DEATH OF A DANCER
Irena Nieslony
Chapter 1
Oakfield Hall was opening as a hotel that night and Rachel Fisher was both nervous and excited. She could hardly believe that the run-down old house which she had inherited five months previously from her cousin, George Robertson, was now finished and looked spectacular.
Rachel had done much of the cleaning and light repairs herself, but had relied on outside contractors to do the heavy work. Because she was an actress and had spent three of the past five months working on a T.V. series, she hadn’t been able to keep a close eye on the workmen, but luckily they hadn’t let her down.
Rachel stood in the magnificent hallway waiting for the guests to arrive. The walls were painted a pastel pink, the furniture was Victorian and there was a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Rachel thought how perfect everything now looked, but then a shiver ran down her spine. She remembered returning home one day to graffiti on the walls and being pushed down the stairs at George’s wake.
Yes, Rachel knew she was lucky to be alive after all the attempts on her life in the few weeks following the reading of George’s will. He had put a codicil in his will stating that if Rachel died within the first year of his death, the house would be divided between his brothers, Arthur and John, and her Uncle Sam. Sure enough somebody did try to kill her, but it turned out to be James Parker, the former foster child of George, who felt he should have inherited the house. Unfortunately, Rachel had been well on her way to falling in love with him and she thought the feeling was mutual. Finding out that James had tried to kill her on numerous occasions had come as a shock, but at last her heart was starting to heal.
Rachel was delighted that all the rooms were let for the first weekend of opening. Things were definitely off to a flying start.
There were eight double rooms, all en suite and all either named after a bird or a flower such as The Orchid Room and The Flamingo Room. Rachel had searched high and low for paintings, photographs and ornaments depicting the name of each room. She had also chosen the color schemes of the rooms to match the bird or flower, discovering that she had quite a knack for interior design.
It was a bitterly cold evening in early February when Oakfield Hall first opened its’ doors, but the hotel was warm and cozy. Rachel dreaded to think what the cost of heating such a big house would be, but it had to be done and it wasn’t as if it were cheap to stay there. As well as central heating, she had also decided to light an open fire in the dining room and the sitting room, thinking this would give the guests a comforting and homely feeling and make both rooms feel warmer than they were. Steven Robertson was in charge of keeping the fires going all evening. He was John Robertson’s son and was working there at weekends to earn some extra money while at medical school.
At five o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rang and Rachel took a deep breath. This was it. Her first guests had arrived. However, when she went to the door, her heart sank. Why did Arthur and Joan have to arrive first? She obviously knew that they had booked to stay, but she couldn’t fathom why. Was it just nosiness or was it because Arthur was hoping to see her fail? He had not been at all happy that George hadn’t left him part of Oakfield. However, whatever it was, they were guests and had paid a great deal of money to stay there, so she had to be polite.
“Arthur, Joan. How lovely to see you. Do come in.”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d restore the staircase to what it was, Rachel. I thought you’d have your own ideas,” Arthur spoke first.
Rachel sighed to herself. As suspected, Arthur looked as if he were going to spend a lot of the weekend criticizing what she had done. She decided that she wouldn’t take the bait and instead ignored Arthur’s comment and smiled sweetly.
“Oh, I think it all looks lovely,” Joan said in her usual quiet voice.
Arthur glared at her.
“You do live in the past though, don’t you dear?”
Joan looked embarrassed and Rachel quickly cut in.
“We start serving dinner at seven and take last orders at ten. There is a menu in your room and one for breakfast, which is served between seven thirty and ten in the morning. If you would like a newspaper, can you let us know before you go to bed tonight, please?”
Steven then came out of the sitting room, having set up the logs for the fires that evening.
“Good evening Uncle Arthur and Aunt Joan.”
“Steven,” Arthur remarked. “I heard you were working here. How’s your dad?”
“He’d be a little better if you went to see him. He’s not doing at all well in jail. He’s been bullied terribly which won’t surprise you I’m sure.”
Rachel sighed, fearing that there was going to be a row which she would get dragged into, but then the doorbell rang and she rushed to open it. Carlotta Fox breezed in, and on seeing Arthur, spoke immediately.
“Arthur, John is languishing in jail. Why haven’t you been to see him for so long? You’re his only brother now George has gone.”
For once Arthur was lost for words, but Carlotta often had that effect on men.
Carlotta Fox, although now sixty, was still very beautiful and made many a man’s head turn. She had previously been a mistress of George Robertson, but had eventually left him because of his roving eye. Recently, she had been having an affair with the very married John Robertson. However, Rachel had seen them together and had told the police. She had thought that he might have wanted to kill her to get his share of Oakfield so that he could support both a mistress and a wife. John had been so angry with Rachel that he had tried to strangle her and was now in jail. Carlotta, however, had understood Rachel’s fears and didn’t hold it against her. In fact they had become friends.
“Well,” Carlotta continued. “I suppose I didn’t expect you to visit him, but it’s the decent thing to do, so go. Just once.”
Carlotta looked directly into Arthur’s eyes, a look most men couldn’t resist.
“I’ll try; next week,” Arthur replied, going a little red. “Anyway, what are you doing here, Carlotta?”
“My friend is having her sixtieth birthday tomorrow,” she said. “A group of us are making a weekend of it here. It will be such fun. You may remember her. One of my dancer friends, Jane Simpson.”
Arthur nodded as Carlotta came up to him and whispered in his ear.
“Do go and visit John, if only to make me happy.”
Arthur, like most men found Carlotta alluring and difficult to resist. Seeing his brother once wouldn’t hurt, would it?
Rachel was relieved that everything had calmed down. She was hoping that the weekend would go without a hitch, though she did doubt it.
“Steven,” she said. “Take your uncle and aunt to The Sunflower Room please.”
As soon as they were gone, she turned round to talk to Carlotta. Carlotta immediately kissed her on both cheeks, surprising Rachel with her familiarity. Although they had become friendly over the previous few months, Rachel felt a little guilty about what had happened to John.
Rachel knew that George had been Carlotta’s one true love and that the only reason she had left him had been because of his unfaithfulness. While Carlotta had been aware that the other women had meant nothing to George, she refused to share him and left. Then followed a series of affairs with men she liked, but never actually loved, culminating in John Robertson. He looked so much like George that she found him irresistible as long as he didn’t open his mouth. Poor John didn’t have George’s charisma, but he did have a wife, a very forceful personality called Barbara. She set the wheels in motion for a divorce as soon as she found out about John and Carlotta.
“I love what you’ve done with the staircase and hallway, Rachel,” Carlot
ta said. “It brings back so many memories.”
The staircase was the central feature of the hall, leading straight up to an enormous window looking out into the grounds. It then divided into two, one way going to the right and the other to the left, both leading to the first floor. The upper hallway was a large semi-circle with all the bedrooms leading off it.
Rachel and Carlotta stood quietly for a moment admiring the hall and staircase, Rachel remembering it as it was when she came to the house as a child.
“Thank you for suggesting Oakfield Hall to your friend, Jane, for her sixtieth birthday party, Carlotta. You did say you’d go through the final weekend plans when you got here?”
“Well,” Carlotta replied. “Everybody will be arriving at different times tonight, what with work and so on, so we’ll come down for dinner at nine. Hopefully we’ll all be here by then. Tomorrow, being Jane’s birthday, it’s going to be champagne all the way. You do have enough, don’t you darling? I did say when I booked.”
“Of course, Carlotta, I always have champagne!"
Both women laughed. Champagne was the one thing they both loved.
“Well, we’ll have a champagne breakfast, and then we’ll be out all day at Blenheim Palace. We’ll be having a champagne lunch in The Indian Room.”
Rachel suddenly shivered and she felt tears welling up. It all came back to her; that wonderful day at Blenheim Palace with James and having a delicious champagne lunch. She thought she was over him, but apparently there were still some old feelings left.
“Are you alright? Carlotta asked, noticing that Rachel was almost in tears.
“Yes, I think so. I remembered going to the Indian Room at Blenheim Palace with James. It was such a romantic day.”
“I’m sorry,” Carlotta spoke gently. “You still love him?”
“Oh no, “Rachel said quickly. “Just occasionally I do think about how nice he could be, but it doesn’t take long before I remember that he tried to kill me again and again. Carry on with what you were saying. James is best forgotten.”
“Alright, as long as you’re sure. After Blenheim, we would like celebratory drinks in the bar at six thirty, with canapés of course. Oh yes, there is one extra thing I wanted to tell you, one of the guests has gone vegan in the last week.”
“Vegan! We have vegetarian meals on the menu, but I don’t think we have vegan.”
Rachel started to panic.
“Oh, I’m sure André will be able to whip up a few dishes. He is an excellent chef,” Carlotta said. “You were lucky to get him.”
“I know I was, but he’s French and they’re not renowned for vegetarian cooking, let alone vegan.”
“Leave it to me, darling. I know him well from Zafferanos. I’ll have a chat with him.”
Rachel smiled. Carlotta might be sixty, but she had men many years younger than her chasing after her. She had style, elegance and most of all, sex appeal.
“Anyway, dinner at half eight I think,” Carlotta continued. “There will only be three extra guests for dinner tomorrow. Josh has just broken up with his latest girlfriend.”
“He’s not married yet then?”
“No, he’s a bit of a ‘fall in and out of love quickly’ type of guy.”
Rachel remembered Josh, Jane Simpson’s son, from when they were children. He had been very different to James. While James had been a bully and had always been getting into trouble, Josh had always been perfectly behaved. The two boys had naturally never got on.
She tried to imagine Josh all grown up, but couldn’t. She remembered going to shows with him to watch Carlotta and Jane dance. They had both been excellent dancers, but Josh was so shy and hardly spoke to her. She almost blushed when she recalled that she had had a childhood crush on him. However, she always became tongue tied when she saw him and thought he didn’t like her because he didn’t say anything. The truth was the complete opposite. He liked her just as much, but was much too shy to speak to her as well.
The doorbell rang again and Rachel answered it. She was pleased to see her uncle, Sam Nightingale, standing there.
‘Uncle Sam, you’re early. Not that there’s anything wrong with being early. It’s lovely to see you.”
"And you, Rachel, darling,” he replied, kissing her on both cheeks.
Sam was a High Court Judge and he and Rachel were very close. He had been like a father to her when her own dad had died.
"And Carlotta, looking as glamorous as usual,” he added.
Carlotta smiled at Sam.
“How nice to see you again, Sam. John has said that you have visited him in prison. He appreciates it. He’s not doing so well.”
"Yes, I know.”
Rachel was getting embarrassed. Carlotta would keep mentioning John and how unhappy he was in prison, but he had tried to strangle her and he needed to be punished. She still would sometimes wake up in a cold sweat thinking about John’s attempt to kill her.
Steven interrupted them.
“Uncle Arthur and Aunt Joan are settled in,” he said to Rachel. “Hi Sam.”
“Hello Steven, Well, Rachel, I think you’ve done a marvelous job with Oakfield and I’m looking forward to my weekend here.”
“It is very kind of you to come and stay,” Rachel replied. “After all, you do only live down the road.”
“What does that matter? I wanted to experience your new hotel and be pampered a little.”
“I can’t imagine why Arthur and Joan have come though," Rachel continued.
"We did think they were probably just being nosy."
"Possibly,” Sam said, “Or they may want to criticize and complain about Oakfield.”
“Do you mind if I go to my room now,” Carlotta interrupted, a little bored now that the attention had been diverted from her.
“Of course not,” Rachel said. “I’ve put you in The Orchid Room. I remember you loved orchids. George was always buying them for you.”
“My goodness, you do have a good memory, Rachel.”
Rachel smiled before continuing.
“And you, Uncle Sam, will be in The Nightingale Room. Quite appropriate I thought! Steven will help you with your bags.”
With Carlotta and Sam gone, Rachel went to wait at reception for the other guests to arrive. She smiled happily to herself. Everything seemed to be going well so far.
Chapter 2
The following evening Rachel made sure that enough bottles of champagne were chilled ready for pre diner drinks in the bar and she also checked with André on how the canapés were coming on. Naturally, there were no problems.
The previous night had been a success. Carlotta’s friend, Jane Simpson, and her husband, Charles, had arrived soon after Carlotta. They had been put in The Hummingbird Room where Rachel had placed a dozen red roses and a complementary bottle of champagne in honor of her birthday. Charles and Jane were both touched by this and the weekend was off to a good start immediately.
At dinner, all the birthday guests who were staying the weekend had managed to arrive on time. There was Percy Wilkinson, an old school friend of Charles, Carly and Chris Hawkins, Carly being a friend of Jan, Jane’s daughter from her first marriage, and Ben and Catherine Johnson. Catherine was Jane and Charles’s daughter.
With the drinks flowing freely, they made a somewhat noisy party, much to Arthur’s annoyance, although Sam Nightingale, who had joined them for dinner, kept telling him to lighten up. There was another couple at the hotel; Walt and Evelyn Edwards, a rather well off elderly American couple who were staying for two weeks and taking in all the sights nearby such as Windsor and Oxford.
Rachel hoped that the second evening would go as swimmingly as the previous one, especially as it was Jane’s birthday.
“Sarah,” Rachel said as the young girl turned up for duty. “Will you serve the canapés tonight in the bar and then waitress in the dining room?”
Sarah was Steven’s sister and therefore John Robertson’s daughter. She was eighteen years old and was wo
rking at Oakfield to earn enough money to go to drama school. Her mother, Barbara, a most unpleasant and controlling woman, refused to pay for her tuition.
“Of course, Rachel,” Sarah replied and disappeared into the kitchen as it was almost six thirty.
As she left, Carlotta came down the stairs with Jane. Both women were laughing and Rachel remembered them as young dancers. Both had been so glamorous and striking, but while Carlotta had the dark looks of Sophia Loren, Jane was an English rose. Mind you, Rachel herself was a very beautiful woman, not that she was vain enough to admit it. At thirty five years old, she still had smooth clear skin which she always looked after carefully. She was tall at five foot ten, and slim, with long dark brown wavy hair and soft brown eyes. When she smiled, her whole face lit up.
Both Carlotta and Jane kissed Rachel on both cheeks. Rachel thought they both seemed a little tipsy already, but then it was Jane’s special day.
“I hope you’ve had a lovely birthday, Jane,” Rachel said.
"It’s been wonderful,” she replied. “The champagne lunch at Blenheim was to die for. I’m just about ready for another glass.”
“Me too,” Carlotta added.
“Well, head into the bar,” Rachel said. “There’s plenty of champagne in there.”
Rachel put on a smile, but the mention of Blenheim Palace still brought back memories. However, she couldn’t fathom why. She knew she should be over James by now and she thought she was, but perhaps she had been so desperate to put the bad things he had done to the back of her mind, that all she could now remember were the good times they had. On the other hand, perhaps it was just the memory of being happy that was bringing her down. Despite her excitement at opening Oakfield Hall, she did sometimes wish that she had a special someone to share the experience with. Occasionally she did feel quite alone.
As Carlotta and Jane went into the bar, the doorbell rang and Rachel went to answer it. Standing in front of her was a devilishly handsome man. He had light brown hair which he had sleeked back and the most piercing blue eyes she had ever seen. He was tall as well, much taller than she was, and he was wearing an evening suit and bow tie which suited him down to the ground. Rachel liked a man to dress up.
Death of a Dancer Page 1