31. Helen
HELEN
Helen walked into the foyer of the Bay View Hotel.
She hadn’t set foot inside the place for years, but it still looked the same as it did when she used to waitress here as a teenager.
They must’ve redecorated since then, but no one had been brave enough to change the layout, which was a shame because it didn’t make the most of its potential, particularly the view over Dashford that gave it its name.
Perhaps she should put in a speculative redesign proposal.
‘Good morning. Can I help you?’ the woman on the Reception desk asked.
‘Yes, I’m looking for the business networking group that meets here.’
‘Through those doors into the dining room.’ The woman frowned. ‘You’re Helen, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Picture me with a bad blonde pixie cut, thick black eyeliner and fewer wrinkles.’
Helen looked at the woman more closely. She laughed. ‘Katie?’ They’d worked here together when they were both studying at Dashford Comp.
‘One and the same! Though it’s Kate now - more fitting for someone our age.’ She walked out from behind the desk and hugged Helen. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’
‘Still sneaking out the back for a snog with Billy?’
Kate laughed. ‘I’m amazed how I ever kept my job. But no, I married Billy eventually and then dumped him five years ago when he decided to cheat on me with the barmaid at the Fisherman’s - it’s like a bloody soap opera around here. I’d heard you’d moved back to Dashford, and Nigel’s around again?’
‘Yes. We go out for coffee occasionally.’ If two to three times a week could be called occasional, but she didn’t want to fuel any gossip.
Kate raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.
‘We’re just friends,’ Helen said.
Kate returned to her chair behind the desk. ‘I had a ￡2 bet with Sharon that you’d marry him.’
‘￡2?’
‘It was a lot of money to me then. So if you do ever get him down the aisle, let me know so I can write to her to collect it. She’s in Sydney now, lucky beggar.’
There was a round of applause in the dining room.
‘You’d better head in there,’ Kate said. ‘Sounds like they’re starting. Good luck.’
‘You don’t sound too impressed.’
‘Let’s just say they’re quite demanding. Kevin, who leads it, thinks he’s Dashford’s answer to Alan Sugar. What’s your business?’
‘Interior design.’
Kate looked nervously at her.
‘Is there another interior designer who’s a member?’
‘I don’t think so, but I’ve noticed women don’t often come back for a second meeting. There’s a lovely women’s business group that meets on the last Thursday of the month in the bookshop. I’ll introduce you.’
Helen was poised to stand up and give her elevator pitch. She’d already listened to a mortgage advisor, an accountant, a divorce lawyer and a renewable energy expert give theirs.
‘We’ll come to our new lady at the end,’ Kevin said, looking past her to the man on her right. ‘Give her a chance to see how it all works.’
Helen was beginning to see what Kate had been hinting at. ‘I’m a veteran of several networking groups in London. I’m more than happy to go next.’ She stood up before Kevin could object.
‘Good morning, everyone. I’m Helen Simpson.
I’m an award-winning interior designer who specialises in turning tired houses into welcoming homes you can be proud of.
I grew up in Dashford, and I’ve recently moved back.
I’m looking for holiday home owners who would like to invest in redesigning their property interiors to attract high-end clients. Thank you.’
‘Thank you, Helen,’ Kevin said grudgingly. ‘We normally have a painter join us, but he’s on holiday this week. I’m sure he can teach you a thing or two about choosing colours and finishes.’
‘Or I could teach him?’ Helen said, determined not to be talked down to.
Adrian, the renewable energy expert, appeared to be choking on his breakfast. She glanced at him.
‘Well done,’ he whispered, as the next person stood up.
‘Will you be coming back?’ Adrian asked as he followed Helen out into the hotel car park.
‘Is Kevin always like that with women?’
‘Yes. In fact, you got off lightly. It’s embarrassing in this day and age.’
‘So why does no one call him out on it?’
‘He’s the regional co-ordinator for the group.
If you challenge him, you’re out on your ear.
And I get some decent business from this group.
I think the others do too, so we’re a bunch of spineless idiots.
’ He grinned. ‘Can I make it up to you by meeting you for coffee sometime? I’ve got some contacts who might be useful to you. ’
It sounded plausible, and he was friendly. She didn’t think he was coming on to her, and he looked about five years younger than her, so he was unlikely to be interested anyway. ‘Yeah ok.’
He smiled. ‘I picked up your business card. I’ll give you a call.’