‘We’re going to have to do something definite to bring the Villa Dorata back favourably into the limelight,’ she said, at their next managerial meeting.
‘The local papers have been very good, and given us an excellent coverage,’ Peter pointed out.
‘That’s still not enough,’ said Joey. ‘A black mark like this will take a long, long time to be forgotten, even if it was a mistake. Mercy’s right, we’ve got to do something positive. The alternative is to let memories of the foodpoisoning scare fade. Quite frankly I don’t think we can afford to wait. I’ve looked at the bookings for the next few months.’
‘Very well, we’re all agreed on that point. The next questions are what shall we do and how much will it cost?’ said Peter.
‘We need something to catch the public’s eye,’ Joey said thoughtfully.
‘How about a week of listening to music?’ suggested Mercy. ‘We could do a sort of festival whereby people could come to stay and hear good musicians.’
‘Not a bad idea,’ agreed Joey. ‘It might do for the winter.’
‘We could try one, and if it proved popular we could make them a regular thing,’ said Peter.
‘It’s still rather a short-term solution.’ Joey said. ‘We need something to attract people for this coming summer. Folks won’t want to stay indoors day after day if the weather’s good, no matter how many top-notch musicians we hire.’
‘So we need something in the open air,’ mused Peter. ‘Something like riding or—’
‘Sailing!’ exclaimed Mercy. ‘That’s it! We’ve already made provision for those who want to ride. But what if we could offer people the chance of some decent yachting included in their stay here? It would appeal to the good-weather sailors who don’t have yachts of their own but who would enjoy a spot of sailing, or those who come from up-country and don’t want the bother of bringing their own craft all the way here. What do you think?’
‘It has possibilities! Distinct possibilities!’ said Joey, i can see it being a real attraction. Goodness knows, we get enough sailing enthusiasts here already! It would only be going one step further. The only thing is it would put a lot of extra work on Peter because he’s the obvious man to have charge.’
Peter had been sitting quietly so far, neither showing any emotion nor offering an opinion.
‘Well?’ demanded Mercy. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’
‘I do!’ he said simply. ‘Of course I do! I think it’s a marvellous idea, one that’s right up my street. You know I’d be totally biased in favour of anything connected with boats, so you two had better make the decisions.’
‘Could you cope with the extra work?’ asked Mercy. ‘Naturally it would mean taking on someone to help. I dare say you could find someone suitable.’
‘Boyer!’ said Peter. ‘You remember? The man who sold me Tango? He’d be glad of the job. He’s having rather a hard time of it, I’m afraid. He’d be ideal – an excellent fellow and a first-rate seaman.’
‘Then can we leave it to you to see what sort of craft you think suitable, and work out the costs and so on?’ asked Joey.
‘Indeed you can!’ Peter was beginning to beam. Then his smile faded. ‘Can we afford it, though?’ he asked. ‘It will be pricey to get anything decent.’
‘I don’t think we can afford not to do it!’ said Mercy.
They tried the idea out on Dobbie later that evening.
‘All the comforts of the Villa Dorata with the joys of sailing thrown in? It sounds like Paradise to me,’ he said heartily.
‘Good, so we’ve got at least one totally impartial view on the matter,’ chuckled Peter.
‘You have!’ agreed Dobbie with a grin. ‘Now if I may change the subject; I’m glad to have caught you, Lisburne, old man. I want to give you these as a small token of appreciation.’ He held out a rectangular package.
When Peter opened the parcel it proved to be a large box of Corona cigars.
‘There was no need! I did nothing!’ protested Peter, rather overcome.
‘Nothing? I don’t consider it nothing! I consider it bravery well over and above the call of friendship! He deliberately stepped into the firing line, putting himself between that Hetherington creature and me, drawing her fire,’ Dobbie explained to Mercy.
‘Peter did what?’ she demanded.
‘Sacrificed himself so I could escape from the vampire’s clutches.’
‘Don’t you mean vamp, not vampire?’ asked Mercy, though she was in no mood to joke.
‘I know what I mean!’ Dobbie said darkly. ‘Which is why I’m so impressed by your husband’s selfless bravery.’
‘You don’t need to overdo it!’ laughed Peter. ‘Nor do you need to explain to Mercy. She knew what I was up to. That was why I was in no danger! You should have seen the sterling way she would come to the rescue whenever La Hetherington got too predatory! I could always rely on her to turn up in the nick of time, like the relief of Mafeking. You should get married, Dobbie! It’s a marvellous protection. But choose someone with plenty of spark in her background. Mercy gets hers from her grandmother. Now there’s someone I’d love to have seen confronting the Hetherington woman!’
So Peter had not been having an affair with Margo Hetherington after all! He had been taking part in some charade to help Dobbie. Mercy struggled to maintain her calm expression. She felt so foolish – and so relieved! What astonished her was the way in which Peter calmly assumed that she had been a willing partner in his deception. Remembering the rougher passages of their marriage did he never stop to think she might misconstrue what he was doing? No, she decided, that was not Peter’s way. He would be too intent on helping Dobbie out of trouble. On those occasions when she had thought herself interrupting his assignations with Mrs Hetherington he had actually been grateful for her intervention. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry. Upon consideration she decided simply to remain silent. His faith in their marriage had been stronger than hers. He had trusted her to understand what he was doing. He must never know what suspicions she had been harbouring.
* * *
Business was slow to pick up again. Although a few erstwhile regulars, who had dined elsewhere during the food-poisoning episode, gradually returned to the Villa Dorata, bookings remained poor. A blackened reputation, it seemed, was an extremely hard thing to live down, no matter how ill-deserved it was.
‘It’s so unfair,’ protested Mercy, gazing around the almost empty dining-room. ‘We had nothing to do with the food-poisoning outbreak. Why should we suffer?’
‘Because it’s a hard world,’ stated Joey. ‘Haven’t you worked that out yet? We’ve just got to sit it out until people forget about it.’
Could they afford to wait for memories to fade? Mercy doubted it. Their running expenses remained high, no matter how few guests there were.
Their regular managerial meetings became more and more grim, concerned with how to make economies without compromising the high standards they had set for the hotel. Massive cuts in salaries for all three of them were among the first of their money-saving measures. Reductions in staff followed, along with turning off the heating on the topmost floor, where all the rooms were unoccupied.
The yachting project was something they debated for a long time. Finally they were in agreement – they could not afford to turn down the idea. It took more scrimping and saving, but Peter bought two yachts: an elegant eight-metre craft for the really serious sailors and a modest cutter for those who liked their sailing to be more sedate.
‘Now we can offer a choice of experience,’ he pointed out. ‘Along with the dinghies we already own and maybe with the addition of a motor launch later, we will be able to cater for most tastes.’
The problem was that advertising their attractions proved to be a slow business. There was interest, but only for the future, and they needed guests immediately.
Nightly Mercy was tormented by anguished dreams in which the Villa Dorata was sold about their ears and the
three of them were left standing on the beach at Mead- foot, penniless, with nothing to show for their hard work.
Business at the hotel had to improve. She was determined on it. She was not going back to being poor again! She was not! Every time she went back to visit her family she was reminded of what it had been like. Things were far, far better at Fernicombe now, but the memory of poverty still hung about the place despite the Seatons’ present affluence.
A growing concern for Joey was another cause for anxiety. He was continuing to see a great deal of Angie Bolton; while their liaison remained beyond the boundaries of the Villa Dorata Mercy felt she had no right to comment. Unfortunately Angie was becoming a frequent visitor to the hotel these days, calling to see Joey on all sorts of trivial pretexts. Mercy did drop a few heavy hints about the convenience of the modern telephone system, without results. Angie continued to come.
Then one day, Mercy was coming downstairs as Angie happened to emerge from the office. The young woman looked flushed and happy, and rather rumpled. A couple of waiters, crossing the hall at that moment, saw her too, and Mercy caught the knowing winks that passed between the men. This, she decided, was too much! She marched into the office, confident she would find her brother there. Joey looked up from the pile of wages sheets in front of him.
‘Is anything the matter?’ he asked. ‘You’ve got your disapproving look on your face.’
‘And with good reason.’ She closed the door firmly behind her. ‘It’s no use looking at me innocently, pretending you’ve been slaving at the books all morning. I’ve just seen Angie leave.’
‘Oh!’ Joey put down his pen, and leaned back in his chair.
‘You’ll have to be more careful. What you do in your own time is your affair, but she’s coming here too often, and the staff are beginning to notice. For heaven’s sake, can’t you be discreet?’
Discreet! That had been the watchword during her own affair with Gunther! Immediately the bitter-sweet memories of those days came flooding back.
‘Please take care, Joey,’ she said softly, the anger going from her voice. ‘It’s a treacherous path you’re treading, and you could get terribly hurt. I don’t blame you for being tempted. Angie’s a very pretty girl. But please, I beg of you, think what you’re doing.’
She steeled herself for Joey’s violent reaction as he told her to mind her own business. The explosion did not come.
‘It’s too late, I’m afraid,’ he said very quietly. ‘We love each other, you see.’ And he buried his head in his hands.
The complete hopelessness in his voice tore at her. She put her arms about him, hugging him to her as she used to do when he was a little boy.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘So very sorry.’
‘So am I! What an awful mess I’m in!’– is there any way I can help?’she asked tentatively.
He shook his head.
‘It’s my mess. I’ll have to find a way out by myself.’ There was one question she had to ask.
‘Queenie…? You aren’t considering leaving…?’
He looked up at her, utter misery in his eyes.
‘I couldn’t do that to poor Queenie,’ he said, it isn’t her fault.’
‘What do you propose doing, then?’
‘I don’t know and that’s the truth. Carry on as usual, I suppose.’ He straightened up suddenly, i’ll have a word with Angie about coming here, though. It won’t do, not if the staff are beginning to snigger.’
‘Joey, I wish I hadn’t spoken…’
‘No, you were right to mention it. Now, while you’re here will you check these figures of mine, if you can spare a moment.’
From his tone she knew the subject of his private life was firmly closed. Inside she felt such pain. He was so unhappy, and there was nothing she could do to ease his hurt. That was the hardest part of all.
Without another word she pulled up a chair and reached for the accounts book.
The next few weeks were hard financially, forcing them to take a further cut in salaries.
‘You do realize the senior staff are earning more money than we are, don’t you?’ Joey pointed out.
‘Yes, but they haven’t all the fun of owning an hotel.’ Mercy retorted. ‘Just as long as I still get more than the boot-boy, I won’t complain.’
She worried, though, no matter how optimistic she was in public, and the reservations book gave little comfort. It looked dismally empty at times.
The Villa Dorata Hotel’s new ‘Ashore and Afloat’ holidays were now advertised widely in yachting and boating magazines as well as in the national periodicals. At last the response began to be encouraging. Bookings increased, slowly at first, then in a steady stream until, by Regatta-time, they were absolutely full.
‘The winter prospects look very rosy, too’, Joey remarked. ‘Far better than last year.’
‘Weren’t the sacrifices worth it?’ commented Mercy, her anxiety slowly melting away. ‘Even though we’ll still have to watch the pennies for a while, things are beginning to go right for us at last. We’re getting closer to our goal!’
‘And what is our goal?’ asked Joey.
‘I’m surprised that you need to ask. It’s having four stars against our name.’
‘Do you think we’ll get them?’
‘Certainlyl’ There was no doubt in Mercy’s voice. ‘Next year, you’ll see! That’s when we’ll know the Villa Dorata Hotel really is a success!’
Chapter Twenty One
‘Mrs Lisburne, can you spare a moment?’
‘Certainly, Lady Agnew. How can I help you?’ Mercy stopped and smiled at her guest.
‘Where’s the best place to buy silk stockings, please? I’m looking for fully-fashioned ones, of course, in this new light colour.’
Lady Agnew raised her skirt above her knees, displaying legs that were still slim and shapely.
‘Jane!’ Her companion was shocked. ‘What are you thinking of? Supposing Mr Seaton or Captain Lisburne came along at this moment!’
‘Don’t make such a fuss, Elsie. I doubt if it would be much of a thrill for either of them. I’m sure they’ve both seen female legs before.’
Slowly and deliberately Jane Agnew let her skirt fall.
Mercy had to bite back a smile. At times she found it difficult to believe that this elderly pair were sisters. They were both slight of figure, it was true. There was a definite facial resemblance, too, if one looked closely enough. There similarity ended, for Elsie was a retiring, demure little woman, prone to wear shapeless clothes in nondescript colours, while her sister, Jane Agnew, was the exact opposite.
‘I may have missed the boat for being a bright young thing,’ she had announced on her arrival at the Villa Dorata, ‘so I’ll have to make do with being a bright old thing instead.’
She certainly did her best to live up to her statement. Her clothes were in the latest style, dropped waistline, raised hem and all. Her make-up would have done credit to Vilma Banky or Gloria Swanson, while her silver-grey hair was worn short, in an up-to-the minute shingle.
‘I usually find Bobby’s, on the Strand, very good for stockings,’ Mercy said. ‘If not, you could try Williams and Cox, a little further on.’
‘Thank you, my dear. I was certain you would know where to go.’ Lady Agnew scrutinized her for a moment, then said, ‘Doesn’t Mrs Lisburne’s hair look attractive, Elsie? Why don’t you have your hair cut in a similar style? It would suit you – not too short. And see how prettily it frames her face! Yes, why don’t you try it?’
‘Oh I couldn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t feel comfortable.’
‘You can’t honestly say you feel comfortable going about looking as if mice were nesting at the back of your head, can you?’
‘That was not a nice thing to say!’ Mrs Hastings put a hand up and patted her wispy bun.
‘It’s true though,’ said her sister, unrepentant. ‘And why do you continue to wear your skirts down round your ankles? You always behave as though
you are joined at the knees. How poor old Herbert managed, being married to you all those years, I don’t know.’
‘Oh!’ Elsie Hastings’s face went crimson. ‘You go too far, Jane, you really do! To say such a thing in front of dear Mrs Lisburne!’
‘I don’t suppose Mrs Lisburne’s learning anything new from me, not when she’s married to such a gorgeous man. Where is the lovely captain, by the way? We haven’t seen him this morning.’
‘I’m keeping him hidden, away from the competition.’ Mercy replied.
‘Spoilsport!’ Jane Agnew’s long jade earrings shook appreciatively. ‘Perhaps you’re wise, though. At my age I don’t think I can be bothered to break in another man; I’ve already had three husbands of my own. It would be much easier to go for someone else’s, for a change. I did have my eye on yours, but I don’t think I fancy the competition.’
They do say that discretion is the better part of valour!’ smiled Mercy.
‘They do indeed!’ Lady Agnew chuckled, and patted her on the arm. ‘I enjoy talking to you, my dear! You give as good as you get, and that’s fun. Not like Elsie here, who just keeps going red and saying “Oh Jane” in a shocked voice.’
‘Oh Jane!’ wailed Mrs Hastings.
‘There, what did I say? Oh, all right, I’ll be nice to you for the rest of the day if you’ll let me buy you some decent stockings instead of those awful lisle things?’
Lady Agnew paused, her gaze riveted on something through the window. ‘Just look at that!’ she exclaimed.
The object of her interest was Miss Manning. At eleven in the morning she was crossing the lawn wearing an elaborately beaded dinner gown, a woolly tam o’shanter, and furry bedroom slippers.
‘Batty!’ declared Jane Agnew. ‘The woman’s completely batty! If you’ll pardon me for saying so, my dear, someone is foisting their responsibilities on to you in that department.’
To Dream Again Page 45