by Iris Danbury
‘That’s all right,’ returned Fenella. ‘I’ll have a snack later. I’m not hungry.’
She went into the snug on the chance of finding Miriam, but there was no one in the room. It was important to Fenella that she should discover Miriam’s reaction to Alex’s proposal. Was Miriam really anxious to secure Alex, or was all that disclosure on Laurie’s part merely a ruse to quicken Fenella’s interest in Alex? Could the idea have come from Alex himself? Laurie would do most things to help her brother.
Miriam was not in any of the likely places in the hotel and Fenella supposed that she had gone out somewhere. Nowadays, with so many staff resident in the hotel, Miriam was no longer tied because of Jamie.
Fenella knew that she could not hope to catch Miriam for a private talk on the following day, for the conference members would disperse in all directions; the Browns and Smiths, the Mackintoshes and Mackays would return to their home towns with bulging briefcases full of reports and notes and pamphlets. Miriam would be occupied in supervising the bedrooms and linen-changing, for in three days’ time the Gairmorlie would officially open to the public.
When Fenella eventually managed to find an opportunity for conversation with Miriam, the latter’s reaction was astonishing, or at least totally different from Fenella’s expectations.
‘Oh, Fenella, I’m so glad!’ Miriam was all enthusiasm. ‘It’s probably the best thing that could happen to you.’
‘But I haven’t said I’m going to marry him,’ protested Fenella.
Miriam put a hand on the other girl’s shoulder. ‘Oh, you will. Alex is so exactly right for you.’
‘Well, I’ve told him I need more time to decide,’ declared Fenella, now in a slightly truculent mood.
Miriam smiled. ‘Don’t wait too long!’ she advised. ‘Alex is a most eligible young man, endowed with most qualities that girls look for. You never know what glamorous beauties will arrive at the hotel during the summer and ensnare him.’
‘If he’s all that easy to ensnare, then he can’t be very firmly attached to me,’ snapped Fenella. She walked out of the room before Miriam could say anything further.
So what now of Laurie’s double-dealing? Miriam appeared quite without jealousy and where earlier she had shown signs of preferring Fenella to return to London, now she apparently welcomed the prospect of Fenella and Alex being married.
As soon as she had a chance Fenella telephoned Laurie, but as she did not want anyone to overhear her end of the conversation she stepped into the telephone cubicle under the main stairs. When she heard Laurie’s voice answering she realized that perhaps Alex would not want to admit that so far she had not accepted his offer. It was unwise to talk to Laurie yet.
‘What is it, Fenella?’ asked Laurie. ‘Have you fixed up that job for me?’
‘Not yet. It might be difficult. Cameron doesn’t take kindly to untrained people.’
‘You weren’t trained,’ Laurie pointed out. ‘So why should he object if I’m willing to learn?’
‘All right, I’ll do my best. ’Bye.’
Fenella cut off quickly. She was not at all sure whether she wanted Laurie in the hotel making mischief by pinning motives on to people.
As she stepped out of the cubicle she almost knocked into Cameron, who put out his arm to steady her.
‘That box is supposed to be reserved for hotel visitors.’ he reminded her.
Oh, trust him, she thought wrathfully, to catch her doing something against the regulations!
‘I know, but most of the visitors have gone home and the next lot haven’t come.’
‘It must have been a very secret conversation, but I’ve no wish to pry.’
She let out an exclamation of derision. ‘You’re just curious and inquisitive, that’s all. It was a secret. Laurie McNicol wants to come here to work.’ Now was as good a time as any to tell. Cameron. He could only agree or refuse.
‘Oh? In what capacity?’
‘Anything you like to give her, I think,’ replied Fenella.
‘What can she do?’
‘Nothing much.’
‘I suppose she thinks it amusing to mix with holiday crowds, do an hour or so’s work? If I take her, I shall soon be inundated with all the debs of the neighbourhood.’
‘There aren’t many of those,’ Fenella informed him, ‘and they’re scattered over a vast area.’ After a pause, she continued, ‘Could she work with me in reception? I can’t be on duty all the time.’
He became thoughtful. ‘I should eventually need extra help, of course. But remember, you’ll both be subordinate to Mrs. Robertson. I’ll think about it.’
Her face brightened. ‘Thank you.’
‘If she’s a flop, I shan’t thank you at all,’ he threatened. ‘Don’t say anything to her until after the dinner party on Tuesday.’
Fenella was looking forward to the gala dinner when the hotel would be officially opened. All the McNicols had been invited as guests, two directors of the company would be present, so Cameron had told her, and if possible her father would be there. He was due to come home tomorrow.
When she accompanied him from Fort William next day, she insisted that he must rest.
‘You’re not to tire yourself out wandering around and inspecting the alterations and improvements. Plenty of time for that. Otherwise I shan’t let you come to the gala dinner.’
‘What a ferocious girl you’ve become!’ he observed with a smile. ‘Whose influence is that, I wonder?’
‘How d’you like your rooms?’ she asked when he was settled in his own apartment.
‘Couldn’t have done them better myself. Cameron knows what people like.’
‘From the hotel point of view, perhaps he does,’ agreed Fenella, and wondered why such a grudging note crept into her voice.
On the opening day there were no more than half a dozen arrivals, for the rush would come two days later on Thursday, when the Easter holidays would begin.
Mr. Sutherland agreed that it was a novel idea to open for Easter. ‘I’ve always thought it was too early, but I see now that I made a mistake. People will obviously chance it.’
Fenella and Mrs. Robertson came to an agreement to share the reception duties from six until ten in the evening, in case of casual arrivals. This meant that Mrs. Robertson would dine early, then take charge of the office while Fenella would be free for the gala, but leave it as soon as the meal was over so that Mrs. Robertson could join in at the end.
Cameron had said, ‘You mustn’t expect extra privileges, Fenella, because you’re Sutherland’s daughter and have always lived here. That will only cause a mass of headaches among the rest of the staff and, worse still, will make you very unpopular.’
She could see this for herself and was prepared to accept the minor inconveniences of working hours.
Miriam was looking her best tonight in an apricot brocade that gave her dark features a glow. Laurie wore a slim white sheath embroidered in silver thread. Fenella, after hesitating over a hyacinth blue dress from last year, chose the new cyclamen chiffon which she had worn only once at the dance to which Alex had taken her.
In the restaurant, tables had been joined together so that they formed two gigantic letters ‘G’ and ‘H’, ostensibly representing Gairmorlie Hotel.
‘I hope it doesn’t mean “Go Home!” giggled Laurie, who was in high spirits.
There was champagne, a superb dinner as token of the high standard that Gairmorlie’s chef could attain, hothouse carnations on the tables, strings of coloured lights all round the room, each one in the shape of a thistle.
Alvaro was at his impeccable best, his staff drilled to precision. The menus had been specially printed and there was a small gift for each diner, tartan purses for the ladies, neat brown leather wallets for men.
Fenella slipped out unobtrusively when coffee was served and the congratulatory speeches began, so that Mrs. Robertson could be relieved.
‘It’s like Christmas Night at Easter,’ Fenella said
to her companion in the office. ‘And everything free, on the house!’
‘Aye, we shall have to put it all down in the advertising expenses.’
‘I can see that some people are going to be quite annoyed that they didn’t bother to start their Easter holiday earlier. Look what they’ve missed!’
But afterwards Fenella wondered what she, too, had missed, for gales of laughter floated distantly from the restaurant. She began to feel slightly sorry for herself. Here she was willingly sacrificing gaiety for stern duty, decked out in her evening dress, with a cardigan discreetly over her shoulders, yet a veritable Cinderella. All for nothing, too, for not a soul came near the reception office, not a solitary traveller in search of a night’s lodging.
Norah, the Irish waitress, passed the office when she had finished her duty spell.
‘Is it by yerself ye are and missing all the gaiety, Miss Sutherland?’ she queried.
‘Someone must stand by,’ answered Fenella with mock severity. ‘What would happen if a dozen people rolled up and found the entire staff rollicking in after-dinner speeches?’
‘If it’s any sense they had, they’d push into the restaurant and join with the gang,’ was Norah’s opinion.
‘D’you like working here?’ Fenella asked, glad of someone to talk to.
‘I’ll be telling ye that in three months’ time,’ Norah answered. After a pause, she added, ‘Although, now that I know who ye are, I might not be telling ye then.’
‘Why? What difference does it make who I am?’
Norah pointed to the little nameplate on the reception counter. ‘ “Miss Sutherland” it says, and they tell me that it’s your father in there—’ she nodded towards the restaurant, ‘who was the owner of this place.’
‘Well, yes, that’s true.’
‘Then you’ll not be denying that in a manner of speaking, you’ll be running with the hare and the hounds. If Mr. Ramsay asks us questions, we know he needs the answers, but if you get us talking, in what way will we know that ye’re not going to peach on us?’
‘Norah! I should never dream of doing any such thing,’ protested Fenella.
‘Ye might be tempted.’ Norah suddenly gave a disarming smile. ‘But you have a nice honest little face, and I’ll be saying a prayer for ye that the work doesn’t turn ye into a go-between.’
‘Oh, say it, Norah. You mean “spy”, don’t you? D’you really think that’s why I’m here?’
‘No, but I think ye’re not in want of the money, when there’s handsome fellers to take you out and about. Good night, Miss Sutherland.’
Norah gave Fenella a genial smile, as she walked off, but Fenella was concerned and even slightly distressed. It was inevitable, she supposed, that the staff would discover that the former proprietor of the Gairmorlie was now in permanent residence and that his daughter was in a position to carry tittle-tattle to the management. How could she convince the staff otherwise?
In due course Mrs. Robertson returned when the gala dinner came to an end and people drifted off to the bar or lounge for a last drink.
‘A very witty man, indeed,’ she said to Fenella.
‘Who?’
‘Mr. Ramsay. Oh, a great one for a joke—and, come to that, jokes against himself.’
With a tinge of resentment, Fenella reflected that here was yet another of Cameron’s ever-widening circle of what Alex called ‘doting girls.’ Perhaps he had cultivated this side of his character so that he could extract the most work out of his employees with the minimum of ruffled feelings.
Cameron came towards the reception counter at that moment, a lingering smile on his face as though he, too, had enjoyed the evening. Laurie tripped close behind him.
He introduced the girl to Mrs. Robertson. ‘Miss McNicol will work in your charge for a short probationary period.’ He turned to give Laurie a mischievous smile. ‘If she’s no use, I shall expect you to tell me, Mrs. Robertson. We need not consider her offended feelings.’
Mrs. Robertson nodded, but Fenella wondered if the older woman was highly pleased at the prospect of yet another amateur bungling the bookings or accounts.
‘Oh, Cameron!’ exclaimed Laurie excitedly, both hands clutching his arm. ‘That’s wonderful! I shall make the best receptionist you ever had—and that goes for Fenella, too!’
She made an affectionate grimace in Fenella’s direction, then, as Cameron turned away, she skipped off with him, holding his arm and peering up into his face.
Mrs. Robertson was plainly now dubious about her new assistant and Fenella felt compelled to say lightly, ‘Put it down to champagne, Mrs. Robertson. Laurie isn’t always as feather-headed.’
During the evening Fenella had been given little opportunity to talk to Alex, for she had been placed at table between her father and one of the hotel company directors. When he came out of the lounge into the hall, Miriam was with him, but they were not talking to each other. Alex looked rather despondent and Miriam’s face was flushed as though she had just finished a few angry remarks.
What was up between them now? Fenella wondered. Then they both caught sight of her and almost immediately pinned bright smiles on to their faces, although Alex was a trifle late with his.
‘What a wonderful evening!’ Miriam said in an unnaturally gushing voice. She turned to Alex. ‘Good night, Alex. Don’t worry. Everything will sort itself out.’
She was gone, leaving Alex standing there by the reception counter.
Fenella, with an apologetic gesture to Mrs. Robertson, slipped out of the office into the hall.
‘D’you mind Laurie coming here to work?’ she asked. She had to say something quickly and that was the first coherent remark that came into her head.
‘Laurie?’ he echoed. ‘Oh, no, not in the least. Sorry, I was thinking about something else.’
Fenella walked with him towards the main door. In a few moments he would have to join his parents and take them home, unless his father wanted to drive.
‘I shan’t have much time over the Easter holiday,’ she told Alex quickly. ‘We have a lot of bookings, but perhaps I’ll see you some time next week?’
He nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said heavily. ‘I’ll phone you,’ Suddenly he embraced her, kissed her full on the lips and went out.
‘Good night, Alex,’ she called.
Someone stood behind her, and as she turned away, she saw Cameron holding her cardigan which had fallen from her shoulders when Alex hugged her.
‘Better put it on,’ he said, unsmiling, as he draped the jacket over her arm. ‘I should hate you to catch cold.’
He turned abruptly and walked along the hall towards the kitchen. She could see ill-temper and anger in every line of his tall figure. She could only suppose that being kissed by a guest in the hotel entrance was a crime of insubordination.
‘Romantic place, this,’ said Mrs. Robertson, with a grin.
‘I think we could both shut up shop now. I’ve already checked that all the residents have their bedroom keys.’
‘Oh, thank you. I’ll go up to my father and see how he is.’
Fenella was glad to escape. How extraordinary that so mundane a spot as a hotel entrance should hold these momentary tensions!
Mr. Sutherland was already in bed when she entered his room.
‘Too tired to talk, Father?’ she asked quietly.
‘Not in the least. Sit down here and chatter.’ He patted the edge of the bed.
‘What did you think of all the brouhaha?’
‘Splendid!’ he answered with enthusiasm, his eyes twinkling. ‘I wish I could have thought of some of his ideas.’
‘Were the other directors pleased?’ she asked.
‘Very satisfied, I think. They’re not going to overload him with praise at this point, you understand. He has to make a go of the place and turn in a substantial profit before they’ll let their faces slip into a well-pleased grin.’ Fenella was caught between opposite emotions. At almost every turn Cameron succeeded in arousin
g her resentment and then striding away as though he were the martyr. It would serve him right, she thought, if the Gairmorlie were eventually a wholesale failure. Yet she could not honestly wish for such a disaster. Her father would be abysmally disappointed if Cameron failed in any part of the hotel project. More than that, Mr. Sutherland’s future was still to some extent influenced by the prosperity of the hotel company.
‘That conference seems to have done him a good turn,’ went on Mr. Sutherland. ‘It seems that the company has received several letters congratulating Cameron on his resourcefulness when the gale damaged the pavilion and he hired a tent to put round it. That organization has already made a firm booking for next year.’
‘Yes, so I heard,’ murmured Fenella.
‘Funny thing,’ her father continued, ‘if only I’d known Cameron Ramsay a year ago and had the benefit of his brains, his ideas and his energetic drive, I believe I could have pulled through.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ she said, trying to comfort him, ‘you’re better off as you are. Nothing to do but potter round and enjoy yourself.’
‘Later on, I shall do more than potter round,’ he threatened. ‘I’m not going to let myself develop into a useless old hulk.’
‘When you’re strong enough, Father, you shall do whatever you please—and what Cameron will let you. Mind you don’t interfere, even if you are a director.’
When she left her father’s room and lay awake in her own bed, she reviewed the evening. There was so little that could be pieced together to make sense; nothing but half sentences, mysterious glances, tense silences, making a sum total of obscurity, as though one saw one’s nearest friends through a mist.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By the middle of May the Gairmorlie hotel had settled more or less into a routine, disturbed sometimes by short-lived panics when coach parties arrived or unexpected guests stopped on their way home from somewhere else.
The pavilion had been finally strengthened, then the protecting marquee removed. There was now a comfortable hall with a sprung floor available for dancing, weddings and other merrymaking.