To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

  ‘Ma Hoskins? Surely she’s not still about?’

  ‘Yes ’er is! Nagging the girls worse than ever. I nearly went for a job back there again, but my Tom says, “You’m not going back to any bleedin’ female slave-driver. Us’ll starve first!”.’

  ‘And the awful Albert?’

  ‘Oh ’e died a few years back. Of something nasty! They should have pinned a medal on who ever gave it to ’im, I reckon!’

  ‘You really haven’t changed, have you?’ Mercy laughed. ‘And yes, you have my express permission to be as snotty-nosed as you like to old Ma Hoskins!’

  ‘I’d really enjoy that, I would! If I could afford to I’d work for ’ee for nothing, just to be allowed to do it!’ Dolly put on an affected voice. ‘“Missus ’Oskins? This is the Villa Dorata ’Otel ’ere, and h’l wants to know what the bleedin’ ’ell you’ve done with h’our pillowcases!”’

  ‘There’ll be no need to work for nothing, I assure you. I still haven’t worked out your hours yet; you’ll be paid a deal more than you’d get from Ma Hoskins!’

  ‘That’s grand! That’s real grand!’ Dolly seemed quite overcome. ‘Oh, and there’s one thing I’ve got to say! There won’t be no familiarity from me, nor no gossip neither. You’m Mrs Lisburne to me now, and that’s what I’ll call ’ee. They days when you was Mercy Seaton are forgot! At least, I idn’t going to mention ’em ever!’

  ‘That’s very good of you, Dolly.’ Mercy was touched at such thoughtfulness. ‘Thinking it over, though, I’m not sure I want those days forgotten entirely. I’d like a good gossip about them sometime when we’re on our own and have got a minute to spare. And for goodness’ sake call me Mercy! At least, when we’re on our own. I suppose it would be better if you addressed me as Mrs Lisburne in public, though, for the sake of staff discipline, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Staff discipline! Oo, ’ark at ’er!’ grinned Dolly delightedly. ‘I’m that pleased to see ’ee again I’d call ’ee anything ’ee like! Now I’d better go. You’m still got ’alf a dozen chewing their finger-ends off out there.’

  It had been a jolt seeing Dolly again. A pleasant one, but a jolt nevertheless. It brought back Mercy’s early days at the Fernicombe Cottages, and at the Orchard Laundry. They had been hard times, yet looking back they were not all gloom. There had been a comradeship among the girls that she had never seen among her wealthier companions. Maybe having to struggle against poverty brought people together. Certainly her bond with Dolly seemed to have endured and she found she was looking forward to working with her old schoolfriend.

  The hotel was nearing completion. Much to Mercy’s relief the building alterations were finished, even the installing of the heating system. She was heartily glad to see an end to the noise and the dust and the chaos. In place of the builder’s lorries there were now delivery vans jamming the drive. Furniture, carpets, glassware, crockery, linen… the list seemed endless. By some miracle a place was found for everything and the Villa Dorata began to look less like the scene of a minor earthquake and more like an hotel.

  Now that the hotel was almost complete they had to organize how they would run it. The threat of clashes between Joey and Peter had long since prompted them to portion out the responsibilities equally. Basically Mercy had charge of the housekeeping side of things, Joey controlled the dining room and kitchens, while everything outdoors, such as maintenance of house and grounds, the tennis-courts, and garaging for cars, fell to Peter. The management and administration they proposed to share, and already they found it necessary to hold regular meetings to thrash out hotel policy.

  ‘Having dealt with the printing for the hotel,’ said Peter at one of these meetings, ‘I suggest we go on to something really important – it’s high time we thought about our wine cellar.’

  Joey was scribbling down notes. ‘I’ll see to it, don’t worry,’ he said.

  His words were greeted with such a profound silence he looked up. ‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’ he demanded.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Peter. ‘Only, haven’t you more than enough to do?’

  ‘Whereas you haven’t! I suppose you feel better qualified to decide on wines and spirits than me?’

  There was an angry edge to his voice, and Mercy felt bound to intervene. ‘You must admit it would make sense to have Peter in charge,’ she said. ‘I know you used to serve wines and spirits at the Devonshire Hall, but you were only there for a short time, although you learned a lot. Peter, on the other hand, has been drinking wine and learning to appreciate it since he was a boy.’

  ‘There’s no need to make me sound such an old soak,’ Peter remarked.

  For a moment it looked as though Joey was going to disagree. Then he changed his mind. ‘Very well, if you really want the job,’ he said.

  Mercy was relieved. Joey’s taste in wine was awful, and she had dreaded telling him so. She was happy for Peter’s sake, too. It was a job after his own heart.

  ‘Where will you begin?’ she asked.

  ‘I’d like to get a really good house wine to start with,’ Peter said. ‘I doubt if any of the local wine merchants have sufficient choice. I’ll probably approach some of the shippers direct. Of course, the ideal thing would be to go over to France and buy straight from the producer, that way we’d know exactly what we’re getting.’

  ‘Why don’t you do that? It would certainly make our wine list something special,’ Mercy said.

  ‘What, when we’re so busy? It’s impossible!’

  ‘Why don’t the pair of you go?’

  They looked at Joey in astonishment.

  ‘And leave you to cope alone?’ exclaimed Mercy.

  ‘I can manage for a few days. Come to think of it, a break for all of us wouldn’t be a bad thing. Once we open we’re going to be run off our feet. It’s now or never if we want a short holiday. I could go when you come back.’

  ‘It sounds a marvellous idea.’ Mercy looked at Peter. ‘It would be a bit of a busman’s holiday for you, darling, going round vineyards all the time. Would you mind?’

  ‘I think I could put up with it,’ he said gravely.

  ‘What about you and Queenie?’ Mercy asked Joey. ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘Oh, Queenie’s not much of a one for going away. She’s happier staying in Paignton. I’ll probably go off somewhere on my own.’ Something in his voice made Mercy look at Joey sharply, but he turned his gaze away. Puzzled, she wondered what plans he had in mind that prevented him from meeting her eyes.

  * * *

  Not until they were actually motoring through the softly rolling countryside of the Loire district did Mercy really believe they were in France. They went at a leisurely pace, combining their search for good wines with exploring the area. The days had an unreal, magical quality about them.

  ‘It’s because we’re entirely on our own,’ said Peter. ‘How many times have we promised ourselves a trip like this, with just the two of us? Well, at last it’s happening! No children, no friends, just us!’

  ‘A second honeymoon?’ suggested Mercy. ‘Perhaps in a way it is. Honeymoons are times of transition, aren’t they? And when we get home our lives are certainly going to be very different.’

  ‘I confess my definition of a honeymoon is not quite yours. I think mine has something to do with the moon glinting on the Loire, the château on the hill silhouetted against the night sky, and you and I sharing a superb supper for two.’

  ‘What moon? What chateau?’ demanded Mercy laughing. ‘It’s still broad daylight.’

  ‘Have patience. Daylight doesn’t last for ever.’ He smiled down at her with so much love in his expression that she had no alternative but to kiss him. She could not help herself.

  Their return home was the signal for Joey to take his brief holiday. He had still not confided his plans. He murmured vaguely about touring and ‘seeing a bit of the country’. It was unlike Joey to be evasive. One thing was certain, he was not taking his wife with him. On the phone Queenie conf
essed, uncharacteristically, to being understaffed and overworked.

  ‘It’s not poor Angie’s fault, she couldn’t help being taken ill so suddenly,’ she said.

  So it was Angie Bolton who happened to have been struck by a mysterious illness and on the very day of Joey’s departure, too. Mercy felt troubled. Angie was bright, pretty, and definitely had her eye on Joey. When he returned, though, Mercy said nothing. She hoped her fears were groundless.

  * * *

  The opening of the Villa Dorata Hotel was scheduled for the beginning of June. There were several people booked in for that first day. The entire staff, from Mercy, Peter and Joey, to the bootboy, were on tenterhooks, waiting to see who would be the first guest to cross the doorstep. A dozen times Mercy checked personally to make sure the rooms were in order, the curtains draped correctly, and the towels immaculate. Every approaching car engine was interpreted as an approaching taxi, every phone call feared as a cancellation.

  As it turned out, their very first guest did not have a booking at all. A taxi drew up at the front door, and one man emerged, bearing a much-travelled suitcase. Approaching Joey, who was on duty at the reception desk, he asked, ‘Would you have a single room free for about a week? I’m afraid it’s short notice. I only made my mind up to come at the last minute.’

  ‘We have indeed, sir. Here is our tariff.’ Joey handed him a card bearing the list of charges. ‘I hope it is satisfactory?’

  ‘Yes, perfectly all right, thank you.’ The man barely bothered to look at the prices. ‘I suppose you’ll want me to sign the register? My name is Dobson.’ He was middle- aged and nondescript in appearance. The only thing of note about him was the faded bronze of his skin, a sign that he had spent some considerable time in the tropics. To Mercy, Peter and Joey, however, he was a very special. He was their first guest!

  ‘Before you are shown your room, Mr Dobson,’ said Peter, stepping forward, ‘we would like to make a small presentation. This is our very first day as an hotel, and you are our first guest, we would like to mark the occasion.’

  It fell to Mercy to hand over the inscribed crystal goblet and wish him an enjoyable stay.

  ‘I say!’ said Mr Dobson. ‘Oh I say!’ He looked completely overwhelmed. ‘Oh I say!’ he repeated yet again. ‘I didn’t expect anything like this.’ Then he gave a beaming smile. Seeing his evident pleasure Mercy, for one, found herself relaxing. Their first guest was so delighted it had to be a good omen.

  In one respect their first day was inauspicious – the weather let them down. They had planned a special reception for their grand opening, and being June, it was hoped the specially invited guests would be able to stroll on the rose-entwined terrace and sip their cocktails. Being a typical English summer, the day proved to be rain-lashed and bitterly cold.

  ‘Never mind, once they’ve got a couple of Harry’s sidecars inside them they won’t notice if it snows,’ said Joey confidently.

  ‘I hope you’re right and that Harry’s going to earn his keep!’ replied Mercy. She had serious misgivings about paying a barman an exorbitant wage simply because he could mix decent cocktails.

  ‘You’re getting to be a proper penny-pincher,’ Joey chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, Harry’ll be worth his fee. We were darned lucky to get him. He’ll be a real asset, you’ll see—Oh lord! Will you look at that fool!’ Joey’s attention swung to a waiter who, resplendent in black bow-tie, was passing with a tray of canapes. ‘Don’t you know better than to wear a white hankie in your top pocket? What’re you trying to do? Be mistaken for a guest?’

  Crimson-faced, the young man removed the offending item, and stuffed it in his trouser pocket.

  ‘Everything looks absolutely splendid,’ said Peter, coming up and surveying the scene. ‘I hope people turn up. It’s a foul night.’

  ‘Well, to start with we’ve got the resident guests, including Mr Dobson, and they’re certain to come.’

  ‘That’s not very many.’

  ‘For our first week we’re doing very well! Don’t be such a pessimist!’ Mercy tucked a white carnation into the lapel of his dinner-jacket. ‘Our reputation will soon spread. That’s why we’ve invited so many people to our “grand opening”!’

  ‘Yes, of course. I must confess I’ll be heartily glad when tonight’s over, and this venture is under way.’

  ‘Please don’t dread it. There’s nothing to worry about.’ She squeezed his hand reassuringly. ‘Just talk to people as you normally do and everything will be fine.’

  ‘I hope you are right.’

  Mercy was certainly right about the success of their cocktail party. Despite the unseasonal weather, just about everyone who had received an invitation had come. The first to arrive, Billie and Cynthia Shaw, yachting acquaintances of Peter’s, made straight for the cocktail bar. Noticing their destination Joey winked triumphantly at Mercy. Soon the chic new cocktail glasses were being refilled all round and the canape trays replenished.

  Lord Alston was one of the first to arrive. He wandered about the place with undisguised curiosity and admiration.

  ‘Well I’m blessed!’ he said eventually. ‘What a remarkably good job you’ve made of it! Took a bit of courage, I dare say, having the old homestead knocked about. It’ll be worth it, though. And you’re not too big. I can’t stand big hotels, the sort where you need a map and compass to get from the bar to the billiard-room. I must get a copy of your tariff before I go. I’ve got a little dinner party planned, just a few old friends, they’d love to eat here.’

  Mercy knew Lord Alston had a superb dining-room of his own which was perfectly adequate for entertaining. He also had an excellent cook who was more than capable of producing superb dinners.

  ‘What a good friend you are,’ she said, smiling. ‘We’ll make sure your evening here will be a memorable one.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, my dear. But I mustn’t monopolize you, much as I would like to. You go off and mingle with your other guests, while I see what else your barman chappie – what’s his name? Harry? – has in his repertoire.’ As Lord Alston moved towards the bar Lilian Manning and her husband came hurrying over.

  ‘We’ve been exploring your hotel, isn’t it disgraceful of us!’ Lilian announced cheerfully. ‘Everywhere looks so nice! You must tell me who made your curtains, the way they hang is an absolute dream!’

  ‘Our curiosity was not an idle one, Mrs Lisburne.’ Unlike his wife, Henry Manning looked awkward. ‘Dash it all, I’m not sure what the form is on an occasion like this. Would it be all right to discuss business?’

  ‘You see, we’ve never known anyone who owned an hotel before!’ Lilian slid her arm through her husband’s and snuggled closer. ‘We think it’s absolutely thrilling!’

  ‘I’m not sure of the form either,’ admitted Mercy, smiling. ‘So if there is something you want to discuss just go ahead.’

  ‘We wondered if you are proposing to take permanent guests. You see, I have an elderly aunt—’

  ‘She’s an absolute dear!’ Lilian broke in. ‘But getting on a bit, poor love. It’s crazy, her living alone in her great big house, so she’s been looking for somewhere where she would be comfortable and well looked after. She won’t come to us, although we’ve begged her. I suppose she doesn’t want to impose. Now, if she were here, with you, it would be perfect.’

  ‘We wouldn’t want you to feel obliged to take her, simply because we’re friends,’ added Henry Manning hurriedly.

  ‘I think it’s nice of you to consider us,’ Mercy said. ‘Why don’t I give you our list of terms? Then you can consult your aunt, and bring her to have a good look round. Come whenever it suits you, and there will be no obligation on either side.’ .

  ‘That sounds marvellous!’ The slightly embarrassed look left Henry Manning’s face, to be replaced by a shy smile.

  ‘She’ll adore it here, I know she will!’ declared Lilian. ‘Oh, isn’t this fun?’

  Mercy was inclined to agree with her, though she suspected Lilian had
little idea of the hard work involved. She had not appreciated how exhausting it could be being pleasant all the time.

  ‘You’ll get used to it,’ Joey assured her. ‘It becomes second nature after a while.’

  ‘Well, in my inexpert opinion the whole evening is going remarkably well,’ said Peter. ‘Far better than I’d dared to hope. I had a most interesting chat with Mr Dobson. Do you know, he lived in Hong Kong for years? He did a lot of sailing out there. Fascinating!’

  ‘Right, then let’s go and see how many other fascinating people we can talk to, and how much business we can drum up,’ stated Joey drily.

  ‘Is that what we’re supposed to be doing?’ Peter looked dismayed. ‘I’m afraid I’ve just been chatting.’

  ‘Don’t take any notice of him,’ said Mercy. ‘We’ll just continue to chat. If Joey wants to bring in sordid matters of business, then let him!’

  She was certain he would let no chance slip by. Joey was definitely not overawed by the smart people at the reception. He regarded them as potential customers, and treated them with brisk friendliness, betraying no sign of the young boy who had once picked stones for a living. What he thought of the guests privately she was not sure, though from time to time she suspected that she could detect a derisive gleam in his eyes at a particularly inane laugh or silly giggle. He drew plenty of admiring female glances himself, she noticed, and no wonder. He looked very handsome in his dinner jacket. She felt proud of him.

  ‘We’re never going to be millionaires with that attitude!’ Joey groaned in mock despair. ‘Ah well, back to our posts!’

  It was characteristic of Charlotte to arrive late. She entered, and paused in the doorway, a dramatic figure in black and silver. When Mercy went to greet her she flung her arms about her.

  ‘My dear!’ she murmured brokenly. ‘My dear, you’re bearing up so well! So brave! So very brave!’

  ‘And what have I to be brave about?’ Mercy asked.