The Cornish Guest House (9 page)

All at once, numbers in the room seemed to double as Jesse and the other staff from A Winkle in Time walked in, followed by Luke, with an arm round Robert’s shoulder. They were soon joined by Loveday and the group from next door, laughing loudly and pushing each other, as if they hadn’t met for years. Robert smiled at Liz but didn’t join her because he and Luke were talking.

From a distance they looked quite similar. Tall, slim, handsome and the same sort of age, they were both casually dressed, but while Robert’s white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and crumpled down the front, Luke’s sleeves were fastened with gold cufflinks and his pale pink shirt was immaculately ironed.

Tony, who liked a large audience, strolled over with Felipe to greet the young people and Liz joined them. Loveday had an arm round Jesse’s hips and was resting her head on his shoulder, but she straightened up when Liz approached and crooked a finger.

‘He’s amazing!’ she whisper-shouted, so that Liz could hear her above the chatter. ‘Mr Mallon, I mean, Luke. He’s a
huge
businessman. He was telling me about it. He’s got loads of people working for him.’

Liz smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘He does seem very successful. What does he do, exactly? Aside from setting up the guest house, I mean?’

Loveday shrugged. ‘He’s got his own company. Financial services or something. I didn’t really understand.’ She grinned. ‘Main thing is…’ she leaned towards Liz, her voice lowered, ‘…he’s obviously completely loaded and I reckon there might be an opportunity for me!’

Liz raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? What do you mean?’

‘Well.’ Loveday’s eyes were shining. ‘He told me he’s going to need to take on extra staff over the coming months and asked me a lot about what I do. He seemed very interested.’

Liz frowned. She didn’t want to burst the girl’s bubble, but it was hardly a job offer.

‘Could be worth exploring,’ she replied, noncommittal.

Jesse had been chatting to Alex, or rather to his Elvis quiff, which was looking particularly glossy tonight, but he turned to Liz and Loveday, who repeated her story.

‘Sounds great,’ he said, ruffling his girlfriend’s hair. ‘But don’t jump the gun. Luke’s had a few drinks, remember. He might have forgotten everything he said in the morning.’

Loveday huffed. ‘Honestly! You’re both so negative! I’d be stuck waitressing for ever if I listened to you.’

‘Sorry,’ said Liz said, feeling mean for having poured cold water on the idea. ‘It does sound promising.’ Loveday had been at the restaurant a long time and made no secret of the fact that she was bored. Perhaps the Mallons would have something for her, you never knew.

Pleased to detect a glimmer of enthusiasm at last, Loveday started bubbling over. ‘He’s so cool and suave, like an actor or something. And isn’t the house gorgeous? I’ve never been anywhere so posh in all my life.’

Liz smiled, but a strange niggle had lodged in her stomach and later that night, after she and Robert had dropped Pat off and were climbing into bed, she mentioned what had happened.

‘Luke’s a go-getter,’ he said, smoothing away the wrinkles on his wife’s brow with a thumb. ‘I reckon the guest house will be really successful. It’s just what Tremarnock needs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an opening for Loveday somewhere. Let’s wait and see. I agree Tabitha’s a bit frosty, but if she’s married to him she must be all right.’

‘She looked terrified in the kitchen,’ Liz protested. ‘I know I wasn’t imagining it.’

He turned out the light and coiled an arm round her waist. ‘You’re tired and your imagination’s running away with you. Now, stop worrying and close your eyes.’

His voice was low and gentle and she felt her shoulders relax, her weary limbs sinking into the mattress. Soon, very soon, she’d slip into unconsciousness.

‘Don’t you think he’s a bit too good to be true?’ she mumbled. ‘Too handsome and charming? No one can be that perfect.’

‘Hush,’ said Robert. ‘I’m sure he’s got his faults just like everyone else. Now, for goodness’ sake, go to sleep!’

‘I feel such a fool.’ Hazel dabbed her eyes with a cotton handkerchief and stared at her lap.

She was sitting in her favourite armchair in the small front room of her flat, a mug of tea by her side. It was almost midday and she was still in her nightclothes. In fact, she hadn’t been out of them since that dreadful event eight days ago, hadn’t left the flat.

She’d gone down with a cold and sore throat and had spent most of the time in bed. Jackie had been to the chemist to get her some lozenges and a bottle of cough mixture, but they didn’t seem to do much good. Annie had phoned a few times and said she’d visit at the weekend, and Hazel was certain she’d be more herself by then, but, oh! It had been such a shock.

‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ said PCSO Smith, who’d pulled up a chair from the little dining table in front of the window. ‘They’re so convincing. It could have happened to anyone.’

Hazel shook her head. ‘I was so stupid, like a child. I should have known better. I’ve caused so much bother for my son and daughter. And the police. And all that money…’ She let out a sob and put the handkerchief over her mouth to stifle it.

‘It was all the savings I had,’ she went on, once she’d composed herself. ‘It was supposed to pay for my funeral, so Jackie and Roy wouldn’t have to. I never imagined something like this would happen. Never. Barry must be turning in his grave.’

PCSO Smith patted the old woman’s knee. It was Sgt Kent who’d told her to come. ‘A follow-up call,’ he’d said. ‘It’s what community police work’s all about.’

At times like this she felt more like a social worker than a member of Her Majesty’s Constabulary, but she was glad that she’d called. ‘Come on, now,’ she coaxed. ‘It could’ve been worse. At least no one’s hurt.’

Hazel hiccupped and the young police officer glanced at her pale, lined face and unkempt hair. There mightn’t be physical scars, but the emotional ones were clear for all to see.

‘We tried to trace the mobile phone number but it was a pay-as-you-go and they’ve probably thrown it away,’ the policewoman said gently. ‘There has been one development, though. It happened to another lady in the Torquay area on Friday. Same story exactly. She drew out twenty-five thousand pounds, if it makes you feel any better. Seems they’re targeting around here now. At some point they’ll make a slip-up.’

Hazel paused, twisting the hankie round and round her forefinger. She was thinking of something, plucking up the courage to speak.

‘You know what really scares me?’ she said at last. ‘They know where I live, what I look like, everything. I don’t feel I can trust anyone. I don’t feel safe in my own home any more.’

Her eyes darted to the window, as if someone might be rattling at the lock, trying to get in.

PCSO Smith frowned, wishing that she had some good news to cheer the old woman up, that she could say they’d nailed the bastards and recovered the cash, but unfortunately it wasn’t like that.

‘I promise you won’t hear from them again,’ she said instead. It was something, anyway. ‘They’re professionals, these people. They make a great deal of money, hundreds of thousands, probably, maybe even more. They’re very keen not to be identified. They got what they wanted from you and they won’t be coming back.’

*

Tabitha had been so busy since the party on Saturday that she’d scarcely set foot outside The Stables. For the past five days she’d spent her time in meetings or on the phone and filling in the mountains of paperwork that had to be completed before she and Luke could officially throw open their doors.

When he’d informed her all those months ago that he’d put in an offer to buy a huge, rambling place miles from anywhere, she’d been aghast, and at first she’d tried hard to talk him out of it. She didn’t want to leave Manchester or run a guest house, she’d insisted, and what’s more, she had absolutely no idea where to begin.

But experience had taught her that arguing with him was pointless. When he got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him.

‘I need you to do it, Tabitha,’ he’d said seriously, his face up close to hers, so that she could see the pores on his nose and chin. ‘There’s lots of information online and we’ll get people in to help when necessary. It doesn’t have to be lucrative, just enough to cover costs. You can furnish it however you want,’ he’d added magnanimously, as if that would somehow make her feel better. Then he’d kissed her – quite hard – on the lips. ‘I want it to be stunning – just like you.’

If they weren’t trying to make money from the venture, she really didn’t see the point, but Luke had insisted that it would benefit his other business and give them a reason to be in Cornwall, not that she understood why they needed one.

Once the deal had been signed, she’d felt like a rabbit in the headlights, but as there was no going back, she’d reluctantly set about finding out as much as she could. Though she’d left school early, she’d always been good with figures and fortunately, as Luke had said, there was a great deal of assistance out there in the form of books and online courses.

He’d already obtained permission from the local council to change the use of The Stables from a dilapidated former home into a boutique B & B, but that was really only the beginning. They needed to get fire, gas and food hygiene certificates, as well as special insurance, and Tabitha hadn’t even begun to think about marketing and publicity.

The plan was to open in February which, though four months away, seemed frighteningly close. In the past few days, she’d ensured that most of the necessary safety checks had been completed. Now it was time to turn her attention to the interior décor because the visitors’ rooms, though freshly painted, lacked furniture and furnishings and those important little touches that would transform a run-of-the-mill lodging house into the really special establishment that her husband required.

This morning, armed with a tape measure, pencil and pad, she went around the house measuring up walls and alcoves for beds and chests of drawers, chairs, sofas, bookcases, side tables and wardrobes. Fortunately Oscar was occupied with Pilar in the playroom, as she’d never have been able to do it with him around.

A little later she sat in the large, square room beside the kitchen, which they’d designated the study, trawled the internet and ordered almost all the furniture that she needed from a well-known London department store. She found the bedding there, too, soft, white Egyptian cotton, and a mass of thick white towels and dressing gowns, plus small, flat screen TVs. Then, her head spinning and already exhausted by choices and costs, she sourced the cutlery and crockery, pots and pans for the breakfasts. By the time she’d finished, she’d spent a small fortune.

She scarcely stopped for lunch and while Pilar took Oscar to the library in the afternoon, Tabitha went through the pile of interiors magazines that she’d brought with her from Manchester and picked out various curtain fabrics, cushions and lamps that she liked the look of. She’d had simple blinds put up in their private quarters before they’d arrived, but they were only temporary, to tide them over until they found something better.

There were to be four guest rooms – three doubles and one twin – that she’d grouped in her mind under the headings ‘cosy’, ‘spacious’ and ‘luxe’, depending on their size, and they were to have an indulgent, contemporary feel with some period features, such as vintage-style lamps, a gilt mirror or a sumptuous chaise longue. She’d have well-thumbed books in bookcases, vases of wild flowers on side tables and ivy twisted around bedposts and across mantelpieces. Luke had said he wanted their visitors to be enchanted as well as comfortable; he wanted the sort of place that reflected owners of style, taste and discernment.

She bit her lip. Who was he trying to fool? She closed the magazine that she’d been looking at and put it down, reflecting sadly that she ought to be enjoying the process. After all, not every woman had the same luxury of time and money at her disposal. Instead, however, it just seemed like a terrible chore that she must finish as quickly as possible or Luke would wonder what on earth she’d been up to.

Pilar and Oscar had returned from the library and it was already dark outside when the au pair poked her head round the door to inform Tabitha that she had a visitor. ‘She is called Shelley Screech, very strange name,’ she said mournfully, as if it were only to be expected in a backward place like this.

Tabitha jumped up. So preoccupied had she been that she’d forgotten all about the woman who’d responded to the discreet ad that she’d placed in
The Lady
magazine some weeks ago, asking for help with the cooking, cleaning and general running of the guest house, and at first glance the person who greeted her in the reception room downstairs appeared distinctly unpromising.

Tallish, thin and pale, she had a slot for a mouth, a prominent chin and mousy hair scraped back in an unflattering bun. She’d clearly made some effort to look smart because she was wearing a grey suit, but it fitted badly and she stared disconcertingly at the floor as she shook Tabitha’s hand, anxious to avoid eye contact. She couldn’t have been more than forty, but her drooping shoulders and lined face suggested a hard life.

Even as Tabitha invited her to sit down, she was thinking that this wouldn’t do at all. She’d imagined a neat, efficient type, pleasant and hard-working. Shelley looked as if she might blow away in a puff of wind. In any case, she was only the first person that Tabitha had arranged to see and there were others who’d expressed interest. She’d get the interview over with as quickly as she could and fire off a rejection letter.

While Shelley talked falteringly, in her strong Cornish accent, about her previous jobs as a chambermaid and working in the kitchen of a busy seafront café, Tabitha found her attention wandering. However, her ears pricked up when the woman pointed out that she lived in Callington, some twenty miles and a good forty-minute drive away from Tremarnock.

‘It won’t be a problem,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve got my own car.’

As far as Tabitha was concerned, this was a distinct advantage, as she’d already made up her mind not to mix with the locals any more than necessary, far less employ them.