The Big Dreams Beach Hotel

by Lilly Bartlett

  ‘I am your friend, Digby! But can’t you understand my situation? If I leave New York, it’ll mean the end of me and Chuck. Is that what you want? For me to lose him and be miserable? I’m in love with him.’

  ‘So instead you’re throwing me under the bus for some asshole you’ve known a few months. Thanks a lot.’

  ‘It’s not like that! Digby, you’re not being fair!’

  The look he gave me wasn’t mean. It was worse. It was one of such disappointment that tears sprang to my eyes. ‘Oh, fuck off,’ he said. ‘Don’t put that on me. You’re the one who’s not being fair, and you know it.’

  He wouldn’t even speak to me after that, except when he absolutely had to for work.

  He was right. I was a terrible friend.

  Chapter 13

  I have to push all those thoughts from my mind, though, as Rory and I make our way to whatever he’s got planned next. That was years ago, and Rory is not Chuck. I’m being my own worst enemy, sabotaging a perfectly wonderful date after Chuck has gone through all this effort.

  Rory. I mean Rory’s made the effort. Not Chuck. Damnit. I have to stop doing that.

  I sneak a glance at him as we emerge from the Tube at Euston Square. He’s got one of those faces that seems to be on the verge of a smile all the time. Whatever the opposite of Resting Bitch Face is. It’s the way his lips naturally turn up at the corners. He’s always in on a good joke.

  He stops us in front of a large sandstone and red-brick Victorian building. ‘This is it.’

  The Grant Museum of Zoology. ‘A zoo museum?’ Instantly I know that’s not what zoology means. I need to start thinking before opening my mouth.

  Rory smiles. He thinks I’m kidding, not dim. ‘A museum of animals. Spoiler: they’re all dead. I hope that’s okay?’

  ‘I’m not a fan of zoos anyway. I’ve never liked seeing the animals locked up.’

  ‘Me either,’ he says. ‘Hopefully you won’t mind seeing them chopped up, though, or floating in formaldehyde. It’s a collection of specimens.’

  ‘I enjoyed dissecting things in school.’

  ‘I tend to faint at the sight of blood,’ he says.

  ‘Well, there’s no blood. They drain it all out before they preserve the body.’

  Rory looks a bit queasy as we go inside.

  The walls on two levels are lined with display cabinets full of skeletons and jars of specimens. ‘This is mad!’ I say, squinting at a skeleton with a bill. ‘Duck? Imagine how long it took to collect all these. There must be thousands of animals in here.’

  Rory is peering into a case of butterflies. ‘What a shame they all had to die, though.’

  ‘I suppose one could argue that it was for science.’ I make ditto fingers. ‘They couldn’t use cameras to learn about the animals like they can today, so they had to take things apart to see how they worked. It does seem cruel now, though. Oh.’ There’s a beautiful white rabbit head, in profile, in liquid. And a chimp and several other animals. ‘I’m not sure about these.’

  Rory starts reading the information near the display. ‘Sir Victor Negus did them. He specialised in the larynx. They helped him with his surgery.’

  I’m starting to feel funny looking at the floating heads. It’s no use trying to think of them as scientific displays. All I can see are the animals they once were. ‘If you don’t mind, I might wait for you at the front,’ I say. Rory’s not the only squeamish one.

  He looks horrified. ‘Shit. This was a bad idea. I knew I’d need to man up to get through the displays. I didn’t think they’d bother you. I was trying too hard to be clever.’ He shrugs. ‘I should have picked a plain old museum, but why look at renowned works of art or historical treasures when one can see decapitated animals? I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. I take it you don’t want to see the jar full of pickled moles.’ He catches my expression. ‘Sorry, c’mon, let’s go.’

  ‘Just so I know what I’m missing,’ I say when we’re back outside in the fresh air, ‘what were the choices I passed up? A torture museum, maybe?’

  ‘Nothing that bad. Although it depends on your definition of torture. One was the Cartoon Museum and the other was the William Morris Gallery.’ He grimaces. ‘I should have stuck to the V&A and the British Museum.’

  ‘We could still go to one of those, couldn’t we?’ I say. ‘I need something to take my mind off those heads.’

  Since an afternoon spent looking at wallpaper would be a kind of torture, like being made to wander the aisles of B&Q for eternity, we go to the Cartoon Museum.

  It’s a much better choice. I can forgive Rory one slip-up in the day. He’s done so much already that he was bound to get something wrong. ‘At least no animals were harmed in the making of these cartoons,’ I tell him as we study the caricatures in one room.

  ‘Lots of reputations were, though,’ he says. ‘These are quite cutting. The notables of the time must have dreaded seeing them. Look at this social commentary.’

  He’s really jazzed up in here. ‘Why, Rory, I had no idea you liked this kind of thing. Are you a big wallpaper fan too?’

  ‘Who’s not a wallpaper fan?’ he says. ‘All those patterns make my heart race. I can get quite overcome in Wickes. Seriously, though, this is fun, right? Although I do like graphic novels, so maybe I’m biased.’

  I hope that by graphic novels he means books of comics rather than erotica. That would be more of a second date confession.

  So another little piece of the Rory jigsaw drops into place. ‘It is fun,’ I tell him.

  He hands me a plastic grasshopper, a head of garlic and a tiny sombrero. ‘More decisions?’ I say. This date seems to go on and on, but in the very best possible way. ‘I’m not taking any chances with animals again.’ I hand him back the grasshopper. ‘And garlic’s not a good idea.’

  ‘It’s not so bad as long as we both eat it,’ Rory says.

  ‘I meant because it doesn’t agree with me,’ I tell him primly. That’s totally not what I meant, but I don’t want him to think I’m being presumptuous. Even though I am.

  ‘And also kissing,’ he says. ‘If we’re honest.’ He grins when I hand him the garlic to put back into his bag.

  Soho is buzzing with what must be the after-work crowd. I’m assuming this because it’s after work and the pavements are crowded. Call me Sherlock. It’s technically night-time now, by which I mean that in Scarborough it would be dark in the sky over the sea. But London exists in an eerie twilight.

  ‘After you,’ says Rory, gesturing to the door. The neon signs in front say Peep Show and Adult Video over a luscious set of lips.

  ‘Trust me this time,’ he says, ushering me inside.

  ‘Table for Rory Thomas, please,’ he tells the man at the door, who waves us down the dimly lit stairs into the basement.

  ‘Well, at least you’ve splurged for the table dance,’ I say over my shoulder.

  I take great care to settle my expression into one of blasé sophistication, so that I don’t look too shocked when I see whatever is down here. A dominatrix den, maybe, or sticky little cubicles with velvet curtains.

  But it’s not a dominatrix den and there are no cubicles. It looks like a regular restaurant. So unless they’re doing weird things with food, I think we’re just here to eat.

  ‘Did you think it was a sex shop? You did, didn’t you?!’ Rory asks.

  ‘Of course I knew it was a restaurant,’ I say. Then, ‘I totally thought it was a sex shop!’

  ‘Ha, I knew you would! Isn’t this great? It’s Mexican, I hope that’s okay?’

  I’d describe the restaurant as distressed. The render is coming off the walls, exposing brick underneath, and there are arches stacked with casks along one wall.

  ‘There shouldn’t be any garlic, so your tummy will be fine.’ He smirks. My face-saving didn’t fool him.

  ‘What were the other options?’ I ask as we’re seated at one of the little tables. It’s still relatively early so there aren’t many other dine
rs. Still, lots of waitresses and waiters are hurrying around, making it feel buzzy.

  ‘They weren’t even close to as good as this,’ he says. ‘If you’d picked one of those, I think I might have convinced you to change your mind.’

  ‘That’s not playing fair,’ I say. ‘You said I got to choose everything today.’

  ‘You’re right, how rude of me. One of the other restaurants serves crickets and … love bug salad, I think, and the other uses garlic in everything, including the beer and all the puddings.’ He pulls at his hair. ‘Should we cancel the table and go to one of the others?’

  ‘Mmm, no. I choose here. I’m just curious, though. Were you trying to impress me or actually kill me?’

  ‘I wonder what I was thinking, honestly,’ he says. ‘I got carried away with the whole idea of giving you choices so that you’d be comfortable today. I didn’t think through some of the practicalities. But you are having a nice time, aren’t you?’

  A nice time? A nice time? This is hands-down the best date I’ve ever been on. ‘I’m having a really nice time,’ I say. ‘I can’t get over how much planning you’ve done. It’s impressive. You’ve set the bar high, you know.’

  ‘I was afraid you’d say that. I think I might have peaked today, so I hope it won’t be too big a disappointment just to go to dinner next time. Will there be a next time?’

  His look is hopeful.

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’ But even as I say it, my mind wonders how many next times there’ll be before Rory finishes his assignment. I suppose we could see each other every day, outside of work, I mean. There’ll be a lot of pressure to cram as much as possible into the time we’ve got left together. To make every minute count. It would be intense. Do I want to feel like that again?

  ‘You’ve gone quiet,’ he says. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘I’m just thinking.’

  ‘Dum dum dum,’ he intones. ‘Three little words that every bloke dreads. What are you thinking about?’

  ‘I’m just thinking that you’ll be leaving in a few months.’

  ‘But that’s months from now, Rosie. We’re having fun today, aren’t we? It’s only our first date. Let’s just see how things go. We don’t have to put any pressure on ourselves. Why doom us before we even get going?’

  Because I’m afraid of how it’s going to end.

  We order food, and it’s delicious, though I’ve lost a bit of my appetite.

  Chapter 14

  Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? That’s the kind of question you’d ask in sixth form. We snogged most of the way back to Scarborough on the train, so I think we might be. Although I didn’t invite him to mine as we left the station, and he didn’t ask me back to the B&B either. He’s probably too much of a gentleman, and I’m still not sure how smart it is to get involved with someone who’s about to leave anyway. Scratch that. I know exactly how unsmart it is. Though now I do wish I’d brought up the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, to test the waters. That iceberg is still ahead of us.

  Of course, Rory is acting exactly like he did before we went to London. In other words, just as nice and attentive as he’s always been. Which again begs the question: Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Tick ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ on the secret note and pass it back before the end of class.

  ‘Ready for the call?’ Rory asks as I’m filing some papers in the office. ‘Sorry it’s in the middle of lunch.’

  ‘That’s okay. What PK wants, PK gets.’ I shrug. ‘I can always grab something after.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ he says. ‘If that’s okay.’

  ‘Of course it’s okay.’ Rosie and Rory, sitting in a tree…

  PK’s orange face fills Rory’s laptop screen. Unlike his brother, PK likes to sit really close to the camera. It’s like Skyping with an orangutan. ‘I don’t have much time, so let’s make this quick,’ he says.

  Oh, well, as long as he doesn’t have much time.

  ‘The builders are finished?’

  ‘Nearly,’ Rory says. ‘They’re just doing the touching up on the paint in the bedrooms. All the structural work is done and the carpets are down. We’ll be on time for the relaunch.’

  ‘Good, because the advertising and marketing is already set up for December 1st. I’ll fax a list of things I’ve been thinking about, but the most important thing is the restaurant change. We’re going to a set menu. Rosie, I’ll expect you to get Chef on board with that. You’ve got authorisation to hire two more kitchen staff, if he needs them. It’ll be a big step up for him, and he may not be up to the job. We’ll have to see.’

  ‘Chef is very good,’ I tell PK, feeling protective of our curmudgeonly cook. ‘I’m sure he’ll be up to the job.’ Hopefully he doesn’t notice my snidey vocal ditto fingers at the end.

  But PK shakes his ginger head. Not a hair moves out of place. ‘That’s not been my experience with the other hotels, but we’ll see. A set menu of such a high standard is a specialty. A regular short-order cook doesn’t usually have the skill. But we’ll have to find out. We’ve got a month before the official relaunch, so I want Chef to start getting used to the set menu now. That way we have time to get another chef if we need to.’ He sits back in the chair to pick up a sheet of paper. ‘This is what the Sanibel restaurant is serving this month: freshly baked bread with ancient yeast and hand-churned grass-fed butter, braised scallops on a bed of pickled samphire with sea foam clouds, Swedish kiln-smoked mackerel with a clam velouté and jellied cranberry, served over wafered heritage potatoes, water-bathed rare breed chicken breast with an infusion of truffle and a chicken skin emulsion.’

  ‘Wow, that’s a lot of food,’ I say, wondering how one feeds grass to butter.

  ‘That’s just the first four courses. There are three more, but you get the idea.’

  ‘Is bread a course?’ Rory wonders. I’m glad to hear he’s stuck on the bread and butter too.

  ‘The point is that the restaurant is changing,’ PK says. ‘Chef will need to decide whether he can get up to speed with those changes. Rosie, I expect you to handle this. And, by the way, you’ll need to get your application in by the fifteenth, okay?’

  Rory glances at me, but keeps quiet. ‘Yes, okay,’ I say. ‘Just one question, PK. That sounds like a lot of food in each dish. Are you thinking of raising the prices?’

  ‘You mean the price,’ PK clarifies. ‘There’s only one. It’s a set menu. We charge a hundred and twenty dollars at Sanibel, so once we get the costings for ingredients we’ll put a set price on it. But I’d expect it to be around ninety pounds a head.’

  ‘You are joking!’ I say. ‘PK, nobody around here pays ninety quid just for a meal. Even Jeremy’s isn’t that expensive, and that’s really nice.’

  ‘Rosie, if you’re going to be the manager going forward, you’re going to have to break your preconceptions about what we can do. We’re redeveloping the whole concept. The sooner you get comfortable with that, the better off you’ll be.’

  I’m stung by PK’s words. What does he mean if I’m going to be manager?

  ‘I’ll fax through Sanibel’s sample menu and a few other things. Let me know when you’ve talked to Chef.’

  The screen goes dark.

  ‘Well, he’s put me back in my box,’ I say to Rory.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s always been brusque with me too. You’re not worried, are you?’

  ‘What do you mean? About my job? Or the hotel?’

  ‘Both,’ we say together.

  ‘I just can’t see how this new concept will work here,’ I say. ‘Though I realise that’s not the kind of thing I should put on my application. I wonder what the point is of trying to stay on, if it’s all just going to go down the pan.’

  That makes me sad. The Colonel’s family has managed to keep this hotel going through two world wars and the Depression. The Colonel would never have sold if he thought the new owners would drive it into the ground with their daft ideas.

  ‘The Philanskys have been
successful with every other hotel they’ve bought,’ Rory reminds me. ‘Maybe there’s an untapped market for five-star quality at three-star prices.’

  We both grimace at this. It’s the company’s motto. ‘That set menu is no three-star price, though.’ Ninety quid for foam?

  ‘No, but if people get a good deal on the rooms, then the idea is that they’ll splash out on the food.’

  ‘But what about the people who live here in town?’ I wonder. ‘I can’t see the bingo crowd paying that kind of money for foams and emulsions, let alone eating it.’

  ‘The new hotel isn’t going to be for people in Scarborough,’ Rory says. ‘Except maybe for a special meal out now and again. The owners want a destination hotel. Like The Fat Duck is for food. Except at three-star prices. I have to say, if they can pull it off, then it’s a great idea.’

  ‘You mean if we can pull it off,’ I remind him. ‘Because we’re the ones on the hook to do all the work. And it’s a dangerous idea for a business plan to rely only on new one-time customers. But what do I know? I was only born and raised here.’

  ‘All right,’ Rory says. ‘I’ll challenge you on that. How much money did the bring-a-dish buffet take in the other night?’

  He knows the answer, so I just look at him.

  ‘Right. What about bingo? After paying for all the prizes, I’m guessing that’s also not a money-maker. Do any of your local events make any money?’

  ‘They don’t lose money, and they make people happy,’ I say. ‘We’re part of the community. It’s not all about making a profit.’

  ‘Well, unfortunately PK and Curtis aren’t as charity-minded,’ Rory says. ‘But look on the bright side …’ He shrugs. ‘Never mind. There is no bright side. Do you want me to go with you when you tell Chef?’