Hotel By The Loch

by Iris Danbury

  HOTEL BY THE LOCH

  Iris Danbury

  It was a far cry from taking up the dress-designing career she had planned to going back to Scotland to help out when her father’s hotel ran into difficulties—but Fenella would not have hesitated had she known what the outcome would be!

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was a gay party. A crowded room filled with Fenella’s friends and acquaintances; young would-be actresses hopeful of stardom, men who were dubbed ‘promising’ as accountants or musicians, but many guests who were just nice youngsters and would never make spectacular headlines. All of them belonged to the wide circle of young people Fenella Sutherland had collected around her in London during two years’ training in dress design. Now her course was finished, she had gained her diploma and tonight she was celebrating the end of training and the beginning of a new career, for she had already received an offer to join a famous dressmaking establishment in the West End.

  Fenella, tall, fair-skinned, with a mane of blonde hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, paused for a moment to survey her guests crammed into the large sitting-room of her flat in a tall old house in Highgate. Almost everyone she had invited was here. Everyone except Alex, and she wondered why he hadn’t arrived. Yesterday she had talked to him on the phone and he had promised to come early before the rush.

  Someone spoke to her and she was drawn again into a little knot of people. One man filled her glass. A girl asked, ‘When are you starting work, Fenella?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she answered. ‘I need a holiday. A few days in Paris first. Then I’m going to my home in Scotland for a couple of weeks.’

  The girls giggled enviously. ‘Lucky Fenella!’ said one. ‘How nice when your father owns an entire hotel and you can go off there any time you like and not worry about the bills.’

  ‘Invite me there some time, Fenella,’ put in one of the young men.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she answered airily.

  They gave shouts of excited laughter and vowed to keep her to her word. Then as she turned to talk to other guests Alex came across the room.

  ‘Sorry I’m so late,’ he apologized. Although he smiled his blue eyes held a watchful, uneasy light.

  Someone gave him a drink and a plateful of food. Then he whispered to Fenella. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk?’

  Fenella shrugged. ‘The place is jammed packed. We might try the kitchen. Is it important?’

  ‘Very,’ he replied brusquely.

  Unobtrusively she led the way to the kitchen on the pretext of providing more food. Two embracing couples were already in possession, but scuttled away at a glance from Alex.

  ‘What is it? Bad news?’ asked Fenella, her mind darting first to her father.

  He nodded.

  ‘He isn’t—?’

  ‘No. But very ill. Heart attack.’

  ‘Where is he?’ she asked.

  ‘In hospital at Fort William,’ Alex replied.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘My father telephoned me. That’s why I was late coming here.’

  ‘I must go at once, of course,’ Fenella decided.

  Alex shook his head. ‘It’s too late tonight to catch the sleeper to Glasgow.’

  ‘But I can’t possibly wait until tomorrow,’ she protested.

  ‘I’ve booked seats on the early plane. A hired car will meet us and we should be in Fort William by early afternoon.’

  She smiled her relief. ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Alex. But you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I could manage the journey alone.’

  He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘I daresay. But since I’d intended to go to my own home at the end of the week, I might as easily accompany you—that is, if you think you can put up with me.’

  His slightly bantering tone helped to brace her against the shock of the last few minutes. ‘Dear Alex. You know I’ll be thankful to have you.’ Then she shivered with the realization that, however swift her journey, she might not be in time.

  ‘D’you want me to clear all these people out?’ he asked.

  She considered his question for a troubled moment, not wanting to spoil the pleasure of her guests. ‘Yes, it would be as well. It’s past midnight, anyway.’

  A flurry of sympathy for Fenella ran through the party when they heard of her bad news and obediently they drifted off in twos and threes. Several of the girls stayed behind in the kitchen to wash the crockery and tidy up while Fenella hastily packed a suitcase.

  ‘What a blessing I hadn’t already left for Paris,’ she said next morning when she met Alex at the air terminal.

  The short plane journey to Glasgow gave little time for reflection, but in the car with Alex driving fast along the uncrowded roads beyond Stirling, Fenella had time to think.

  She had not expected to return home in these unhappy circumstances just when she was on the crest of a wave. Her father had never fully recovered from the loss of his wife, Fenella’s mother, four years ago, but he always seemed in reasonable health and happy enough managing his modest hotel on the shores of Loch Trachan.

  Fortunately the hotel was shut during the winter months, so her father would not have the worry of visitors and as this was only the middle of March there would be time for him to have a long rest before opening for the summer season.

  She insisted on positive thoughts, convincing herself that her father would surely recover. It was comforting to have Alex McNicol by her side. She and Alex, son of a neighbour, had practically grown up together, although he was older, twenty-four to her nineteen. He had taught her to fish and she had improved his dancing.

  In spite of her anxiety, Fenella had an appreciative eye for the beauties of the Scottish scene through which Alex was now driving. The March day was hard-bright with sunshine glinting on the lochs. Trees waved bare branches against a blue sky or in the distance blurred into browns and purples, except where the forestry slopes showed vast patches of green. But toppling white clouds approached from the south-west and their shadows chased across the hillsides. Rain was on the way, yet whatever the weather, whenever she returned to this familiar background Fenella had a sense of welcome. London and Paris and the world of high fashion receded quickly when her home surroundings claimed her.

  At the hospital in Fort William she was relieved to find that her father had already considerably improved, although he needed rest and treatment.

  He stretched out a hand to Fenella and Alex on either side of his bed.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to dash up here like this just to visit an old man.’ Mr. Sutherland’s voice was a good deal quieter than his usual warm, clear tones.

  ‘But of course we came at once, Father,’ Fenella said.

  ‘What about Paris?’

  ‘Paris can wait,’ she said decisively. ‘It will still be there when I’m ready to go.’

  The nurse came into the private ward to remind Alex and Fenella that they could stay only another five minutes and Alex left Fenella that last few moments alone with her father.

  ‘You’re not to worry about anything, Father,’ she told him.

  He sighed. ‘Unfortunate this should happen so near the beginning of the season.’

  ‘Even if you couldn’t open as usual, it wouldn’t really be a disaster. Anyway, Miriam will look after everything for you and cancel the bookings if necessary.’

  Her father had momentarily closed his eyes. When he opened them he had turned his head away from his daughter. After a moment, he said, ‘Yes. Miriam will look after the place.’ He muttered some words that she could not catch.

  When the nurse re-entered to say time was up, Fenella kissed her father, promising to come in every day to see him and stay as long as she was allowed.

/>   Alex was unusually silent during the drive to the Gairmorlie hotel.

  ‘Did your father say anything about the hotel?’ he asked after a long pause.

  ‘Only that he was rather vexed with himself for being ill just now,’ Fenella answered. ‘I know he must be worried, especially with these new extensions he’s having built.’

  Miriam Erskine was in the hall of the hotel to greet Fenella and Alex when they arrived. She asked how Mr. Sutherland was, then said, ‘I have a meal waiting for you both. Your usual room, Fenella, is quite ready.’

  Miriam had lived in the hotel for the past three years when, after her husband’s death, she had taken the post of receptionist and book-keeper. From the beginning she had made it clear that she needed a roof over her head all the year round, not only for her own sake but that of her small son, Jamie. Mr. Sutherland had willingly agreed, for Miriam was the most efficient and attractive receptionist he had ever employed; When the hotel closed for the winter she made herself useful, helping with redecorating, making new curtains and acting as housekeeper.

  Fenella was eager to learn details of her father’s illness, but Miriam smiled and said gently, ‘Let’s all eat first. Then we can talk.’

  Fenella intercepted a questioning glance between Miriam and Alex, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

  ‘How long is my father likely to be in hospital?’ Fenella asked during the meal.

  ‘I doubt whether the doctors know the answer to that,’ Alex replied. ‘Much depends on his progress and whether he’s willing to take it easy for a while.’

  ‘Are the extensions finished? At Christmas they weren’t very far advanced.’

  Miriam glanced down at her plate. ‘I’m afraid the work has been rather delayed. Weather, for one thing. It’s been cold and wet, as you can imagine.’

  ‘They’ll have to be finished quickly or my father will worry himself ill,’ Fenella pointed out.

  Alex changed the subject and Miriam began to talk about the school progress of her son, Jamie.

  But Fenella’s thoughts kept drifting back to the hotel which had been her home ever since she had been born. She had a vague, uneasy feeling that something was amiss.

  ‘Tomorrow morning I’ll make a tour of the place and see what still remains to be done,’ Fenella decided. ‘Then I can tell Father the exact position, so as to reassure him.’

  ‘But your father was taken ill only the day before yesterday,’ Miriam pointed out. ‘And of course I’ve promised to keep him in touch with all new developments.’

  Fenella nodded. She was reminded of Miriam’s keen business ability.

  After dinner Alex stood up. ‘Let’s go into the snug,’ he suggested.

  Fenella followed him to the small private sitting room used by the family. It was always termed the ‘snug’, for here they could be undisturbed by the demands of visitors. She waited until Alex had lit a cigarette. Then she spoke. ‘You’d better tell me, Alex. I know there’s something wrong.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is it that my father won’t ever recover?’

  ‘No, not that,’ he replied hastily. ‘It’s his business affairs.’

  She shrugged, almost relieved. ‘That’s not so important.’

  ‘When you hear what I have to say, I think you’ll find it’s very important. To tell you bluntly, Fenella, your father is practically broke and he’s sold the hotel to a company.’ He waited until she had time to receive the impact of this blow.

  ‘Broke?’ she echoed. ‘But he can’t be! Besides, if he’s sold out to a company, he should have plenty of money. This hotel isn’t exactly worthless.’

  ‘You don’t understand the position at all,’ Alex said patiently. ‘I’ll have to explain. For some years the hotel has been running at a loss. Not enough profits in the summer to pay for the winter overheads. So he thought that a few improvements, extensions and so on would help him to recover. I’m afraid that he found his ideas both difficult and expensive to carry out.’

  ‘But when he made these plans,’ objected Fenella, ‘the bank was apparently willing to back him with loans. He discussed it all with me when I was here last summer. He showed me the plans and it all seemed marvellous.’

  ‘I know,’ admitted Alex. ‘Everything was marvellous on paper. But there were delays, plans had to be altered, new planning permissions granted. Then the builders couldn’t keep their labour during the winter. The men drift to the towns and factories and who can blame them? In the end, the bank became uneasy and started to press for repayment of the loans.’

  ‘So I suppose this company saw an opportunity to buy my father out cheaply?’ she queried.

  ‘They own a chain of hotels all over England and they’re always on the look-out for extending in Scotland. But I think they probably paid your father a fair price.’

  ‘Then what’s happened to the money?’

  ‘It’s all been swallowed in debts. In effect, there were no assets. The purchase money has had to be used to pay the bills and the bank’s outstanding loans.’

  Fenella remained silent for a few moments. ‘So it means that all during these last two years,’ she said at last, ‘my father has been paying for my training in London and my quite expensive little flat and giving me an allowance, none of which he could really afford.’

  Alex smiled. ‘You’re his only daughter and he wanted you to have the chance of whatever career you chose.’

  ‘Poor Daddy!’ she murmured, the quick tears rushing to her eyes. ‘He must sometimes have been worried out of his wits—and I was absolutely ignorant of it all.’

  ‘Don’t be upset, Fenella. He’s not been very lucky, but that’s not unusual in these parts. Whatever you choose, whether it’s farming or hotel-keeping or anything else, the difference between being prosperous and in the red is a razor edge. Even my father isn’t always too happy about his business affairs.’

  ‘I wish I’d known about all this earlier,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you give me some inkling of it?’

  ‘How could I? Your father was so sure he could eventually make a go of it. I couldn’t exactly undermine his confidence. I nearly told you on the plane this morning, but I thought one shock at a time was all you could take.’

  Fenella smiled. ‘No one could be more thoughtful than you, Alex. Thank you.’

  After he had left for his home, Glencorrie House, Miriam came into the snug.

  ‘So you know,’ she said.

  Fenella nodded. ‘Is it going to make life difficult for you?’

  Miriam laughed lightly. ‘Oh, don’t let’s meet trouble halfway. Bad enough when it comes. We’ll be all right for the time being anyway.’

  Fenella glanced across at Miriam in the opposite armchair. Small, dark-haired, with deep grey eyes, she had already at twenty-eight, experienced more than her share of trouble. Married at eighteen, she had lived with her husband, Donald, in Edinburgh, where he worked as an engineer. When he died after a long illness she was still only twenty-four and had to keep herself and her young son, Jamie, on what she could earn.

  As she had explained to Fenella, ‘Donald had no chance to save. We were living in a flat and hadn’t even started to buy a house of our own.’

  After nearly a year of various jobs and innumerable lodgings, Miriam counted herself lucky to have landed at the Gairmorlie Hotel where she could work and live undisturbed by the shadow of notice to quit.

  Even so, Fenella thought that Miriam looked younger than twenty-eight, although there were moments when her mouth drooped and her eyes became sombre. But almost immediately she would shake off these fleeting depressions and resume her attractive smile.

  ‘Has anything been done about engaging staff for the season?’ Fenella asked. With the exception of Angus who acted as gardener and general handyman, and a daily woman, Mrs. Macgregor for the rough chores, the hotel usually kept no other staff during the winter months.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ replied Miriam. ‘In fact, I’ve done
my best to economize already. We couldn’t do without Angus, but since Christmas I’ve managed without Mrs. Macgregor.’

  ‘That means you have to look after everything singlehanded?’

  Miriam smiled. ‘There’s very little to do at present. Most of the rooms are shut up.’ After a pause, she added, ‘The company’s head office wrote a few days ago saying that they were sending a man to inspect the place.’

  Fenella was up early next morning making her own inspection of the hotel and its grounds. In the grey light of a cloudy day the hotel she had known as her home appeared forlorn. Its solid grey stone needed sunshine to make it sparkle. The new wing was roofed but otherwise in a very unfinished state with tarpaulins and plastic sheets flapping in the wind, floorboards stacked in piles along with sacks of cement, drums of paint, lengths of guttering. The grounds between the hotel and the road had been ruined. In the dark last night when she arrived Fenella had not seen the changes. Rhododendrons screening the hotel from the road had been torn down to make way apparently for a new horseshoe driveway. The small neat lawns which had been Angus’s pride were trampled and tractor-marked.

  Fenella went indoors in search of Miriam. ‘How on earth are we to open with all this mess to clear up first?’ she demanded.

  Miriam was cooking breakfast and turned a placid face to the other girl. ‘It’s not really our pigeon who clears up the mess.’

  ‘But the bookings! When’s the first?’

  ‘Not until the second week of May, usual date when your father opens.’

  ‘Well, I hope the company knows what has to be done,’ declared Fenella angrily. ‘The place looks like an abandoned building site.’

  ‘The company may decide not to open the hotel until all the work has been done,’ Miriam remarked.

  ‘They can hardly expect visitors to pay high prices for the privilege of tramping about in mud. When is this man, this inspector, supposed to be coming?’

  ‘The letter is in the office,’ answered Miriam. ‘But eat your breakfast first and attend to business after.’

  Later, Fenella read the letter stating that Mr. Cameron Ramsay would be calling soon to look over the Gairmorlie Hotel and advise what further work had to be done.