Sitting Pretty Page 15

  ‘Do you know what I think, Beth?’ He lined up his pastry fork with his teaspoon and the handle of his teapot. ‘I think you should eat that toastie before it gets any colder.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  My mind was most definitely not on my work that afternoon. After my lunchtime chat with Henry Halliday, it wouldn’t have surprised me if both the dogs I was walking had taken one look at me and told themselves that today was a good day for slipping their leads and running from this dopey woman for some fun and games.

  The man whose home I’d taken advantage of most had sat and listened to my story in much the same way I could imagine him sitting and listening to an episode of The Archers. What, however, he planned to do about me, I had no idea.

  After his phone call this morning, poor Anthony and Cleopatra had ended up with such a cursory visit I returned in a convenient gap between afternoon dog walks. I fed them an extra biscuit snack, talking complete gibberish to them. Cleopatra, clearly not wanting to hurt my feelings, washed her face, pretended to listen for a while and then decided my feelings were less important than her beauty sleep and took herself off for a nap. Anthony just stuck his leg in the air and licked his bottom.

  My nerves were jangling like wine glasses on a moving tray as I drove back to our office. My phone’s shrill ringtone startled me so much I almost veered into the hedgerow. It was Henry Halliday again. There was a lay by on the other side of the road and no other traffic, so I quickly pulled over into it, took a deep breath, and answered it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  ‘I’ve been speaking with Davina about you.’ Henry Halliday turned from his state of the art coffee machine and put what looked like a perfect latte on the counter in front of me. ‘Decaf latte, no sugar, correct?’

  Blimey! A man who paid attention and remembered how somebody he’d only met properly once liked her coffee. Still, I supposed attention to detail was important in his line of work.

  When he’d called as I was heading back to the office with the day’s keys, he’d asked me to come round to the cottage that evening for a chat. As if there was any chance I was going to say no to him. I was almost at the fork in the road, where I could turn right for Wintertown to carry on to the office and take the keys back, or left, to go straight to Netley Parva. Without a second’s hesitation I’d turned left. His tone had given nothing away and I didn’t know whether I should expect to find a policeman waiting for me or not. It appeared not, unless he was lurking in the front room.

  ‘Yes,’ I gulped. ‘Thank you.’ I wanted to ask him if I should be worried, but didn’t want to sound flippant, so I went to take a sip of my coffee and scalded my lip instead.

  ‘Shall we?’ He ushered me through to the front room, too much of a gentleman, of course, to comment on my sloppy drinking habits. ‘Please sit down.’

  ‘Should I be worried?’ I heard myself ask as I perched on the oh, so comfortable sofa where I’d cuddled Talisker the day my husband deserted me, mentally cursing myself the moment the words left my disobedient mouth.

  ‘Not at all. Davina speaks, as she did when she first sent you to take care of Talisker for me, very highly of you. She says you’re an excellent people person as well as being very good with animals. And that you have more common sense than anyone else she’s ever employed.’

  ‘Oh?’ That was praise indeed, coming from Davina. I wondered where this was going.

  ‘Tell me, Beth, do you know what a secret shopper is?’

  ‘A secret shopper?’ I hadn’t expected that. ‘Well … it’s someone who goes into shops and pretends to be a customer while they secretly spy on the staff and make sure they’re being polite enough to the customers and … er … not helping themselves from the till? That sort of thing?’ I trailed off.

  ‘Loosely that sort of thing.’ He emphasised the loosely and I felt as if I were being laughed at, but not in an unkind way. Henry Halliday coughed gently. ‘You know I run a vacation club?’

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘Davina always gives us an outline of anything that might be relevant to our clients’ packages – especially with regular customers like yourself. I always thought it must be lovely to have your own upmarket timeshare, except with lots of places to choose from instead of just the one.’ The inane words finally stopped tumbling out of my mouth. I noticed him wince ever so slightly when I said timeshare, but the words queuing up inside my head just wouldn’t stop until they were out.

  ‘There’s a little bit more to it than that, Beth,’ he said politely, as I cringed for equating his posh holiday company to some dodgy timeshare. I really was my own worst enemy – I’d squatted in this man’s house and now I was insulting his business. All I needed to do was kick his cat and the brown stuff really would be all over the fan.

  To hide my embarrassment I took a gulp of my coffee while, as if my thoughts had summoned him, the cat flap in the back door gave a little rattle and a flump. Then the sound of biscuits being crunched came from the utility room.

  ‘Anyway,’ Henry Halliday carried on. ‘Regarding your current and rather unusual predicament, I have a proposition for you – a job which I think would be perfect for you and for which I believe, given your skill set, imagination and resourcefulness, you would be perfect.’

  I nearly dropped my drink. I’d gone from half expecting to be carted off to the cop shop to being offered a perfect position. Of course, his idea of what would be perfect for me might be very different from mine. But I didn’t think it very likely that he had a secret chain of lap dancing clubs where the dancers needed imagination, resourcefulness and a way with animals, and was planning to put me to work in one of them as a penance for taking advantage of his home in his absence. Trying not to gush and sound too girly and unprofessional for whatever he had in mind I gushed, ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘Tell me, Beth.’ He crossed his legs and picked what seemed to be an invisible cat hair off his trouser leg – and they were very nice trousers. ‘What do you look for when you stay in a hotel? What would be the three most important things to you that could either make or break your holiday experience?’

  ‘Er …’ I suspected generous measures in the bar wasn’t the reply he was looking for. ‘Fluffy, white towels and having them changed every day? Or,’ I added quickly, as the thought popped into my head, ‘the option not to, if I want to be eco-friendly.’

  ‘I see. What else?’

  ‘Friendly staff?’ I ventured. ‘Especially at the reception desk – it’s horrible having snooty receptionists looking down their noses at you because you’re not booked into a suite or your luggage isn’t fancy enough.’

  ‘Hm. Anything else?’

  ‘Flexible check out times without being charged a fortune for it. After all, if your flight home isn’t until the evening and you want to enjoy your last day by the pool or on the beach, you’re going to want a shower before you head to the airport, aren’t you? But some hotels charge a whole extra night for it.’ I ground to a halt, hoping I hadn’t just criticised something that he might indeed do in his own company.

  ‘Interesting choice,’ he nodded gently. ‘Why the towels?’

  ‘Well …’ Oh God, I thought, why had I said about the towels? Think, Beth, think. ‘Well, when you’re on holiday you want to feel a bit pampered, and fluffy white towels feel luxurious. And,’ I carried on, warming to my theme, ‘if the towels are spotlessly clean and fresh it gives the impression that the cleaning staff are doing a good job. But if you’re the sort of person who feels guilty about having fresh towels every day, you should have that option too.’

  ‘Very good,’ Henry Halliday nodded again and I found myself ridiculously pleased that he liked my answer. ‘Now I take it you’ve had experience of snooty receptionists?’

  ‘On our honeymoon,’ I gave an involuntary grimace. ‘We got married in Greece because Alex has a bigger family than me, and we went round some of the islands for a couple of weeks. Mostly it was fab. We sta
yed in a windmill on Mykonos, a cave on Santorini, and some of the places upgraded us because we were on our honeymoon – they were really lovely. But by the time we got to the fancy hotel we were staying in on Crete, for the last couple of nights, we’d run out of clean clothes and we must have looked a bit travel worn. The receptionist looked down her nose at us as if we weren’t good enough to stay there. It put a bit of a downer on the last days.’

  ‘I’m sure it did.’ Henry Halliday sounded indignant on our behalf. ‘And if I caught any member of my staff making a guest feel like that, they’d be out the door like that,’ he clicked his fingers.

  ‘That was the place that wanted to charge us a whole extra night for keeping our room on until the early evening.’ I remembered with embarrassment the loud argument, accompanied by Mediterranean gesticulating, Alex had had with the receptionist about that, thankfully in Greek, so I’d only understood the odd word. Although some of the hand gestures had been all too clear in their meaning.

  ‘Hm, that’s a tricky one. It’s often left up to the discretion of whoever’s on duty, if, of course, the next guest booked into the room isn’t checking in straight away.’ Henry smiled as Talisker padded into the room and leaped up onto his lap, turning a couple of circles before kneading at his master’s thighs, flopping down into a comfortable position, and turning his head towards me, slowly closing and opening his eyes. There’d be more than one cat hair on those trousers now. ‘To my mind, if the room is available for those extra hours, it should be complimentary.’

  ‘That’s what we said,’ I agreed.

  ‘So, if you were the hotel equivalent of a secret shopper, it sounds like you’d have no problem reporting on the checking in and checking out processes and keeping an eye on the cleanliness of the rooms. What about F & B, that’s food and beverages? Restaurant service and room service.’

  ‘Right.’

  So instead of being in the trouble I’d expected to be in, I was being interviewed for a job as a secret hotel guest. This was surreal. I was suddenly going from being a guiltily secret, uninvited guest, hoping to not be found out, to a top secret, mystery guest who … well, for very different reasons was also hoping not to be found out. It sounded like a dream job, and it had fallen into my lap!

  I wondered if he had any hotels in Dubai. That high balcony I’d thought about shoving Alex off could be within my grasp.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The miniature flat above Henry’s Wintertown office was like something out of a catalogue on chic capsule living. Bijou: I think the estate agents’ term for its size would be. It was lucky I wasn’t the sort of person who’d ever want to swing a cat, because even if I stood right in the centre, I don’t think there’d have been room to do it without hitting the poor creature’s head against the walls in this … well, studio I suppose was the correct name for it, with a tiny en-suite shower and toilet and dinky kitchenette on the side.

  I certainly wasn’t complaining, however, because not only was it a legitimate roof over my head, but it was also surprisingly nice – far better than anything I’d been imagining. And it was extremely kind of him to let me move in at once, knowing I had nowhere else to put my head down that night – he’d been horrified about my spending the previous night in the en-suite tub in his spare room and I wouldn’t want to be in his brother’s shoes when he got home.

  The tiny space was tastefully decorated in neutral cream and biscuit tones and looked more like a finished miniature property in Homes Under the Hammer than an unused box room and couple of cupboards upstairs from commercial premises.

  ‘It’s a useful space for anyone who needs to stay overnight,’ Henry had said to me as I followed him up the stairs. ‘I’ve even stayed here the odd night myself, if I’ve been working late and felt too tired to drive home.’

  ‘It’s just so much lovelier than I was expecting,’ I heard myself gush. ‘I was expecting to be squeezing myself into a kind of dog-leg shape to sleep in between boxes of holiday brochures and office supplies.’

  Henry laughed. ‘Well, there is a stationary cupboard on the mezzanine floor if you’d feel more at home in that,’ he chuckled. He had a lovely chuckle – it made you feel safe and like everything was going to be all right.

  ‘No thanks,’ I jumped in quickly, throwing my shoulder bag down on the bed as if to stake my claim on it. ‘This’ll do me just fine.’

  Henry left me to unpack my case with the wonky wheel, which I’d noticed him glancing at. Of course he was far too much of a gentleman to comment on it. I could almost see him biting his tongue.

  He’d kindly stopped so we could pick up a few essentials from the supermarket on our way there, and so as soon as he left I went into the miniature kitchen and ran some water into the travel kettle to make myself a proper cup of tea.

  Whoever had designed and fitted this Lilliputian space had done an amazing job. The fridge was like a hotel mini bar, just big enough for my litre of milk, tub of easy spread Lurpak, half a dozen eggs, and packet of cheese. The letterbox-sized ice section would hold one ready meal, and I happily posted my individual lasagne into it, looking forward to a hot meal that evening – that for once, wasn’t pizza – like a child looking forward to Easter. Above the fridge was a very shiny, two ring electric hob that didn’t look as if it had been used yet. A pair of sparklingly new saucepans, one small and one medium sized, hung from hooks off a rail above that and below an eye level shelf, on which stood the dinkiest microwave oven I’d ever seen. It looked like something out of a Wendy house. Henry had told me it was a combination oven when he caught me looking longingly at the frozen meals in the supermarket. Above that was a cupboard containing a dinner plate, side plate, bowl, cup and saucer, a wine glass, and a tumbler.

  To the left of the fridge, a compact sink sat over a cupboard containing a few cleaning things and a brand new iron, still in the box. Above the sink was an empty cupboard where I put my tea bags, bread, marmalade, and baked beans. That instantly made the place look tidier.

  Leaving my tea in the kitchenette in case I knocked it over, I hauled my case up onto the bed and started to unpack. There were two deep drawers that each took up half the length of the sofa bed, which was a god send, as the wardrobe in the corner of the room was, out of necessity, slim. Most of the contents of my case would fit into the drawers, and I divided T-shirts, jumpers, underwear, and pyjamas between them, but I hung up my two jackets, jeans, trousers, and the least scruffy of my clothes on the hangers provided. Thank God the job came with a clothes allowance – I could hardly imagine any of the places Henry would be sending me to, letting me through their doors dressed like a bag lady.

  Everything I owned needed ironing – it hadn’t mattered while working for Sitting Pretty, but I’d have to take a lot more care with my appearance in this new job. Then I balanced the empty case on top and hoped it wouldn’t fall off in the night and give me concussion.

  The en-suite consisted of a slender shower cabinet, loo, and a sink, the size of which I’ve only ever seen in a caravan. There was a ribbon of shelf over the sink where I lined up the contents of my sponge bag, glad I’d never been a hoarder of cosmetics. One thing about this place – it was going to force me into being a much tidier person – there really was no alternative!

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  ‘So you’re really going to leave us this time?’ Davina pouted across her desk the following morning. She clearly couldn’t understand why anyone could possibly want to work for someone other than her. We’d been through all this before, of course, only last time the fact that Alex and I were moving abroad stopped her taking it quite so personally. Telling her that Henry Halliday had offered me a job in his company had gone down about as well as if I’d told her I thought her fancy new shoes made her ankles look fat.

  ‘Yes, Davina, I’m sorry but this time it’s really happening.’ I’d had to fudge a bit about not going to join Alex in Dubai. I couldn’t bring myself, after three weeks, to
admit to Davina and the girls that he’d left me, and that I’d stayed on as part of a bizarre plan born out of sheer bloody-mindedness. I’d just told her that Henry and I had got chatting about his work a few times and that I’d thought it sounded like something I’d like to have a go at. She seemed to find this a poor reason for abandoning all my furry customers, as if my leaving meant they were all going to starve and spend days crossing their little paws because nobody was going to be there to take them for their walks.

  ‘Well, you will work out your notice before you toddle off and desert me, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ I assured her. I’d already discussed this with Henry, and he’d agreed completely. He was the sort of person who valued loyalty and I think he’d have been disappointed if I’d even thought about not working my notice.

  Davina seemed to be satisfied with this. I had a sneaky feeling, though, that she was expecting me to do another turn-around in a week and stay working for her. But this time she was going to be disappointed. Henry Halliday was no Alex Petropoulos.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The next ten days took on a kind of surreal quality. In fact, I sometimes felt like pinching myself to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep and was having another of the weird dreams I’d been having since Alex left.

  Whilst working my weeks’ notice, I was also spending my evenings with Henry while he coached me in the art of being a mystery guest. This had to be the jammiest apprenticeship ever. I kept waiting for him to decide that I wasn’t really the right girl for the job after all, thus sending me back to my life of un-wantedness only with the added humiliation of knowing what a lovely job I could have had if only I’d been a bit wittier, a bit better dressed, or a bit more posh.