Bedlam & Breakfast at a Devon Seaside Guesthouse

by Sharley Scott

  “That wall’s dangerous. I couldn’t see it,” the man told Kim.

  “Well, it hasn’t moved in over a hundred years,” Jason said. “But if it makes you feel better, we’ll blame the wall.”

  Turning her back to the man, Kim rolled her eyes and mouthed to Jason, ‘Don’t worry, he’s always moaning.’

  “Now Derrick,” she raised her voice. “You can’t blame a wall when it’s in someone’s driveway.”

  His gnarled fingers clutched the arms of the chair. “I can and I will. It’s too low. Something needs to be done so it can be seen.”

  Jason folded his arms. “Maybe we should put up an eight-foot-high sign just like the one you knocked down.”

  Max Manningtree stepped into the day room, surprised to see so many people milling about. When his eyes met mine, he smiled. “I can see it’s not the best time for you. Do you want me to come back later?”

  “Jason will check you in,” I said, relieved to have an excuse to move Jason away from Derrick. With all the bodies in the day room, they’d have to do the registration form in the restaurant. I pointed to the door on the other side of the hallway. “Go through there.”

  Pleased to be released, Jason disappeared with Max, while Kim spoke to the paramedics about Martha, leaving me with Derrick who sat muttering to himself. When I handed him a mug of tea it shook violently in his hand, splashing his legs. As he shot me a furious look, I rescued the mug and placed it on the table. His face told me exactly what he was thinking. First, we’d attacked him with our wall and now with tea.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Do I look it?” He jabbed his finger towards Martha. “And does she?”

  While I appreciated he was upset, his indignation was misplaced. We’d had a long, tiring day and, thanks to his car being stuck on our wall, we probably had hours more work ahead of us dealing with a recovery vehicle and making sure everything was safe. My feet ached and I longed to sit down. But rather than moaning, we were trying to help.

  I bent low so his eyes were level with mine and hissed, “No, she doesn’t. The best thing you can do for Martha is to get your eyesight checked.”

  As soon as I spoke, I felt ashamed. No need for me to resort to spitefulness, no matter how much Derrick annoyed me. Shock did strange things to people. He must be embarrassed too. Outside, people mingled, chatting and taking photographs as they inspected the car’s rear end resting on the wall, the rest of it blocking the footpath.

  When someone called, “How on earth have they managed that?” a man hollered, “Evel Knievel’s moved onto cars!”.

  Yes, Derrick would be mortified. No matter what he said.

  Kim came over, frowning. “They’re worried about Martha. Not so much the bump on her head but she’s got chest pain. Maybe her heart. They’re going to take her in. When the ambulance arrives I’ll go with her.”

  Kim placed her hand on Derrick’s shoulder. His bottom lip quivered and his hands trembled, even though he cupped them in his lap.

  “You’ll be okay here with Katie until Shona gets back. There’s only room in the ambulance for one.”

  Derrick glared at Kim. “I’ll go with her and you stay here.”

  “That’s not going to happen. You’re in no fit state to be traipsing around a hospital. Shona can bring you over later if they keep Martha in.”

  Kim turned to me. “I’m sorry about this. Look after him for me.”

  I gave her my best impression of a smile. “It will be my pleasure.”

  The doorbell sounded and two stocky men in oil-smeared overalls wandered through the open door into the hallway. Had someone called for a breakdown truck? Before I could ask, Jason appeared from the breakfast room and shook hands with Max, who’d stepped between myself and the visitors. As Max disappeared outside, Jason turned to the men.

  “Do you need a hand?” One of the men pointed to the car. “The lads and I could get it off, just so it’s out of the way.”

  “You can lift the car off there?” Jason asked.

  “We’re old hands at it. You’d be amazed where grockles end up. They’re not used to the lanes and hills, though…” He eyed the main road. “This one hasn’t much excuse.”

  Jason scratched his head. “You’ve done this before?” When the man nodded, he said, “I’ll just check it’s okay.”

  He popped into the room, not looking to Derrick for approval but to Kim, who hovered by Martha and the paramedics.

  “You heard that, Kim? Are you okay with it?” She bobbed her head before turning back to Martha.

  Leaving Derrick, I headed outside to see what they planned to do. I expected to see a tow truck arriving but instead half a dozen burly mechanics joined Jason and two other men. Oddly, I found myself wishing Emily and Lucy could be here to see this. They’d never believe it when I told them.

  I gazed at the men. How would they lift the car when it was jammed on the wall? As the men bent to take their positions around its rear, the crowd hushed, and a man I vaguely recognised from the garage leaned through the driver’s door and gave a thumbs up. To a shouted, “Go!” the grimacing men heaved the back of the car, sinews protruding from their necks. When the front wheels started to roll forward, they shouted instructions to each other and staggered behind somehow keeping the car’s rear centimetres above the wall. I held my breath, praying they wouldn’t drop it and cause further damage. Derrick would not be happy.

  Before I knew it, they’d eased the car to the ground. The men gave each other high-fives and accepted handshakes from the crowd, until a siren shrieked above the cheers. In the distance an ambulance raced towards us, blue lights on, headlights flashing in turn. My relief turned to anxiety. Martha must be more serious than I’d thought.

  A red-faced Jason strode over to me. Panting, he said, “Get the keys off Derrick. I’ll drive it round to Kim’s.”

  I found Derrick being placated by Kim, who turned imploring eyes on me. As he pulled himself to his feet, he staggered back into the chair. I doubted there would be room in the ambulance for both him and Kim. No matter how much he wanted to be with his wife, he would be a hindrance if he went alone. I laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

  “Stay here until Shona arrives. Martha needs someone to help her.” I touched his trembling hand to prove my point. “And you’ve had a bad shock. You’ll be able to follow with Shona soon. Do you have your keys?”

  When he gave me a confused look, I twisted my hand as if turning an ignition. “Your car keys. They’ve got it off the wall. You can get it looked at tomorrow.”

  Angling to one side, he pulled the keys from his trouser pocket. I handed them to Kim, asking her to give them to Jason on her way out. As Martha was tucked into the wheelchair, Derrick gave a low moan and started to visibly shake. He tore a hanky from his other pocket and dabbed beneath his eyes, but his gaze didn’t leave Martha as she was wheeled out clutching her chest. We both watched through the window as she vanished into the ambulance, with Kim following behind. A few minutes later, the ambulance fired a short burst on its siren and sped away.

  Jason appeared at the door holding two large boxes of Budweiser. “I’m giving those lads a drink,” he said. “Most of them are from the garage but two are fisherman down the quay.”

  I nodded. With Martha gone, just Derrick and I remained in the day room. Outside, the crowds had dispersed, with just a few stragglers standing near Jason and the men who’d helped him. Between their bursts of laughter, silence filled the room, amplifying Derrick’s sniffles. I had to distract him. Chatting wasn’t an option – not unless I wanted my head bitten off – but the TV could offer some respite.

  “Do you want to come through to the lounge?” I extended my arm in case he needed a hand out of the chair.

  “I want to see Martha,” Derrick muttered, but slowly he rose to his feet and shuffled through to the lounge with me.

  After he’d settled into the sofa, I switched on the TV and handed him the remote control. “I’ll put
the kettle on and make a fresh pot of tea.”

  When I came back a little while later, I almost dropped the tray in shock. Mouth open, eyes closed, he slumped back. Had the day been too much for him? His face had an ashen pallor and his lips had become a purple-grey colour. Like death.

  I shoved the tray onto the coffee table, not caring as milk spattered over the side of the jug and the cups clattered against the teapot. I grabbed his hand. His skin was paper thin over his bony fingers and cold to the touch.

  “Derrick!”

  Startled, his eyes flew open and he clutched his chest. Great! If he wasn’t dead before, I’d done a great job of giving him a heart attack. At least he’d get his wish to be with Martha in hospital. His bleary eyes gazed around, until he focused on me hovering above him.

  “What? Is it Martha?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I thought…” How could I tell him I’d thought he’d died? “…you’d want your tea while it was hot.”

  Chapter 20

  Shona arrived two hours later. Oddly relaxed for someone with an aunt in hospital, she laughed as she pointed to the damaged sign.

  “A guest didn’t like your sign either, I take it.”

  The sign dated back to the days when ensuite rooms were a luxury rather than the norm, so it said, ‘some rooms ensuite’. I’d laughed at the ‘some’ when we first viewed Flotsam Guesthouse, but I’d been more amused by the centrepiece picture of a sinking ship. Hardly the best sales tactic. A replacement sign was on my ‘to-do sometime this year’ list, now bumped up to must-do.

  “Didn’t Kim tell you about the accident?”

  Colour drained from her face. “Kim?”

  “Derrick had the accident. He’s in the lounge—”

  She clamped her hand to her chest. “I thought you meant Kim. But Derrick? How is he?”

  I’d made such a hash of a simple explanation. This time I ploughed on, ignoring Shona’s interruptions. “Kim’s taken Martha to hospital… No, she’s okay. She had chest pains after the accident so they’re keeping her in overnight… I don’t think it’s serious, just a precaution. She wanted you to drive Derrick over. Did you not get her message?”

  She shook her head. “She must have forgotten I left my phone behind. I only came round to ask what had happened to your sign.”

  In the lounge, she attacked Derrick with a volley of questions, “Are you okay? What a shocker. Poor Martha. Are you ready to go? Do you need the toilet?” She paused and looked him straight in the eye. “Because you need to go now.”

  With a grunt he waved away my arm and heaved himself to his feet. “Hello to you too.”

  “I said are you okay. What more do you want?” She linked her arm with his. “And don’t be telling me you need the toilet when we’re driving there. Go now or forever hold it in.”

  She turned to me and whispered (although it was a Shona-style whisper, so the whole guesthouse would have heard), “You have to ignore his grumps or else he’s a right pain.”

  Derrick pursed his lips but didn’t say a word. Towed by Shona, he tottered into the hallway, both coming to an abrupt halt as the front door flew open and Max Manningtree stumbled in. Seeing the three of us, Max raised an eyebrow, his irises startlingly blue against his bloodshot eyes. A web of thin veins crossed his flushed cheeks. I didn’t recall his nose being quite so bulbous, its lumpy tip looked like a head of purple broccoli. Without warning, he tottered backwards, flinging out his arms to steady himself.

  “A welcoming committee!” he slurred, pulling himself away from the wall. Addressing Derrick, he said, “Still here?”

  Shona glared at Max and strode past, dragging Derrick in her wake. Giving Max a brief smile – and praying he hadn’t drunk so much he would be sick in the bed – I followed her out. She slowed her pace when we reached Jetsam Cottage’s drive.

  “You’ve got him staying?” she hissed. She flung a glance in Max’s direction.

  “Who? Max?”

  “Max? That’s not…” She frowned. “It’ll come to me. Here, hold onto Derrick while I grab my car keys. I wish I’d known I needed to go back out or I wouldn’t have parked up the hill.”

  She disappeared inside, reappearing moments later to dangle car keys at me before sprinting away. Derrick and I stood in silence, both in our own thoughts. Mine settled on Max Manningtree. How had he got that drunk in two hours? When Shona returned, I’d have to ask her what she’d been going to say. Judging by the state of him, he’d probably bumped into a lot of things on the way here. Maybe one of them had been her.

  “Martha loves that one,” Derrick said. With my mind on Max, it took me a few moments to realise he meant Shona. “But I find her a bit, well, you know, tough at times. In Forrest Gump’s box she’d be a sherbet lemon. Hard shell, sharp enough to make you wince but, if I have to be honest, sweet and lovely too. She’s a wonder with Martha.”

  I saved my pedantry for another day and didn’t point out that sherbet lemons wouldn’t be found in a chocolate selection. He was right about Shona though. Her kindness and vulnerability were well camouflaged but beneath the odd acidic comment she was a great friend and someone to turn to, unless it involved vibrators or mice or boats. I had a feeling the list would grow.

  Derrick shuffled backwards to lean against the boot of his car. His earlier grey hue had returned and he wheezed heavily. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a rasping whistle which seemed to come from his chest. He held up a finger to tell me to give him a moment to regain his breath. Concerned, I gazed at him. He should be going for a lie-down rather than a trip to see Martha in hospital, but there was no point telling him that; he’d insist on going. I’d be the same in his shoes.

  “But she thinks I was born yesterday. Reckons she and Kim are just good friends but my mum was good friends with my Auntie Jane. She wasn’t our real auntie and she wasn’t just good friends with my mum either. But who cares? I certainly don’t.”

  I squeezed his arm affectionately. “No flies on you.”

  Shona’s car screeched to a halt and she jumped out. While I shepherded a shuffling Derrick round to the passenger door, she raced round to open it. When we finally got him into the seat, she clicked her heels and saluted him.

  He shook his head. “You’re daft, you are.”

  After our short conversation I knew he didn’t mean it, as did Shona who grinned.

  “You love me really. Now get your backside in gear. We’ve a hospital to get to.”

  As the car accelerated away, I could imagine Derrick clutching the door handle and nagging Shona to go slower, while she’d be telling him to shut up. Then I remembered I’d meant to ask her about Max. It would have to wait.

  ♦

  I opened the breakfast room door to find four couples queuing outside and, within ten minutes, a further two couples sitting expectantly at the breakfast tables. As I raced about taking tea and coffee orders, handing food orders to a red-faced Jason who baked beside the hob and cooker, making teas and coffees and pushing more bread into the toaster, I felt the stirrings of rising panic.

  Of the eight people who’d walked in as I opened the breakfast room door, only one couple was having cereal and fruit. Two couples who’d arrived moments later were settled with their cereals and yoghurts, but in minutes they’d have empty bowls and be wanting hot breakfasts. Even if Jason cooked four breakfasts each time – the maximum capacity on our four-ring hob – at least one couple would be facing a lengthy wait. That’s if no one else arrived soon.

  As I took toast and butter out to a table, Eric waved me over.

  “Can I have another brew, love?”

  I took the teapot from him.

  “Me too.” Owain from the neighbouring table held out his teapot. “And Gwen wants more coffee.”

  Holding a smile in place while I fought to dampen my anxiety, I hurried back to the kitchen to find the toast had popped up too early. I slammed it down and lifted the kettle. Empty! I refilled the kettle and r
insed the cafetière.

  “Get me four plates,” Jason said.

  I threw my hands in the air. Did he think I was an octopus? “I’m busy.”

  Huffing, he stormed over to the top oven and snatched the plates and three ramekins out. The smell of burning alerted me to the toaster and I cursed as it shot out burnt offerings. I binned them and grabbed another four slices of brown, just as the timer beeped. Great! Gwen’s poached eggs were ready but they wouldn’t be sitting on toast for a while.

  Jason glared at me. “What’s the matter with you?”

  I rushed back to the kettle and poured the water into the two teapots and cafetière and hurried back to the toast. Still not ready. Jason had dished the three full Englishes, so I took two out to a couple who wanted tomato ketchup and brown sauce. Moments later I rushed back out with the sauces, along with Gwen’s poached eggs with toast and the full English, followed soon after by the coffee and teas.

  Heading over to take two other orders, I realised I hadn’t put the muffins on for the Eggs Benedict Jason was currently cooking along with another three full Englishes. I whisked away the empty cereal bowls and rushed back into the kitchen, where I threw the muffins into the toaster, along with two slices of white bread.

  When I went back out to take more orders, I apologised for the wait.

  “You’ve forgotten our presents,” John said.

  I frowned. “Presents?”

  He glanced at his watch and laughed. “We’ve been waiting so long, it must be Christmas.”

  I forced a smile. They’d been waiting five minutes after finishing their cereal. What would they make of waiting a further ten to fifteen minutes for their hot food? My bubbling anxiety had reached boiling point. What on earth had made us choose this profession? My waitressing skills were zero and I couldn’t even manage to cook toast without burning it. I flipped to a clean sheet on the pad and strode over to take an order from a table.