Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage

by Samantha Tonge

  My cheeks felt hot.

  ‘And I’ll be left with a bit of my winnings. Perhaps I’ll finally get to enjoy all the musicals I’ve been longing to see, like Hamilton.’

  Over the years Amy had developed an obsession with West End musical shows. Perhaps it was an obvious outcome after being addicted to Disney films as a child. I’d never believed in the whole ‘prince and princess’ story. Being older, observing my parents’ relationship, I always knew that grown-up life was different.

  ‘But you could use your windfall to go one step further with your career. It would boost your finances to start studying full-on veterinary science and probably pay for the first year’s accommodation. What with student loans and…’ I talked for a few minutes. After years of scraping money together to keep up the payments on our modest London flat, it wouldn’t feel right splashing out on private sunbeds and cocktails. It went against all the instincts I’d honed since leaving the house I’d grown up in, to set up on my own.

  Amy’s face darkened and she turned back to the screen. ‘I’ve told you a hundred times, Sarah, university… that’s one of the few things Dad was right about. I… I would have loved to be a vet. It was my life’s dream for such a long time. I’m not grateful to Dad for much, but he did at least stop me making a fool of myself by applying to study such a challenging subject. He was right – I just haven’t got what it takes.’

  ‘How can you say that, Amy? Your grades alone—’

  ‘Being a veterinary nurse alone is more challenging than I ever imagined,’ she continued, ignoring my comment. ‘Look, Sarah – two other members of the lottery syndicate are also taking holidays. One of the surgeons is going on a cruise… I wish you would trust me on this.’

  I opened my mouth to protest but the stiffness that had taken hold of her shoulders stopped me. We shouldn’t argue. It was rare that we both had a Saturday off. Tonight we were going to the cinema. My chest glowed at the prospect of Amy’s usual excitement over a blue slush drink and ketchup slathered hot dog. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was twenty-three.

  But then I was twenty-seven and hadn’t even been kissed. Not properly. One-night stands and short relationships didn’t count. I meant proper kissing like you saw in the romantic movies I loved watching, where it was savoured on a bench or under a lamppost. I should have had that with Callum but looking back, the spark wasn’t there; I never got the sense of wanting a kiss with him to last forever.

  ‘A trip away is exactly what we both need,’ continued Amy as tentative rays of sunshine that had snuck through the blinds retreated behind assembling April clouds. ‘Especially you.’ Her voice sounded thick. ‘You’ve worked your guts out all these years, giving me a roof over my head and so much more – like funding my training to become a nurse at Paws & Claws. Words can’t explain how much it meant to me, having this flat, your home to move into when I turned eighteen and could finally get away from him.’

  ‘This has always been our home – even when you weren’t here.’

  Her eyes shone. ‘Well, this is my small way of paying you back.’

  ‘There’s no debt.’ I rubbed her arm and crouched down by her side.

  She closed the screen of her laptop and turned around, face flushed as I stood up. ‘Let me do this on my own. For a change let me take charge.’

  But had she checked the reviews on TripAdvisor? And I’d have to find a way to subtly remind her about holiday insurance. The last year or two she never seemed to understand when I was simply trying to help.

  I loved Amy more than anything in the world but she’d always be the younger sister who’d run to me when Dad had been mean; the sister who needed me.

  ‘Or are you trying to sneak a peek at exactly where we’re going?’ Her sharp tone couldn’t disguise the twinkle in her eyes. ‘There are several islands to choose from and I’ve finally made a decision. Now go and make those chocolate cookies you promised, whilst I book this surprise.’

  ‘Ooh, an island? Thanks for letting that slip.’ I chuckled. ‘And, um, I might have already seen a few other clues,’ I said sheepishly. ‘Like photos of a lush hotel with Roman pillars. Waterbeds. An indigo ocean. White sand beaches. Something about tropical massages and Aqua Dancing and all-day buffets offering pyramids of pastries and colourful seafood platters.’

  ‘Sarah! The details are supposed to be top secret.’

  ‘But I’m excited!’ I bent down and gave her a tight hug.

  ‘Get off,’ she protested and pushed me away. She peered up from under her fringe. ‘So, did it look okay? I want everything to be perfect.’ She curled a section of hair between her fingers. It was short. Gamine. Brown like mine was without the highlights. It suited her petite figure currently dressed in dungarees over a high-necked jumper. I was taller, like Dad. Her whole look shouted practical.

  ‘Okay? Amy, it looked idyllic. But are you sure about this? I work in the hotel business. My day is spent in hospitality, even though Best Travel doesn’t exactly offer five-star accommodation. But you work with animals. You love the outdoors. Hiking. Getting down and dirty with our window box. Spa treatments and fine dining aren’t exactly your thing.’

  ‘They could be,’ she said in a bright voice.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘All right… we both know manicured nails would chip within an hour on me and I’d rather climb rocks than have hot stones placed on my Chakra points. And I’m a little concerned I might get bored. But who knows? I might enjoy the pampering and it wouldn’t be a selfless break. Feeling that I was finally doing something for you – that would give me a sense of wellbeing that no fancy massage could ever match…’

  Whistling – out-of-tune, as Amy never ceased to remind me – I went into the kitchen. It was only the size of Dad’s and my stepmother’s en-suite bathroom. Fondly, I ran a hand over the scratched units and gazed at a couple of cracked tiles. I loved every inch of this flat because it belonged to me and Amy.

  And Nelly, our much-loved Burmese cat. She was ten now and became more regal as years passed. She padded into the kitchen, sat by her bowl and tidied her tail into a circle around her body.

  I took out flour, butter and sugar. ‘I can’t help worrying about Nelly, if we’re away for that long,’ I called through to the living room. It was cluttered with Amy’s animal ornaments and my beauty magazines, framed photos of the two of us, and several shelves of novels – romance for me, thrillers for Amy. But I didn’t mind the lack of space in what was already a cramped room. Those objects were proof of the new, happier life we had now.

  ‘Sarah, I’m a veterinary nurse. I told you, I’ve a queue of great people offering to look after her. Or don’t you believe me?’ There was an edge to her voice.

  Of course I did. It was just my habit to worry about Amy and Nelly, my little family.

  They were all I needed. Having seen the life Mum led, I’d decided long ago I was never going to get married. The only weddings I wanted to be a part of were the fictional ones in my favourite movies and books.

  ‘I’ll still have to clear it at work. I’m not sure how Prue will feel about me taking a month off.’

  Just the mention of my boss’s name made my stomach knot.

  ‘No one’s indispensable. Not even wonderful you,’ she called back.

  My chest felt warm. Over recent years, Amy had matured and started to look out for me, cooking dinner and mowing the lawn. However, I’d never lose my maternal feelings towards her. When we were ten and six ours was quite an age gap. As was eighteen and fourteen when I’d had to leave her behind with Dad but promised we’d live together again. I beat the sugar and butter, remembering her tears and his folded arms as I dragged my suitcase past the fountain and out of the huge driveway, into the street. I’d finally realised I had to leave after… I swallowed. No. I wasn’t going to think about that now.

  I let Nelly into the back garden, busied myself with ingredients and cleaned up whilst the cookies baked. Their sweet aroma wafted th
rough the air as I carried them into the lounge, on a tray, with two coffees.

  ‘Good timing,’ said Amy and turned off her screen, looking pleased with herself. I put the tray on the table and joined her.

  ‘Is it all booked?’

  She nodded. ‘A modest deposit paid. The rest is due in the middle of June, two weeks before we leave.’

  ‘Can’t you at least share which part of the world we’re visiting?’

  ‘That would be telling,’ she replied airily and took the largest cookie.

  I jumped up and held her right arm firm whilst tickling the armpit. ‘I won’t stop until I find out, Amy Sterling.’

  However, she was as strong as me these days and, giggling, held the cookie in her mouth and forced both of my hands away. I sat down once more. I recognised that expression. She was determined to keep her secret. Sometimes, with my impulsive sister, that could be a dangerous thing, like when she’d agreed to do a charity skydive with colleagues at work. She didn’t tell me until the morning of the jump.

  ‘Just a clue. A teeny one,’ I said. ‘Please…’

  ‘I’ve never seen you this excited before. Well, not since you were made assistant manager. Oh, and the time you found that fancy moisturiser for half price.’

  ‘It wasn’t just any moisturiser. The Duchess of Cambridge uses it.’ I pressed my palms together. ‘At least let me guess… the Canary Islands? Barbados? Australia’s an island, right? I mean, you and me – we share most things, don’t we?’

  ‘Best buddies, always,’ she said solemnly.

  It was a promise we’d made to each other, the day after Mum’s funeral. And sure enough, we confided in each other about our latest celebrity crushes, about our dreams for the future; we put the world to rights over Chardonnay and Pringles. I knew her favourite colour, favourite food, favourite band. She could always tell when I’d had a stressful day at work and, without prying, would make me a hot chocolate, fetch a blanket and switch on my current Netflix obsession.

  Amy laughed and put down the cookie. ‘I can’t face this interrogation for the next three months. All right. All right – but no more questions after this, agreed?’

  ‘Promise,’ I said, beaming.

  Her chest puffed out. ‘I’ve booked us the best break ever. It’s exotic. Luxurious. Our holiday destination is… one of the British Virgin Islands.’

  I stared.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing… it’s just…’ A lump rose in my throat. ‘That really is high-end.’

  ‘And no less than you deserve,’ she said quietly. ‘But don’t ask me which one. You’d never guess, anyway. There are over fifty.’ She pretended to zip her lips shut.

  My stomach fluttered as I imagined the celebrity treatment and Michelin-starred food awaiting us. I’d have to get my nails done, especially themed for somewhere so grand, perhaps with tiny aeroplanes painted on them. My highlights would need re-touching. I’d treat myself to a new bikini.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I’m imagining what it would be like, living in a part of the world like that forever. Away from the grind and dust of London… Only mingling with jolly tourists seeking a good time…’

  ‘I’d prefer to mix with the locals – otherwise it would feel false… manufactured… like moving to Disneyland.’

  ‘Reality is overrated, if you ask me. The ultimate getaway must be working and living on a cruise ship.’

  Amy pulled a face. ‘I can’t think of anything worse.’

  I smiled. ‘You’d miss saving animals. Doing good. You’re not as shallow as me.’

  Her voice softened. ‘Perhaps my perspective is different because I’ve had it easier. You had a brutal introduction to reality on your own, aged eighteen. Whereas I’ve always had you to rely on, looking out for me…’

  I’d tried to act as a mum to Amy all these years because I knew how hard life was without that maternal presence.

  I shook myself, sipped my coffee and pictured myself on a beach, a daiquiri by my side, wearing large sunglasses and an Audrey Hepburn Breakfast at Tiffany’s hat. Amy and I clinked mugs.

  This was going to be the most perfect holiday ever.

  2

  Finally the showery spring had passed, yet it was June and still the sky was threatening. I’d been hoping for a few weekends to gain a tan in the local park, before my imminent trip to the British Virgin Islands…

  I still couldn’t believe I was going. My anticipation was building.

  Despite the bad feeling it had caused with Prue.

  Despite her making it clear I’d have to work all hours when I got back, to make it good.

  I unclenched my teeth. It had felt like a long early morning shift. These weeks running up to my break should have been filled with excitement about the trip of a lifetime. Instead Prue had done her best to wear me down. It was true – I should have consulted her before Amy booked it, but it all happened so fast. However, I’d rather her have said no, if I’d known she was going to continually make me suffer for it, with her frequent comments about how I’d have a mountain of paperwork to catch up on when I got back; that I owed her big time for letting me go off during one of our busiest months.

  I sat in the poky staffroom at Best Travel and gazed at the half-eaten egg and cress sandwich. It used to be a favourite of Mum’s. Very occasionally, she put herself first with Dad and served them, even though his nose would wrinkle. I wiped my mouth and finished my bottle of water. A reusable one, of course – Amy made sure of that. For a moment I wished I’d swigged something stronger, ahead of the chat I wanted to have with Prue before I left to meet Amy for holiday shopping. I’d had another of my ideas on how to improve Best Travel and wanted to run it past my boss. It had kept me awake last night and I couldn’t wait to share it, optimistic that this would be the one that inspired her to finally embrace change and would make up for me taking four weeks off.

  I tried to ignore the niggling voice in my head, telling me that Prue was being unfair. That I’d never taken more than one week off at a time, in all the years I’d worked at Best Travel. That I was the first to muck in if a member of housekeeping rang up ill. That I’d worked hours and hours of unpaid overtime since I’d become assistant manager.

  But it was no good. The frustration within me swelled. My fists formed balls.

  I never let on to Amy just how tough it was working for that woman; never wanted to risk my sister feeling guilty about all the years I’d had to suffer condescending put-downs in order to put food on the table. To be fair, Prue had eventually promoted me from receptionist and in my new role I’d learnt loads about the financial side. However, Prue wasn’t a dreamer and always knocked back any fresh ideas I had to grow our reputation and make more money.

  I felt like a clipped bird.

  Please let things be different today.

  But if they weren’t… I sat up straighter. A month in a luxury hotel was going be an opportunity to find out what it would take to reach the top of my profession. I felt as if I’d put in enough years now, as assistant manager, to take the next step forwards in my career. I’d been researching for several months. It was fascinating. For example, the walls of The Dorchester contained compressed seaweed and cork for soundproofing. Apparently Hitchcock said it would be the perfect place to commit a murder.

  I was so used to working all hours but there was no chance this trip would make me feel guilty because I’d be taking notes on the way things were run and still focusing on work. This five-star holiday might set me in a good position to seek a more personally rewarding – and better paid – job once I got home.

  ‘You still here?’ asked Prue. She made herself a black coffee and sat down next to me, bringing an atmosphere as sour as the vinegar on her crisps. ‘Then I’ve just got one last job for you, before you knock off for the day – the new family with those bawling twins want to know if we have blackout curtains for tonight. I don’t trust myself to give them the
bad news, so you’ll have to.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly. Some people truly believe a hotel should be a home from home.’

  That’s where Prue and I were fundamentally different – I longed to work somewhere that went that extra mile to fulfil a guest’s every need. There was no better feeling than when some little difference you made brightened their stay. In spite of my critical boss, I enjoyed the hands-on aspects of my job so much. I was lucky seeing as I’d only applied to work here, all those years ago, because the position came with accommodation – a perk I was grateful for until I could afford a proper place of my own.

  ‘I’ll sort it. No problem, Prue.’ I closed my Tupperware lunch box. I pressed down firmly on the lid, clutching the sides as I spoke. ‘Could I just run an idea past you that I’ve been working on – on how we could make the Best Travel experience even more… special?’ I couldn’t help smiling. ‘It kept me awake until the early hours.’

  With her hair scraped back into a ponytail, there was nothing to hide the bored expression that crossed her face. Only last month she’d rejected my suggestion that we extend the basic complimentary toiletries range to include a plastic shower cap and sachet of hand cream. Not having much money to spare myself, I knew that for our average customer the small things like that meant a lot. But ‘Don’t fix what isn’t broke’ Prue was a fan of the status quo.

  Still. I had to give it a go. One thing I’d learnt, since leaving home, was to never give up. Like the way I’d taught myself to hang wallpaper. There’d been tears. Rolls of discarded paper that had gone on wonky. I’d felt so proud when I finished one wall.

  I took a deep breath. ‘The rooms on the top floor that are slightly bigger… Why don’t we trial stocking them with better quality linen, curtains that match duvets, small mini bars and trouser presses? We could charge more and might snag customers wanting a bigger slice of luxury at a lower price.’ I leant forward. ‘We’d be more competitive against that posh hotel down the road and—’