Page 5 of So This is Christmas

JENNIE

Jennie handed the two guests at the reception desk the keys to one of the best suites at the Wynter Hotel.

‘Once again, I’m very sorry. I do hope this goes some way to making your stay here with us a pleasant one.

’ Jennie was content with the way her life was these days, but people like this cropped up every now and then and rocked her confidence.

She wasn’t sure the pair were even in the right.

Mr and Mrs Rotherham had arrived an hour ago insisting they’d requested an early check-in – no record indicated that they had – and they’d also complained that the concierge who had taken their single suitcase up to their room had been rude.

Jennie couldn’t see it at all. Patrick, the concierge, was delightful and usually received compliments, not complaints, but she’d assured the Rotherhams that the issue would be addressed.

She had a sneaky suspicion that the weary travellers had tried it on to get an early check-in and when they didn’t succeed, they resorted to complaining about something else.

‘Sometimes you have to rise above,’ Greta had once told her after a guest confrontation.

It had happened during one of Jennie’s first shifts on the front desk at a very different, much smaller establishment in North Yorkshire, England, more than a decade ago.

It was her first unpleasant encounter with a guest in the hotel industry.

The guest had yelled at her, demanded a refund, said they were going elsewhere because the noise from a nearby farm was unbearable in the early hours of the morning.

He’d been right in her face – she could recall the way his stale breath took her by surprise – his tone threatening as he demanded to see her superior.

Jennie, still shaking, had found her bosses, Walter and Greta Wynter, in the office, going over the new cleaning contract.

When Greta asked her what had happened Jennie had sobbed and attempted to explain how angry the guest was and why, how he had yelled at her and she was supposed to come and get someone in authority.

Greta had come over to her, held her upper arms and looked her in the eye.

‘Every single travel agent and brochure mention that this hotel is next to a farm and that occasionally the animals remind you that you’re in the country.

I think it’s a wonderful drawcard. And even if he doesn’t agree, there is no excuse for shouting at you. ’

Jennie had never forgotten the way the man had yelled at her that day, but she also hadn’t missed Walter taking him aside before he set foot outside the front door.

Walter later told her that he’d explained to the man in no uncertain terms that as much as the customer was always right, yelling at a member of his staff wasn’t.

Walter and Greta had looked out for her ever since she fell into their lives one rainy day in London fifteen years ago, after work dried up only months after arriving in the capital and she ended up with nowhere to live.

She hated to think what might have happened had they not stepped in to help her when she was at her lowest. The Wynters had given her a job, a place to stay and more importantly a sense of belonging and security, the sort she’d craved for a long time.

In the hotel now with receptionist Marie busy helping another guest after the Rotherhams had departed, hopefully happy with their upgrade, Jennie lingered behind the polished mahogany desk.

After Jennie had finished school she’d worked as a receptionist for a car dealer, then as an office assistant for a recruitment company.

But ever since she met the Wynters, hotels had been her world.

Even with no experience in the industry it was like she’d found what she was always meant to do, as well as a place to call home with a wonderful family.

She would never stop being grateful to the Wynters for everything they had done and she would never ever let anyone hurt them.

When her phone vibrated in her suit jacket pocket, she took out her device. It was Elliot, her boyfriend.

She didn’t like to answer too many calls at work but she hadn’t had a break for hours so she moved over to the tall Christmas tree in the foyer so she could talk to him quickly but drop the call if she was needed by a guest or member of her staff.

Jennie had been dating forty-nine-year-old Scottish-born businessman Elliot since they’d met when he came into the hotel for brunch with one of their guests, a client of his.

Elliot ticked plenty of boxes – he had a steady job in management for an international trade and development company, he was dependable, he was sensible – and without realising it Jennie had let herself go with the flow and their relationship had flourished.

They’d been seeing each other for six months and it was the longest relationship Jennie had been in, which at forty-one years of age was hard to believe.

But she’d been wary for a long time; she hadn’t liked herself much for so many years, let alone liked anyone else, and it had been hard to keep the faith and not assume that any relationship wouldn’t fall to pieces when all of her others had.

‘I’m Christmas shopping this afternoon if you can fit me into your schedule,’ Elliot announced. She could imagine his smile, his confidence, the way he liked to plan everything.

‘I can’t today. I’ve got a meeting soon and then another one this afternoon. But Christmas shopping would have been lovely.’

‘I’m heading to the Goldenes Quartier.’

As she listened to Elliot reel off some of the shops he might try, Jennie thought about Nick.

Nick ‘didn’t mind’ Elliot, which was high praise given his usual low opinion of her boyfriends.

He hadn’t been impressed with Dane, who she’d dated a couple of years previously and who Nick had met only once after the end of Dane and Jennie’s third date.

Dane had gone on and on about his new car because Nick had made the mistake of saying ‘nice wheels’, and Nick had muttered Arschloch under his breath as Dane gave them a wave when he drove off.

The word meant ‘arsehole’ in German and Jennie had thought it a bit harsh.

Nick had said that Dane was too much of a poser and not good enough for her, and although she didn’t agree with his choice of words when her boyfriend was merely excited about his car, she did love the fact that Nick was protective of her.

She’d only been out with Dane a handful of times after that before she realised Nick had probably been a better judge of character than she had.

When Jennie was welcomed into the Wynter family all those years ago, Nick had been suspicious of her at first, thinking she might be trying to take advantage of his parents, but over time he’d come to trust her and opened his heart like Walter and Greta.

Now, he was like a brother to Jennie. It didn’t make up for losing her own, but it was still nice.

‘I thought I’d try Prada or Valentino for something for my mother, really treat her,’ said Elliot. ‘I could use your feminine expertise.’

‘I’m not sure I’d be much help.’ She didn’t know his mother, or any of his family.

He’d hinted at them meeting but she kept putting it off because the fact was, she didn’t think she was good enough for Elliot.

Almost ten years ago she’d fallen for Peter, a man she’d met in Yorkshire having finally got herself together enough to be open to seeing someone.

They grew close quickly, and she’d told him everything about herself, the good and the bad.

He didn’t seem put off at all, but it was a different story with his family.

Gradually the family’s opinions and prejudices eroded their relationship and she couldn’t handle it and neither could Peter.

They’d broken up and she’d never quite trusted another man since then.

Any relationship she’d started she’d made sure to sabotage before it ever reached the point of having to share the full details of her life.

‘You have a good eye, Jennie.’ Elliot saw the good in her, but so had Peter until his family came along.

‘I’m not so sure about that.’

‘You chose the coffee table for my living room.’

‘It arrived?’

‘First thing this morning.’ She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘It looks perfect.’

Elliot’s apartment was minimalist and when they’d got takeaway one evening he’d bemoaned the fact he didn’t have a table in front of the sofas to put the containers on so they could pick and choose the food at their leisure.

Jennie had wanted to help so she’d searched online and found a few options, one of which he’d ordered.

‘You know what else I need for my apartment?’ he asked.

She smiled at two guests admiring the tree and stepped aside so they could see it properly. ‘What’s that?’

‘You.’

‘I told you, I’m busy all day.’

‘I don’t mean come over…’ A pause. ‘I want you to move in with me, Jennie.’

She hadn’t been expecting that. Not ever.

‘Are you still there?’

‘I’m still here.’

Another pause. ‘Have I rushed into this?’

‘Elliot, I?—’

‘I tell you what, don’t answer yet. But will you at least think about it? Your lease is almost up, you stay at my place often enough and there’s plenty of room.’

She observed a guest looking at his watch and the doors to the brasserie. ‘I’m going to have to go, but we’ll talk later.’

When she ended the call she knew she’d disappointed Elliot but he’d asked something of her that she wasn’t sure she could give.

She wished things were different but the fact was Elliot didn’t know everything about her and he deserved to if they were taking the next step.

He also deserved to form his own opinions and decide whether he still wanted to be involved when he knew the truth.