Hotel By The Loch Read online

  ‘No?’ Miriam’s dark eyebrows rose. ‘When we had the coach parties in for one-night stands, we scarcely had a minute to breathe.’

  Fenella wondered if Cameron intended to increase the number of coach-parties later in the season. Already several were booked for two-night stays, and enquiries had come in for one-week visits in the autumn.

  The next day’s reception of the main party to the conference went better than Fenella had expected. Fortunately small groups arrived at intervals during the day so that the work was spaced out evenly.

  As she passed the door of the restaurant some time before noon she glimpsed Alvaro inspecting his entire staff like a general. The waiters wore short white mess jackets with black trousers, but the girls looked ravishing in silver-grey nylon dresses with turquoise collar and cuffs and white pleated aprons. In the few moments that she watched Alvaro approving each member or suggesting some small adjustment, Fenella almost expected the girls and men to break into a chorus number with appropriate dance steps. When she returned to the reception office she found that a car-load of photographers and journalists had arrived to cover the first day’s events. They crowded around the reception counter, asking who had arrived, when could they have interviews with the president of the association, demanding telephones for their exclusive use.

  ‘I shall have to tell you later.’ Fenella was determined not to be flustered by the press or be led into indiscreet answers. ‘But I’ll find out for you.’ She directed them to the bar which was now open and they surged towards it in search of possible scoops for their papers.

  As soon as she saw Cameron she asked him what information she was to give the newspapermen.

  ‘All the papers have received a lot of publicity material,’ he told her, ‘but you’d better hand everyone a brochure and include the special leaflet about conferences.’

  She was almost stunned by his smart appearance. In his dark suit, polished black shoes, his hair uncommonly tidy, he looked every inch of his considerable height the manager of a prosperous hotel.

  ‘You look like my father’s bank manager,’ she ventured to say, with a complimentary smile.

  ‘Thanks. I find it occasionally possible to get away from my usual lumberjack image.’

  She was glad that today she was wearing a new green dress and had wound her long fair hair back into a knot on the nape of her neck.

  He placed on the counter in front of her a small wooden plaque inscribed with her name in neat black letters.

  ‘I like my staff to have names and not be anonymous or everlastingly hailed as “Miss”,’ he said gravely.

  ‘This is fun,’ she said. ‘Now I do really feel that I’m in a bank.’

  ‘Then mind you keep the accounts straight!’ he warned her, half fiercely, half humorously. ‘I don’t want a colossal loss on the first convention because items haven’t been charged up to the members.’

  ‘Not a sixpence shall escape me. Not a bawbee,’ she replied gaily.

  In practice, she found her boast was difficult to maintain, for although many small incidentals such as drinks or extra refreshments were paid for at the time, there were dozens of other charges of which she had to keep a strict track. Although Miriam and Cameron had both explained the tabulated entry system to her, she found it anything but easy to keep everyone’s bill up to date.

  When she asked Miriam for guidance, Miriam replied sweetly, ‘But I can’t possibly do two jobs here, Fenella. You’re keeping the accounts now.’

  Fenella decided to admit to Cameron that she was in a shocking muddle, especially with these Browns and Robinsons, despite the fact that she had rigidly tried to adhere to room numbers instead of names.

  ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if I could work with concentration on the accounts, but all the time people keep coming up to the reception, asking for information, wanting their keys and so on.’

  Cameron began to laugh, but this only irritated her.

  ‘Oh, it’s all very well for you to guffaw like that,’ she flared out at him.

  ‘I never guffaw, but we’ll let that pass. Actually, this is only a temporary try-out. I never expected you to work there single-handed all the time. In any case, I should soon get into trouble with the catering authorities. I’m not allowed to work you more than a fixed number of hours, unless of course I choose to pay you overtime.’

  ‘I don’t want to be paid more. I want less work.’

  ‘That’s impossible, and when we have the hotel really full, there’s going to be much more work than there is with these conferences. But I have a woman coming in a day or two. A married couple, actually. The husband, Mr. Robertson, is already here in charge of the main bar. Mrs. Robertson will take charge of the accounting end and leave you to look glamorous on the reception counter and bandy compliments with the press, the conference officials and anyone else whose head turns in your direction as he passes.’

  ‘Their heads turn because they’ve forgotten their keys or they want to know what fish you can catch in the loch.’

  He grimaced at her. ‘How ungraciously you accept even the whisper of a compliment! Alex McNicol must have been a bad influence in that direction.’

  ‘Cameron!’ Miriam had come up soundlessly behind him. ‘Could I have a word with you?’ She gave Fenella an enigmatic smile. ‘Sorry to drag him away from you, Fenella.’ Towards the end of the week Mrs. Robertson arrived and Fenella was relieved to be able to point out her own errors to someone who might help to put them right.

  Mrs. Robertson, a businesslike woman in her late thirties, was completely familiar with all kinds of hotel book-keeping systems as she had spent the last ten years in similar accounting jobs.

  ‘You must keep all these little dockets separate,’ she instructed Fenella. ‘When the waiters have handed them over, their responsibility is finished.’

  A couple of hours’ hard work spent in sorting out the tangled sheets of figures and Mrs. Robertson declared that she had the muddle straightened out.

  ‘I’m sorry to give you so much trouble,’ Fenella apologized. ‘I’m rather new to this kind of work.’

  ‘Don’t worry, child! All of us have to learn,’ the older woman reassured her.

  ‘Mr. Ramsay said I might have the afternoon off if that’s all right with you,’ Fenella said. ‘My father is in hospital in Fort William, but he’s expecting to come home next week.’

  ‘Of course you must go.’

  When Fenella stepped out of the hotel, Cameron was talking to Alex who had promised to call for her about half past two. As she approached the two men they turned towards her and both smiled as though they had been talking about her and were now sharing some secret joke.

  ‘And how’s the conference going?’ asked Alex when they had driven a mile or so towards Fort William.

  ‘Splendidly, I think. The secretary told me this morning that the conference was booked at another hotel belonging to this company and they were very put out to be transferred to some unknown place in the middle of the Highlands. He said they weren’t pleased to be treated like guinea-pigs, but now they’ve seen the Gairmorlie and the pavilion and so on, they’re all very pleased and will book again for next year.’

  ‘What exactly are they? What’s it a gathering of?’ queried Alex.

  Fenella laughed. ‘At first I was completely puzzled. Some were municipal officers and others were engineers and town planners and somehow the Tourist Board came into it, but now I understand it’s not one particular society, but a special conference to co-ordinate new developments for Scotland. All kinds of towns and counties have sent delegates. They’ve been delighted to have fine weather, although they sit about in huddles all over the place and it would hardly matter if it rained all the time.’

  ‘Pity the garden part is still a mess,’ observed Alex.

  ‘Oh, you haven’t seen the artificial lawn Cameron has put down at the back of the pavilion!’ Fenella exploded into laughter. ‘Bushes and plants in pots. It looks like Chelsea
Flower show before they’ve really got it finished!’

  ‘Artificial lawn? What’s that?’

  ‘Green stuff, but not fit for cows or sheep,’ she told him. ‘You unroll it like a carpet. From a distance it looks quite real, but I think it’s fibre or plastic or something like that. It feels crunchy when you tread on it, like real grass does when it’s frosty.’

  ‘No end to the man’s notions!’ was Alex’s terse comment.

  Fenella craned her head to look backwards. ‘That’s another one I’ve just seen. All the signboards advertising the hotel have been put down much lower. We passed one just then.’

  ‘Yes, he told me about those. Said they must have been put there at the time of stage-coaches so that the driver on the box could see them.’

  Alex came in with Fenella to visit her father, but left her a few minutes early so that she could have a short time alone with him.

  Mr. Sutherland spoke of how much he was looking forward to coming home. ‘That is, if I can now call it home. It’s not really, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Father. It’s home for both of us. We’re simply not going to be turned out for anyone. Incidentally, Cameron has done up your rooms very well.’

  ‘Alex is a fine lad,’ her father remarked irrelevantly. ‘You get on well with him, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Fenella’s eyes twinkled. ‘Has he been talking to you? Or are you just indulging in a bit of wishful matchmaking?’

  ‘No, no. I want you to take your time. I like Alex well. You’d be all right if you married him, but I’m not going to put my spoke in.’

  Fenella laughed. ‘Of all the insincere men, you must earn the medal! How much more could you put your spoke in? All right, I take your meaning.’

  ‘Oh, I know you’ve set your heart on a career for a few years and I want you to have your chance.’

  She bent and kissed him. ‘Of course, Father. I know now that you were very generous about my training when you couldn’t really spare the money, so I want to do something to earn my independence.’

  ‘You shall design me a dressing-gown the like of which was never seen before on land or sea.’

  ‘Pooh! And I can see you wearing it!’ she retorted.

  In the car on the way home, Alex was more silent than usual, although Fenella was becoming accustomed to these heavy moods. Since she had returned from London he seemed to be utterly different from the old Alex she had known for so many years. He was no longer carefree and gay but often had to exert himself to appear lively. She could not believe that it was because he had to shoulder more responsibility on his father’s farm. He had always known this part of his future, since he was the only son.

  ‘How about coming home with me for once?’ he asked as they neared the hotel. ‘You’ve the rest of the day off, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes. That would be nice. I haven’t seen your mother or Laurie for ages.’

  Fenella was glad of the relaxed atmosphere of the drawing room at Glencorrie House. Even with Laurie gesturing excitedly over some trivial incident, there was a calm about Mrs. McNicol’s tea-table that was wonderfully soothing after the hectic weeks at the hotel.

  ‘It’s quite a rest-cure to sit down leisurely to tea and scones,’ she said.

  ‘I really can’t understand, Fenella, why you’ve taken on so much work at the hotel,’ Mrs. McNichol remarked. ‘Until your father is well again, you’ll have quite enough to do looking after him, without all this tiresome bother of reception and accounts and whatever it is you do.’

  ‘It’s not at all boring, and I like being able to help,’ returned Fenella.

  ‘There, Mother, you see!’ interposed Laurie, her young face flushed with enthusiasm. ‘I’d like a job down there, too.’

  ‘But, Laurie, you—’

  ‘Take no notice of the child,’ interrupted Alex. ‘What she’s really after is not a day’s honest work, but the chance of meeting all those gorgeous men, as she puts it.’

  Fenella laughed delightedly. ‘Gorgeous men! I haven’t noticed many of those. They’re all at least middle-aged, some are bald or grey-haired.’

  ‘Some are young, I know,’ declared Laurie sturdily. ‘Alex is mean. If he’s not careful, he’ll have me left on his hands if I don’t meet any men, and then he’ll have to keep me all my life.’

  ‘Oh, Laurie, how doleful you sound!’ exclaimed Fenella. ‘Cheer up. There’s time yet for you to meet the man of your dreams. You’re not yet on the shelf at eighteen!’

  ‘Well, anyway, ask Cameron for a job for me,’ persisted Laurie.

  Mrs. McNicol gave a resigned smile. ‘You’ll soon get tired of it, Laurie. You can’t play about and just go off on some pleasure jaunt when you feel like it. Hotels are busy places at all times of day.’

  After a while Fenella rose to go. ‘I expect I shall find a mass of correspondence or filing has piled up while I’ve been out. Be warned, Laurie, we work half the night, too, as well as in the daytime.’

  ‘Ha-ha!’ mocked Laurie.

  Alex drove Fenella back towards the hotel, but this time he took the long way round instead of the main road along the lochside.

  It was a clear sharp evening and in the western light distant woods had already begun to take on their varied colours. A half moon shone golden in the pale blue sky and from this higher road the loch appeared like a smooth dark slate.

  Alex stopped the car suddenly and lit a cigarette.

  ‘You didn’t take Laurie seriously, did you? About wanting to work at the hotel?’ he queried.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she answered. ‘Of course I wouldn’t do anything against your or your parents’ wishes, but Laurie doesn’t have much chance of meeting people, does she? Apart from the occasional dance at one of the hotels or a party at your house, she sees few companions of her own age.’

  ‘She’s only left school six months ago.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s why at the moment she’s probably bored, even though she loves her home and everyone in it. But she ought to know how to do something to earn a living, even if it never becomes necessary.’

  ‘Laurie would never stick at anything long enough to learn a job,’ mumbled Alex.

  ‘How d’you know? She’s never had the chance. Unless you strongly object or your father does, I shall do as she asks and suggest to Cameron that he might consider the idea. After all, my father let me go to London for two years even though he could ill afford it.’

  When Alex remained silent, Fenella continued, ‘Besides, there are fewer tasks at your home than there were when my father owned the hotel. You don’t need Laurie to milk the cows or drive the sheep. Your mother doesn’t really need her to help in the house. You’ve adequate assistance in every way. At the Gairmorlie, she’d be so near home, only a few miles away, and living at Glencorrie all the time.’

  ‘I wonder why you’re putting in such a powerful plea for Laurie,’ he said at last.

  ‘Because I can see her point of view.’

  He stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette and turned towards Fenella. ‘And you? Are you hell-bent on going to London in the autumn after you’ve filled in the summer months?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve been too busy lately to think about applying for another post. I might go down to London later on and see one or two people.’

  ‘You might equally stay here and think about marrying me,’ he said. ‘That’s if you’re not too busy.’

  She swerved quickly towards him and his face was within an inch of her own. ‘Alex!’

  ‘Well? Nothing surprising in what I said, is there? Our respective families have long since come to this foregone conclusion.’

  ‘But I thought—well, Miriam—’ she stumbled incoherently.

  ‘What about Miriam?’ he demanded, almost fiercely.

  ‘Nothing. But I don’t want to commit myself yet, Alex. I’d rather wait a few months, at least.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m ready fo
r marriage,’ she said slowly.

  ‘But my mother will love to help you in any way, in whatever way your own mother would have done. You know how much my mother adores you. There isn’t a girl in the entire county whom she’d rather have for a daughter-in-law.’

  ‘I don’t want to decide yet,’ she said stubbornly, yet with a gentleness that would not hurt Alex too much.

  His arm went round her shoulders and he pulled her towards him. ‘Will you think differently now?’ He kissed her lips, her cheek, her temples, her hair, and held her tightly in his embrace. She made no effort to struggle or restrain him, for he had kissed her many times before now, easy, companionable kisses that an affectionate brother might bestow. This was different, yet Fenella could not respond with eagerness. She lay passive in his arms and had the curious notion that something was forcing him towards this declaration that he wanted to marry her. He had not yet even mentioned the word ‘love’.

  The inevitable question forced itself out of her lips. ‘Do you love me, Alex?’

  ‘Of course,’ he answered quickly. ‘Why else should I ask you to marry me?’

  She was silent, feeling suddenly cold in a situation where the atmosphere should have been warm and tender.

  ‘Let’s go home,’ she said at last, staring straight in front of her.

  After a pause, he started the car and drove to the Gairmorlie.

  ‘Don’t keep me waiting too long, Fenella,’ he said, as she alighted from the car outside the hotel. It was imagination, of course, but she thought she caught a note of desperate pleading in his tone.

  His attitude puzzled her, for although his proposal was not at all unexpected, she had imagined that it would be an extension of the long companionship they had enjoyed together. Instead, he was like a stranger asking her to marry him; a man unsure of himself seeking a union because he needed its strength.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tonight the farewell gala dinner for the conference was in progress when Fenella returned.

  ‘Mrs. Erskine said she wouldn’t wait dinner for you,’ Mrs. Robertson informed her.