Hotel By The Loch

by Iris Danbury

  ‘You’d better do that by yourself. You don’t need me!’ She flung the words at him and rushed out along the passage and downstairs to Miriam who was in the kitchen.

  ‘Did you know that—that man is the new manager?’ she demanded stormily.

  ‘Yes. I tried to tell you gently, but something always came in the way.’

  ‘It’ll break my father’s heart. He loved running this place,’ muttered Fenella.

  ‘He may have done once,’ returned Miriam. ‘But most of the time I’ve been here it’s been a headache to him to make ends meet. Four months open and eight months shut strained his resources until he couldn’t cope any longer. In the last two years, Fenella, you’ve been sheltered from all this, but I knew the position.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I thought he might tell you himself. It was hardly my place as an employee. Mr. Sutherland hoped that the extensions and alterations would bring in more business, and so did I, for his sake. He just couldn’t carry the thing through, that’s all.’

  Fenella was silent for a few moments. ‘And now we’re dependent on the company for the very roof over our heads.’

  Miriam smiled. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. You’ve your new job to start soon. You wouldn’t be living here, anyway, except for an occasional holiday.’

  ‘But what about you, Miriam? Are you staying?’

  ‘Naturally. Or at least I hope so. I’m only too glad to work where I can have Jamie with me. I liked working for your father, but I daresay I can put up with Mr. Ramsay.’

  Fenella stared out of the window. Already she felt an intruder, an alien in her own home. It would never be the same again.

  ‘I think I’ll go over to Alex,’ she said at last.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fenella parked her car in the drive of Glencorrie House and almost immediately Alex came out to greet her.

  ‘I was coming over to you in about half an hour,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I know, but I had to see you.’ Fenella’s voice was low and shaky.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Alex asked.

  ‘The new broom has arrived. He says he’s the new manager. I thought he was a surveyor.’ She raised her face to his. ‘Alex, I’d no idea that the reins were going to be so completely taken out of my father’s hands.’

  ‘But surely he explained that to you?’

  She shook her head. ‘I can see now that he was unwilling to admit defeat. If he hadn’t been ill, he probably thought he could cover up for the short time I’d be at Gairmorlie. Then at some later date he’d say that he’d given up. My father is like that. He just won’t admit when he’s beaten.’

  With Alex’s protecting arm around her shoulders, Fenella entered the wide hall of Glencorrie, a house built on spacious lines in pepper-pot baronial style outside, but an air of solid comfort within.

  Alex was solid, too, she thought. Tall, red-haired, with piercing blue eyes of an intensity more often met in the gaze of sailors, he was always reassuring, her childhood friend and neighbour on whom she could rely.

  ‘Mother and Laurie are probably about somewhere enjoying themselves with coffee and cakes. Shall we try to find them?’

  Mrs. McNicol and her daughter, Laurie, were in the morning-room, relaxing as Alex had said with a pot of coffee.

  Laurie leapt to her feet as soon as she saw Fenella.

  ‘Oh, Fen darling!’ She flung her arms around Fenella’s neck in an almost stifling embrace. ‘Marvellous to see you.’

  ‘We heard you were home,’ said Alex’s mother. ‘Have some coffee and tell us all the news of London and Paris.’

  Fenella took the cup and sat down. ‘I haven’t been to Paris yet. I came straight here to see Father.’

  ‘Is he improving?’ asked Mrs. McNicol.

  Fenella nodded. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Now Jamie has damaged his wrist, so Fenella has to bring him home this afternoon,’ put in Alex.

  ‘Poor child!’ murmured his mother.

  ‘Jamie is not really a child,’ interposed Laurie. ‘He’s a little old man, even though he is only eight and a half.’

  They all laughed at Laurie’s description of Miriam’s young son. The boy certainly had a serious air beyond his years.

  Alex ruffled his young sister’s hair. ‘You’ve never had to rough it the way Jamie has. Dozens of homes and no security until he came here to Gairmorlie.’

  Laurie looked up at her brother and smiled. ‘I wasn’t meaning it unkindly,’ she said. ‘He’s most sensible to talk to.’

  Fenella nodded her agreement. Laurie would never be really unkind even if at times her tongue held a flippant, acid edge. A year younger than Fenella, she had the same red hair and intensely blue eyes as Alex and was a smaller feminine version of her brother.

  ‘When do you expect to go to Paris?’ asked Mrs. McNicol of Fenella.

  ‘Later on perhaps when my father is really recovering,’ Fenella answered.

  Laurie clasped her hands in youthful enthusiasm. ‘Oh, Paris! What wouldn’t I give for six months there?’

  ‘Six months!’ echoed Fenella. ‘Six days makes a hole in a fair sum of money. And what would you do with yourself for six months in a foreign city?’

  ‘Learn French properly, study art, go to the dress shows—oh, heaps of things,’ returned Laurie happily.

  Mrs. McNicol smiled. She was well accustomed to hearing Laurie’s pipe dreams.

  ‘What’s he like, this new manager at the hotel?’ Laurie wanted to know.

  Fenella carefully replaced her coffee cup on the table. The very words ‘new manager’ aroused in her such a fury of indignation and resentment that she had to control herself not to make angry gestures or behave with unmannerly violence.

  ‘Tall, dark and exceedingly ugly,’ she replied now to Laurie’s question.

  ‘Really? I like ugly men,’ replied Laurie with relish. ‘They’re so strong-looking. I’m longing to meet him. I might fall in love with him straightaway.’

  Alex laughed. ‘D’you think he’ll respond to your tender emotions? The man has come here to work, not fool about with a young madcap like you.’

  ‘He must have his leisure moments, too,’ Laurie said dreamily.

  ‘Before you weave a romantic picture of him,’ Fenella pointed out, ‘you’d better wait until you meet him. For my part, I’m anxious to keep out of his way at present, so I think I’ll start for Fort William now.’

  ‘Not staying for lunch?’ queried Mrs. McNicol.

  ‘Thank you, but I have shopping to do and I want to be at the hospital in good time for Jamie’s sake,’ Fenella replied.

  She was taken to the children’s ward as soon as she arrived and found Jamie the centre of a group of children all busily signing their autographs on the plaster casing of his injured arm.

  ‘Here’s Miss Sutherland come to fetch me!’ he exclaimed. ‘Hi, Fenella!’

  As a nurse helped Jamie with his jacket, she smiled at Fenella. ‘Is this his first time in hospital?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so. Has he been all right?’

  The nurse laughed. ‘He likes it better than school, he says.’

  ‘I think perhaps I’d better leave him here for a while until after I’ve seen my father,’ Fenella decided. ‘Jamie, I’ll come back for you later on this afternoon and take you home,’ she explained to the boy. Usually his manner was composed, even sedate, but today among other children and with a young, pretty nurse, he was animated. Fenella had rarely seen his dark eyes sparkle like this, and the thought entered her head that perhaps the boy was not only lacking a father but the society of companions of his own age, except in school hours.

  Today her father had slipped back a little in his recovery. The sister in charge warned Fenella not to tire him too much.

  ‘Is it a serious setback?’ Fenella asked.

  ‘No. Just that his progress is not always at the same rate. This is one of his off days.’

  Fenella
decided not to tell her father about the new manager, but if she avoided all mention of hotel affairs he would undoubtedly suspect that she knew too much. So she spoke reassuringly of preparations being made for the season opening, but made no mention of the fantastically early date set by Mr. Ramsay. Time enough for that when it happened—if it did!

  When at last she collected Jamie she asked if he would like to go straight home or have tea in a cafe in Fort William.

  ‘Can you manage with one hand, Jamie?’ she asked.

  ‘I can manage fine,’ he returned. ‘Will there be ice cream?

  ‘Whatever you say. Cakes, fruit, ice-cream—lots of it,’ promised Fenella.

  She had taken the precaution of asking him because she imagined that he might be self-conscious about a plastered arm in a sling; in the restaurant he not only ‘man-aged fine’ but appeared very self-assured.

  Back at the hotel he proudly displayed the pencilled autographs on his plaster. ‘That’s the nurse, those are children,’ he said, pointing out the names. ‘I wanted to get the doctor to write his name.’

  ‘Oh, Jamie!’ exclaimed Fenella, ‘you can’t expect doctors to write all over everyone’s plaster.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have taken him a minute!’ Jamie grumbled. ‘Oh, well, I suppose I can do without it.’

  ‘I’ll give you my autograph,’ Fenella said gaily. ‘And mind you keep the bit of plaster. One day I might be a famous dress-designer with a Paris address.’

  Miriam said to Jamie, ‘I suppose you’ll have to stay home from school for a few days?’

  ‘I don’t mind going,’ returned Jamie, ‘I like school.’ ‘You’d better stay home the rest of this week and you can go back on Monday,’ Miriam decided. ‘But for heaven’s sake don’t get in the way or the new manager will take a dislike to us both.’

  Fenella stared at Miriam. Were these continual warnings to behave well and not be a nuisance the real reason for Jamie’s grave demeanour? Had it been so drilled into him that lively, boisterous conduct on his part would speedily lead to yet another new address?

  Perhaps this was why he was less inhibited at school or elsewhere and behaved like a normal boy who climbed trees and fell out of them.

  Fenella decided to visit Angus, who had acted as handyman and gardener to the hotel for as long as she could remember. He lived in a cottage half a mile or so down the road towards the village and when she arrived he was digging over part of his own back garden.

  ‘Ah, Miss Sutherland!’ he greeted her. ‘I heard you were back at Gairmorlie. Is your father improving?’ ‘Going along steadily,’ she replied.

  He straightened his back, stuck his spade and fork in the soil and led the way indoors.

  ‘I will be having the kettle boiling in a couple of minutes,’ he promised.

  Fenella knew better than to offend the old man by saying that she would be having dinner soon and did not want a cup of tea and a piece of cake now. Angus had always been in the habit of plying her with huge hunks of rich plum cake at any time of day.

  ‘I expect you’ve seen the chaos at the hotel,’ she began when he had poured the strong dark tea.

  ‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘That will be taking a long time to set right again.’

  ‘Haven’t you been given instructions as to how you’re to cope with all the damage the lorries have done?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘They said they would be sending for me when they wanted me.’

  ‘But the grounds in front of the hotel are in ruins.’

  ‘Aye. A sorry sight.’

  ‘After all the trouble you’ve taken to make the entrance so attractive! I think it’s criminal to have the place looking like a builder’s yard,’ she protested.

  He shrugged his powerful shoulders and tugged at his white beard. ‘But what would there be for me to do? I cannot plant new rhododendrons or flower beds until the building work is finished.’

  Fenella was thoughtful for a few moments. ‘I think you’d better come tomorrow morning and ask Mr. Ramsay when exactly you’re to start work again. He’s in charge now.’ She would not yet admit that he was the new manager.

  Her next visit was to Mrs. Macgregor who had until now worked at the hotel all the year round, supervising the cleaning and rough chores during the summer months and staying on throughout the winter to help Miriam. She lived in the centre of the village almost opposite the Trachan Arms and was reputed to be well acquainted with most of the gossip of the neighbourhood.

  ‘Well, Miss Sutherland,’ she said to Fenella, ‘Mrs. Erskine told me that she could do the work herself and that she was shutting more of the rooms for the winter.’

  ‘But we need you now, Mrs. Macgregor,’ Fenella told her. ‘Mrs. Erskine is simply going to be run off her feet in the next few weeks. Everything must be ready for the opening date.’

  ‘Well, I’ll not have the men tramping in and out with their muddy feet the way it was when they were working there,’ the older woman declared, her plump face pink with indignation at the thought of what she had suffered.

  ‘Oh, we shall find plenty for you to do, I assure you,’ Fenella promised. ‘When can you come?’

  Mrs. Macgregor cast her glance down towards the table.

  ‘I’d half promised I’d help at the Trachan Arms—they’ve lost their woman—but I’d rather work at your father’s place.’

  ‘Good.’ Fenella rose, well pleased with her efforts to recruit two members of the Gairmorlie’s old staff. ‘Come and see Mrs. Erskine tomorrow or next day,’ she said.

  Mr. Ramsay would have to understand that the faithful villagers came first and were not to be ousted by imported helpers.

  She and Miriam dined alone. ‘Where’s the great man?’ she asked.

  ‘He said he wanted high tea at six o’clock and he’d make that do,’ replied Miriam.

  ‘I see. Sulking,’ said Fenella.

  Miriam laughed. ‘It didn’t strike me that way. He was on the telephone most of the afternoon and he’s taken great stacks of plans and lists and schedules up to his room.’

  ‘Fine!’ Fenella broke a piece of bread. ‘Then perhaps we can have some peace for one evening.’

  ‘Mr. Ramsay wants a different room,’ Miriam said after a few moments. ‘He’d like to change tomorrow.’

  ‘Why? Isn’t the room splendid enough? It usually suits our own guests who stay here.’

  Well—I think this may vex you, Fenella,’ Miriam hesitated, ‘but he wants your father’s room because it looks out over the new extension—and of course, there’s a small sitting room attached.’

  Fenella put down her knife and fork. ‘I’m not having my father turned out in his absence. Of all the impertinent cheek! Don’t you see, Miriam? He wants to make it quite clear to all of us that he’s the boss. So he wants the boss’s little private suite. Every time we go near his rooms, we’ll be reminded that’s it’s no longer my father’s hotel. I suppose he’ll be wanting me to give up my room next and sleep in one of the attics.’

  Miriam laughed. ‘He might. Who knows? But it’s no use getting so indignant. We’ve just got to work with the man.’

  ‘You have, Miriam. Not me,’ declared Fenella.

  ‘That’s the point,’ Miriam broke in sharply before Fenella could add anything further. ‘I’ve got to think of my bread-and-butter—and Jamie’s. You’re independent. You can stay or go as you please. But I’ve no choice.’

  Fenella was silent for a few moments. Then she said quietly, ‘If you knuckle down every time, Miriam, you’ll end by losing all your will-power, your individuality. You’ve got to make a stand some time.’

  ‘So far I’ve had to make a good many more stands than you,’ Miriam pointed out. ‘My life has not been quite the bed of roses I might have expected when I was your age.’

  Fenella was a little ashamed of her outburst. She gave Miriam a sympathetic glance. ‘No, I understand that. Forgive me, I forget sometimes how hard your life has been, especially compared wit
h mine.’

  Miriam smiled, her grey eyes full of indulgence towards a younger girl who had so little experience of life.

  Fenella was awakened next morning by the sounds of shouts, grinding lorries, hammering and general pandemonium. What was going on now? Were they erecting a fair in the hotel grounds? The windows of her bedroom faced away from the extensions and she could see nothing of the activity, but as soon as she was dressed and went out of the main door, she was astounded by the sight.

  Lorries were everywhere and an army of men was at work, measuring, plastering, sawing, banging sheet metal, unloading wall tiles in crates. In the midst of this bustling industry Mr. Ramsay was discussing with an associate plans and sketches spread out before them on the top of a packing case.

  This morning, clad in heavy sweater, mud-stained jeans and wellingtons, the new manager of the Gairmorlie appeared very little different from any of the other dozens of busy workers. It was almost impossible to imagine him welcoming hotel guests in a civilized manner.

  Fenella approached him and he looked up, gave her a curt ‘Good morning,’ then turned again to his foreman. For the moment she was stung to fury, then controlled herself, realizing the importance of planning tasks for everyone on this first day. She strolled away towards what had been a handsome flower border, then jumped hastily out of the way of a reversing lorry.

  ‘Miss Sutherland, could you please keep out of the way? This is a very busy morning for us and I wouldn’t like any harm to happen to you.’

  Mr. Ramsay’s voice spoke sharply beside her.

  ‘Thank you for your forethought, Mr. Ramsay,’ she said smoothly. ‘I merely came here to see what was happening. I suppose I’m allowed to do that?’

  ‘If it interests you, of course,’ he returned. ‘But you’ll have to excuse me. I’m busy.’

  As he turned away a ludicrous thought came into Fenella’s head. With that roll of papers and plans in his hands he looked like a Roman senator, except that he needed a flowing toga instead of jeans and gumboots.

  She began to laugh at the mere idiocy of it and he swung round angrily.