name, and they would have to think of another way to earn a living.

  Bess smiled. They had not only broken even, they had begun to make a profit. A small one, but apart from owing the bank a fortune they were at last in the black, as Frank called it.

  Bess yawned again. She really ought to go to bed if she was going to be up early in the morning to take Ena into Lowarth. Bess worried about Ena and the work she did. She worried about Katherine Hawksley too. To think that poor child’s mother might only have been a name on her birth certificate. Worse still, she may have been a Nazi sympathiser who was paid to nurse Katherine while she was a baby. Then, when Gerald Hawksley deemed his daughter old enough, the woman left leaving Katherine thinking her mummy had died. What a cruel man Gerald Hawksley was.

  Bess closed her mind to all thoughts of Katherine Hawksley’s evil father, but she wasn’t able to shake off the sick feeling of guilt she had in the pit of her stomach when she thought about her sister Ena going to Cumberland to investigate links between the Pemberton family and the Fascists Association. If Ena gets into trouble, is hurt in any way, it would be her fault for telling her about Katherine Hawksley.

  Being the oldest sister Bess had always felt responsible for her siblings. Except for Tom - he was older anyway. She leaned her head on the side of the bed and thought about her handsome older brother. She hadn’t seen him, or his wife, Annabel, since before Christmas. Smiling to herself, Bess yawned again. She didn’t usually wait up for Frank when he was working late, but tonight was different. Was it because she was comfortable relaxing on the floor in front of the fire, or was it that she loved watching the little girl she was looking after, while s
he slept?

  Bess heard the door open and a pale shaft of light fanned across the room. ‘What are you doing still up?’ Frank whispered.

  ‘Waiting for you.’

  Frank knelt down beside Bess and looked at the sleeping child. ‘She is lovely, isn’t she?’ Bess made a soft caring sound. Frank smoothed a stray curl at the side of Bess’s head, and whispered, ‘You remember what you promised?’ Bess nodded and leaned against her husband, her head resting on his shoulder. ‘Come on then,’ Frank said, gently easing Bess away from him and standing up. He put out his hand, Bess took it and he pulled her to her feet. ‘Time to get some sleep.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Bess flung her arm out of bed, walked her fingers along the top of the bedside table, found the copper alarm clock and hit the bell. ‘Your turn to go down early, Frank,’ she mumbled, without opening her eyes. ‘And don’t wake Nancy when you go through the sitting room, she was late going to sleep last night.’ With no reaction from her husband, Bess turned over. ‘Frank?’ She opened her eyes and to her delight he wasn’t there. ‘Good-o!’ she said aloud, and cuddling his pillow went back to sleep.

  ‘Bess? Time go get up, love. I’ve put a cup of tea on the side for you,’ Frank said, drawing back the curtains.

  Bess opened her eyes. ‘Is Nancy awake?’

  ‘She certainly is. Our little guest was perched on her bed, fully dressed, when I crept through the sitting room at six o’clock. She nearly gave me a heart attack. I got as far as the door, quietly turned the knob, and a little voice, all matter of fact, said, “Is it time to collect the eggs yet Uncle Frank?”’

  ‘And you said, yes.’

  ‘What else could I say? I’d already told her they had to be collected first thing in the morning.’

  Bess laughed. ‘Ena was right, you are a pushover. Where is she now?’

  ‘Eating one of the eggs that she collected, with bread and butter soldiers.’ Bess raised an eyebrow. ‘Sylvie made them for her. She has won the hearts of all the staff,’ Frank said, making for the door.