Page 10 of Be More Octopus

'You have a beautiful home,' Em said as they returned to the ground floor.

'Thank you. But you haven't seen the most important room in the house yet: the kitchen.' Nancy led her into a huge room.

Based on the view behind Nancy during the interview, Em had expected to see a kitchen that wouldn't have looked out of place in Downton Abbey. Instead, it was mostly a slick 21st-century affair, with stainless steel countertops and charcoal-coloured high gloss doors. A large American-style fridge freezer dominated the far end of the room.

Nancy got two mugs out of a cupboard. 'Tea?'

'Yes, please. Milk, no sugar.'

'English Breakfast, Darjeeling, Lapsang Souchong or Earl Grey? I prefer Earl Grey personally.’

'Earl Grey would be lovely, thank you.'

Nancy filled a teapot from a boiling water tap.

At the far end of the kitchen was a desk with a laptop. Em recognised the backdrop from the Zoom interview.

Nancy noticed Em looking. 'That is where we get organised. Working next to the Aga keeps me toasty in the cold weather. I'll give you a training session on the booking system next week when you've settled in. Do take a seat.' Nancy pointed to the high stools around the island in the centre of the room.

'I can't show you the holiday accommodation as we've got guests in all of them now. But they will be leaving at the end of the week, so you can view them then. Two cottages have a Friday changeover, and the other three are from Saturday to Saturday. But you can see Wisteria Cottage tomorrow as they've paid for our optional twice-weekly maid service.'

Nancy put a mug of tea in front of Em. 'When you've finished that, we'll head over to your flat.'

She went over to the big desk and started rummaging around in a drawer, producing two sets of keys. 'These are for your flat, and these are your car keys. It's the blue Fiesta parked outside the garage. And this,' she said, pulling a folder out of another drawer, 'is our procedure manual. A little light reading for you if you can't get to sleep tonight,' she laughed.

Em flicked through the pages. What had to be cleaned on which day. Standard shopping lists. Checklists for preparing the accommodation. Processes for checking payments and sending out reminder emails. Copies of the insurance documents. Contact details for local tradespeople if anything needed repairing. 'Everything you need to know is in there, and there's an electronic copy on the laptop if you find that easier.'

Why Nigel thought his mother was helpless, God alone knew. Nancy was more organised than any of Em's previous managers.

'It looks daunting, but it should only take 20 hours a week, mostly on Fridays and Saturdays. The rest of the time, there's just admin and the occasional guest query to deal with, so that shouldn't take more than a couple of hours each day. I'll pay you for any additional hours if someone wants the extra maid service or if our cleaner, Mrs Rossiter, is away and I need a hand. Sundays and Mondays are all your own. Any questions?'

'No, that's all very clear. Thank you.'

'Excellent. It's lovely to have you here.’ Nancy clinked her mug against Em's. ‘Welcome to Dashford Grange.'

CHAPTER TWELVE

Em sat at one of the tables outside the tiny cafe that was built into the side of the seafront wall.

After getting the new guests settled in yesterday, it was lovely to spend Sunday morning doing nothing but breathing in the fresh sea air. And it was fresh today. The warm weather had disappeared, and a strong wind was coming in from the north. But Em didn't mind, even though she hadn't expected to be wearing a woolly hat and scarf in May. Big breakers were rolling onto the sands of Dashford beach, and dark clouds gave the view a mysterious, almost threatening feel. Great inspiration for a painting. It was a good start to her first day off.

Em took a few photos on her phone, then got out her sketchbook and pencil to draw shapes and textures, making notes of the colours, scents and feel of the wind. She'd use her paints to capture the scene and the atmosphere on paper when she got back home.

Home. That was interesting. Even though she'd only been here a few days, it did feel like home.

The woman who ran the cafe came out and plonked a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of Em. She looked like she was in her late 50s, with short, fluorescent pink hair and the ruddy complexion of someone who was regularly outdoors in all weathers. 'There you go, my lovely. I don't think I've seen you before. Are you here on holiday?'

'No, I've moved into the flat at Dashford Grange to run the holiday lets.'

'I'd heard Mrs Farnham was getting some help. I'm Mary.' She held out her hand for Em to shake.

'Hi Mary, I'm Em.'

'How are you finding working for Mrs F?'

'She's been lovely to me.'

Which was true. Nancy had been excellent at explaining what needed doing. Everything ran like clockwork already, so Em followed the checklists, and the first five sets of guests on her watch were now happily settled in. And Em's flat over the garages, though small, was nicely furnished and comfortable.