Chapter Seven
Tuesday, 30 th May
R alph was nowhere to be seen when Rico got up on Tuesday morning. He made toast and took it out to the balcony – ah, there was Dad, sloshing water over Lakeside Lady down at the jetty. This might be a good time to try another chat about the hotel. Yesterday, they’d sat on the balcony talking about Mum and the old days and the good times. It had brought them closer again, but that didn’t help as far as the cash flow problem was concerned. He made a couple of espressos and took them downstairs.
It was going to be another beautiful day, unusually warm for the end of May. If the summer continued like this, the bar takings at least would be above average. Rico’s stomach lurched. The bar alone wouldn’t save them; it was the hotel guests who brought in the real money, and this year, they simply weren’t here.
Ralph accepted the cup and they both stood sipping, staring across the lake to Germany. The heat haze hanging over the water made the opposite bank indistinct; you could almost imagine you were staring out over the Atlantic. The car ferry from Friedrichshafen appeared out of the mist, surging through dim sunshine towards Romanshorn on the Swiss bank. Rico’s coffee turned bitter in his mouth. He did not want to lose this place.
‘Any more thoughts about the hotel?’ he asked, when the silence became awkward.
‘Nothing new. But we have to decide, Rico. Come the autumn, I’m moving south to Lugano. If you don’t want the place, it would make sense to put it on the market sooner rather than later. That way, we could use the money to help you with whatever business you want to open later, and I’d have plenty to live on for a couple of years until I reach retirement. I can help Guido in his boatyard, too, and earn a bit there.’
‘I still don’t see why we can’t appoint a manager, someone who’d run the hotel as successfully as you and Mum did.’ Rico spoke carefully. He didn’t want to hurt his father, and yesterday’s tears showed clearly that Ralph was finding the situation more difficult than he was letting on.
The older man handed Rico his coffee cup and went back to swilling out the boat. ‘Hotels are ten a penny around here. Your mum’s speciality, the whole concept for Lakeside, was being an English hotel in Switzerland. It was something different and it brought the guests in. But look at us now – apart from one summer barman, there isn’t an English voice on the staff. We can’t pretend to be something we’re not, and I’m too – too tired, Rico, to start something entirely new by myself.’
Rico felt sick. It was all true. Even after thirty years plus in Switzerland, Mum had been English to the core. Always supposing he did give up his own dream and returned to manage the hotel, he couldn’t match that. He’d need a new concept, and where the hell was he supposed to find that? Maybe Dad was right; maybe selling up was the best thing to do.
‘I’ll do some more thinking,’ he said at last. ‘Let’s… let’s talk again in a few days.’
Ralph patted his shoulder. ‘Good idea.’
Rico started back to the hotel, the weight in his gut as heavy as it had ever been. He was going to lose his home, and it would be all his own fault. All he had to do was say, ‘I’ll come home and run the place as a regular hotel’. So basically, he had to choose between his home and his dream of having his own IT business, because he couldn’t have both. He couldn’t win no matter what they did.
He stamped up the path along the side of the terrace, where Stacy and Emily were having breakfast. Rico waved, and they waved back, looking very solitary on the big terrace. He pushed the hotel and its problems to the back of his mind in the meantime. It would be fun to show the girls the Falls of Rhine tomorrow. Emily was so brave about her knee, and Stacy… Rico bit his lip. He’d ended one disastrous relationship before Easter, and hankering after someone he couldn’t have would be a seriously bad idea. So he would try hard not to. Good job Stacy was only here for a week.
Inside, Mr and Mrs Johnston, the other English guests, were standing to the side of the deserted reception desk. Rico frowned. Early morning was the time when guests often needed help or info to plan their day, and Flavia, the hotel’s spare receptionist cum waitress cum general all-rounder was supposed to be looking after the desk – but then, she was supposed to be working in the restaurant too. This was no good. Dad was right. They couldn’t go on like this.
He hurried up to the couple. ‘Can I–? Is something wrong?’
Mr Johnston slumped forwards until he was leaning on the desk, his skin pale and shiny and his breath coming in painful-sounding wheezes. His wife was scrabbling in her handbag.
‘It’s his asthma. His inhaler’s empty. So stupid, I always carry a spare, but I can’t…’ She looked round wildly. ‘It must be upstairs.’
Rico gripped the old man’s elbow. ‘You go and get it. Mr Johnston, come and sit down.’
‘I’ll be two minutes, Stan. It must be in the medication bag.’ Mrs Johnston fled into the lift.
Rico supported Mr Johnston over to the sofa and eased him down, but the already laboured breathing became even louder when he was seated. Rico’s heart rate increased by about two hundred per cent. Shit – how did you help someone having an asthma attack??
He fumbled for his mobile. ‘I’ll call a doctor!’
‘No!’
The old man’s voice was hoarse, and Rico was taking a breath to yell for help when Flavia appeared from the restaurant, her eyes widening in horror when she saw what was happening.
‘What can I–?’
‘There’s a guest called Stacy on the terrace. She’s a nurse. Fetch her. Quick!’ Rico fought back panic. Should he call an ambulance in spite of Mr Johnston’s refusal?
Flavia sped off, and returned a moment later with Stacy.
‘Asthma,’ said Rico briefly. ‘His wife’s fetching an inhaler.’
‘Okay, Mr Johnston. Nice steady breaths.’ Stacy grasped both Mr Johnston’s hands. ‘Get a dining chair,’ she said over her shoulder.
Rico repeated it in German, and Flavia ran to fetch one from the restaurant.
‘Help me get him onto it,’ said Stacy, and Rico went to Mr Johnston’s other side. Together they heaved the old man off the sofa and onto the wooden chair. His lips were turning blue.
Stacy knelt in front of the chair. ‘Put your hands on my shoulders and push down. Use me to help yourself breathe,’ she said, gripping Mr Johnston’s elbows, and he complied, his breathing easing slightly.
‘Shall I get a doctor?’ said Rico, asking Stacy this time, but before she could reply Mrs Johnston hurried from the lift and pressed an inhaler into her husband’s hand.
‘A good puff, Stan. Good. And another.’
Rico looked on in amazement as Mr Johnston’s breathing immediately became less laboured. In another minute, you’d hardly have known that anything had been wrong.
Mrs Johnston sank down on the sofa recently vacated by her husband. ‘Well! Nothing like a good fright to start the day! I suppose it was as much my fault as yours, though.’
‘All’s well, etcetera,’ said Stacy, standing up and pushing her hair back.
‘Doctor?’ said Rico, but he wasn’t surprised when the Johnstons both refused firmly.
‘Go and have a nice cup of tea, Mr Johnston,’ suggested Stacy. ‘Then decide if you want a quick check-up.’
Flavia accompanied the couple into the restaurant, and Rico heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God you were here. Will he really be okay, just like that?’
Stacy wiped her hands on her trousers. ‘He probably will. These inhalers are like magic, but it can be dangerous – not to mention scary – if you end up having an attack without one.’
She grinned at him, but her hands were shaking.
‘Come back to the terrace and have a coffee,’ he said. ‘On the house. You’ve earned it.’
‘Emily’ll be waiting for me. She said she’d go on upstairs. Well… okay, thanks. A coffee would be good.’
Rico fetched two cups and joined her at the edge of the terrace, where she was sitting in the sunshine, staring down to the water. She stirred her coffee, her face sombre. For a moment, neither of them spoke, then Stacy heaved a sigh.
‘I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to nursing,’ she said, leaning her chin on one hand and gazing out over the lake. ‘I love helping people, but it’s so hard, seeing folk suffering and often not being able to do much.’
‘You did plenty today,’ said Rico feelingly. ‘I was panicking.’
She smiled. ‘So was I! Even though I knew he’d be fine when the inhaler arrived.’
‘You could work somewhere that didn’t have acutely ill patients,’ said Rico, sipping his cappuccino. ‘Seems a pity to waste all that training.’
‘That’s what everyone says. I was so sure I wanted to do it, you know, and my fiancé’s finishing medical school, so he’s right into hospital medicine. I do like working with people, so something community-based might be good. For the moment, I’m fine in the family shop, but later… I don’t know.’
‘How long can you stay in the shop, then?’
Stacy drooped in her chair. ‘Theoretically, I’m there over the summer, to give them time to have a holiday and find someone permanent. And the way I’m feeling, that might be me. Problem is, business isn’t exactly booming nowadays so I may end up surplus to requirements anyway.’
Rico grimaced. ‘I know the feeling. Family businesses have it tough everywhere at the moment.’
Stacy drained her cup. ‘Thanks, Rico. I feel better now. I’ll check Mr Johnston’s okay before Emily and I leave, but I’m sure he will be.’
Rico walked back inside with her. ‘Where are you off to today?’
‘We’re getting the train to St Altbach, then we’re going to a spa there. Do you know it?’
‘Wasserwelt? Yes – it’s brilliant. You should have a hot stone massage.’
‘That’s the idea. We’ve already booked it – at least I hope that’s what I booked. They didn’t speak very good English!’ She giggled, and ran off upstairs.
Rico went into the office to check the hotel email account. It sounded as if Stacy’s family business was in a similar state to the hotel. And oh, if only she wasn’t engaged… But that last remark of hers showed clearly there was a market – potentially – for specialising in English speakers.
***
‘That was amazing. I feel like a new woman,’ said Emily, as they stood at St Altbach station, waiting for the train home. There was nothing like six hours of enjoying different spa treatments to make you feel better about yourself. She would remember that. Their day at the Wasserwelt Spa had cost her almost a week’s wages, but it had been worth every penny. Even her leg felt lighter.
The train arrived, and Emily clambered up the two steps and followed Stacy along the narrow aisle in the carriage. They sat down opposite each other, and Stacy patted her lap.
‘Let’s have your foot up here. You heard what the Wasserwelt therapist said – you should keep your leg elevated more.’
Emily heaved her foot up. ‘You know, at that park on Sunday, I was almost sorry we’d come here. But now I’m glad. We’ve had two brilliant days, and tomorrow’s going to be fun too. I’m dying to see the falls.’
Stacy gave the foot on her knee a little shake. ‘Pity Alan couldn’t get the day off, huh? I’m sure he’d have loved to help out.’
Emily stuck her nose in the air. ‘Possibly.’ She still wasn’t buying into the holiday romance bit – but there was no harm in appreciating a nice bloke, was there?
Stacy caught her eye. ‘Go on. You like him, don’t you?’
‘Possibly,’ said Emily again, and they both giggled. ‘But don’t buy a wedding hat, because you won’t need it.’
Stacy rolled her eyes, then her mobile buzzed and she pulled it out.
‘Golly – a message from David.’ She opened it, then pressed the phone to her chest, two fat tears running down her cheeks.
Emily put her foot back on the floor and leaned forward to grasp Stacy’s hand. ‘Stace? Talk to me.’
Stacy sniffed, and held out her phone to show Emily the message. Sorry I didn’t have time to talk yesterday. Hope you’re having a good time.
The text went on to tell her about his new ward placement and how he’d be working all the hours God sent for the next few days, and ended with three kisses. Emily sniffed. It was a message from a man with a guilty conscience if ever she’d seen one. But good that he’d realised it; Stacy would be happier now.
She fished out a tissue and handed it over. ‘Dry those eyes, girl. By the looks of things, there’s not a lot to cry about, is there?’
‘I guess not. Oh Emmy. It is going to be all right, isn’t it?’
‘’Course it is. He’s been nuts about you forever, hasn’t he?’ Emily leaned back, staring out at the passing scenery. And it would all come right for Stacy and David, surely. His schedule as a junior doctor would be punishing for several years, but they’d find a way through that. Lucky Stacy, and oh, she didn’t want to feel jealous, and she wasn’t, not really. But it was tough when everyone round about was finding happiness while your world was falling apart.
Stacy blew her nose. ‘I’ve been daft, haven’t I?’ She smiled shakily. ‘This break’ll be good for David and me. I’ve been forgetting what a strain he’s under, and he’s been taking me for granted. Next weekend we’ll have a heart-to-heart and put things right. Oh, I can’t wait to see him, Emmy!’
It took all Emily’s self-control to reply to this without howling. ‘You’ll be planning your wedding soon. What’s it to be, then?’
Stacy smiled dreamily. ‘A winter wedding, I hope! We can plan as soon as David knows where he’ll be working for the next year or two.’
Emily managed a smile. ‘I can imagine you sweeping down the aisle in a lovely elegant long-sleeved white dress with a high collar, with reds and golds in your bouquet.’
Stacy was leaning back in the seat now, her eyes unfocussed and dreamy. Emily turned to the window as little towns and villages among rolling green hills passed by outside. Stace and David were sorted, and her leg was improving. Everything was going right, so why did she feel like the grouchiest person on the planet?
The train slowed down for Grimsbach, and Emily grabbed her stick. They strolled along to the hotel, happiness shining out of Stacy all the way while Emily pushed the loneliness back. Maybe Alan would have a cocktail ready for them today too.