by Katie Ginger
Watching the leaves dance in the wind, she couldn’t stop her brain wandering. After staring at the accounts all day and making some financial predictions based on her most recent takings, the awful truth was, that if she didn’t secure some weddings off the back of this first one and the wedding fair, business was really going to suffer and that meant laying people off or even selling up. She didn’t employ that many staff and if she sold up, she’d not only be selling her business but her home too and she loved Holly Lodge more than anywhere else on the planet.
A part of her wondered if that was such a bad thing – but even when she’d gone to university, she’d stayed at home rather than live in halls. Okay, so the beach of Swallowtail Bay was pebbly and not sandy, but that had never stopped her and Cat from sunbathing, and she loved hearing the echo of the tide as she fell asleep at night. She loved that she could get handmade chocolates for the guests’ pillows, special herbed sausages for the full English breakfast, and delicious pressed juices all made locally. Things like that were what made Holly Lodge an institution in the town, having been there for over twenty-five years. Each room was unique with a big, comfy bed covered in soft white sheets and pretty cushions; all had top-of-the-range showers or roll-top baths and unusual furniture that Nell had sourced herself from car boot sales. But what made the place truly unique was the personal service she offered, catering to people’s different needs with genuine warmth and affection. Her aim had always been to create a luxurious home from home.
‘Right,’ said Brenda, lifting out a notepad and pen from her enormous handbag. ‘Let’s talk about china, shall we?’
‘China?’ asked Cat. ‘Why China? I’m going to Tenerife on my honeymoon.’
Brenda rolled her eyes. ‘No, Catherine. China as in china plates and cups and saucers, not the country.’
‘Oh.’ Cat took another biscuit under her mother’s watchful gaze. Brenda’s eyes followed it from the plate all the way to Cat’s mouth where her daughter took a big satisfying bite.
‘Why did I agree to do this?’ Brenda muttered to herself.
Neither Cat nor Nell were brave enough to point out that no one had asked, or even wanted her to help in the first place. She’d taken over arrangements as soon as Cat had said the word proposal and the Brenda Wilson steam train hadn’t slowed down yet.
As Mr and Mrs Limstock waved from the other side of the lounge, trying to get her attention, Nell smiled and excused herself to Brenda and Cat. She may not have many customers at the moment, but while she had some, she’d give them the best service she could. And it meant she could top up Cat’s gin while she was up. Something about Brenda’s scowl and the set of her mouth told her she might need it before this planning meeting was over.
Chapter 5
In the dark evening light, Nell walked up the slope leading through the gardens of the huge, intimidating hotel, lit by Victorian-style streetlamps. Though it was a renovated manor house, to Nell it had none of the elegant feel of a stately home. The façade was the same, apart from a giant automatic door that seemed to suck the classiness away every time they opened and closed with their horrid swooshing noise. A sweeping semi-circle of steps led up to it, but all Nell could think was that they wouldn’t be easy for anyone with mobility issues. Taken together, they ruined the whole look of the building. She much preferred the gentle ramp she’d installed that led to the modest front door of Holly Lodge. Or if they were after a grand entrance, then it had to be the other local stately home, Thornhill Hall that sat the other side of the bay.
Tom had agreed to meet her outside and Nell shivered in the little jacket she’d worn over a deep-burgundy wrap dress and tights. A flimsy patterned scarf did nothing to keep out the cold and it really was brass monkeys in Swallowtail Bay tonight. She ran the toe of her black suede ankle boot along the edge of a paving slab. The ground began to glitter beneath her feet as the moisture turned to frost.
Normally when she went out with Tom, she wore whatever she happened to throw on, which was usually her flared jeans, high-top trainers and a jumper, but the Langdon Mansion Hotel was one of those places that had an unspoken dress code. Her imagination had run a little wild, as it always did, and when she’d imagined this evening, she’d pictured women in fur stoles and slinky dresses with cigarettes hanging from their lips in long ivory holders. As they draped themselves over the furniture, elegantly suited men wandered about with tumblers of whisky on the rocks and everything was vaguely black and white. A slap of cold wind whipped around the face, waking her up. She closed her arms over her chest and waited, taking a moment to breathe after the meeting with Brenda. It felt more and more like going into battle rather than joyfully discussing different options for Cat’s wedding.
‘You should have gone inside,’ said Tom, striding up the same slope she had a few minutes earlier. ‘You must be freezing. Why didn’t you wear your coat?’
‘Because it’s a parka and it wouldn’t have gone with my dress. Do you like it?’ She gave a little spin on the spot and immediately Tom’s face flooded with affection.
‘You look great,’ he replied, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek. He always had lovely, soft skin and smelled nice. ‘It’s better than one of your enormous jumpers.’
‘Hey! Enormous jumpers are the best thing about autumn and winter. You can snuggle up in them. It’s like wearing a duvet.’
Nell’s mind turned inwards and before she could help it, she was seeing herself and the love of her life wrapped up in blankets in the lounge of Holly Lodge. She desperately wanted someone who understood her passion for the hotel, for the wedding business, and for making people feel special when they walked through her door. So far, boyfriends had understood at first, but their enthusiasm quickly faded when she couldn’t make a date because it was a changeover day or she had a house full. That wasn’t the case at the moment, but she hoped it wouldn’t be long before her plans came to fruition and the wedding business took off.
‘Shall we go in then?’ Tom asked, nodding to the door.
‘Yes, definitely,’ Nell exclaimed. ‘I can’t feel my toes.’ The horrid automatic doors parted as they climbed the top step and made their way inside.
As they stepped over the threshold, their eyes met and Nell knew he could read the fear on her face. She pushed her long golden hair back from her face.
The entrance hall was opulent, intimidating and huge. A long, wide, dark wood reception desk ran down one side, full of computer screens that popped up in front of suited-and-booted staff. On the same side, a little further along were the lifts, and opposite, between open doorways, were two different bars and crushed velvet sofas in deep purple. In the middle stood an enormous Christmas tree perfectly decorated like something from an interior design magazine. Twinkling lights wrapped around it in perfectly slanting circles. Expensive-looking glass baubles glittered and underneath sat a pile of flawlessly wrapped boxes posing as presents. Nell puffed out her cheeks and she and Tom stared around. It was so much grander than she’d imagined. As if to reassure her, he reached out and took her hand, holding it tightly in his.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Look at this place, Tom. How am I ever going to compete with this?’
‘Nell, there’s room in the market for everyone. You have a different customer base and a different offering. Don’t compare yourself to here.’
‘How can I not?’ The realisation of what this place was actually like caused her stomach to knot in worry. ‘I know my hotel’s lovely but this is next level snazzy. How can I not compare myself to this?’
‘Things will pick up, Nell. We just need to do some more marketing.’ He let go of her hand and placed his on the small of her back. She found its warmth and strength strangely comforting. ‘Come on, it’s almost eight – let’s find the restaurant.’
They walked further into the entrance hall and past the Christmas tree to see huge festive red flower arrangements in giant silver urns. If Tom could get the contract provid
ing this place with displays, he’d be made for life. ‘You should give them your card and let them know you’re a local florist. If you got their order, you’d never need another bit of business.’
‘I’m not doing that,’ he replied as they peered through the open doorways into the two different bars. One was like an old boys’ London club and the other was an elegant cocktail bar with a shiny counter and high bar stools.
‘Why not? It makes perfect business sense.’
‘They probably have someone who provides the whole chain and besides, it would feel disloyal.’
Tom was the absolute sweetest, but she wasn’t going to let him miss an opportunity like this. Knowing she had one of his business cards in her wallet, she veered off to reception.
‘Where are you—’ But she was gone before he could stop her. After giving it to one of the receptionists she came back to him. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘Because I’m not letting you miss on an amazing opportunity because of me.’
‘But I’m snowed under as it is. I don’t really need—’
‘You can never have too much business and you never know what’s going to happen. Their regular florist might let them down, or they might need something at the last minute, or they might recommend you to someone. It can’t hurt for them to have your card.’
A small chuckle escaped from Tom’s mouth. ‘Well, thank you.’ His voice chased away some of the cold lingering in her bones. Pointing at a sign, he said, ‘Come on, the restaurant’s down here. And my stomach’s rumbling.’
At the end of the hallway he turned left, following the sign for the restaurant. The website said it was at the back of the mansion with views over the gardens, and Nell had to admit the aromas heading her way were delicious. There was a strong savoury base note over which she could smell something winey mixed with something sweet. As soon as Mr and Mrs Limstock had left for a day of sightseeing, she’d been working hard in the hotel, making the most of the quiet time to give it a big clean, and had even started wrapping Christmas presents after working on the brochure for a bit. She absolutely loved Christmas and spent ages choosing the right gift for someone and then wrapping it carefully, so every parcel had neat corners and a proper ribbon bow on top. The only problem was she’d got caught up in doing that and hadn’t eaten much.
When they reached the restaurant, it was Tom’s turn to be taken aback and his mouth hung open. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one side, separated by giant columns. The larger tables had grand candelabras in the middle while the smaller ones had small silver holders with white candles. Giant silver snowflakes hung from the ceiling and everywhere were cascading silver and green flower displays. A gazillion staff clad in crisp black-and-white uniforms buzzed here and there carrying plates of food or clearing tables with the ease of experienced silver service, stacking empty plates on top of each other, all in the crook of their arms. Nell could only manage about three plates at a time. Maybe she needed to go on a course or something? Would her customers expect that sort of service?
This was all unfamiliar ground for Nell who was pretty positive and confident. Feeling unsure of herself only heightened her insecurities. After a glance at the guests, she also felt woefully underdressed. Tom clearly felt the same as they exchanged another worried look.
‘Can I help you, sir? Madam?’ A man with slicked-back hair in a shiny navy and yellow pinstripe suit sidled over. Nell noticed his suit trousers were drainpipe straight and stylishly short and he was wearing brown brogues without socks. All she could think was that he’d have cold ankles on the way home tonight.
‘We’ve got a reservation,’ said Nell, shoving Tom slightly forward as if it was all his fault. He almost stumbled from her forceful shove but regained his composure with a slight clearing of his throat.
‘Yes, it’s in the name of Barton. Table for two.’
Nell caught the man’s name badge. Bryan. With a Y. Bryan led them to a weird, onyx-black sculpted workstation and swiped away at a computer hidden in its depths. ‘Ah, yes, here we are.’ He clicked his fingers – actually clicked them, which she thought was a bit rude – and a waitress appeared at his shoulder, her hands clasped behind her back and bolt upright like a soldier on parade. ‘Tallulah will see you to your table. Enjoy your meal.’
Tom nodded his thanks and they followed Tallulah. She was young, probably only in her late teens, not that much older than Janie, Tom’s apprentice in the shop, but she carried an air of confidence that even Nell as a grown woman struggled to feel at times. It was intimidating, as was the whole place. There weren’t any 1920s cigarette holders or draping women, but she did spy some town councillors and the local mayor at one of the large tables. Nell waved as she went past and Linda, the mayor, waved back, her cheeks a little pink from a couple of glasses of Christmas cheer. Arnold, her husband, seemed to be enjoying himself too though he hadn’t noticed Nell, being deep in conversation with the person opposite him.
They were seated next to a window and from the hotel’s position at the steepest end of Swallowtail Bay, the graceful curve of the coastline splayed out before them. Punctuated with lights in varying shades of yellow and white they looked like sparkling Christmas baubles in the dark. Before long, the high street would look like a Christmas bauble when the lights were strung up and the giant Christmas tree was up. Nell loved the way they decorated the town, seeing all the lights as you walked through the traditional Christmas market.
Tonight, the sea was black and still, but a pale moon shone down from the deep inky blue of the sky and its reflection glittered off the water. A sea mist had begun to roll into the bay obscuring everything in its path and blurring the hard edges of the buildings. Tallulah asked if she could take a drinks order and Tom turned to Nell.
‘Are you on the sauce tonight or driving?’
‘Definitely drinking,’ she replied, looking around her once more. The cutlery was more reflective than her mirror at home. She didn’t get many nights off because it depended on when Zoe could work but as she was covering tonight, Nell wanted to make the most of it, plus she needed some courage. The odd gin and tonic normally did the trick.
‘Then can I get a plain gin and tonic and a glass of house red, please?’ Tom said. With a slight nod of the head, Tallulah disappeared off. ‘I thought house wine would be the cheapest option.’
‘Good idea. Have you noticed there’s no music? Or is there? I think I can hear something.’
‘You can, it’s really faint, though. Something classical, I think.’
The faint sounds of Christmas chimes met Nell’s ears. ‘It’s a bit boring, isn’t it? I much prefer a cheesy Christmas bop or a cheerful carol. A bit of a Ding dong merrily on high.’ She sang it a little too loudly and the table next to them sneered. Nell hunkered down into her seat as Tom studied her unimpressed expression.
‘Is it the music or me making you look like that?’
‘Definitely the music,’ she replied, pulling herself straighter. ‘This place is a bit scary. And fancy. But we always manage to have a nice time when we’re together so despite the fact that this place makes me shaky, I am happy to be here with you.’
‘You might want to tell your face that.’
She stuck her tongue out and they both laughed. Without fail, whether they were clearing blocked drains at the hotel or having dinner at the pub, they always spent their time together laughing and joking. ‘I’m just a bit worried. My restaurant’s not even half the size of this and if the food here is good—’
‘This isn’t like you, Nell. You’re normally much more optimistic. Are you sure there’s not something else going on?’
Nell rolled her shoulders back, trying to relax, but the fact was her subconscious had been throwing up some weird thoughts lately. ‘Do you ever feel like you’ve reached a turning point in your life? A crossroads?’ Tom raised an eyebrow. ‘Clearly not. Well, since I went wedding dress shopping with Cat, I’ve been doing some thinking.’
‘That s
ounds dangerous.’
She flashed her eyes at him. ‘I’ve realised that lately something feels different. This feels like a big, momentous time in my life with Cat getting married and the hotel not doing so well. I’ve been re-evaluating things.’
It wasn’t that she was suddenly on the lookout for a husband because her best friend was getting married, but she did miss having some romance in her life and at this time of year she particularly wished for a love that was both powerful and romantic with someone who knew her inside and out. Someone to really get into the Christmas spirit with and spend long winter nights cuddled up to. Since going wedding dress shopping with Cat, the idea had been growing more and more that, though she would love someone to be with, until that happened she should make the most of being single and do all the things she’d wanted to do but hadn’t.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to fight for the hotel, you know how much I love that place, but I think I need to be realistic and figure out what I’ll do if things don’t work out because that’s looking like a real possibility. It’s heartbreaking because I love Holly Lodge, and maybe it’s my defences going up, but I feel like I need to be prepared for the worst.’
‘Hang on. You and reality have never been the best of friends—’
‘We have when it comes to business.’ She knew he was teasing and made her tone light to match it, but how could she make it clearer to him? ‘You know in You’ve Got Mail when Meg Ryan loses her bookshop?’ He nodded. She’d made him watch it so many times he knew that film as well as she did. ‘She’s fought hard for her lovely little bookshop, but lost, and now she has to figure out what she really wants to do. I feel a bit like that. I want to keep the hotel – it’s my life – but what happens if I don’t make it through this rocky patch? I’m going to do everything I can but maybe this is the time to make a change if ever I’m going to. The wedding fair’s a good idea but it’s a bit last-chance saloon and if the business doesn’t start to improve soon, maybe I should do something else.’