Page 23 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay (Sturcombe Bay Romances #3)

“What a nice old man.” Jess leaned back against the stone balustrade around the terrace and sipped her wine. “Everyone seems to love him.”

“They do.” Paul smiled, glancing back to where Arthur sat enthroned amid his entourage. “He and my grandmother were a right lively pair, along with Vicky’s Aunt Molly.”

“The two he was boasting that he’d outlived?”

“That’s right. My grandmother died a couple of months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“She was ninety-three, and a real grand old dame. We were all terrified of her, but we adored her.” He moved over to lean against the balustrade beside her.

“That was her house — you can see it from here. See that row of houses that runs up the hill over on the far side of the bay? It’s the one second from the top. ”

She followed to where he pointed. A road sloped up from the end of the Esplanade, lined with a row of tall, double-fronted Victorian townhouses, three storeys of ruddy-brown brick with dormer windows in the rooves.

“Ah, yes. It looks nice.”

“It’s very nice. I live there now.”

“Oh?”

“She moved down to live with my mum and dad a few years ago, when she needed to be looked after full time. That’s their house, three doors down. So rather than leave it empty, I moved in and rented it from her. I wanted my own space anyway, so it was ideal.”

“You actually paid her rent?”

“Of course.”

There was no ‘of course’ about it, Jess mused, taking a sip of her wine. A lot of people would have taken advantage of a grandmother’s affection to live rent free. She silently awarded him an extra point for that. “So what will happen to it now? Will you stay there?”

He nodded. “She left it between the three of us — me, Lisa and Cassie. So I bought them out.”

She gave him a questioning look. “You’re planning to stay here in Sturcombe long-term?”

“It’s my home.” With a sweep of his hand, he gestured to the wide crescent of the bay spread below them, the sea blue-grey beneath the cool blue sky, the village clustered like children’s toys in the cradle of the green slopes around it. “Why would I want to live anywhere else?”

“It is a beautiful place,” she acknowledged, turning to look out over the view. “But don’t you ever hanker for the bright lights of London?”

He shrugged his wide shoulders in a gesture of careless dismissal. “I can go up there when I need to. I did look at a couple of serviced apartments, but it didn’t seem worth it when I can stay in a hotel for a couple of nights and get everything I need.”

“The Dorchester?”

He laughed. “No thank you! There’s a nice little hotel near Russell Square. I prefer it there. Quiet, but close enough to the centre of town.”

“Sounds good.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know.” She had been trying not to think ahead. “I really like this place. But if the hotel closes . . . I don’t suppose it would be easy to find another job here.”

“Probably not,” he conceded. “Would you go back to Bristol?”

She shook her head. “No . . . Exeter, maybe. It depends where there’s work. Anyway, I’m supposed to be at work now.” She pulled herself up briskly. “I’d better get back to the desk.” She spared him a cool smile. “See you around.”

* * *

Paul watched Jess as she disappeared into the reception hall, all long-legged elegance. He hoped she wouldn’t leave Sturcombe, but as she had said, if the hotel closed, she may not have a choice.

If it closed.

He glanced around the terrace and up at the rambling white facade of the building. It had stood here, overlooking the bay, all his life. He had always assumed that it would stand here forever.

He saw his sister chatting to Arthur’s carer, Marcus. He went over, winking an apology to the man for butting in, and dropped a casual arm around her shoulders. “Ah, Lisa. My favourite sister.”

She gave him a glance of sardonic amusement. “Don’t let Cassie hear you say that.”

“That’s okay.” He grinned. “I’ll always be her favourite brother.”

“You’re her only brother,” she retorted dryly. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“Why would you think I want anything?” He knew she wouldn’t be fooled by his bland smile. “Can’t I just enjoy the pleasure of your company for a while?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Can I borrow the keys to the annexe?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What on earth do you want them for?”

“I’m having a fit of nostalgia.” He wasn’t ready yet to explain what was on his mind. “I was just remembering how we used to run wild in there, me and Liam and Tom, playing hide-and-seek and cricket.”

“Collecting spiders to bring home and put in my bed.”

“I never did that!” he protested.

“Did too. Ask Cassie.”

“Keys? Pretty please?”

“Oh, all right,” she conceded. “Excuse me, Marcus.”

He followed her as she led the way over to her office behind the reception desk. The keys were on a long chain hanging on the wall, and she hooked them down and handed them to him.

“Just tell me one thing. You’re not planning to lure Jess down there and have your wicked way with her, are you?”

“Of course not! You have a very dirty mind.”

“No, I’ve been your sister for a long time.”

“Well, for your information, I absolutely wouldn’t dream of it. Down there with all the dust and spiders? Give me a break.”

“And don’t fall in the swimming pool.”

“I thought it didn’t have any water in it?”

“It doesn’t. That’s why I don’t want you falling in it. Drowning’s clean, but smashing yourself on the bottom at the deep end would make an awful mess.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Ah, you’re so considerate.”

“It’s not you I’m thinking about. It’s my cleaning staff who’d have to mop up all the blood.”

He laughed as he strolled away, jangling the keys.

The annexe was part of the extension which was built onto the side of the hotel in the First World War to provide a couple of extra wards for the soldiers. Later on, the lower floor had been excavated to build an indoor swimming pool for the tuberculosis patients.

There were two locks and it took him a while to find the right keys, but at last he got the door open and switched on the lights.

Only three of the bare bulbs swinging from the ceiling were working, lighting a bleak, echoing space lined with cold white tiles, a lot of them cracked and dulled with age.

The pool itself was twenty-five metres long — a good size. Two of the walls were glass which would give great views of the gardens and the bay, but they’d long ago been boarded up.

He took out his phone and began taking photos as he strolled round the perimeter, visualising how it could look with those windows opened up again, softer lighting, aqua-blue tiles lining the pool with maybe darker blue around the edge.

The changing rooms were in a pretty poor state, and he didn’t care to breath the air in the toilets for too long. They could all be knocked down to provide a wider lounging area beside the pool, a small bar for drinks.

Another door to one side opened into a long empty room, thick with the cobwebs and dust of decades. A couple of dismembered bits of hospital-style iron bedsteads lay around on the floor, and a broken table leaned drunkenly against the wall.

But it was a big enough space to provide new changing rooms. There could be creamy marbled floor tiles in here, with lilac walls in the women’s and teal blue in the men’s, and a couple of single cubicles for those who would prefer them.

There would be showers and lockers, and a baby changing area. And a sauna and jacuzzi.

He took more photographs, estimating the size and dictating his thoughts into his phone. Then he left, locking the door and climbing the stairs to the upper floor.

He could see a well-equipped gym in here, a luxury massage room and spa, maybe a hair salon. Pale wooden floors, more soft lighting, lots of lush green plants in copper pots.

He wasn’t ready to share his thoughts with anyone else yet — not even Lisa.

He didn’t want to raise hopes which might all too likely be dashed.

There was a lot to look into, and a lot would depend on what price the owners would be asking for the place.

Then he’d need to cost out the renovations, and set that against the possible income.

But he had so many good memories of this place, and it didn’t sit easy with him to just let it be knocked down and replaced by heaven only knew what.

* * *

The staff sitting room was at the end of the accommodation corridor. Like the rest of the hotel, it had seen better days. There were half a dozen mismatched armchairs, an ugly mustard sofa with sagging cushions, and a patch of thin rug over the lino floor.

At one side was a tiny kitchen unit with a kettle, a toaster that had to be closely watched or it would stick and burn the bread, a fairly new microwave, and a sink.

Shelley had been watching television when Jess walked in. She glanced up, greeting her with a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She strolled over to the kitchen unit. “Want a coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” Shelley held up her mug. “Not going out tonight?”

“No.”

“I thought you might be seeing Paul again.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “No, thank you. He’s the sort of guy who should have a Government Health Warning tattooed on his forehead.”

Shelley laughed. “He’s very good-looking. And he does seem to be keen on you.”

Jess’s mouth quirked into a wry smile. “Oh, he’s good-looking, I’ll grant you that, but Lisa warned me about him — he changes his girlfriends more often than he changes his socks. Besides . . .”

“You’re off men.”

“I am. I don’t know how I let him persuade me to go out to dinner with him in the first place. Cassie said when they were kids he could talk her out of her last red jelly baby!” The kettle had finally boiled, and she poured a mug of coffee. “Anyway, how about you and Alex?”

Shelley felt an awkward blush rise to her cheeks. “Oh . . . well . . .”

“He seems like a really nice bloke.”

“Yes.”

“There aren’t many nice blokes like that around. When you find one, you should hang on to him.”

The blush deepened and Shelley looked away. “I don’t know . . . I’m not . . . It’s not . . .”

“He likes you.” Jess brought her coffee over and slumped into one of the armchairs. “And you like him, don’t you?”

Shelley laughed awkwardly.

“Well then . . . ?”

“Well . . .” She drew out the syllable. “Actually . . . I’m going out with him tomorrow night.”

“Yay!” Jess smiled in delight. “Good for you!”

“But nothing’s going to come of it,” Shelley insisted. “I mean, he’s just looking for a bit of company while he’s here. He won’t be staying long. He’ll be going back to Canada soon.”

“Did he say so?”

“No, but . . .”

“Well, don’t worry about it. Just enjoy yourself. Where’s he taking you?”

“I don’t know. Dinner, he said. He didn’t say where.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Ah, there’s the problem. I don’t really have anything decent to wear.”

“Hmm.” Jess frowned, thinking. “Tricky, if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I just hope he doesn’t take me anywhere posh. I wouldn’t know which knife and fork to use, or what to choose off the menu. All the waiters would look at me as if I should be out the back on the pot-wash. And they’d be right.”

“Don’t be daft. If they’re that snobby, that’s on them. And if Alex takes you somewhere like that, he isn’t as nice as I think he is. Look, don’t worry — he’s not going to take you anywhere you’d feel uncomfortable. Now, let me think . . . What about your navy-blue trousers? They’re really smart.”

“I bought them in a charity shop!”

“So?”

“Anyway, I don’t have anything to wear with them.”

“What about that cream sweater of mine? The one with the big cowl neck.”

“Oh, I couldn’t borrow that!” Shelley protested. “What if I spilt something on it?”

“It’ll wash. What shoes have you got?”

“A couple of pairs of trainers. And my boots.”

“Oh, yes. Those nice ankle boots. They’d look great, give it an edge.”

Shelley looked doubtful. “How will I know what to pick from the menu?”

“Let him choose for you. And watch which cutlery he uses then just copy him. And if you don’t want wine, just ask for mineral water. He probably will anyway, as he’ll be driving.”

Shelley laughed. “Maybe I ought to be taking notes. Okay, one more thing. What should I talk about?”

“That’s simple.” Jess snapped her fingers. “Get him talking about himself. There’s not a man on the planet who doesn’t like that.”