Chapter 30
30
The Reef Bar, High Tides Hotel, St Aidan
Fried eggs and forced errors
Tuesday
‘C an I get you a drink?’
Arriving at the Reef Bar early the next evening was meant to give me a chance to stake out the territory, so Rye behind the bar in his sharp suit loading up the glass-fronted fridges is a surprise.
I look along at the reed-woven stools tucked under the polished timber bar as I think about what to order. The creamy lime-plaster walls are punctuated with panels of exposed stonework, and the clusters of easy chairs and low tables in front of narrow vertical windows give views across the bay and reinforce the atmosphere of luxurious calm. ‘I’ll have a glass of Prosecco, please.’
Rye stows away the last bottle of sparkling water and turns. ‘We have rosé or white, with alcohol or without?’
Spot the deliberate mistake. It’s four years since I last drank, yet I’m so nervous I forgot to specify alcohol-free. Given how much my hand is shaking as I reach in my bag for my payment card, straight Prosecco might be exactly what I need to relax me. ‘White, with, please.’
The place where I’m standing as I take my first sips of wine gives a three-sixty view of the bar area with glimpses of the lofty reception hallway beyond – good enough to keep an eye on incoming traffic. I pull out a stool, clamber onto it and start to arrange my dress. The silky dark-blue leopard print midi was the most discreet I could find, so now isn’t the ideal time to discover that the full skirt has a hem-to-thigh split up one side.
‘There you go, Floss. And Kit’s here too now, so I’ll put it on his tab.’
So much for surveillance. Given that Kit’s only a couple of feet away without me having noticed him arriving, I may need to brush up on my observation skills.
Kit comes in for a kiss on each of my cheeks and whispers in my ear, ‘Just so we look authentic.’ Then he stands back and pulls out a stool for himself. ‘Another nice dress, Florence Flapjack-face.’
I look down to see my skirt has already slipped. ‘Me showing a thousand acres of thigh was not intentional.’
He laughs. ‘Once I sit down no one else will notice.’ He glances at the one other couple at the far end of the room. ‘As most people are in the restaurant, we pretty much have the place to ourselves.’
Rye brings Kit a bottle of Peroni he didn’t order, and as he moves away I murmur to Kit, ‘Is that where they are?’
Rye laughs and turns to us again. ‘It’s okay, I’m in on this too.’
Kit nods. ‘Rye is as anxious as you are to know what’s going on. That’s partly why we suggested you came.’
This has thrown me. ‘So are you saying your father doesn’t make a habit of coming on to guests?’
Rye looks appalled. ‘Absolutely. Which is why it’s so strange your mum has got her hooks into him when others have all failed.’
‘Hang on!’ I need to put him right on that. ‘My mum won’t be the pursuer here – it has to be the other way around.’ If this really was just about her getting an insider view for my sake, I might need to think up a smokescreen and fast. As for Kit and Rye, those two seem so close they’re practically finishing each other’s sentences.
Rye blows out his cheeks. ‘I don’t understand it. David was so devoted to his wife, he didn’t even come looking for me until after he lost her, and he hasn’t looked at another woman in the ten years since then.’
I glance at the lobby. ‘Are he and Mum eating?’
Rye shakes his head. ‘Not yet.’
My mind races and comes to a screeching halt in Byron’s hotel suite. ‘They surely aren’t in his room?’
Rye pulls a face. ‘No, nothing that bad. They went for a pre-dinner walk along the beach.’
Kit takes a swig from his bottle and gets hold of the bar menu. ‘Anyone fancy a snack while we wait for them to reappear?’
Rye grins. ‘Perhaps not the seaweed salad this time.’
I’d already eaten but I’m always hungry. ‘Chips would be nice to nibble?’ I’m imagining how this upmarket bar will serve them. Maybe in a whelk shell? Or in a hand-hewn driftwood bowl?
Rye’s straight in. ‘I’m afraid Chef doesn’t do chips.’
I let out a sigh of disappointment. ‘If the restaurant is rammed, I can understand that.’
Kit frowns. ‘Except it isn’t. Given current progress with hotel occupancy Rye is going to be an OAP before he’s free to go out.’
Rye rolls his eyes. ‘That’s sad but true. Since the first flurry of freebies we’ve been running close to empty. We aren’t even picking up local business.’
I’m the last person up for helping High Tides, but this is such bad news for Plum, I’m going to push this. ‘So can you make changes to help that, Rye?’
Rye purses his lips. ‘It’s entirely my responsibility, but when I’ve put in so much effort getting the place up and running it’s hard to pinpoint where the problem is, let alone decide how to tackle it.’
I’m looking around, speaking as I’ve found it. ‘The ambience is great, the staff and treatments are lovely, the hot tubs are fab, and the price point goes with the territory.’ I hesitate as I work out how best to say it. ‘Any negative comments I’ve encountered have centred on the food.’
Kit nods at Rye. ‘That’s true. It’s great to have a cutting-edge kitchen, but there’s very little on offer we’d willingly eat ourselves.’
Rye blows out his cheeks. ‘David’s vision was so pure, but clearly Cornwall isn’t as ready to detox as we imagined.’ He pauses as his phone beeps, then shakes his head as he reads the message. ‘That was David. He and your mum are eating at The Harbourside, and they’ll get a taxi home later. When the owner can’t face eating at his own hotel, that says a lot.’
My heart goes out to Rye because he looks so crestfallen. ‘You’ve nailed it for the people wanting an experience focusing on health and abstinence, but anyone visiting the website who’s looking for indulgence will take one look at the photo of kelp flatbread, and book elsewhere.’
I’ve pored over both their websites these last few weeks, and I know how a single image can make or break a business.
Rye looks doubtful. ‘The hedonist market might not be what David was aiming for, but it would certainly help our bottom line.’
‘It would only be until you get going.’ I’m working out how to make this better without completely ruining their concept. ‘If you have a space that’s slightly apart from the rest you could offer hidden treats there without compromising your original ethos. If you add even one mouth-watering photo to your website, it might translate into bookings.’
Kit laughs. ‘A space at a distance – that sounds a lot like The Hideaway, Floss.’
This really isn’t me touting for business. ‘Hopefully you’ll get a lot more guests here than I can fit at mine.’
Rye narrows his eyes as he looks at Kit. ‘We could use the Shingle Studio as our “spoil yourself” area. It was meant for yoga, but so far they’ve been running that on the beach or in the Pilates lounge.’
Kit nods. ‘That would work. It would make sense to test the idea before you make any big in-house changes. You could always get the scones from…’ he stops to wink ‘… our usual supplier? ’
Rye turns to me. ‘Would you be interested?’
I’m opening and closing my mouth in shock at where we’ve landed. It might be the last thing I planned, but there’s no time for wavering, I need to seize this before he changes his mind. ‘Clemmie’s the afternoon tea specialist, but I’m sure we’d be able to get the basics up and running pretty quickly.’
There’s a smile lilting around Kit’s lips. ‘Cake stacks would go down well too. And you could design some special puddings to have in High Tides cups.’
I’m on a roll here. ‘Why stop there? We could do cocktails too!’
Rye grins at me. ‘This sounds a lot like me setting up my own personal pantry.’
I can’t argue with that. ‘You’ve got great taste. If you like it, the chances are that customers will too.’
Kit laughs. ‘We’ll have to rename it the Pleasure Dome.’ He looks at Rye. ‘See, I told you she was good.’
I hold up my finger. ‘And chips! I don’t care where they’re served, but you have to have them. Triple cooked in teensy portions, served in clam shells.’
Rye reaches for a couple more glasses and fills them from the Prosecco bottle. Before I realise what he’s doing, he’s topped mine up, too.
He watches me hesitate. ‘Sorry, if you’d prefer to switch to alcohol-free, it’s only over here?’
The carefree bubbles from the first glass have already reached my head. ‘One more will be fine.’
Rye picks up his glass and pushes the other towards Kit. ‘In that case let’s drink to good ideas and fully booked rooms.’
Kit nods. ‘And undercover agents.’
I add my own. ‘And parents who don’t stay out too late.’
But even as I say it, it’s so delicious sitting close to Kit with the heat from his body radiating across the space between us I realise I wouldn’t care if we stayed here all night.