‘Let me call through to the kitchen and find out for you.’ As I was waiting for Neeta to answer, I noticed Noelle Kingston, the writer, descending the stairs. She hadn’t been at breakfast and judging by the way she was rubbing her eyes and yawning, she’d probably been snuggled up under her duvet while the scrambled eggs were being doled out. At least someone around here had their priorities straight. She came straight over to the desk and must have stood just a little too close to Mr Mundey for his liking, because he shuffled sideways like a worried crab.
‘Yes, honey?’ Neeta finally answered.
‘Could you confirm what we have on our lunch menu today please?’
If Neeta was thrown by my formal voice, she didn’t let on.
‘Carrot and coriander soup with French bread; steak and blue cheese panini; jacket potatoes with tuna; and the salads are Waldorf, Caesar or green.’
‘Thank you.’ I scribbled it down, so that I could type it up and print out the menus in time for lunch, and then recited the options to Julius. He sniffed again.
‘I think I might just walk into the village.’
‘It is a beautiful day,’ I said equably.
‘It’s minus two,’ he snapped and stalked off, as though the poor lunch selection was literally forcing him to source food elsewhere or starve.
Noelle watched him go into the lounge, raising her eyebrows, and stepped up closer to the desk. She opened her mouth to start talking, then stopped again as Julius stalked back out of the lounge, muttering something about ‘bloody kids’ and went straight into the library opposite. None of the four small children staying were badly behaved as far as I’d noticed. I added kids to the list of things Julius was allergic to.
‘I never heard of anyone so offended by a steak and blue cheese panini,’ she drawled in her thick American accent.
‘Mr Mundey is vegan.’
‘Oh. I tried that once; it made me miserable too.’
A laugh threatened at that, but I valiantly suppressed it. Laughing at the expense of the guests wasn’t professional. I could tell by the twinkle in her grey eyes that she knew she’d almost cracked me though.
‘How may I help you, Noelle?’ I opened a Word document on the computer but stayed standing because the counter was chest high. I think they’re meant to be for security purposes but since we almost always forgot to lock the hinged part where we entered, it was a bit pointless. Mum could barely see over the top of it, even in her heels.
‘It’s more that I can help you with something actually.’ She tucked a stray red hair behind her ear and folded her arms across the top of the desk.
‘Oh? Okay.’ I blinked in surprise. Usually conversations with Noelle were about staff and routines and what the worst thing about working in a hotel was, et cetera, et cetera.
‘Yeah, so I’ve got this writer friend who works for the same e-zine as—’ She broke off as the front door opened and a man walked in, towing a leather suitcase. This would be the final guest Mum was talking about yesterday and – if I’d managed to put two and two together correctly for once – Dorie’s other grandson: the banker.
‘Oh my,’ Noelle muttered and when I looked over at her she fanned herself subtly as he approached. Or as subtly as she did anything.
He was wearing one of those long lush tan coats that might as well have been made from twenty-pound notes and had a black and white striped scarf around his neck. His hair was dark instead of fair like Nick’s, as I’d imagined. He pulled his suitcase to a neat stop in front of the desk.
‘Good morning, welcome to the Everdene Hotel.’ I gave him a warm smile. ‘I’ll be with you in just a moment – I’m just dealing with this lady.’
‘Oh, don’t mind me.’ Noelle smirked. ‘I’ll wait. Just over here.’ She sauntered around to the table between the doors to the library and the bar, where we kept a range of leaflets about local attractions. ‘Welcome indeed,’ she muttered and plonked herself in the armchair beside the table, a leaflet I knew she had no intention of reading held up to her nose.
‘Thank you.’ Dorie’s grandson doffed an imaginary cap at her. I found myself suppressing another laugh as Noelle pretended to swoon as soon as his attention was turned back to me.
‘Are you checking in, sir?’
‘Yes, the name’s Cartwright. Stephen Cartwright.’
I desperately tried to ignore Noelle’s reaction to ‘The Spy Who Checked In’ but the words tripped off my tongue before I could help myself:
‘We’ve been expecting you, Mr Cartwright.’
Noelle let out a snort and Stephen and I both looked around to find her shaking with laughter, the leaflet plastered to her whole face. I was fiercely reminded of being at school. We probably would’ve been great friends and in a lot of detentions together.
My cheeks flushed though, when Stephen looked back at me. I really should learn to control my mouth.
‘I get it.’ He chuckled and my whole body relaxed. Thankfully he had a better sense of humour than his brother. He also had dark eyes as well as hair, so other than being tall and good-looking like Nick, they were very different. And I might’ve been studying him a little too hard because his mouth crooked up knowingly at the corner. He gave me an assessing gaze and his smile widened. ‘Aren’t you a bit young for Bond references?’
