‘How come? Is he okay?’
‘The doctor wants to talk to me first and you know how it is in hospitals – they’re so busy. They’ve warned us it might not be until lunchtime.’
‘It’s nearly lunchtime now.’ The swivel chair at her desk was tucked in and I wondered if I should pull it out, so I could sit down, stick my head between my knees and breathe deeply.
‘So, it should be anytime now.’ My mum’s chipper tone was not fooling anyone, but she forged on before I could ask her any more questions. ‘What’s happening down there with you? You sound worried.’
‘There have been some developments,’ I replied dryly. ‘Apparently there’s some secret hotel reviewer staying here who has millions and millions of social media followers; the Hotel Hopper or something.’
Mum was quiet on the other end of the line and I could practically see her eyes darting from side to side as her brain whirled into action. ‘Right. Okay. That’s not a problem so long as the hotel keeps running as normal.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s the other thing. Lola, Mabel and Charlie are all off sick.’
‘All of them?’
‘It’s that bloody flu bug going around.’ I gave the wheel of the desk chair a little kick.
‘Don’t panic,’ she stated – as though it ever helped anyone who was panicking to tell them not to panic. ‘It’ll be fine. We’ll sort through the immediate problems, take it one day at a time.’
‘Onedayat a time?’
‘It’s a figure of speech. If they discharge Grandad at lunchtime, I should still be able to get back by this evening…provided the snow doesn’t hit.’
I turned and plonked myself on the edge of the office desk.
‘Oh God, I forgot about the snow.’ I ran my hand over my braid, feeling how it was starting to spring loose. ‘This isn’t good. Julius Mundey has already caught the scent of my fear and started circling.’
‘I’ll do what I can from this end to get some cover staff in,’ she continued as though she hadn’t heard the beginnings of my nervous breakdown. ‘As for everything else, just call me if you’re unsure. But if youcan’tget hold of me because I’m with the doctor or – hopefully – driving, or you simply don’t have the time to wait, listen to your instincts, Beth. You know the hotel. You know how I run things. Look, I better get back inside, I don’t want to miss the doctor. It’ll be okay.’
I took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Right. Give Grandad my love. I’ll speak to you later.’
We hung up and I lingered in the office for a moment. From Mum’s desk I could see over the top of the reception desk the office opened out onto, through the lobby to the Christmas tree that was still lacking an angel. And beyond that through the window, the sun was still shining and the sky was bright blue.
If I was lucky, in a few hours Mum would be back here, sorting everything out and I would be off the hook. All I needed to do was keep the place ticking over for eight or so more hours.
By dinner time, even though I hadn’t heard directly from Mum, I hadn’t needed to call her about anything either. Two other members of staff, Marvin and Yolande, arrived to cover the bar and help in the dining room respectively and with the Dickensian festival on in the village, it was a safe bet that there wouldn’t be as many guests at dinner. With the prospect of a quiet evening and efficient staff in place, it was tempting to slope off for a bath, a glass of wine and an evening of blissful denial about my current predicament.
However, this idiot had also agreed to a date with Cartwright, Stephen Cartwright, and needed to cancel it. I shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of leaving the hotel premises while I was meant to be ‘in charge’. Plus…I was chickening out.
Dates are awful: you go and sit and basically interview people for a job (no pun intended this time) they’re not sure they even want,while they’re doing the same thing to you. And since I was finding it hard to answer even simple questions about myself without falling into a philosophical wormhole, the prospect was unappealing.
So, I figured I’d just tell him I was sorry, that I was recently out of a long-term relationship and not ready yet. All true.
When I’d made sure that Marvin was set up in the bar and Stephen wasn’t in there, I joined Yolande in the dining room. But of course, he didn’t turn up there either. Neither did Nick. Not that that was relevant at all.
With a grand total of six guests eating in, I spent half of service debating whether I should take his mobile number from the computer system and ring him or ask his nan for it. Neither sat right with me. He hadn’t given me his number so I shouldn’t act like a stalker and take it without permission. Especially not to ditch him. And it felt weird to talk to Dorie about the date, in a very quiet dining room.
I mean, there wasn’t a rule about not dating guests, but I supposed that was because it didn’t tend to crop up as an issue. Mum probably expected her staff to be more professional than that. If the mystery blogger was one of the few guests at dinner that night, I didn’t want them noting down that staff at the Everdene Hotel were happy to hassle patrons for their grandchildren’s phone numbers.
I’d looked up their first blog post earlier:
‘First Impressions
‘Let me set the scene for you this 21st December. Our first glimpse of the Everdene Hotel is at the crest of a small hill, characteristic of the picturesque downlands countryside it is nestled in. The driveway approach is lined by well-established trees, decorated in tasteful lights, and the front façade greets us with matching subtlety and class. There are tall columns supporting a large porch and rows of gleaming symmetrical windows, set in light stone to rival any Jane Austen period drama.
‘But will the interior live up to this first impression of elegance? Their website boasts the perfect blend of a welcoming family-run business but with the dedication to good service all guests deserve. Watch this space…’
Watch this space indeed. There was a great first impression to ruin. The tone of the writing didn’t really fit with any of the guests I’d conversed with, but I suppose being an anonymous blogger gave them the freedom to adopt a new persona.
