Pepper River Boat Hut (Pepper Bay #15)

2

Olive

Olive Farringdon ended the call to her friend, pulled the pink satin sleep mask over her tearstained eyes, and flopped back to the pillow. Why wasn’t anyone helping her? She had never felt so alone before. All she wanted was someone to tell her what to do. At least give her some money or somewhere to live. She had so many friends, so where were they?

Groaning, she placed a hand on her forehead, pushing away her auburn curls. It wasn’t just her head that was bruised, her whole life was one big injury. And none of it was her fault.

‘This is so unfair,’ she mumbled.

Her designer shoe collection was her pride and joy and the memory of her home being packed up and carried off to who knew where deflated her that little bit more. What kind of world was she living in where a person could walk into her home and take her shoes?

Olive wiggled her toes beneath the quilt, then sat up in a huff. She swiped the eye mask to her brow and picked up her phone again. ‘This simply isn’t good enough,’ she whispered whilst scrolling for a number.

With each ring her spirit faded. The odds of Emilio answering were slim to none, she knew, but he loved her once. Surely he would do more than pay for her hotel room.

Emilio answered the call, and his sigh was heard before any words. ‘Liv, I told you not to call me. I thought we had an agreement.’

Tears threatened again, causing Olive to take a silent breath. ‘I just wanted to talk,’ she just about managed.

‘No, you want to ask me for money. Don’t you think I’m going above and beyond for you as it is?’ His voice lowered to a whisper. ‘I can’t be associated with you.’

Olive touched her lip as it started to tremble. There was no way she was going to let him know how afraid she was. ‘I shouldn’t be held responsible for my father’s actions,’ she snapped.

‘Your name is ruined, Liv. You know that, and whether you like it or not, you will always be linked to the scandal. How do you think my parents felt when the shit hit the fan? They were expecting you to be their daughter-in-law.’

Olive sank back to the plump pillows, wishing she could bury her head beneath them and never be seen again. ‘I would have had your name. I still could.’

‘Stop being stupid, Liv. It doesn’t work that way. My parents have high hopes for me.’

‘You’re not fifteen, Emilio, you’re almost thirty. They can’t tell you who to marry.’ She heard him scoff.

‘And until I reach that age, I don’t have any control over my trust fund. I’m bloody well using my allowance to help you, aren’t I? If they find out, it will cause all sorts of problems for me, which is why I need you to leave me alone. I made you a promise, and I am a man of my word, but you have to work with me here.’

If you were a man of your word, you wouldn’t have dumped me as soon as my dad got arrested .

‘You haven’t even thanked me, Liv.’

She was sure she had, but as it wasn’t something she was used to saying, perhaps he was right. ‘Well, it’s hardly the best hotel. They don’t even have a butler service, but thank you,’ she said flatly, not wanting to say it at all.

‘So sorry it’s not The Dorchester.’ Emilio huffed, then sighed slowly. ‘Look, I have to go, but you have the rest of the month to sort yourself out, and I really do wish you all the best, Liv.’

She went to speak but he had gone, and it was back to just her and the plush hotel suite.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ she whispered, allowing her tears to fall.

All she had was to the end of December and then she would be homeless. Her life taken so cruelly from her in a matter of moments that she didn’t see coming.

Emilio had spoken of his trust fund, and she remembered how exciting it had been to receive hers when she’d turned thirty earlier that year. She had waited so long for the money, it hardly mattered that she loaned it to her father for a couple of months. It was just a short-term investment. He knew more about money than her. She had trusted him. People in his circle had already been arrested for fraud, but she believed him when he said it had nothing to do with him. If only the investigation into his company had come sooner.

Olive glanced at the empty bottle of red wine at her feet. The last dregs had dripped onto the white bed cover, not that she cared. She just needed another drink, and to stop crying would be good.

Some light rain splattered against the window, and she clambered out of bed to take a look outside. The people of London were living their best lives, and she had nothing but the red pyjamas she was wearing and one suitcase of clothes. Could life be any worse?

She nodded, thinking it could.

A knock at the door jolted her from the trance she had with her bleak reflection. Was it lunchtime already? Did she even want to eat?

Wine. I ordered wine .

She stomped to the door to fling it open, not bothering to greet the man behind the silver trolley. ‘Leave it there,’ she ordered, flapping a hand over her shoulder in the direction of the white dining table.

Muffled voices gained her attention. There was obviously more than one person in her suite.

‘Miss Farringdon.’

She turned to see a tall man in a dark suit standing close to the young man parking the food trolley by the table.

‘I’m Zach Sullivan. Hotel manager.’ He gave the young man a nod that sent him on his way. ‘I’m here to make sure you have everything you need.’

She eyed the bottle of red wine before staring back at him. ‘Why wouldn’t I have everything I need?’ she snapped.

He dipped his head slightly to one side. His piercing eyes still on her face. ‘Of course. I hope you are enjoying your stay with us.’

Olive couldn’t stare at his captivating eyes forever, so she plodded over to the wine.

‘We’re decorating the lobby for Christmas, if you’d like to see. The tree is quite the sight.’

Christmas was the last thing she cared about. ‘I’m sure,’ she mumbled, wondering why no one had opened the wine.

‘I can arrange for a tree for your suite, Miss Farringdon. Real or artificial.’

She huffed at the trolley. ‘Can you arrange for someone to open the wine?’

‘Allow me.’

She watched him take charge of her lunch. He poured her drink first, then started to lay the table.

‘I can have the tree decorated for you, or you can do it yourself if you prefer,’ he said, lining up the cutlery.

Olive snatched up the crystal glass as soon as she could get access to it. ‘I don’t want one.’ She was going to add that she’d never decorated one in her life, but she swallowed the words down with the wine.

He glanced up from the table. ‘It’s Christmas. Everyone should have a tree.’

‘Do I look like I care about trees?’ She wobbled slightly as she went to turn on her heel. Not that it mattered if she did fall flat on her face. She had no dignity left. The old Olive would never in a million years be caught in her PJs, with no makeup, bloodshot eyes, bird’s nest hair, and alcohol before dinner time.

‘I’ll leave you to your lunch.’ His words were soft, but she didn’t want his sympathy. ‘But if you change your mind, let me know. I can always help with the baubles.’

Olive smiled into her glass as she peered out at the rain, as his voice had definitely hitched at the end of his sentence.

Bet you regret saying that .

She took a steady breath and raised her chin. ‘Just go,’ she demanded.

‘Yes, Miss Farringdon.’

The door closed and she spun around, rage burning all of a sudden.

‘Yes, Miss Farringdon,’ she mocked. ‘Of course, Miss Farringdon. Sod bloody off, Miss Farringdon.’ She threw the glass of wine straight at the door, where it smashed on impact.

Silence loomed. He wasn’t coming back to check on her.

Olive marched over to the table, scrunched her button nose at the club sandwich, prawn salad, bowl of mixed fruit, and bottle of mineral water, then grabbed the wine and headed back to bed, pulling down her sleep mask whilst shoving the neck of the bottle into her mouth.

Stick your baubles .

She laughed on the rim, then coughed when her phone rang. Quickly she sat up, pulling herself together. At last, one of her friends was calling to rescue her. Who else could it be?

‘Emilio?’

‘Yes, it’s me. Why has your mobile phone bill just come out of my bank account?’

‘It’s in your name. You always pay for it.’

‘Yes, but I told you to call them and end the contract.’

‘Oh, I thought you had to do that.’

‘You thought I would continue to pay your way, more like?’

‘It’s just a phone.’

‘I’m not your cash machine, Liv. I told you I’m not paying for you anymore. You were supposed to sort this.’

Olive took a swig of wine. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wasn’t thinking.’

‘No, you weren’t. Well, I’ve called them and explained the situation and told them to cut you off at midnight.’

‘You did what?’

‘I’m not paying your bills.’

‘Emilio, please.’ She hated to beg, but she needed her phone.

‘I’m warning you, Liv. Leave me out of your life. If you do one more thing like this to me, I won’t pay your hotel bill at the end of the month. In fact, I’m going to ask them if I can pay it now, then that’s you and me done. So if you order any more room service after tonight, just know you’ll have to pay for that yourself.’

‘Wait, what? I thought the food came with the suite.’

‘Jeez, Liv, have you any clue?’

‘Don’t speak to me like that. My father took care of these matters. I’ve never had to deal with bills. You know that.’

‘Well, you’ve learned a lesson today.’

‘But I need to eat.’

‘Fine. You’ve got two more weeks, then I’m paying the bill. You can still stay till the end of the month, but all room charges will be down to you after I’ve paid. I’ve done enough. You need to find a job. That’s why I’m putting you up in a hotel. You’re supposed to be spending that time wisely. What exactly are you doing?’

She glanced at the bottle about to meet her lips.

‘Just sort yourself out, Liv.’

‘But what am I going to do in January?’

‘Honestly, after the stunt you just pulled, I really don’t care. You’re lucky I don’t go back on my promises.’

‘Emilio…’ He was gone again, and this time she believed for good.

It was just a silly phone bill. Talk about dramatic .

She huffed into her wine, then gulped some more, wondering if the baubles on the hotel Christmas tree would be worth much, and would they notice if one or two went missing?

‘No. I’ll not be like you,’ she said to the ceiling. ‘I’ll starve before I steal.’ She twisted the quilt in her hand, tugging it to her chin. ‘Ooh, I really hate you, Daddy. How could you do this to me?’

A knock at the door interrupted her building resentment. She didn’t want to get out of bed but the knocking continued.

‘Housekeeping,’ someone called from the other side of the door.

Olive looked at the shattered glass and red wine on the white tiles. ‘I can’t get to the door,’ she called back.

A click later the door opened and in walked a middle-aged woman, immediately assessing the situation. ‘I’ll get that sorted for you.’

I guess the manager did hear me break the glass .

Olive watched the woman bend to her knees and get to work with a dustpan and brush. ‘Could you hurry? I want to sleep.’

The woman nodded but didn’t rush her chore, so Olive went back to hugging the wine bottle.

She had a pounding headache, no phone, and soon no more food. Perhaps she should eat whilst she could. It was a good idea but her body refused to move from the mattress, so she closed her eyes and prayed for someone to save her.