Page 7 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
Lisa shook her head. “You must have been a nightmare, the pair of you.”
“We were.”
“Where’s the baby?” Julia asked.
“With my mum. I just popped down to help out for a while. With Vicky still on her honeymoon and the student temps backat university we’re a bit short. Fortunately it’s quiet at the moment. A lot of our custom at this time of year comes from the golfers,” she explained to Jess. “But there’s a big tournament this weekend up at Wentworth. Even the ones who aren’t playing will have gone to watch.”
“Do you get many guests apart from the golfers?” Jess asked.
“Not many.” Lisa smiled wryly. “Not enough. We’re struggling a bit, like a lot of seaside hotels. Those sort of holidays have pretty much had their day.”
“I suppose so.” Jess glanced around at the terrace and the white-painted building behind it, a rambling jumble of buildings and extensions, with a white-framed conservatory wrapped around two sides, and a lush garden full of semi-tropical palm trees and flowering shrubs. “It’s a shame, though. It’s a nice hotel.”
“It is, or it would be if the owners would put a bit of money and effort into it.”
“Who owns it?”
“Some investment trust — bean counters. They don’t seem to care about it at all.”
“It looks pretty old.”
“It is. This main part was built in 1860 something, a bit before my parents’ house was built.” She pointed to the row of tall Victorian townhouses which climbed the hill on the far side of the bay, from the Esplanade up to the caravan site on the cliffs.
“Wasn’t it taken over by the army during the war?” Julia remarked.
“That’s right; some kind of recuperation centre for injured pilots. Then after the war they just abandoned it, and it was pretty much left to fall apart before it was bought up by a big hotel chain. It’s changed hands a few times since then.Unfortunately, most of the owners haven’t been too bothered about the place, so it’s been a bit neglected over the years.”
“Yes, I can see that. But mostly it only needs some paint and polish. It’s not like it’s crumbling or anything.”
“The structure’s sound enough, but it needs more than a bit of paint and polish.” Lisa sighed. “Some of the window frames on the side facing the sea need replacing, and those are our best rooms. It’s about due for rewiring throughout, the central heating boiler’s on the blink, and the guest lift has broken down twice in the past three months.”
“Not good,” Jess conceded.
“Ah, well. We keep plodding on. Quite a lot of our guests have been coming down here for years, celebrating anniversaries and such. Sadly, a lot of them are growing older now, and each year there are fewer of them. But the golfing enthusiasts keep us going, just about.”
Jess gazed around. “You know, it’s got a lot of potential. With that view, it could be really popular.”
“It could. There’s been a rumour that there’s going to be another takeover. I just hope the new owners are a bit better than the current ones. Anyway . . .” She sipped her coffee. “How long are you staying?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A few days . . .” She drew in a long breath, struggling to suppress the tears that were welling up again. “I really don’t know. I was supposed to be getting married next month, but I found out the scumbag was cheating on me.”
Lisa’s eyes widened, appalled. “The rat! So you dumped him? Good for you.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Impatiently she scrubbed her eyes. “It’s difficult, even though it wasn’t the first time. But we’d been together for five years, and I really thought that he was my future. I feel . . . cheated of so many years of my life. And stupid, for not bailing out sooner.”
“Oh, honey, not at all.” Lisa leaned over and took her hand, squeezing it. “It can happen to anyone. You ought to speak to Vicky — she was in more or less the same boat. Her fiancé was screwing her step-sister, of all people. Now she’s just got married to Tom Cullen, who’s a really nice bloke as well as being absolutely gorgeous, and they’re off in Spain on their honeymoon.”
Jess laughed without humour. “I can’t see that happening to me. I’m seriously off men.”
“Well, I suppose I don’t blame you. So, what are you going to do now?”
Jess shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Glenn’s got a motorbike shop — that’s how I met him. I used to ride out with his group, then I got a job there. I worked on sales, did the admin and stuff. Now . . . Well . . . No job, no home, no boyfriend.”
“You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you like,” Julia assured her quickly.
“Well, if you want something for a stopgap, we need a receptionist,” Lisa suggested. “And you could live in, if you want to.”
Jess’s eyes widened. “Really? That would be perfect.”
