Chapter Three #2
Kate gathered her robe and snatched at the towel around her head.
Her hair was already curling into a tight frizz and would look terrible unless she got a move on.
She needed some fresh air too, to clear her head.
As she rummaged for a hairdryer, Kate vowed that she’d abstain from alcohol all day.
It weakened her resolve and had given her a pounding headache.
She searched in her bag until she found a couple of painkillers, and pouring a glass of water, she swallowed them.
She wouldn’t think about Andy. He was probably in the breakfast room, charming the walking socks off a bevy of females, all memories of their dinner gone as he lined up ladies for the weeks ahead.
Kate turned the dryer to a high setting and, as she got to work, made her mind up to have a drive out.
Sunday stretched ahead and Kate determined that she wouldn’t set herself up for disappointment.
She pushed all thoughts of Andy to one side.
With normal service resumed and her headache gone, Kate fell back in her groove.
She grabbed a jacket and pulled on a pair of leather boots, then picked up her bag and, with a last glance around the room, closed the door and skipped down the stairs.
It was a perfect morning and the hall was awash with sunshine as she made her way out of the front door.
She reached in a pocket for her car keys.
‘Kate!’ a voice called out.
Andy stood by a gleaming Porsche, holding the passenger door open.
Kate felt the keys drop back in her pocket and, trance-like, moved forward.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said. ‘I thought we might drive over to Ullswater. It’ll be lovely on the lake today.’
As Kate let Andy guide her into the car, she felt a sexual current surge through her body and her heart began to race. She slid onto the soft leather seat and, with trembling hands, clicked her seatbelt into place.
‘You look gorgeous,’ he whispered and jumped in beside her.
The car roared into life and, as they sped off, Kate stole a glance at the man beside her and felt her resolve melt. Suddenly the day beckoned with promise far beyond her expectations.
Boomerville was beginning to feel right.
‘Sir Henry has asked if his brother Hugo can come and stay,’ Hattie announced.
Refreshed from her bath and a walk around the hotel, she was back at the table in Jo’s house to join Jo and Pete for Sunday lunch.
Spooning vegetables onto her plate, alongside slices of lamb and a crisp Yorkshire pudding, she continued, ‘Sir Henry says he can bunk up with him in his suite, as it has two big beds and a good-sized sitting room.’ She reached for the gravy and poured lashings over her dinner, then began to tuck in.
Pete asked Jo for mint sauce and she pushed a pretty cut-glass bowl across the table.
‘Hugo Mulberry must be getting on a bit,’ Jo said.
‘I thought he was dead,’ Hattie replied.
‘He’s a few years younger than Sir Henry and I suppose we should consider him.’
‘Aye, I wonder if he’s still as nimble.’ Hattie remembered the days of Sir Henry’s shoots at the hotel, when she’d spent a great deal of time being chased around the kitchen table by Hugo, fending him off with a rolling pin, all of which seemed to excite the younger brother.
‘I hope he’s grown out of his upstairs-downstairs fetish. ’
‘You probably encouraged him,’ Jo said.
‘Nope, but I added another fifty quid on his bar bill for putting up with it. The things I did to help your business.’
‘He might be quite entertaining. I liked Hugo. Did you know that he used to be a member of Parliament?’
‘I rest my case.’
‘Didn’t they have a nanny when they were growing up?’
‘She was the subject of Hugo’s fantasies.’ Hattie remembered late-night conversations in the bar with the brothers.
‘Perhaps we could get him involved with the writing class. I could suggest he begins an autobiography; he must have had an interesting career in politics.’
Hattie rolled her eyes. ‘Be it on your own head.’
‘Some of the ladies might find him an entertaining guest.’
‘Or enjoy watching paint dry; he’s as boring as his brother.’ Hattie reached for a roast potato.
‘If he shared a room with Sir Henry, it would be another decent revenue stream.’
Hattie stopped eating and considered Jo’s financial argument. ‘I’ll get the other bed made up.’ Hattie was on a profit-share bonus and suddenly Hugo’s booking looked attractive.
‘I remember the old days and shooting parties,’ Jo said. ‘Sir Henry was always so keen to impress his clients.’
‘Aye, all expenses paid with the hotel booked for the start of the shooting season.’
‘Do you remember the cars?’ Jo looked up from her meal and stared at Hattie.
‘How could I forget?’ Hattie was thoughtful. ‘The drive was awash with chauffeur-driven Range Rovers.’
‘Henry and Hugo and all their cronies would fall out of the hotel, guns at the ready.’
‘It was a bleedin’ miracle they didn’t shoot themselves.’
‘The bar takings broke all records.’
‘Happy times.’ The two women shook their heads as a wave of nostalgia swept over them and they thought about the good old days when the hotel was in its infancy.
‘I always thought you had a soft spot for Hugo?’ Jo had finished her meal and placed her serviette on one side.
‘He was a fine-looking man.’ Hattie was thoughtful.
She remembered a late-night encounter with Hugo, long after the guests had gone to bed.
Tired of fending off the nightly chase around the kitchen table, Hattie had succumbed to Hugo’s affections and they’d ended up in Sandra’s pantry.
Hattie could still recall the pungent aroma of strong farmhouse cheese and freshly made chutneys, as they’d tumbled from shelf to shelf.
In the morning, Hugo had the hangover from hell and barely looked up from his breakfast. Hattie was sure that he’d forgotten the incident as she waved the shoot off to the moors and she’d never spoken of it since.
Not even to Jo.
Suddenly, Bunty bounced out of her box and began to scrabble at Pete’s leg. He cut a tiny slice of lamb and fed it to the puppy.
‘You’re spoiling that daft dog,’ Hattie said, pleased for the distraction.
‘It’s Sunday, let her have a treat.’ Pete stroked Bunty’s head.
Gravel crunched on the drive outside and the three diners looked up. Peering out of the window, they stared with interest as a car cruised to a halt. The driver raced around to the passenger side to open the door.
‘The name’s Bond,’ Hattie said as Andy assisted Kate out. ‘My, he’s one smooth operator.’
‘They seem to be getting along very well.’ Jo watched Andy take Kate’s hand. ‘I hope she’s not letting her heart rule her head; her emotions are all over the place.’ Jo began to gather the plates. ‘But they do make an attractive couple.’
Hattie observed the new guests as Andy opened the front door for Kate and they disappeared into the hotel. He had good manners and his looks were head turning, but Andy didn’t impress Hattie.
‘Pudding anyone?’ Jo appeared from the kitchen with an apple crumble and jug of cream. ‘The apples are from the orchard; Alf picked them this morning.’
Alf had been their gamekeeper when the hotel was open for shooting parties and now helped out with maintenance and repair around the building.
Jo considered Alf to be part of the backdrop of the business and relied on him to ensure that the hotel kept a high standard.
‘He says there are plenty on the trees.’ She began to portion the dessert.
‘Bring it on.’ Hattie beamed. She loved her food and a traditional Sunday meal was one of her favourites.
A large helping later, Hattie pushed back her chair, straightened her skirt and loosened a button on her blouse.
She announced that she was going to have a walk to check on the guests.
‘You two can put your feet up. I’ll make sure the place is still standing and Sir Henry hasn’t set fire to anything. ’
Sir Henry had a penchant for cigar smoking and Hattie had threatened to boot him out if he persisted on smoking surreptitiously when he thought no one was watching.
‘Thanks,’ Jo said. ‘I do feel a little bit tired and we have such a busy week ahead.’ She yawned as Pete cleared the table.
Hattie reached into her cleavage and, finding a lipstick, smoothed gloss over her lips. She waved at Jo and Pete, then disappeared through the adjoining door from the house that led into the hotel.
Pete and Jo watched Hattie retreat.
‘Let’s hope that no one’s misbehaving,’ Pete said.
‘Well, if they’re not, they soon will be.’ Jo smiled, secure in the knowledge that her business was in Hattie’s capable hands. ‘And talking of misbehaving.’ She leaned in to kiss his cheek and, as Pete chuckled and reached out to grab her waist, they hurried up the stairs.