Page 33 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“As most of you know, we — that is, the hotel group which we’re part of — has been taken over several times over the years by various investment funds. Well, it’s been taken over again, by another investment fund.”
There was a murmuring around the room, some people enquiring what an investment fund was.
“A couple of days ago we had a visit from a representative of the fund. A Mr Forsythe. Some of you may have seen him around the place.”
Nods, more murmurs.
“This morning I had a . . . long telephone conversation with him. He told me that the fund has assessed the hotel and decided that it isn’t making sufficient profit to warrant the cost of much-needed repairs and renovations. So, aftercarefulconsideration . . .” There was an uncharacteristic note of sarcasmin his voice. “. . . he has decided to recommend that the hotel be sold off.”
The ripple of murmurs spread again.
“It’s to be sold at auction next month. And if it isn’t sold as a going concern . . .” He paused, evidently struggling to speak. “It will be closed down.”
“What?”
“No! They can’t do that!”
The protests rose, angry, distressed.
Mike shook his head. “I’m afraid they can. They’re only interested in whether we’re making enough profit, and we’ve been on the edge for years. I wish I could be more optimistic, but . . .”
Shelley felt her heart bounce to her throat and then sink like lead to her feet. The Carleton had been her home for three years — the best home she’d ever had. If it closed . . .
Several people were already in tears, and not just the women. They were a small staff group, and very close, like family. And everyone loved this place. It had stood here above Sturcombe Bay for so long, had seen families grow up here, couples come back year after year for sentimental reasons.
And now it was probably going to close.
Why had she let her guard down? Why had she let herself begin to trust that she had finally found a safe haven? Hadn’t life taught her the hard way for as long as she could remember that nowhere was safe, nowhere was forever?
So, in maybe no more than a few weeks, she’d be packing up her rucksack again and moving on. Maybe she’d go sooner, just pack up and slip away, avoid all the goodbyes. She hated goodbyes.
Chapter Ten
“Goodnight, Grandpa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, son. Mind how you go.”
Alex laughed. “I’m only going about two hundred yards up the road, Grandpa.”
“Ah, you can never be too careful. You never know who’s about these days.”
Alex laughed again, shaking his head. “Okay, Grandpa, I’ll be careful.”
It was a pleasant evening for a stroll. The sun was sinking slowly beneath the horizon, the sky tinted with watercolour shades of gold and magenta, darkening to indigo in the east as a few stars began to glimmer.
But it was still quite warm. Instead of going straight back to his empty flat and cooking himself some dinner (something straight from the freezer to the microwave), he was tempted to take a walk on the beach.
The waves were rolling in lazily and uncurling with ribbons of white foam sliding in over the red-gold sand. Alex paused at the bottom of the ramp down to the beach and drew in a long, deep breath of the salt-tanged air.
He’d only been here for a couple of weeks, but already he was falling in love with the place . . .
Someone was sitting on the rocks beneath the hotel — someone he recognised instantly. Her shoulders were hunched, and her whole posture signalled dejection. He hesitated, then walked over.
“Hi.”
She glanced up, startled, and he knew at once that she’d been crying. She brushed a hand across her eyes and turned her head away from him.
“Mind if I join you?”
