Chapter 10
10
Two weeks on the job and Anya was ready to quit. Rick’s prediction that she’d find a way to handle Davy hadn’t shown any sign of materialising so far, and she felt almost as out of her depth as she had when she’d had to learn the hard way how to manage all the accounts and bills at home after Drew died. It didn’t help that Davy had very specific ways of doing things, some of which he’d clearly been doing since he’d opened the hotel in the years before computerisation.
Anya glared at the battered red leather ledger open in front of her. The post book, Davy had called it as he’d dropped it on the desk on her first day. Every item of post that arrived had to be logged in it and then she was required to sit with him while he decided what needed to be done and write down that instruction in one column and then update it when the action had been completed. On the opposite page to the post records, she was required to write down every phone call and every guest request and again update the action taken column when it had been dealt with. Steve, the night manager, had no truck with the book and left sticky notes on the inside edge of the desk with any messages, so it was Anya’s first task of every day to transfer them to the book.
And then there was the diary that had to be filled in with any bookings she took, even though there was a perfectly adequate electronic system. Anya’s second job of the day was to go through the computer and check to see if Steve had added any bookings overnight, or if anyone had booked directly via the internet.
When she’d suggested it seemed like a waste of effort to duplicate everything, Davy had given her a ten-minute lecture about a bad storm in the seventies that had left the Quay without power for a week. It had been on the tip of her tongue to point out that the grid would’ve been updated in the past fifty years and no one would want to stay in a hotel without any power anyway, but she’d decided to keep her mouth shut and do as she was told. She needed the job too much to start making waves and at least the repetition gave her something to do other than supply Davy with endless cups of tea, which appeared to be one of her other main duties.
The amount of fluid he consumed in a day was staggering; just thinking about it made Anya cross her legs. And, of course, Davy wasn’t a dunk-a-bag-in-a-mug kind of tea drinker. He insisted on a pot being brewed with properly measured out loose tea. Fed up of getting a mouthful of bits in the dregs of her cup, Anya had brought in her own supply of tea bags and hidden them in the bottom drawer of the cabinet that Davy had allocated to her.
Right on cue the whoosh of the revolving door caught her attention and in came Jim the postman.
‘Morning, Anya! Bloody filthy out there; you’ve got the right idea staying inside today!’
Jim had greeted her like a long-lost friend on her first morning, though she was pretty sure they’d never met before, and he wasn’t the only one. Most of the people she passed in the street greeted her by name, even though she had no idea who half of them were. Obviously the local gossip network had been engaged and everyone knew about poor Ryan and Helen’s niece. She shoved aside the thought; she had no time for a pity party. Moving to a small village had its ups and downs and, as she hadn’t had any choice in the matter, there was no point getting her back up at the idea of everyone knowing her business. It was just the way things were in the Quay.
Turning her attention back to Jim, Anya finally registered what he’d said and frowned past him to see heavy rain battering the pavement outside. The large stone portico kept the front of the hotel sheltered so she hadn’t noticed the change in the weather since she’d arrived an hour earlier. ‘Goodness me, it’s raining cats and dogs out there.’
‘Joys of the English summer,’ Jim said, chuckling like he’d told her the funniest joke in the world. ‘Here you go, love, not too much today.’ He plonked a small stack of envelopes on the top of the counter. ‘How’s his lordship this morning?’ he asked, looking past her to the open door of the office where Davy was lurking, doing whatever it was he did to keep himself busy all day. The banter between him and Davy had a pattern to it and Jim had added Anya into the routine without hesitation.
‘Grumpy,’ she said, not bothering to keep her voice down.
‘That’s because you stewed the bloody tea again,’ Davy growled. ‘If you don’t buck your ideas up, you’ll be out on your ear.’ It wasn’t the first time he’d threatened her with the sack in her short employment, not even the second or the third. The first time he’d said it, she’d apologised so much he’d ended up telling her it was only a joke. Not exactly her idea of amusing, but she was starting to learn that Davy’s bark was much worse than his bite and he actually seemed to like it when she pushed back.
‘Give the poor girl a chance, Davy!’ Jim protested. ‘It’s a miracle you’ve found someone who’ll put up with you.’ He winked at Anya. ‘Right, best get on, no rest for the wicked and all that. See you later, Davy!’ He called out the last bit in a louder voice.
‘Not if I see you first!’
Beaming from ear to ear, Jim tugged up the hood of his bright red jacket and stomped off and out into the squally rain. His top half might be protected but his shorts-clad legs had been left to fend for themselves against the elements. Was there something in the post office contract that stated all postal workers were required to wear shorts whatever the weather, because it had been the same at home, though she’d never learned the name of the chap who’d delivered their post even though she’d given him an envelope every Christmas with a card and a twenty-pound note in it.
Speaking of contracts, she still hadn’t signed hers yet. She’d arranged to have lunch with Chloe in the café and she and Issy were going to look over it with her. As Rick had predicted, they hadn’t said anything other than of course they’d be happy to do it when she’d plucked up the courage to ask them via the WhatsApp group Chloe had set up. They’d invited Kat to join them but she’d declined, saying one of the baristas had quit with no notice, so her dad was short-handed. If Gavin Bailey was anything like Anya remembered, he was short-tempered too. Which was probably why the barista had walked out.
Anya reached for the envelopes and sorted them so they were all face down before slitting each one open at the top using the ancient letter opener Davy had presented to her like he was bestowing some great honour. She pulled out each bit of post, stapling together any loose pages and paperclipping the envelopes to the back of each item. Davy had shown her exactly how he liked the post to be presented, and again it had been easier to go with the flow than raise any arguments. She eyed the dreaded ink pad, one thing she was determined to get rid of because it was impossible to use without getting red dye all over her fingers, then turned the dial on the date stamp and proceeded to stamp up each of the half-dozen letters. Most of them were bills and invoices. Once she’d written each one up in the book she’d have to go through the email inbox and see if anything had come in that way, print it off and add it to the book. She might not have much, if any, work experience but even she could organise an inbox better than what she’d seen so far. She would give it a few more weeks to really find her feet before making any suggestions. In the meantime she would get on with it and be grateful she had a job.
The storm had blown out as fast as it had blown in and bright blue sky greeted Anya when she left the hotel for her lunch appointment. There were plenty of people about, most in T-shirts but a few were still wearing lightweight waterproof jackets as though expecting to be caught out again. The ocean beyond the harbour walls spoke of the earlier winds, the tops of the waves still ruffles of white. Colourful sails stood out against the blue-green of the water and she could hear the faint zip of engines from a pair of jet skiers carving circular wakes.
As she strolled along the seafront, Anya spotted the deli Rick had bought the sparkling cordial from and she paused to have a nosey through the window. The beautiful display of cheeses, olives and meat made her nostalgic for the many parties she’d hosted when the wine had flowed and the house had been full of laughter and conversation. Parties where people had let their guard down and fallen for Drew’s easy charms just like she had. Anya turned abruptly from the window, a sour twist in her stomach. Unwitting or not, she had played her part in his activities.
She crossed the road as though putting distance between herself and the deli would somehow give a similar distance to her memories – and her guilt. No chance of that.
‘Watch where you’re going!’
The harsh words in a strong local accent brought Anya up short, just inches from the front of a double-buggy being pushed by a scowling, blonde-haired woman who she recognised but couldn’t place. In addition to the two babies strapped in the buggy, the woman was clutching the hand of a boy of maybe three of four.
‘Sorry!’ Anya pressed herself back against the wall to take up as little space as possible on the pavement. ‘I was miles away.’
‘Huh.’ The woman looked her up and down. ‘I heard you’d moved down here. How the mighty have fallen, eh?’
Anya’s stomach twisted even more, the sour feeling beginning to bubble and burn up her oesophagus. She placed a hand on the centre of her chest as though she could soothe the rising acid. ‘Again, I’m sorry I was in your way.’
The woman’s sneer turned a shade uglier. ‘You don’t even recognise me, do you? Then again you always were a snobby cow. Don’t bother with your airs and graces around me, we all know what that husband of yours did. He might have got away with it, but I’m surprised they let you walk free.’
It wasn’t the first time she’d received this kind of comment, of course, but hearing it here, in the place she’d hoped would be a safe haven for her and Freya while she put the pieces of her life back together, was a horrible shock. There was one thing she’d learned over the past months, though, and that was not to let anyone know when they’d scored a blow. Adopting the cold, blank expression she’d developed as a protection mechanism, Anya straightened her spine and walked away.
‘Nothing to say to defend yourself, eh?’ the woman called after her. Anya could feel eyes on her, and she wanted to shrink in upon herself, but somehow she kept her head up and her gaze dead ahead. Keep moving . Every step would take her further from whoever that awful woman was and closer to the safety of Issy’s café. Thankfully there were no footsteps on the pavement other than her own, so at least the woman had decided not to pursue it, having won whatever victory she had felt the need to score. The urge to hurry beat at Anya, but she fought it down. Running would only draw more attention, would make her look vulnerable and perhaps tempt others who heard and shared the gossip about her to toss in their two pennies’ worth.
It felt like it took forever to reach the café, though in reality it couldn’t be more than a couple of minutes. The smile of delight on Issy’s face when she spotted her coming through the door was almost Anya’s undoing, but she held it together enough to make it to the table where Chloe was already waiting. ‘Don’t hug me,’ she warned her cousin through a smile threatening to wobble. ‘I’ve had a run-in with someone and if you’re too nice to me I might cry. I’ll be damned if that’s going to happen.’
Chloe’s warm, friendly expression immediately darkened into a deep frown. ‘With who? What happened?’ Her gaze swivelled towards the door as though she expected a mob to be following at Anya’s heels. Given the fierce glow in her eyes, Chloe would no doubt fight them all off if there was such a horde.
‘It was nothing really, just let me sit for a minute and catch my breath and I’ll tell you and Issy about it when she joins us.’
There was an older woman Anya didn’t know also behind the counter, so it wasn’t long before Issy was sliding into one of the spare chairs holding two mugs, one of which she set in front of Anya. ‘Hello, hello! How’s work going? Has Davy driven you around the bend yet?’ As though sensing the atmosphere, Issy’s smile dimmed. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Feeling a bit more in control, Anya managed a smile and a casual shrug. ‘Nothing really, just a run-in with some woman in the street who felt the need to tell me what she thought of me.’
‘Oh my God!’ Chloe exclaimed. ‘Who the hell was it?’
Anya shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I think I recognised her but I couldn’t place her. A blonde woman around our age with three kids, the youngest were twins, I think, though I didn’t pay that much attention.’
Chloe’s lip curled. ‘Shelly Dean.’
The name triggered something in Anya’s memory. Shelly had been part of the big gang who’d hung around together on the beach during her summers in the Quay. Part of the group, but not part of their inner circle, just one of the many classmates of her cousins and their cousins who’d gravitated towards their favoured spot on the beach. ‘Yes, that’s her.’
Issy reached across the table to cover her hand with a comforting gesture. ‘What did she say, Annie?’
Anya screwed up her nose. ‘The usual stuff about Drew and how I must’ve known what was going on.’ She managed a wry smile. ‘Oh and I got a side order of being called a snobby cow.’
Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘She always was jealous of you.’
‘Of me? What on earth for?’
Issy and Chloe exchanged a knowing look.
‘Come on, guys, what am I missing here?’
It was Issy who spoke. ‘All I can say is that if you weren’t one of my best friends, I might have been a bit envious too of all the attention you received. ’
When she looked between the two of them, no idea what Issy was talking about, Chloe tilted her head to one side, her expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief. ‘Come on, Annie, you can’t tell me you didn’t know that you turned the head of half the boys in village!’
Anya raised a hand to her cheek. Was it hot in there, or was it just her? She supposed, if she thought back, there were one or two fumbling attempts to ask her out, but she’d been too shy to accept. Plus her mother had issued nothing but dire warnings about how men weren’t to be trusted, so Anya had avoided them for the most part. Perhaps if she’d listened to her mother’s advice things wouldn’t have turned out the way they had. ‘Oh, that. Come on, that was nothing, and if any of them did think they liked me it was only because I was something of a novelty. Look at the way they used to chase after the girls who were down here on holiday.’
Issy pursed her lips. ‘If you say so.’
‘You really have no idea of the effect you had, do you?’ Chloe asked, shaking her head. ‘The summer you turned up with Drew in tow, I’m surprised the local lads didn’t all start wearing black armbands. Especially Rick.’
Anya scoffed. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous! Rick barely noticed I was alive. He, Liam and Matt always acted like being expected to look out for us was the biggest burden of their lives.’
Issy shrugged. ‘Whether you were aware of it or not, back then Rick only ever had eyes for you, and plenty of the local girls knew it. Shelly had a big crush on him and she made a bit of a fool of herself asking him to the leavers’ dance.’
‘Surely she can’t blame me for that?’ Anya exclaimed.
Chloe frowned. ‘No, I’m sure she doesn’t blame you for Rick rejecting her, at least not directly, but seeing you probably brought back a lot of those teenage memories and she lashed out.’
‘Well, I hope that’s all it is because the Quay is too small for me to go tiptoeing around trying to avoid her.’ She shook her head. Whatever Shelly’s problem was, it was exactly that – her problem. As for what her friends had said about Rick liking her? They were surely mistaken, because he’d never shown so much of a hint of it. Not that she’d considered any of the Penrose brothers as anything other than an extended part of the family circle. Even if he had taken a shine to her back in the day, so much water had passed under that bridge.