‘We can’t do that! We’re fully booked! I’ll go and check what’s happening in the kitchen.’ Mercy rubbed a hand over her tear-stained face, shock forgotten. ‘I must look a mess! I’d better tidy up first.’
Not surprisingly the kitchen was not a hive of industry when she entered. Three or four staff were in there, looking bewildered. One was Charlie, who was proudly showing off the cut in his overall.
‘Are you sure you feel fit to go on duty?’ she asked.
‘Yes thanks, Mrs Lisburne, I’m fine,’ he beamed. Evidently his active part in releasing his colleagues had done much to restore his shaken nerves.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Mercy said, gazing round. ‘We’re going to be seriously short of staff tonight.’
She felt this was an understatement. The only workers she had were the pastry chef, a couple of apprentices, and Charlie.
‘Begging your pardon, Mrs Lisburne. Who’s going to be in charge of the dinner?’ Charlie asked.
‘Me!’ she said, breathing a grateful prayer for Madame Le Clos’s patient instruction in Brittany. When she had taken the cookery course she had never dreamed of the uses to which it would be put. How Agnes would have disapproved!
‘We had better begin by simplifying the menu,’ she continued, pulling open the drawer where she knew the standard recipe file was kept. ‘There’s nothing written here!’ she cried. ‘Every sheet is blank!’
‘That was Lucien!’ explained Charlie. ‘He said he wasn’t writing down his recipes for us to steal.’
‘Ah well, the Villa Dorata dishes may not taste the same as usual, but at least I intend our customers to be fed. We’ll do chicken chasseur, that’s not too complicated, and as an alternative I see we have pork cutlets. Now for first course there’s melon…’
If there had been chaos in the dining room after the siege it was as nothing compared to the frantic activity in the kitchen that evening. Rigid divisions of labour were forgotten as the pastry cook helped with the sauces, the apprentices prepared full dishes, and Charlie seemed to be everywhere at once. As for Mercy, she concentrated on the meat courses, her face growing crimson with the heat, the perspiration trickling down her back in rivulets.
When at last the dinner was over and the kitchen cleaned down to a pristine splendour again, Mercy limped up to the flat. With a groan she collapsed on to the bed.
‘Give everyone in the kitchen a five-pound rise! They’ve earned it!’ she moaned.
‘Starting with you?’ smiled Peter, gently removing her shoes, and massaging her aching feet.
‘Especially me! What was the reaction in the dining room? Did anyone comment that the choice wasn’t as good as usual?’
‘No, not a soul. There were a few compliments about the chicken chasseur, though.’
‘There were? Fancy that!’ She was genuinely pleased.
‘Of course some of the locals knew we’d had a spot of bother. You know how news spreads.’
‘Oh dear, that’s not so good. It can’t have done much for our reputation.’
‘I don’t know. Those who knew seemed very interested, and wanted all the gory details. Perhaps we should do this on a regular basis – a nice siege, an employee going berserk, a spot of blood about the place – it would do wonders for our publicity.’
‘Don’t you dare!’ Mercy hauled herself to her feet. ‘It’s going to take all my willpower as it is to get me to the bathroom and into a bath. One such incident and I can cope, make it a regular thing and you’ll have to find another substitute chef!’
‘Perhaps you’re right, we could have too much of a good thing.’
‘I’m sure we can! I’m wondering what Joey’s going to say about all this in the morning. He’ll probably be furious because he’s missed the action.’ She paused, her hand on the door knob. ‘Imagine! This has been our first major crisis! I think we’ve come through with flying colours, don’t you?’
‘I do indeed.’ He crossed the room to kiss her full on the mouth. ‘Don’t forget, those colours have still to be flying in the morning. Off you go and get some rest!’ And he sent her on her way with a gentle pat on the bottom.
The fracas in the kitchen caused a minor sensation, reaching the columns of both the Chronicle and the Directory. Fortunately it only provoked a mild curiosity among the local clientele, and soon it was forgotten. With most of the staff fully recovered and a temporary head chef installed, life began to go back to normal. There was no question of Lucien returning, of course, and in time he was replaced by Alphonse, a voluble Frenchman whose only fault was a tendency to swear loudly and at great length in his own language when provoked.
One agreeable after-effect of the siege was the way Joey began to have a greater regard for Peter. Until then Mercy had not realized how ineffectual he had considered her husband to be. Now those days were over, and Joey treated Peter with a new respect, at times even going so far as to ask for his advice.
* * *
The summer season drew to a close, there was a brief autumnal lull, and then the winter season began.
‘I know the summer is increasing in popularity as a time for holidays,’ Mercy remarked, ‘but winter is certainly going to be more favourable for us, judging by these bookings.’
‘So many people want to stay for the whole winter! We’re really going to be busy,’ said Peter, gazing over her shoulder at the reservations.
He was right. The hotel was pretty full for most of the winter months, and all of those guests expected not only to be fed, looked after and pampered, but entertained as well. At the Villa Dorata they took care to observe every festival with some sort of celebration, from Hallowe’en and Bonfire Night to Pancake Tuesday. Most elaborate of all, naturally, were the Christmas festivities. From Christmas Eve to Twelfth Night there were dinners and dances, parties and cabarets, with entertainers brought down specially from London.
‘It’s definitely been worthwhile,’ said Joey, as, at the end of their first winter, the three of them sat down to take stock. ‘The money we’ve laid out, particularly on entertainments, has been a good investment.’
‘So I should hope,’ replied Mercy. ‘The singer who came for the New Year’s dinner-dance alone cost us a fortune. We could have got Beniamino Gigli for less.’
‘And I’m still not sure the jazz band was a good idea. Some of our older residents complained about the noise,’ said Peter.
‘You can’t please everyone, and we have had some quieter events, the Strauss evening, for example,’ Joey pointed out. ‘Though I agree about the noise, we’ll have to see what we can do to cut it down, or at least stop it reaching the upper floors. Some sort of a stage with a canopy might be an idea.’
‘A very big idea!’ protested Peter. ‘We’re an hotel, not a nightclub.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ Joey said. ‘Why not have a nightclub as a part of the hotel eventually? When we expand—’
‘Expand? Who said anything about expanding?’ Peter demanded.
‘I’m only planning ahead. It’s something for the future. We’ll have to get bigger, and my idea is to raise the roof, quite literally. We could make the Villa Dorata higher by one storey, or even two if the foundations would stand it…’
‘That would ruin the place!’ Peter was aghast. ‘And it would never work. Think of the time it would take? How could we run an hotel with all that building and mess about the place! No one would stand for it! We’d lose custom!’
‘Then we’d have to close until we were finished. That’s what they did over at the Grand Hotel, though it took them nearly a year.’ Joey’s face was alight with enthusiasm.
‘But they didn’t do it when the Grand had been open for less then twelve months,’ said Mercy, attempting to restore calm. ‘I suggest we forget about such ambitious schemes for the moment, certainly until we’ve paid back a bit more of our bank loan. Let’s consider the coming summer instead. What about our publicity?’
‘Here’s our entry for the Torqu
ay Guide; we’ve already agreed on its wording,’ Joey put the paper on the table.
‘We really ought to advertise elsewhere, more nationally. I suggest a piece in The Lady,’ said Mercy.
‘If we want to go national the thing is to get recommended by the motoring associations, the AA and the RAC,’ declared Joey. ‘The motorists! That’s where we should be looking for our guests. They’re increasing every year – you’ve only to see the cars jam-packed round the harbour to realize that. We need to be in the AA Handbook.’
‘Let’s apply at once then,’ said Mercy eagerly.
‘Don’t you think we should go more cautiously?’ asked Peter. ‘Oh, I agree with everything Joey said. We should certainly apply, but I think it would be better if we gave ourselves more time to get the hotel really established. My view is that we should not aim simply for an ‘AA Approved’ label, we should go for at least three stars, if not four, from the beginning, and not settle for anything less.’
Mercy was both surprised and pleased at his words. She had never heard him be so ambitious for the hotel before.
‘You’ve a good point there,’ said Joey. ‘Enter at the top, is that the idea? It makes sense.’
Mercy was doubly pleased. A few months ago her brother would never have approved of any of Peter’s suggestions so readily.
‘Yes, it does,’ she agreed. ‘There’s nothing stopping us making preliminary inquiries, though, is there? After all, we can’t work towards their requirements until we know what they are looking for.’
‘We’re all agreed we should make inquiries?’ Joey looked from one to the other. ‘Right, then let’s get on. You think an advert in The Lady might be a good idea, Mercy… ?’
Their meeting was a long one, but fruitful. By the time they had finished they had made their plans for the following months, rectified a few matters that needed attention, and generally sorted out their business affairs.
‘I thought Joey looked rather tired tonight,’ commented Peter later. ‘And no wonder! I can’t think why he doesn’t get a proper manager for Seaton’s. It’s not as though his wife is keen on running the business. As far as I can gather that young woman, Angie, sees to most things.’
‘She seems very reliable,’ said Mercy briefly. She did not really want to discuss Angie Bolton, not even with Peter. It had been her hope that Joey’s entanglement with Angie was over, but only the day before she had been proven wrong. The weather had been spring-like, so she had taken advantage of a couple of free hours to enjoy the fresh air. As she had walked along one of the cliff paths, at Petitor, she had noticed two people lower down the slope. Immediately she had recognized them as Joey and Angie. Their arms were about each other, so she had crept off in another direction. They never noticed her.
‘Reliable or not, poor Joey has an awful lot of responsibility,’ said Peter. ‘Mind you, he certainly loves running the Villa Dorata, that much is evident.’
‘And what about you?’ Mercy asked. ‘Do you enjoy running the Villa Dorata too?’
Peter considered for a moment.
‘Do you know, I do!’ he said.
‘There’s no need to sound so surprised,’ she laughed.
‘Yes there is! I was convinced I would never like the life, or get used to it, yet it has turned out quite differently from what I expected. I never realized I’d meet so many interesting people, for a start, or make a good friend like Dobbie. I may be exhausted at times, but I’m never bored. In fact, I feel very lucky. I’ve managed to hang on to the Villa Dorata, and at the same time a whole new world has opened up for me. I think that’s pretty good for a middle-aged father of three, especially when I see the miserable lives some other poor souls have.’
‘So you are really happy?’ ’
‘Indeed l am!’
The gleam in his eyes convinced her he meant it! Mercy felt relief flow through her. For so long she had been afraid that he was miserable with their new way of life and was keeping his unhappiness to himself. Now, at last, she was reassured. Peter was happy, the children were flourishing, the hotel was prospering. What more could she want?
‘Why are you smiling?’ Peter asked.
She could not find the words to tell him, so she kissed him instead.
Chapter Twenty
The Villa Dorata’s first year as an hotel had ended so triumphantly that for a while no one would admit the second year was disappointing. The summer had been poor, but the winter, the major season, threatened to be even worse. Unsettled weather, jitters on the Stock Market, a generally poor response all round – these were the comments Mercy, Peter, and Joey bandied about at their regular management meetings. They all knew the truth, though; bookings were not as good as they had expected, either for residents or in the dining room.
It was Joey who finally took the bull by the horns. ‘We’ve got to face the facts,’ he stated. ‘Last year we were the fashionable place, this year we’ve got more competition. New hotels are opening, and new restaurants. We’re no longer a novelty.’
‘Do we have to be a permanent novelty?’ asked Mercy. ‘How do hotels like the Imperial and the Grand manage? They’ve both been going for donkey’s years. I don’t see them breaking their necks to join in each latest craze.’
‘That’s because they don’t have to,’ said Joey. ‘They’ve both established their reputations, and got their regular clientele. We’re still making our way. We’ve got to let the world know we’re here and advertise more. I suggest that we put in our application with the AA now. We’d easily get two stars, probably three, and that would certainly attract a lot of extra custom.’
A thoughtful silence settled on the room, to be broken, at length, by Mercy.
‘There’s a lot of sense in what you say,’ she said. ‘But is it what we really want? Our initial intention was to run a really first-class hotel, wasn’t it? By accepting two-star classification wouldn’t we be lowering our sights simply because business is down a bit this year?’
‘We could always start as a two-star and build our way up,’ said Joey.
‘We should go in at the top! You said so yourself,’ pointed out Peter. ‘Clawing our way up the grades would not have the impact of having four nice neat stars beside the Villa Dorata’s first entry. I think we should give it one more year, a year in which we consolidate the lessons we’ve learned so far. If, after that, we’ve made no further progress then we can opt for those two stars. But let’s give it a decent try first!’
Mercy was sure there would be an argument from her brother, but to her surprise Joey nodded.
‘Right, we’ll give it a try,’ he said.
‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ she asked, puzzled.
Joey grinned briefly. ‘Surprised, are you? Did you expect me to put up a fight? No, I’m with you both all the way on this top-class hotel idea, that’s always been my dream. Only, I know from bitter experience real life’s not so rosy, and we’ve got to be prepared to settle for less.’
‘Not if we work hard enough,’ replied Mercy.
‘That’s right, not if we work hard enough,’ Peter said. ‘And in the meantime we’ll have to see if we can think up a few novelties, as Joey says, to help us along.’
‘How about holding the Devon yo-yo championships here?’ suggested Joey, suddenly cheery again. Then he made a rapid escape as the others jeered at him in derision.
* * *
Dobbie Dobson proved to be a great asset when it came to boosting bookings. He had a large number of friends, a steady stream of whom came to stay with him at the Villa Dorata. Most of them were sailing enthusiasts, even in winter, so Peter was in his element. The only trouble with sea-loving guests was that they were inclined to be unpunctual. Shifts in the wind and missed tides accounted for quite a few absent diners.
‘I don’t know anywhere else where we’d get this sort of treatment, especially arriving back hours after dinner has finished!’ declared Dobbie, regarding the laden trolley as it was trundled into the wire
less lounge. ‘You are an angel, Mrs Lisburne, you really are.’
‘Let’s just say that I’m an experienced yachting widow,’ Mercy smiled. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve been on hand after midnight with hot soup at the ready. Are you sure you don’t mind eating in here? I thought you’d prefer it because of the fire.’
‘This is grand, thanks,’ replied one of Dobbie’s friends, an old colleague from his days in the Colonial Service. His teeth were chattering and his hands curled appreciatively about his bowl of hot soup.
Dobbie gave a contented sigh. ‘Hot drinks, a welcoming fire, a room to dry our gear! This place is becoming a branch of the Yacht Club.’
‘It’s something I’ve long suspected, but you didn’t have to confirm it!’ laughed Mercy. ‘Now, is there anything else you gentlemen need?’
Before they could answer a voice piped up, ‘A midnight feast! How jolly! May I join in?’
Mercy swung round to find Miss Manning, clad in a woollen dressing-gown and curlers, standing in the doorway.
‘Miss Manning, it’s awfully late,’ she said gently. ‘You should be in bed.’
‘Yes, I should, but it’s more fun here!’ Dulcie Manning regarded the food with round hopeful eyes.
‘You are absolutely right, Miss Manning,’ said Dobbie. ‘Come along and sit here by me, near the fire. What would you like? I can certainly recommend the soup.’
As Miss Manning settled excitedly into her armchair Mercy raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dobbie mouthed silently, and winked.
Mercy had to smile in return. Dobbie was such a nice man! She was becoming quite concerned about Miss Manning, though. The old lady was growing increasingly vague; Mercy feared the time was drawing near when Lilian and Henry would have to think of making other arrangements for their aunt. She would be sorry. Dulcie Manning was sweet and gentle, and she was fond of her, for all she was a growing liability.
There was one person at the hotel who was more disruptive than either Dulcie Manning or Dobbie and his numerous friends. It was rare for Mercy to dislike any of the guests, but the moment she had set eyes on Mrs Hetherington she had taken an instant aversion to her. Margo Hetherington was well known as a wealthy socialite. Everything she wore shrieked Paris. Everything she wore also showed a considerable amount of Margo Hetherington, particularly her chic but clinging evening gowns.
To Dream Again Page 43