Chapter 5 #2
Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel faintly uneasy.
She’d made a casual comment. Small talk to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic of profits.
She hadn’t thought for a moment that this place had secrets.
Occupancy challenges, yes. Staffing issues, definitely. Secrets?
She decided to keep it light. “Are you about to tell me the place is haunted? Should I be on the lookout for ghosts?”
He smiled. “We hide our ghosts and I like to think that all secrets are safe here. Discretion is an essential feature of all
good hotels, don’t you agree? If you’re worried your deepest secrets will be revealed, Ms Jones, don’t be.”
“Call me Abby. And I don’t have secrets.” That wasn’t strictly true, of course. Guilt nibbled at the edges of her conscience.
She should never have agreed to do this job under-cover. She wasn’t built for subterfuge. She should have insisted on being
honest about who she was right from the start and if that meant it was harder to get to the bottom of how the place was run,
so be it.
He studied her for a moment. “Everyone has secrets, Ms Jones.” He walked to the reception desk which was unmanned and helped
himself to a key. “I’m going to store your luggage for now and give Evie a call.”
“You don’t have a receptionist?”
“We do, but she may have accompanied a guest to a room.” He took her case from her, unlocked a door behind the reception desk
and stowed her case safely.
“I know you’ve had staffing issues.”
“The entire hospitality sector has staffing issues,” Edward said, “but it’s particularly bad here.”
“And why do you think that is?”
He glanced at her keenly and she silently berated herself for moving too quickly.
She needed to be careful with her questions.
Ultimately, she intended to speak to everyone of course, but she needed to do that in a low-key, organic way.
She didn’t want anyone suspecting that there was more to her presence here than simply another pair of hands.
“I’m no expert,” he said, “but I would have thought it was a combination of factors, not least the competition from other
hospitality establishments, and the challenges of finding accommodation locally.”
She wanted to ask him what he thought could be done about it, but she stopped herself. There was time. Plenty of time. She
was here for the whole summer.
“Obviously I’m willing to step in wherever I’m needed.”
They thought she was an extra pair of hands. She needed to remember that and be more subtle in her questioning.
Edward walked to the reception desk, reached for the phone and dialled.
While he was doing that, she glanced around, finally seeing in person what she’d previously only seen in photographs.
Knowing that an important cause of guest dissatisfaction was arriving in a place and finding that it didn’t match expectations,
she pulled up the website on her phone and quickly flicked through the photographs.
There were several external photos of the hotel, all taken on a perfect summer’s day.
Satisfied that they matched the picture she’d had when she’d driven up to the entrance, Abby scrolled on.
She glanced up as she heard footsteps.
“Abby?” A woman approached. There was a bounce in her step and her smile was wide and warm. Her choppy blonde hair ended somewhere
between her chin and her shoulders and her nose was dusted with freckles. “I’m Evie. It’s good to meet you.”
Evie Hamilton, Abby thought. Age 30 and has worked in the hotel for eight years full-time, and before that during holidays.
They shook hands.
“I’m early, I know,” Abby said. “I’m happy to wait in the gardens until you’re ready to show me around. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“We are busy—which is great, and also why I’m keen to show you around as soon as possible so you can get started! But first
we’ll have tea in the garden.” Evie glanced at Edward, who nodded.
“All arranged. Sea view table. I’ll ask Chef to make tea.”
“Super. Scones, obviously.” Evie eyed Abby. “I always think it’s helpful for the staff to experience what the guest experiences.
Or maybe you don’t eat carbs?”
“It was a long journey. I’m more than happy to eat every carb you can produce.”
“Excellent.” Evie frowned at the flowers and then at Edward. “Where are the fresh flowers?”
“The florist called this morning. They were having a crisis. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Okay. But in the meantime could you ask Donna to refresh these please?” Evie removed a couple of drooping roses. “Half of
them are past it, and we don’t want guests thinking that we let things die on our watch. It will make them nervous.”
“I’ll talk to Donna and I’ll deal with those.” Edward took the roses from her and Evie led Abby out of the hotel and towards
the gardens that led down to the edge of the cliff.
“So you’ve already met Edward, and he’s a key member of staff. He knows everything about the hotel and the area, so if you
have questions he’s a great place to start. He’s also friendly and approachable and a good person, and I’m not saying that
because he’s my father and I’m biased.”
Abby felt a flash of kinship. “Working together must have its challenges.”
“Not at all. If anything it’s easier because he knows me, and I know him.” Evie waved cheerfully to a guest who was carrying a toddler and wrangling a little girl towards the hotel. “Need any help there, Chrissy?”
“We’re fine, thanks.” The woman was sweating. “Just trying to persuade the girls it’s naptime.”
Evie grinned. “Good luck with that. Holly’s not looking particularly sleepy.” She gestured to a table with a perfect view
of the sea. “This is us.”
Abby watched as the woman disappeared into the hotel. “You know all the guests by name?”
“I try to. It’s the job, isn’t it? To make people’s stay personal. Chrissy and her girls are here for a month. Her husband
is something important in the city and joins them for weekends. She orders a lot of room service. Also sends back a lot of
room service because Holly is a fussy eater.”
Abby sat down and gazed at the view. “This is spectacular.”
“I know. I never tire of looking at our cliffs. It’s the reason many of our guests like to eat outdoors. On warmer evenings
we can open up the side of the restaurant so that even those indoors can enjoy the sound of the ocean.”
“How many of the people using your restaurant are residents?”
“It varies.” Evie sat down opposite her. “At this time of year a lot of people come here for a cream tea. It’s tradition,
and of course they enjoy the views. The evening clientele is a little different. We’ve had problems filling the restaurant,
but that has changed since our new chef arrived. Word has spread quickly and we’re fully booked for most of the summer, although
we always keep a couple of tables back for residents.”
“Your new chef is Luca?” Abby delved into the information she’d memorised.
She knew he’d previously worked in London, and before that in a five-star establishment on Lake Como.
Evie’s eyes widened. “How do you know his name?”
“Oh—” She realised that she was coming across as far too well-informed for someone who was simply here to bolster staff numbers. “I read a bit about the hotel. Also, I’m a foodie. I often pick my holiday destinations based on restaurant recommendations.”
“In that case you won’t be disappointed by Luca. His gnocchi con parmigiano is the ultimate comfort food. Although you may not have much time to sample his skills. You’re going to be busy.” Evie sat
back as their tea was delivered. “Tell me everything about yourself. All head office told me was that you’re experienced,
and you’ve worked in most areas of the hotel.”
“Yes. I travel around a lot. The last place I worked was The Alexandra, Cape Cod.” That was true. They’d been having problems
with a new guest booking system and Abby had spent a month helping out.
“You don’t know Cornwall at all?”
“No. And I’m looking forward to exploring.” She wanted to do more than explore the local area. She wanted to see the place
her mother had lived as a child. Where she’d lived, because she’d been born here. Abby had been four when they’d moved, but she had no memory of it. All she’d ever known
was Boston.
She wanted to see if she could find out more about her family history.
It was an urge that had crept up on her slowly. A desire to fill in the blanks. To understand.
Her mother had shared little about her childhood growing up in Cornwall. All Abby knew was that life had been hard for her.
Her mother’s father had left when she was eleven leaving Alexandra to help care for her mother who had been seriously injured
in a car accident the year before. She’d died when Alexandra was eighteen and that same year her mother had met Abby’s father
and within months she was pregnant. Tragically he’d died before Abby was born and a few years after that her mother had moved
to Boston.
That decision made perfect sense. She’d wanted to leave the past and all that grief behind.
It also explained why she was reluctant to talk about it.
But Abby was hoping that while she was here she might be able to find out more about her family history, and her father especially,
without having to press her mother for more. She felt frustrated that she knew so little, while at the same time sympathising
with her mother’s wish not to talk about what had clearly been a traumatic time of her life.
“If you have any questions, ask me.” Evie poured tea for both of them. “I was born here. Lived here all my life apart from
a few years in college.”
Abby already knew those details, but she nodded as if she was hearing them for the first time.
“These look amazing.” She reached out and took a scone. It was still warm from the oven and when she sliced it in half the
texture was soft and fluffy.
In front of her was a small bowl of thick clotted cream, and another of homemade strawberry jam.