Who else can I talk to like this?’
Mel laughed, but inside she felt the pul of the only life she’d ever known. Would she be able to leave it al behind? The drive, the excitement, the buzz of coping with it al , phones ringing, modems crackling …
Then she thought of the silver-framed photo on Hilary’s desk and how sad that was. ‘A woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do, Vanessa.’
‘We’l miss you,’ said Vanessa gloomily. ‘The Stepford executives wil take over and they won’t miss any time at work because of having babies. They’l just pop them out in their lunch hour in some posh clinic and be back at work by three. Baby: check that off the list. Nanny: check. Next meeting: check. Schedule in liposuction and a tummy tuck for the flabby bits: check.’ Mel laughed again. ‘Keep this up and you too could be offered redundancy.’
‘I hope not.’ Vanessa shuddered. ‘If I have to sleep with Nylon Nigel to stay at Lorimar, I wil . I need this job. At least you’ve ] got Adrian to be the wage slave.’
‘Yeah, at least I have him,’ Mel agreed.
‘What’s he think about it al ?’
‘That’s the funniest part of al . I haven’t been able to tel him.
He was doing a training session al afternoon, so he was unreachable.’ ‘He doesn’t know?’
‘He married me for richer or poorer,’ quipped Mel, trying to sound flippant although her heart ached at dropping this news at Adrian’s feet. ‘This is the poorer section of the deal.’
She waited until the children were in bed before opening a bottle of wine - that would have to go when they were economising - sticking a couple of frozen Indian meals in the microwave, and sitting Adrian down with the statement,
‘I’ve got some news for you.’
Adrian sat. ‘Should I be worried?’ he asked, not looking worried. Mel seemed so calm, in a good mood real y, despite being up half the night before with Carrie, who, after an afternoon in the tender care of her grandmother, was in marvel ous form. ‘We’ve won a cruise in the Lorimar credit union draw?’
‘No. Not even warm.’
‘We’ve won a skiing holiday in the credit union draw?’ ‘Stil cold.’
‘You’ve been promoted?’
‘Icy.’
Adrian stopped the game at this point. ‘What’s wrong, Mel?’ ‘Hilary is making me redundant,’ she said quickly.
‘She was furious today that I was so late and, wel , I lost my temper with her.’
‘Go on.’
Adrian was with her, she thought with relief. He wasn’t the type of man to rage at her for stupidity.
‘I went for the home truths conversation. Wel ,’ she added, seeing him grimace, ‘I was sleep-deprived and, anyway, what sort of company punishes a person for taking their sick toddler to the doctor? It’s crazy.’
He put his arms around her. ‘I agree, Mel, I agree.’ ‘So she said there were redundancies and it was clear that she wanted me to take one. I know I don’t have to. If she wanted to just get rid of me, she could give me the usual written warnings, et cetera, but it would happen al the same. I’m tired of the game and she knows it.’
Adrian hugged her tightly.
‘I thought I’d try being at home with the girls,’ she said, ‘for a few years, until we don’t need the nursery any more. We could use some of the redundancy to pay off a chunk of the mortgage. We could manage, although we’d have to cut back …’ She looked at her husband, knowing this was a life change for both of them. Adrian would be the breadwinner; their standard of living would certainly drop with only one salary.
‘If we had gym membership, that could go for a start,’
Adrian said, counting off on his fingers.
‘Absolutely,’ Mel added, getting into the spirit of it. ‘I’m always hearing about people who have gym passes and never use them. It’s a waste of money.’
‘Exactly. I think it works out at thirty quid every time they go for a swim because they go a couple of times a month maximum. So that’s one area we’ve already cut back on.’
‘And food.’
‘Who needs food?’ Adrian asked. ‘We can grow our own vegetables, surely? It can’t be that hard to grow a can of beans?’ They both laughed.
‘I love you,’ Mel said, moving to sit on her husband’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder. ‘Love you too.’
‘Realistical y, we’d have to cut back a lot. Holidays.’ She surveyed the table with its empty dishes and wine bottle.
‘Even wine.’
‘Dinners out.’ Adrian looked mournful for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No going back - onwards and upwards!’
‘Funny, that’s just what the woman in the cosmetics department said to me today,’ Mel said.
‘It’s true. We can’t look back, only forward. It’l be great for Carrie and Sarah.’
‘That’s what makes me sure this is the right thing to do, Adrian. I can’t bear leaving them every day, and no matter what anyone says, it’s hurting me and I feel so scared that it’s hurting them. Now we’ve got this chance for me to stay at home - for a while, anyway. Most women don’t get that chance. I want to be a mum like my mum.’
Adrian kissed her gently. ‘You’re a fabulous mum,’ he said softly. ‘Whether you’re out working or home working. Hey,’
he added with an impish grin, ‘does this mean I’l be getting incredible homecooked meals every evening and you’l be dol ed up to the nines waiting for me with my slippers out, the paper ready for me to read and the bed warmed?’
Mel patted his cheek fondly. ‘You wish. I want to be a mum like my mother, not turn into her.’
Two weeks of hard work helping her mother had enabled Cleo to push the Nat incident to the back of her mind. She had a hotel to renovate: there was no time for feeling sorry for herself over not loving someone.
She’d texted Nat a couple of times but he’d never responded, so she hadn’t tried again.
‘He’l get over it,’ Trish had said breezily. ‘Forget him.’ Trish could be very hard-headed, Cleo felt.
Trish was stil going out a lot with her new friend, Carol, and every time Trish talked about her, Cleo was conscious of a child-like feeling of jealousy for the unknown interloper. She did her best to quel it, but sometimes it broke through. Just because she was stuck in Carrickwel trying to do her best for her family and the Wil ow, didn’t mean she didn’t want to be out enjoying herself with Trish in the city.
When Cleo felt upset, she threw herself into work, which was why she’d decided that the attic bedrooms needed to be tackled. Seeing the ones in Nat’s place, unused except for ancient luggage and insect life, had made her realise that the Wil ow had similar unused space ripe for development.
After many hours spent sanding and painting and cleaning, the three attic bedrooms with their sloping ceilings looked total y different. Cleo’s nails would never look the same again, mind, but she didn’t care.
It had been a question of cleaning, painting everything white, and adding appropriate accessories. One room had been transformed with a nautical theme that had seen Cleo scour the hotel and the local junk shop for seafaring bits and bobs. Another she had designed in country garden style, with florals everywhere, and the third was a combination of white and pink toile de Jouy. She’d paid for the expensive toile bedspread and pil ow cases herself, because she didn’t want to ask her father for the money from the petty cash.
If only it were as easy to transform the atmosphere in the family’s private quarters. Since the accountant’s visit, Cleo’s father had been subdued, although he stil wouldn’t talk about why to his daughter. He’d looked at her redecorated bedrooms with a sad smile and said it was very nice, but nothing more. Cleo, after al her hard work, felt hard done by.
Her mother was stil suffering from aches and pains, although, thankful y, Trevor and his team had returned to work, so she wasn’t having to struggle so much with the cleaning. Cleo, with her mother’s reluctant agreement, had had a private word with Trevor, praising him for his good points, as she had been taught to do on her course, but making sure that he understood absolutely that further absences without sick notes would lead to trouble. But this conversation and the work in the attics were as much as Cleo was al owed to interfere in the running of the hotel.
‘You’re stil sulking, then?’ asked Trish in the middle of another lengthy phone cal about how depressing it al was.
‘No,’ insisted Cleo. ‘This isn’t sulking. I’m talking to everyone but I want them to know that I’m not a child any more and they should stop treating me like one.’
‘Grown-up sulking, so?’
‘It’s lucky we have a history going way back, Trish, or I’d hang up right now,’ Cleo said equably.
‘I’m only trying to make you laugh. I don’t know why you’re so bothered, anyway. Why don’t you leave them al to it and get a job in Dublin? I could move out of this hel hole and we could get a place together.’
Trish house-shared with six other people and the rows over who cleaned the bathroom and who should buy loo rol went postal on occasion.
‘I don’t want to leave Carrickwel ,’ Cleo said stubbornly, feeling even more irritated at this on the grounds that she hadn’t seen Trish in three weeks and had heard nothing but
‘Carol this …’ and ‘Carol that …’. ‘I want to stay here and work. It’s the principle of the thing,’ she said crossly as she heard her friend sigh theatrical y. ‘I did a hotel management degree because we had a hotel and I wanted to run it. Why would I have bothered if Mum and Dad were going to let the place stagnate? Al because they won’t try any new ideas and I know al the new ideas,’ she added in frustration.
‘That’s the worst thing, Trish. Dad could have asked for my advice but he won’t. Instead he cabals with Jason and Barney, and between them they haven’t a clue. Even Sondra has more say in the hotel than me. I mentioned that awful Tamara should do fewer shifts because she’s so hopeless on reception, and Mum said that actual y, Tamara was going to be doing more. But, hey, what do I know?’
‘Then leave.’
‘I’m going to Bristol for two weeks,’ Cleo informed her. ‘The hotel I worked in there last year is stuck for staff and they’re going to pay my flights if I do the graveyard shift for a fortnight. I need the money too - I spent loads on that blooming toilet for the third bedroom and nobody seems in the slightest bit impressed with my hard work.’ ‘Things might be different when you get back,’ Trish said in cheering-up mode.
‘Only if Sondra has a head transplant and my parents win the lottery.’
Cleo enjoyed her two-week break, even though she didn’t see Laurent again. It was just nice being part of a young team in a busy, wel -run establishment. When she walked in after the long journey home, it was a wet and gloomy evening, not, she thought, the best time to appreciate the Wil ow. It needed summer daylight to show up the elegance of the honey-coloured stone and the charming way an off-white climbing rose hung prettily over the hal door.
Cleo felt sorry for the couple who walked into the hal just ahead of her, staring around, trying to orient themselves.
There didn’t appear to be anybody on duty, so even though she was tired after her trip from Bristol, she took immediate action. She shoved her own smal bag into a corner, wriggled out of her damp coat, and went to greet them.
‘Good evening. My name is Cleo, and welcome to the Wil ow Hotel. Are you checking in?’
It took ten minutes to sort out Mr and Mrs Barker from Somerset and they seemed pleased with the Rose Garden Room at the back of the house. Cleo was less pleased because she got a definite whiff of disinfectant from their en suite bathroom and she hated that. Clean-smel ing rather than chemical-smel ing was the hotel motto.
With the Barkers instal ed, she danced down the stairs, feeling pleased that she was home. It was altogether more satisfying to welcome people into a hotel you felt a part of as distinct to welcoming them into a giant hotel where you felt like nothing more than a tiny cog in the wheel. The two weeks away had done her good and she’d begun to think that perhaps she was being too impatient with her family.
They needed to stand together in this time of difficulty and she had to be more diplomatic about it al .
Downstairs, the reception was stil empty and she wondered where everyone was. It was just before six on a Friday evening, and normal y there would have been a buzz of activity. Instead, there was ghostly calm and no smel of dinner cooking. Cleo walked into the kitchen to find out if the ovens had final y packed in and discovered her family and Sondra sharing champagne round the table. Everyone was quite dressed up, with her mother in her best navy suit and daisy brooch, and Jason and Barney in their Sunday best, albeit with their ties loosened. Her father, also besuited, had his yel ow silk tie stil perfectly knotted.
‘Hi, Cleo,’ smiled Sondra, this time in a pink maternity tunic that made her look angelic in the manner of an MTV starlet trying to look sweet for the camera.
‘Great, we hoped you’d be here soon,’ said her mother, getting up to hug Cleo in a warm embrace.
‘Hi, Mum. What’s going on?’
‘We’re celebrating,’ Sondra said cheerful y.
Cleo looked at her father but he was busy opening another bottle, determinedly not glancing in her direction.
‘Celebrating what?’
‘We’re sel ing the Wil ow,’ Jason said. ‘And it’s a fabulous offer. Twenty per cent more than the estate agent thought we’d get. Twenty per cent,’ he repeated gleeful y.
Cleo heard her brother say the words but they sounded as if they were coming from some dark bad dream in her mind. ‘What? Why?’ Cleo asked the first questions that popped into her head.
‘Your dad and I are thinking of buying a house abroad.
France maybe, or Greece, somewhere hot,’ said Sheila Malin apologetical y, although she was stroking one arthritic elbow as if she Were already basking in the sun. ‘Not to retire, real y. We might open it up as a bed and breakfast,’
she added. ‘We don’t know yet. There’s stil so much to be decided. I know it seems sudden, Cleo, but ‘ ‘The big decision’s made and it’s final,’ Jason interrupted, lest his sister think it hadn’t been. ‘There’s a local property developer who’s been sniffing around and as soon as he heard we might be putting the place on the market, he jumped. We closed the deal in the solicitor’s office this afternoon.’