Page 6 of Suddenly Beck

The doors close, and the bus pulls away, spraying me with muddy water as the tyres roll through a wide puddle along the edge of the road.

I stare down at the mud spattered up my jeans and roll my eyes, sighing loudly. Turning towards the B&B I suck in a breath. It’s a three storey Victorian house with what looks like a loft conversion on the topmost floor with little window boxes peeking out and facing the sea view. It’s painted a blinding white and softened around the edges with pale grey trims, and beneath each of the charming, almost Tudor-esque, diamond shaped panes of glass sits a flower box spilling over with meticulously kept and brightly coloured blooms.

Heading up to the wide front entrance, I open the door, making sure to wipe my feet on the welcome mat on the way in, although I don’t know how much good it will do. I can still feel the seawater from my impromptu swim draining down my clothes and pooling in my shoes until I can feel an unpleasant squelch with each step.

I step into a brightly lit foyer where a reception desk is situated directly opposite and dressed with a welcome sign and a cheerful vase of tulips. Glancing around, I can’t seem to see anyone. As I approach the desk, I see a bell, not a small brass dome that would emit a small merry tinkle to alert the staff of a new arrival, no, this is a small white button like a doorbell and wouldn’t have looked out of place on a council estate front door. It doesn’t exactly match the décor and seems woefully out of place in the charming little B&B. My fingers twitch nervously as I reach out and press the button.

I jolt suddenly at the rather loud, plinky plunky version of ‘Ode to Joy’ that rings out brazenly.

A surprised laugh bubbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. It’s so delightfully bonkers, and not at all what I expected to hear. I’ve stayed at the Plaza in New York, the Ritz in London, and the Hotel de Crillôn in Paris, and yet, none have given me the sheer jolt of ridiculous pleasure that little council estate doorbell playing Beethoven’s 9thSymphony, did.

Shit… I think to myself, maybe I am having some sort of breakdown, or maybe I inhaled too much seawater.

I wait for the bell to finish and glance around again, rocking back on my heels patiently and a little curious. I wait a few moments more, but still, no one materialises. A mischievous smile twists at the corner of my lips, but just as I’m reaching for the button again a head pokes around a door marked staff directly behind the desk.

‘That bloody bell,’ the woman mutters sourly.

I snatch my hand back innocently, pasting a polite smile on my face. Seeing me hovering by the desk, her frown clears. She edges out from the doorway and smooths down her gray knee length skirt. She’s possibly in her forties, wearing sensible no nonsense heels, and a cream-coloured silk blouse tucked neatly into the waistband of her skirt. Her hair is a bark-coloured, chin length wedge, and her mouth is fixed in a solid customer service smile.

‘Good afternoon,’ she says pleasantly. ‘And how may I help you…’ her voice trails off slowly as her eyes track down my soaking wet body to my mud-spattered jeans and finally landing on the small lake of sand and water accumulating beneath my ruined converse.

‘Ah… it’s raining,’ I offer lamely not really wanting to admit that I just tripped headfirst into the ocean and like a damsel in distress had required saving. It was just too lowering.

‘So I see.’ Her neatly plucked brows rise. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I’d like a room, please, if one’s available. I was told to ask for Molly, are you Molly?’ I can’t help but ask.

She snorts under her breath. ‘No, thank God.’ She looks up at me and once again smiles. ‘I’m Beatrice, her daughter. This is mum’s B&B. She opened it back in seventy-five, and she’s still lurking around. She has a room up on the third floor. I run the B&B now, but she does still like to keep her hand in.’

‘The bell?’ I smile.

She glances at me and for a moment the fake customer service smile slips, and she lets loose a genuine laugh. ‘Yes.’ She nods. ‘The bell, that’s all her. She thinks it’s sophisticated.’She shakes her head. ‘Don’t ask... anyway, you’d like a room then?’

‘Please.’ I nod.

‘Street or sea view?’ She clicks at the keyboard and stares at the screen on the desk.

‘Sea.’

‘These are our room rates.’ She taps her neatly trimmed, unpainted nail against a framed price list. ‘We have standard rooms each with a double bed and we also have a couple of rooms with en suite bathrooms.’

I glance down at my muddy body. ‘I’d prefer an en suite if you have one.’

‘Uh huh.’ She taps a few more keys. ‘And how long will you be staying with us?’

‘I’m really not sure yet.’ I frown.

‘Well, you just be sure and let me know once you decide.’ She nods. ‘Do you want breakfast included?’

‘That would be nice.’

‘Alright then.’ She glances up from the screen. ‘Name?’

‘Nathan Elliott,’ I reply.

‘I’m going to need a credit or debit card.’ She continues to tap away at the keys.

‘Oh, sure.’ I reach into the pocket of my jacket and retrieve my wallet, handing over my card.