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Theoretically, the rooms had to be vacated by 10:00 a.m., but this didn’t happen as often as it should, and it generally became a mad rush to get the laundry downstairs in time for the van, dust and polish the lounge bar and mop its flagged floor, check the garden parasols and check the ashtrays were clean before washing her face and hands, tidying her hair and changing into a clean pink overall for her waitress stint.
At the same time, she had to contend with Janice, who had soon made her malicious intentions clear, focusing on the hated uniform.
It seemed hardly a day went by without some accident, a favourite being a jog to her arm as she was pouring breakfast juice or ladling soup into bowls, necessitating a change of overall, which could have its own problems.
‘You really are the clumsiest girl,’ Mrs Sansom snapped when Dana had to show her the only clean overall she had left, with a sleeve mysteriously hanging half torn from the armhole. ‘How on earth did that happen?’
‘I don’t know, Mrs Sansom,’ said Dana, although she could make an educated guess at the kitchen scissors followed by a good, hard tug.
‘Well, I suppose you must serve in your own clothes for once, but be more careful in future or I shall have to speak to your aunt. These uniforms cost money, you know, and you’re damned lucky I don’t deduct this damage from your wages.’
But it turned out to be her lucky day, because the cook, Betty Wilfrey, who’d allowed previous incidents to pass without comment, apparently decided enough was enough and took Janice aside for ‘a quiet word’.
For a week or two there was peace; then, after a long, weary day with the temperature up in the eighties, the hotel full and the busiest lunchtime ever, Dana emerged later than usual and well after the kitchen had closed, to find that her bike had disappeared from its usual spot.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she groaned under her breath. She hoped it might just have been moved elsewhere, but a search of the outbuildings and storage area proved futile and Dana could have sat down on the cobbles, put her face in her hands and wept.
It was no use trudging the half mile to the small estate where Janice lived, because she would only deny all knowledge of the incident. So, instead, Dana turned left and began to walk the length of the village, cursing Janice with every step.
She’d coped with the odd flat tyre in the past and said nothing, but this was different. This time she couldn’t suffer in silence—not with the prospect of a three-mile hike at the beginning and end of every working day.
She’d gone about half a mile when she was overtaken by a dark blue convertible, which stopped.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Zac Belisandro. ‘Isn’t it a little warm for a stroll?’
‘I didn’t plan it.’ She stared ahead of her fixedly, one glance having told her that he was more casually dressed than she had ever seen him, bare-legged and bare-armed in white shorts and a dark red shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist.
‘You have a bicycle, I think.’
Now, how did he know that?
‘I couldn’t find it. Someone must have—borrowed it.’
‘Without permission?’
She shrugged. ‘Obviously. Anyway, the walk will do me good.’ Even if my feet feel as if they’re about to burst into flames.
‘I disagree.’ He leaned across and opened the passenger door. ‘Get in.’
Oh, God, no...
She said swiftly, ‘No, thanks, I can manage. You really don’t have to bother.’
‘It will only trouble me if I am forced to put you in the car.’ He sounded faintly bored. ‘For both our sakes, do as you are told.’
The desire to tell him to go to hell almost overwhelmed her. Almost—but not quite.
So she obeyed, a picture of mutiny, fastening her seat belt quickly in case he offered assistance again.
He added, ‘And do not sulk.’
‘Does it occur to you that I might not wish to be driven by you, Mr Belisandro?’ She’d intended to sound dignified, but somehow the words emerged as juvenile and petulant.
His own tone was silky. ‘Then it is fortunate we have only a short journey to endure.’ He paused. ‘Besides, I am not convinced that you yet know what you truly want. I also believe you should be careful what you wish for.’
The car moved forward and began to gather speed. The languid heat of the day seemed suddenly to be pulsing in Dana’s veins and, in spite of herself, she lifted her face welcoming the rush of air.
‘I’ve simply mislaid my bike,’ she returned. ‘I hardly require counselling.’
