Page 40 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume
“Ellis,” a female voice calls. A woman’s head pokes out of the doorway behind the reception desk. “They’ve upgraded the storm forecast to heavy snows, and we’ve had another cancellation. The Dovers this time.”
“Oh.” A fleeting frown mars the clerk’s brow, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appears. “Never mind. Better safe than sorry if they’re not sure about travelling in potentially bad weather. Safety first, after all.”
“You’re very much a glass-half-full kind of person, aren’t you?” Tristan says as he studies Ellis curiously.
“My mum has always said when life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” he says brightly. “Or, in this case, when the Met office forecasts a surprise snowstorm, make snowmen.”
I chuckle. It’s impossible not to like him; he needs a license for that sunny personality and overwhelming optimism. He’s short—although I think petite would better describe him—and almost elfin, with blonde curls much more suited to a cherub than my Tristan’s wild bed head. From what I can see unobstructed by the desk, he’s neatly dressed in a white shirt and tie topped by a dark waistcoat. Pinned to his chest is his name badge and a discreet little rainbow pin.
“I haven’t seen the forecast yet,” Tristan says, pushing his glasses back up his nose only to have them slide down again. “Being from London, we usually only get a light dusting. How heavy is heavy?”
“Several inches if we’re lucky.” He gives a cheeky wink. “Are you worried? Because you needn’t be. You’re perfectly safe here.”
“Honestly?” Tristan shakes his head. “I don’t even care if we get snowed in. I’m just happy to be away with Danny.”
All starry-eyed, Ellis smiles at us both. “That’s so lovely! Anyway”—he claps his hands with purpose—“do you have a booking, sir?”
“We do, under Daniel Hayes.”
He looks down at his screen and taps away. “Mr Hayes.” He nods. “A standard double room with views of the moors.”
“Okay,” I reply. I only vaguely remember booking it and have no idea what room I chose.
“Please tell me it has a bath, not just a shower?” Tristan says as he folds his arms on the counter and looks at Ellis.
“It does have a bath,” he confirms.
“How big?” Tristan asks innocently. He doesn’t outright say I want to squeeze into it with my boyfriend, but it’s probably very obvious judging from Ellis’ smile.
“Only standard sized, I’m afraid.” He leans in and looks around conspiratorially as he lowers his voice. “But I tell you what. As we’re so quiet at the moment, I’ll upgrade you, no extra charge. This room has a huge tub and it has a whirlpool.”
“Oh, really?” Tristan groans in longing. “You’re not toying with my expectations, are you?”
Ellis laughs in delight. “Nope. It’s brilliant. I’ve enjoyed it myself… with company.” He wiggles his brows. “It’s sadly underused. We don’t get many bookings anymore.”
“Why’s that?” I ask. Tristan would say it’s because I’m incurably nosy but I can’t help it, I’m just interested in everything.
“Who knows?” He shrugs. “In fact,” he adds, biting his lip thoughtfully, “I’m going to upgrade you to the full package. It comes with a gift basket and a complimentary meal in the restaurant and trust me, you don’t want to miss that. Aggie, our cook, makes the best dumplings in the whole of Yorkshire.”
“Won’t you get in trouble with the manager for upgrading us?” Tristan frowns.
Ellis opens his mouth to speak when a loud clatter comes from the staircase. We all look across to see a middle-aged man with dark hair wrestle an enormous suitcase down the stairs. He looks very red-faced and extremely put out.
“Ellis, I’m leaving,” he bellows as he strides across the lobby, dragging the case behind him like it’s a dead body. “I cannot work under these conditions. Tell Mr Ashton-Drake I will not be returning. I quit!”
Without stopping to wait for a reply, he sweeps past and wrestles his way out of the front door. A cold chill sneaks in past him before the doors bang shut.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“That was our manager.” Ellis sighs, turning to call over his shoulder into the office. “Rosie, we’ve lost another one. Mr Lance won’t be back.”
The young, round-cheeked woman once again pokes her head back out into reception and rolls her eyes. “I’ll put the job back on LinkedIn.”
“Another one?” I say.
“Yes.” Ellis nods. “He’s the fifth we’ve had in the last twelve months. Still, he lasted longer than the others.” He shrugs. “Oh well, I definitely won’t get in trouble for upgrading you.” He grins and hands me a couple of room keys.
Tristan blinks. “You’re just a little bucketful of sunshine, aren’t you?”