by Albert Able
Fortunately I had just been told about his midnight encounter with the young hall porter.
“Okay sir I agree, we could credit your account as you suggest but it is obvious to me that in that case, I am quite sure that what you really want is to have the thief caught and your bracelet returned and if it turns out to be a member of the hotel staff, I will have them sacked immediately.” I reached over the reception counter and picked up a telephone. “I’ll just make the call to the police and then I’ll arrange to have all the housekeeping staff oh and the hall porters interviewed.
I thought for a moment that my bluff was not going to work and was gratefully surprised when my final comment seemed to have touch a sensitive nerve.
“Do we really need to call the police?” The old man’s bluster had suddenly run out steam.
“It’s not always necessary,” I counselled replacing the telephone “in the end I expect you would prefer your bracelet back?”
I smiled correctly anticipating his next words.
“Naturally; it’s not the money” he proffered an innocent smile “you see it’s the sentimental value.” Wringing his hands nervously he looked about sheepishly and then back to me; he was beginning to grovel now, so I twist the screw a bit.
“On the other hand the Hotel’s reputation is at stake” I seized the initiative and reached for the telephone again “so I think I must call the police, they will be able to conduct a full inquiry and hopefully get to the bottom of it, don’t you agree?”
I looked across to the smiling receptionist, who nodded towards the entrance; I followed her signal and right on queue the young Hall Porter appeared at the reception desk, a chunky gold identity bracelet conspicuously adorning his right wrist.
There was a moment’s silence as the old man recognised the young porter and the memory of last nights encounter was revived. “Well of course but perhaps I overreacted a bit; maybe I should take another look in the room” he managed backing away.
“Perhaps I can help you Sir!” The porter politely volunteered.
“Well that would be nice thank you.” The old man’s eyes twinkled from his cherubic smile; he had fully regained his composure together with his fertile imagination.
I learned later that the old man had been so drunk that night that he had probably given the young porter the bracelet in lieu of services rendered. Either way the old man became a regular guest until Carlos the attractive young Hall Porter returned to his native Madeira.
******
We would have never gotten away with this in today’s ‘compensation’ conscious society.
A small seating area leading to the restaurant in one of the hotels was being refurbished with new mood lighting, some casual chairs and coffee tables designed to make the approach to the restaurant more appealing.
The electricians were late in completing their connections and so the carpet fitters champed at the bit as they stood by complaining about the time and their fixed price quote.
The electricians were equally irritated but eventually declared their work complete and moved away, allowing the fractious carpet fitters to set to work even more determined to complete their job and get home or more probably down to the pub, on time.
The speed of their work was quite impressive and the carpet was beautifully fitted in the allotted time.
I was called to examine the final job and duly declared, that it looked ‘very good’.
As the restaurant opened that evening the first guests filtered in. One of the first in announced to the headwaiter. “Looks very nice but I’ve never experienced such a strange texture to a carpet.”
The headwaiter smiled patronisingly. “It’s the quality of carpet the company use.”
Later another guest approached the headwaiter. “That new carpet of yours seems a bit soggy to me.”
The headwaiter’s curiosity led him to take look at this carpet; at first glance there was no obvious problem but then he noticed a slightly darker patch so he bent down and cautiously patted at it. Sure enough it was damp, he immediately called the manager who correctly assumed that the carpet fitters must have hit a pipe with the gripper rod nails and immediately called the plumber who fortunately only lived a few minutes away.
Within minutes it was obvious that there must be a significant water leak as the carpet became ever soggier. In the meantime the restaurant patrons continued to paddle through the slushy pile eager to get to their meal.
What nobody knew at the time was that the electricians, in their haste to allow the carpet fitters to get on with their job had left a couple of un-insulated live wires behind the skirting board.
It was just as the water level arrived at those wires that a young man approached the restaurant. Dressed in a colourful tee shirt with smart summer shorts he was only wearing simple ‘flip-flops’. The manager seeing the level of water flush with the carpet decided that he should stop the young man and any other patrons from crossing the waterlogged carpet.
“Excuse me sir but the carpet is completely waterlogged and it would be best if you wait a few minutes. Our plumber will be here any second now so if you’d like to wait in the bar?”
“It’s okay” the smiling young man declared “I’ve only got my flip-flops on and it doesn’t matter if they get a bit wet does it.”
And with that ploughed across the floor; his first step must have coincided with the water reaching the electric cables and so as the whole area became electrified our brave young daredevil squealed with shock and for a moment appeared to be running on the spot his legs pumping vigorously up and down as he tried to get his feet out of the water and free of the excruciating electric shocks.
In fact his jerky prancing took him across the carpet in less than a couple of seconds but I imagine the longest two seconds in his life.
When the unfortunate man reached the sanctuary of the restaurant he fell trembling into the headwaiters arms.
Fortunately within the next couple of seconds the fuse in the circuit blew and the area was safe again.
In spite of being a white as a sheet and still shaking like a leaf the young man was being very British about the whole incident.
“We are really sorry about that,” the hotel manager cooed and passed the blame for the incident “obviously a serious error on behalf of the electricians and I will take them to task on your behalf.”
The young man still trying to get his breath back nodded silent agreement.
“If you are feeling well enough, would you care to have a bottle of wine on the house with your dinner?” The manager smiled genially and to his intense relief the young man’s eyes lit up as he warmed to the suggestion.
By the end of dinner the young man appeared to be fully recovered and encouraged by the free bottle of wine was toasting the other guests calling himself Mr Sparkle and such seemingly amusing names.
That was twenty years ago and we never heard from the young man again but had that been today, you can imagine the field day some slick lawyers would have had over such an incident.
******
Another little potentially disastrous occasion I remember was when a guest’s impatience for another drink made him go behind the bar with the intention of helping himself.
This particular incident took place in the bar of an older hotel we had taken over to manage for the receivers and as with so many old pubs, access to the beer cellar was through a hatch in the floor behind the bar.
It was unusual during open hours for anyone to have to go down to the cellar but in case they did a safety fence was always placed around the hatch.
On this occasion for some reason unknown to me, the barman needed to go down into the cellar and so he opened the hatch in the floor and fixed the safety barrier as required but just as he was about to climb own into the cellar must have realised that what he needed might after all be in the stockroom at the other end of the bar and so rather than close the hatch, he decided to check the stockroom first and so left it open.
>
A guest who had been drinking steadily for most of the evening leaned over the bar counter to ask for another drink only to discover that the bar man had apparently disappeared and so decided to help himself. “No choice but to help yourself around here” he muttered towards some other patrons and with one bold move threw back the half-gate, which accessed the bar and with his head raised scanned the bottles on the optics as he entered the workspace behind the bar. With his second step he crashed heavily into the safety rail, which sprang back under the man’s considerable weight, flipping back into place after the man had pitched forward and dived head first through the open hatch to land in a heap at the foot of the steps.
Fortunately for him, his inebriated state made him more relaxed than it might otherwise have been and so as he fell he landed on the pad, which is placed on the floor of beer cellars to cushion the landing of the heavy metal beer barrels.
Unconscious but unhurt he must have rolled to one side out of the sight line of the hatch so when the barman returned, apparently having found what he was looking for in the other store room, he peeked casually into the cellar and closed down the hatch without having noticed anything unusual.
When the man eventually came to, all he could see through his alcohol glazed eyes in the glow of the safety lights, were the stacked metal beer barrels and row upon row of bottles of spirits on the shelves.
You know that old expression ‘died and gone to heaven’ well I truly think the man believed that was exactly had happened and so it was quite some time before realised he was not dreaming and started banging desperately on the hatch and the forlorn bleary-eyed man was helped unsteadily from the cellar.
******
Weddings were the occasionally the source of extraordinary events. I remember one in particular where a couple and the two families moved into the hotel the evening before the wedding, both groups were clearly enthusiastic and experienced drinking specialists.
The bride’s family came from Belfast and I have no idea what they did for a living but they seemed to be well heeled as they were paying for everything in the hotel.
The groom’s family were publicans from Glasgow and were equally generous in offering liquid refreshment.
That evening the bride and groom went into town on their individual ‘stag’ and ‘hen’ nights both having planning to return around midnight, ‘for a bit of a party’
The whole evening was destined to develop into an interfamily eating and drinking competition.
Right on time the bride and groom both reappeared around mid-night; they all met in the cocktail lounge, everyone had already over indulged.
The groom approached his mother in law to be and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek; she smiled at the groom and looked across at her daughter.
“I hope you behaved yourself” she scolded her daughter; when in spite of her own alcoholic state noticed her holding hands with the best man.
“Don’t be silly mother” the bride tried to look coy and released the hand unaware that she had been holding it.
I think it must have been the groom’s mother who reacted first with something like “I just hope son that you’re going to keep that little tart on a tighter lead than that?”
It was as if someone had lit a fuse as both groups of men lifted from their seats and piled arms flaying and cursing into each other. The tables were kicked aside, glasses and china crashing to the floor. The women kicked and screamed at the melee, whilst the bride and best man slipped away to the cloakroom and had sex standing in the doorway.
The groom in the meantime reached out and held his future mother-in-law’s hand; they looked at each other with understanding, she shrugged and they also slipped quietly away.
The duty manager and night porter tried to calm the fracas but to no avail and so the police had to be called. They eventually managed to bring calm to the situation until that is, the bride’s father decided to hit out at the groom’s mother.
“I knew that trash of yours wasn’t good enough for my daughter” he shouted defiantly and following it up with mighty swipe at the police officer, which resulted in his immediate arrest.
The next morning, both families appeared at breakfast as if nothing had happened and it was only when the groom’s father asked. “Where’s Patrick?” That someone remembered that he had been ‘banged up’
“Oh God we’ve got to get him out.” The bride wept.
The police sergeant was not in the last sympathetic, there had been a serious charge made, none the less he promised to consult a senior officer as soon as he could.
“But I’m not bringing any charges,” the groom’s mother pleaded “he’s a good man just had a little bit too much, you know.”
The sergeant however remained unmoved. “Then he shouldn’t be lashing out at police officers should he?” The sergeant shook his head in exasperation “but I’ll give the hotel a call if I can do anything, okay?”
At the hotel the bride was already hovering in the hotel reception her flowing white wedding gown held in one hand, whilst the groom was waiting nervously in another room and being comforted by the bride’s mother.
“You do realise” she looked at him sadly “that after today it will be illegal.”
The groom shrugged his shoulders and remained silent.
I understand the wedding was a picture of elegance. The bride’s father was eventually released and arrived at the church just in the nick of time. The wedding lunch passed without one single disturbance but then no one had spotted the absence of the bride who, still in flowing white wedding dress, was having stand up sex with the best man in the housekeeper’s cupboard.
I often wondered what happened to those two families but the story of their wedding antics has given us many a laugh.
******
Another little perhaps in some ways rather sad story involved two young women probably in their mid teens who had won a competition for something and the prize included a weekend in a smart London hotel and The Riverside Hotel received the reservation.
The girls who had barely ever been out of their village in Wales, arrived at The Riverside early one evening and were escorted to their room by the friendly porter who recognising their obvious lack of street sense, tried to give them a few helpful tips about going out in London and even suggested that he could act as their escort.
“It’s a wicked old town if you don’t know what you’re up to” he winked adding “so just call for Justin if you want anything.”
Far from being comforted the girls were even more nervous. Hunger however gave them enough courage to go down to dinner. As they left the restaurant they wandered through the reception area and noticed a banner advert for Madam Tussards wax works and the House of Horrors.
“Look” one of the girls squeaked “that’s one of the places where we are supposed to be going to tomorrow.”
“I don’t like the look of that very much.” The other girl held her hands to her face.
“Don’t be silly girl, they’re only wax,” she nudged her friend “come on, let’s get our coats and take a little walk out side.”
The girls were not seen again that evening and when the escort from the promotion company called to collect them at nine thirty the next morning for their ‘Tour of London’, they had not yet been seen at breakfast either.
The receptionist called the bedroom telephone and a weak frightened little voice answered. “Help us please” she whispered and carefully put the receiver back on its rack.
The manager closely followed by the duty porter and the tour escort raced up to the room. The manager slipped his master key cautiously into the lock and with sweat lacing his brow terrified of what he was about to find carefully eased the door open.
The two girls looking pale and terrified were crouched on the floor near the door; when they saw the manager they leaped up and one fell into his arms.
“Thank God you’ve come,” she cried aloud.
The other younger girl th
rew herself at the escort and burst into an uncontrolled flood sobbing tears.
It took several minutes to calm the distraught girls down and the manager was able to ascertain the source of their distress and eventually the story could be unravelled.
The girls had returned to their room with the intention of getting their coats to take a stroll around the hotel before going to bed.
Now in those days, we still turned down the beds and prepared guests night attire so when the girls entered the bedroom they were horrified to find the sheets neatly turned down with their nighties spread out on each of the beds.
Unfortunately the fertile young imaginations already filled with wild stories of the ‘wicked city’ immediately imagined that they had been targeted buy some evil ‘Black Magic’ or ‘Satanic Rights’ ritual and had spent the whole night frozen with fear cowering where we found them, too scared to move.
When we explained the neatly arranged nighties were simply part of our ‘room service’ their sense of relief outweighed their intense embarrassment.
Chapter 31 - Marcus
For several years the ‘Top Floor’ facility at both the Riverside and subsequently at City Express Hotel had been a source of essential cash flow of our seriously undercapitalised business.
With Graham Radshaw producing most of the high profile top dollar clients it was not surprising that he was almost a member of the family. Graham seemed to have a stream of influential Arabs and Japanese Diplomats together with an apparent endless supply of wealthy business people seeking anonymity for their covert leisure time.
We did however have a modest collection of our own ‘special guests’ seeking privacy, which included people like the Councillor from an earlier chapter but it was the antics of an anonymous police rugby team and a high-ranking lady politician, which stands out as a particularly astonishing episode and one of the first recorded on our secret video system.
The lady was a regular guest whilst parliament was in session and as with all our VIP clients we tried to upgrade her within the official ‘superior’ rooms when ever possible. On this occasion however the hotel was fully booked and since her reservation was only for one night I elected to put her in the ‘Top Floor’ suite.