To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

  ‘If you have a cocktail lounge you’ll have to have a barman who really knows how to make white ladies and corpse revivers, and who shakes them with style…’

  ‘Just like they do in the films…’

  ‘This all sounds very well, but it’s of no help to us!’ Peter’s voice brought Mercy and Joey up with a jolt. They had been so caught up in their excitement that they had not noticed his apathy.

  ‘It could be!’ said Mercy. ‘Don’t you see? Turning the Villa Dorata into an hotel could be just what we need.’

  ‘What do we know about the hotel business, for a start?’ asked Peter.

  ‘You and I know nothing!’ Mercy admitted. ‘Joey does, though. Maybe he could advise us… or better still, come in with us. Would you, Joey?’

  She hardly needed to ask. Although he was struggling to keep his face impassive Joey’s eyes burned with enthusiasm.

  ‘Like a shot! You know I’ve always wanted to run a decent hotel,’ he replied.

  ‘And what about you, Mercy? Do you think you would really like the hotel business?’ Peter asked.

  She gave the matter careful consideration.

  ‘Yes, I think I would,’ she said. ‘Certainly more than farming in Africa. And I’ve found it interesting, being at Joey’s… That’s a point! What would you do about Seaton’s?’

  ‘I could get someone in to run it,’ her brother replied. ‘Or else I could sell the whole lot and put the money into this place.’

  ‘Which brings us to the knotty problem of finance! Where’s the money going to come from for these grand plans of yours?’ demanded Peter.

  ‘From the bank,’ said Joey cheerily.

  ‘And you think they’ll give it to us, just for the asking?’ Peter’s tone was sarcastic.

  ‘I can’t see them turning us down. You’ve got the house to offer as security, and I can throw in Seaton’s – that’s if I don’t sell it, of course. It doesn’t match up to the Villa Dorata, but it’s doing very nicely.’

  ‘I don’t see why we’re having this discussion!’ Peter sat back abruptly in his chair. ‘It’s not as though this hotel idea is anything more than hot air.’

  ‘I don’t agree!’ Mercy exclaimed. ‘The more I think about it the more I like it! It’s a definite possibility…’ She paused, for the first time noticing his grim expression. ‘Doesn’t the thought of running an hotel appeal to you?’

  ‘No, it does not! I loathe the idea of complete strangers wandering about my home!’ He was so emphatic that she was startled.

  ‘But, darling, there’ll be strangers here if we sell!’

  ‘True, but I won’t be forced to watch! I’ll be in Kenya!’

  ‘Then there’s no more to be said!’ Mercy struggled to hide her disappointment. She looked down at the food congealing on her plate. ‘Goodness! The dinner’s cold! It’s inedible! I’ll clear away and do us some bacon and eggs instead.’

  ‘Don’t bother for me, thanks. I’m not hungry.’ Peter rose to his feet. With a brief ‘Good night’ to Joey, he left the room.

  ‘Don’t cook specially for me.’ Joey rose too. ‘Queenie’ll have supper waiting, and if I don’t eat it she’ll get in a tizzy, thinking I’m sickening for something.’ He managed a smile, although his disappointment too was very visible. Mercy knew how he felt. For a brief moment they had had a wonderful vision, but their hopes and dreams had been swept away.

  ‘You’ll get your first-class hotel one day, don’t worry,’ she said, as she kissed him goodbye.

  ‘If you say so!’ He gave a faint grin, it was a nice idea while it lasted, though, wasn’t it?’ it was,’ she agreed. ‘Very nice!’

  Between her and Peter the subject of hotels was not mentioned again. However, Mercy found she could not put the thought from her mind. When Peter was not home she wandered through the house, looking at the rooms – so many of them now unused, planning which could be used as guests’ rooms, staff quarters, public rooms. Part of what was now the servants’ accommodation could be made into a lovely flat for their own use… The more she considered the facilities, the more the villa seemed suitable for conversion. It was not over-large, of course. Still, in time they could extend. She grinned to herself, she was beginning to think like Joey. Then she sighed. Such a pity! It was a lovely idea! And one she couldn’t forget.

  * * *

  The people who came to view the house were few, and for the most part they exclaimed at its size and the difficulty of running it with the present servant problem. The only man who showed any real interest was a bombastic fellow in a loud suit, who, ironically, wanted it for an hotel. Peter winced openly as the man condemned the place as old-fashioned, criticized the decor, and sniffed contemptuously at the grounds.

  ‘The man’s a philistine!’ he declared to Mercy as they went to bed that night. ‘Did you hear him? Knock down the walls to make most of the ground floor into one enormous dance hall indeed! “Bringing the place up to date” he called it! I’ve got a different name for it!’

  ‘I think he may have been trying to get us to drop the price,’ said Mercy. ‘He’s certainly the most hopeful prospective buyer we’ve had so far.’

  ‘More’s the pity!’ Peter thumped his pillow with unnecessary violence before he settled down. He did not sleep, though. For a long time after they had switched out the light Mercy sensed he was still awake. Eventually he said, ‘I’ve been thinking about this idea of going to Kenya.’

  ‘Oh yes… ?’

  ‘We shall miss this place when we go, won’t we? And our friends… ? I’m not desperately keen on going, are you?’

  ‘Not really, no!’

  There was a long pause, then he spoke again.

  ‘That fellow this afternoon was the absolute end, wasn’t he? The thought of having to sell the Villa Dorata to him makes my flesh creep… In fact, I hate the idea of selling it at all. At least if we ran it as an hotel ourselves it would still be ours… and we wouldn’t be knocking the drawing room about to make a dance floor for flappers to cavort about on, would we?’

  Mercy was suddenly wide awake.

  ‘Certainly not,’ she replied. ‘Peter, darling, does this mean you want to turn the house into an hotel?’

  ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘But I’ve thought about it and it seems to be the lesser of an awful lot of evils. That is, if you and your brother haven’t gone off the idea.’

  ‘I certainly haven’t, and I’m pretty sure Joey’s still enthusiastic.’

  ‘Right, then the three of us had better get together as soon as possible, to see what can be done.’ He gave his pillow another thump and settled down, putting an end to all discussion about their future for the moment.

  For a long time after Peter had gone to sleep Mercy lay wide awake. Sleeplessness was something she had grown accustomed to of late, as her worries and anxieties thrashed about in her mind. This time it was different. This time she felt as if a great load had been lifted off her shoulders; for a long time she spent the night hours thinking and planning, until she finally drifted off into a deep and relieved sleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘This seems rather a lot. Are you sure this expenditure is necessary?’ Peter regarded the pages in front of him, his brow furrowed.

  ‘What are you referring to in particular?’ There was a hint of impatience in Joey’s tone.

  ‘Most of it, if you want the truth. Take heating the bedrooms, for example. Surely it isn’t necessary, not for every one? You say yourself the summer is getting nearly as busy as the winter. Couldn’t we manage with less?’

  ‘No,’ Joey said firmly. ‘We want guests all year round, don’t we? Winter and summer? Cold weather and hot? Therefore we need to heat the bedrooms.’

  ‘Every one?’ insisted Peter.

  ‘It’s easier in the long run. We’ll get the mess finished in one go, and overall it will be cheaper. I’ve looked at the steam heating systems which are on the market and this is the best!’ Joey pushed a catalogue across t
he table. ‘I’ve put a mark against the radiators we’re having, and according to the plumber they’ll be here—’

  ‘You’ve actually ordered them?’ Peter cut in.

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘It never occurred to you to consult us?’ Peter’s voice was icy. ‘I understood ours was a three-way partnership!’

  ‘For heaven’s sake! We needed heating pipes so I ordered some! I don’t know what the fuss is about!’ Joey slumped back in his chair.

  He did know! Mercy could tell from his air of sulky defiance. It was exactly the same expression he used to adopt as a small boy, when he was in the wrong but refused to admit it. Only, he was not a small boy any longer, he was a grown man. This was not the first time in their new partnership he had overstepped the mark. She understood his officiousness stemmed from his enthusiasm and determination to make the hotel a success. And there was no denying that when it came to the hotel business he was the one with the experience. Nevertheless, his somewhat domineering attitude did tend to rub Peter up the wrong way. The early planning, the organizing of the bank loan, and the drawing up of the partnership had gone smoothly; it was only when the Villa Dorata began being converted into the Villa Dorata Hotel that the friction began. Poor Peter, she feared the alterations to his beloved home were proving far more than he had expected. He was still deeply attached to the house, while Joey saw it only as a place ripe for conversion, and so they disagreed.

  ‘It is a very good system,’ she said. ‘And I agree with you about the style of radiator, it’s the best possible choice. In future, however, I think we must confer over everything except the most minor things. Imagine what would have happened if all three of us had ordered heating systems.’

  ‘We’d have had the cosiest guests in the country,’ said Joey.

  ‘And the biggest coal bills,’ added Peter. Then suddenly they all grinned, and the tension was broken.

  Mercy was relieved. The clash of wills between her husband and her brother was something she had not anticipated. She hoped it would only be temporary. She had to admit that she was finding the activity exciting. She was enjoying the planning and the organization, and, in addition, she was looking forward to actually running the hotel. It was all so new and stimulating. Even more, it was a definite way out of their financial difficulties. She had no doubt about it! She was just as determined as Joey that their hotel was going to succeed. Sometimes, though, she thought Peter still had doubts.

  ‘We’re going to have to charge an awful lot to cover the cost of this work,’ he remarked, when they were alone. ‘Do you think we’ll get enough people willing to pay so much?’

  ‘Of course we will! Just look at the list of distinguished visitors in the Torquay Directory every week. We live in a very popular spot.’

  ‘Won’t the really wealthy take themselves and their money to the South of France, or somewhere like that?’

  ‘Some will, I dare say, until they hear about the Villa Dorata Hotel. The luxuries and amenities of Nice or Cannes, with all the comforts of home. They’ll come flocking, you’ll see!’

  ‘When you put it like that I don’t see how they can resist,’ Peter smiled. ‘Now, what’s this you’re working on?’

  Mercy put down her watercolour brush, and held up the painting for him to see.

  ‘It’s a design for the new cocktail lounge. What do you think of it?’

  ‘Very nice indeed. Very Japanesey. Rogers’s old pantry will be quite transformed. I never realized I had such a talented wife.’

  Mercy looked up at him. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked. ‘About having a cocktail lounge? It’s not… too slick, in your opinion?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he smiled. ‘Especially when it will be so tastefully decorated. We must be up to date. Never let it be said the Villa Dorata Hotel was old-fashioned.’

  ‘And what about the hotel? No regrets?’

  ‘Certainly not. Looking at it dispassionately it was the only choice we had! That idea about going to Kenya was so much moonshine now I think of it. What do either of us know about farming in Africa? It would have been a disaster. Here, at least, we’ve got Joey to guide our faltering footsteps towards success.’ He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. ‘You mustn’t worry about me. I’ll soon get the hang of things.’

  She smiled back at him, reassured.

  In the weeks which followed there was no time for doubts. They seemed to start work at seven in the morning, and didn’t finish until ten at night, or later. Joey saw so little of his own home Mercy wondered that Queenie did not complain. But then, when had Queenie ever complained about anything Joey did?

  Gradually the Villa Dorata was transformed, until it was almost ready for its new role.

  Mercy regarded the entrance hall critically, then felt a sense of satisfaction. She was glad that while they had been forced to sell much of the furniture they had managed to hold on to the Waterford crystal chandelier and the set of pretty brocade chairs. Along with the pleasing sweep of the staircase they ensured that the guests’ first impressions of the Villa Dorata Hotel would be of timeless elegance.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked Joey. ‘There’ll be a flower arrangement on the side-table, of course. Tasteful yet welcoming, that’s the effect I’ve been working for.’

  ‘Very swanky,’ said her brother, with the minimum of enthusiasm. He had petitioned for up-to-the-minute upholstery in tan leather, and coloured parchment lampshades.

  Mercy chuckled. ‘All right, you don’t have to tell me your true opinion,’ she said. ‘What have you got there?’

  ‘It’s the advertisement to go in the Directory and the Express, applying for staff. Do you approve? Peter says it’s fine.’

  Mercy read what he had written. ‘That looks splendid! Just imagine! We’re looking for staff already! We’ll be opening before we know it.’

  ‘Excited?’

  ‘Yes, and a little scared!’

  ‘You’ve no need. You’ll take to it like a duck to water, you’ll see.’

  ‘I’ll have to! The alternative is to sink!’

  A small crowd of girls and women was waiting outside the tiny room, once a cloakroom, which had been designated as an office. From her position at the desk Mercy could hear their voices, some nervous, some excited, some frankly curious about their surroundings. Whatever their attitudes they wanted the same thing – work! Feeling quite nervous herself she called in the first applicant.

  It was a long morning, interviewing one person after another. Anxious not to make any mistakes, she scrutinized references, looked each would-be employee steadfastly in the eye to detect any signs of shiftiness – and was careful not to make any acceptances until she had seen everyone! It was an exhausting process, but she felt she must be getting near to the last candidate.

  ‘And what is your name?’ she said, turning to a fresh sheet in her notebook as the door opened once again.

  ‘Dolly Tucker. Mrs Dolly Tucker.’

  The voice was bright and ebullient and it struck a familiar chord in Mercy’s memory. She looked up and found herself facing a stout woman of her own age. For all there was uncertainty on the plump face, even a hint of awkwardness, the round blue eyes twinkled boldly.

  ‘Dolly!’ Mercy exclaimed, leaping to her feet so suddenly she sent a sheaf of papers drifting to the floor. ‘Dolly Dyer, of all people!’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d recognize me, ma’am.’

  ‘Recognize you? How could I help it? You haven’t changed! Oh, yes you have! There’s rather more of you than there used to be!’

  ‘That’s true! There’s always been plenty of me. More than enough to go round, my Tom says,’ chuckled Dolly. Then added belatedly, ‘ma’am!’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, stop all this ma’am business! It’s me! Mercy! Have you forgotten?’

  A resounding sigh escaped from Dolly’s stiffly corseted frame.

  ‘’Course I aven’t forgotten,’ she sai
d. ‘I just wasn’t sure ’ee’d want to remember, you being so grand and everything.’

  ‘Oh, never too grand to remember you!’

  Mercy had a sudden impulse to hug the portly woman in front of her, an impulse she subdued, feeling unaccountably shy. She was overwhelmed by delighted emotion at meeting her childhood friend again. It occurred to her that in the intervening years no other female had shown her the same companionship and affection as the cheerfully vulgar Dolly. Until this moment she had not realized how much she had missed her comradeship. Dolly’s face smiled until her cheeks positively glowed. ‘There, I know’d I was right. My Tom said I shouldn’t come, that I’d just get upset because ’ee wouldn’t want to know me no more. I know’d better, though! I know’d ’ee wouldn’t ’ave changed, not that much!’

  ‘And how is Tom? He is an electrician, isn’t he? If he’s kept to his trade he must be doing very well these days. Almost everything has become electrical.’

  The cheery smile flickered and almost faded.

  ‘Yes, ’e’s still a ’lectrician,’ Dolly said. ‘And real good at it. If only ’is ’ealth would let ’im we’d be real prosperous.’

  ‘I am sorry. What was it? The war?’

  Dolly nodded. ‘Gassed ’e were. Oh, not real bad, like some of they poor souls. Not even bad enough for a disability pension ’ccording to the War Office, but then the War Office don’t have to listen to the poor man wheezing and gasping to get a breath of air down ’is lungs, do they? Sometimes ’e’s fine, able to work like the best, then it turns windy or the sea mist comes in and ’e can’t ’ardly breathe.’

  ‘So you need a job! Right, you’ve got one!’

  ‘Just like that?’ Dolly was delighted. ‘Oh thanks! I don’t care what ’tis!’

  ‘Which job can I give you? I know! How would you like to look after the linen? You’d be in charge of everything, from issuing clean sheets and towels, to checking the laundry, to seeing to repairs. Would you like that?’

  ‘Would I?’ The glow was back on Dolly’s face. ‘Yer, if old Ma ’Oskins loses a pillowcase or summat, can I ring ’er up and be all snotty-nosed to ’er over the phone?’