Hotel By The Loch Read online

  ‘It could not!’ she answered decisively. ‘When you sent Mrs. Macgregor and Angus packing, I didn’t try to help you any further. But I’ve done nothing to hinder.’

  As she walked she turned to look him full in the face.

  He began to laugh. ‘No, I believe you there. You’re no sneak.’

  They were now well beyond the village. ‘D’you want to go back?’ she asked.

  ‘Not unless you’re tired,’ he said. ‘I think we might take another half-hour away from our duties. Then we’ll go back and have a quick lunch at the Trachan Arms.’

  She remembered that today the kitchens at the Gairmorlie were out of action, so it was not a bad idea to sample whatever the village pub could offer.

  It was pleasant enough to walk with Cameron Ramsay, thought Fenella. He seemed to have overcome his disappointment about extra staff and be prepared to enjoy a short walk in a lovely countryside.

  Although this was a main road skirting the length of Loch Trachan, there was little traffic except for an occasional car or grocer’s van. The sun sparkled on the smooth waters of the loch and the shore was covered with yellowing grass and sedges. Ahead, the hills were sharply outlined in dark blue against luminous clouds. Trees, bare of foliage, revealed their individual colours of trunk and branches, brilliant mossy green of sycamores, birches bleached silver-white, wild cherries almost black with a hint of rich dark red.

  ‘How does Trachan compare with Canada?’ she asked him after a long silence.

  ‘Scotland has everything in miniature. The hills are lower, the lochs smaller, the glens narrower. That’s its charm.’

  ‘How long is it since you left Canada to come here?’

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘Oh, then you’re quite acclimatized to our little islands.’

  He flung back his head and laughed. ‘How insular! You really think that London and a few beauty spots dotted about the country are the whole centre of the universe, don’t you? I spent two years on the Continent, one in Geneva, the other in Austria and Italy.’

  ‘In hotels? Or doing the Grand Tour?’ she queried.

  His answering look quelled her frivolity. ‘Learning my job, of course. From the basement up.’

  ‘Is hotel management the profession you really wanted?’

  He gave her another of those annihilating glances. ‘Why? D’you think I’m a square peg?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she put in hastily.

  ‘After I left university in Montreal I took a course in catering and hotel studies. My father is interested in hotel development, but more from a building point of view. His company is erecting blocks of offices, stores, hotels, in various parts of Canada and the States.’

  Fenella asked no further questions. While he was in a reasonably amiable mood she did not want to run the risk of annoying him by more catechism.

  At the Trachan Arms the landlord was delighted to provide bread and cheese and pickles and apologized for lack of a hot meal.

  ‘I am having no one staying here at present,’ he explained. ‘Too early in the season.’

  The brisk walk had given Fenella a sharp appetite and she ate the food with relish.

  ‘I didn’t realize what good cider you sold here,’ she told Duncan, the landlord, as she sipped her drink.

  He grinned at her. ‘Your father did. He often used to send down for a barrel of my best. I expect you’ve learned more fancy drinks down in London, Miss Sutherland.’

  She smiled, but made no reply. Old Duncan probably imagined that she drank nothing but pink gins or vodka in London.

  It occurred to her to ask Cameron how all his gangs of men were faring for their midday meal if the hotel kitchens were out of action.

  ‘Oh, they’re independent. They have their own facilities, a kind of field canteen, if you could call it that. We couldn’t let them depend on whatever food they could bring with them or on other people’s cooking stoves.’

  ‘How do you manage to get so many men? You must have nearly a hundred.’

  ‘Many come from Glasgow and live in a hostel we provide for them at Fort William. A few live with their families in the town. But the various foremen and designers—these are our own men who work directly for the company. Now perhaps you can begin to see why I want to keep the hotel open all the year round. Apart from a few extra staff in the summer, I can provide permanent employment for the really efficient people and perhaps keep them from year to year. The curse of the hotel industry is that it’s seasonal.’

  Fenella nodded. ‘My father knew that difficulty, too. He said that when he wanted people, so did everyone else, and it always distressed him to tell them in September that they must go, even though they always knew that when they were engaged.’

  ‘It’s one reason why hotels can’t be run efficiently. You lay off waiters and they go to some third-rate place in the winter where they learn appalling slackness. You get porters who are carpenters or bricklayers in the winter. With half-year jobs, people get a kind of part-time attitude. They tend to think they won’t be here when their sins are found out.’

  She could see the point of his argument and wished she could find out the real reason for all the village women refusing to work at the hotel. She would say nothing now, but decided that when she had a free moment she would come and see Duncan, the landlord here, and ask him. Or perhaps Mrs. Macgregor would wag her tongue freely if Cameron Ramsay were not present.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Miriam was in the reception office when Fenella arrived back at the Gairmorlie.

  ‘Heavens! I wondered where on earth you had disappeared to,’ were her first words, when she replaced the telephone receiver. ‘The phone’s been ringing most of the morning. I think you might at least tell me if you’re going to be out for hours.’

  Fenella swallowed hard. Miriam had certainly become bossy since her elevation to the post of housekeeper.

  ‘Cameron—Mr. Ramsay—asked me to go to the village with him,’ she explained mildly.

  ‘Cameron?’ Miriam frowned. ‘He told me nothing about it.’

  ‘He wanted me to go round with him to get Mrs. Macgregor or others to fill in part-time during the season.’

  Miriam stared. ‘I could easily have done that for him. There was surely no need for both of you to scour the village for a few extra helpers. Besides, these things come under my charge now.’

  ‘Well, we didn’t get anyone at all to agree, so you’ll have to discuss it with Mr. Ramsay,’ said Fenella. She was a trifle nettled by Miriam’s high-handed attitude. ‘We stopped to have a snack lunch at the Trachan,’ she added, in case Miriam discovered that later.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Miriam pointed to a pad by the telephone. ‘I’ve written notes and messages for you.’

  She left the reception office and Fenella sat still for a few minutes to collect her thoughts. Why was Miriam so easily offended these days? Was it merely pressure of work or was there some underlying cause?

  Fenella worked hard at the correspondence. She remembered Miriam’s grumbles yesterday about Fenella’s time off during the afternoon to go to Fort William and visit her father. She picked up the telephone and asked for the hospital, then put it down again. Without warning she could not disappoint her father today, but if he was going on well, then she would try to arrange to see him every other day perhaps.

  Laurie telephoned to say that she could pick up Fenella on her way to Fort William.

  ‘But what time will you bring me back?’ asked Fenella.

  ‘As soon as you’re ready to leave the hospital,’ Laurie assured her.

  Fenella took the precaution of leaving a note in the reception office that she would be back at five o’clock, in case Miriam was again annoyed.

  Laurie’s car was waiting on the road outside the hotel entrance. ‘Hope you didn’t mind,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t bump over all that rough site. Looks like an earthquake.’

  ‘Sometimes it sounds as though an earthquake is going on
all the time,’ Fenella told her.

  ‘Alex tells me you’re staying all the summer,’ Laurie continued. ‘That sounds fine, but it’s a bore if you’re working all the time.’

  ‘Does Alex say that? Or is that your view?’

  ‘Both, I expect,’ replied Laurie.

  ‘I shall have spare time, especially when my father comes home. I shan’t be going to the hospital to visit him.’

  ‘Good. Then we can go out together and have fun.’

  Laurie had several shops to visit in Fort William when she left Fenella outside the hospital.

  ‘Don’t be late or I shall catch it!’ Fenella warned her.

  ‘Who from? The Grand Cham?’ Laurie grimaced and drove off.

  Mr. Sutherland seemed to be improving all the time and one of the nurses told Fenella that his progress was more rapid than they had expected.

  ‘Does that mean he can come home soon?’

  ‘Matron will tell you about that,’ replied the nurse cautiously.

  Fenella had not yet told her father that she had taken a definite job at the hotel. Time enough for that when he could see the position for himself. Otherwise, she thought, he would fret that she was sacrificing her job in London in order to stay in Scotland.

  But she did today mention that as he was doing so well, she would cut down some of her visits if he had no objection.

  He patted her hand. ‘Of course not,’ he said warmly. ‘It’s been good of you to come every day up till now.’

  ‘We’ll have your rooms ready the moment you’re allowed home,’ she promised, although her heart sank when she thought of Mr. Ramsay’s arrogant acquisition of the manager’s suite.

  Laurie came into the private ward just before Fenella was ready to leave. ‘The nurse said I might come in for a few minutes,’ she said gaily. She bent to kiss Mr. Sutherland. ‘You look bonny,’ she told him.

  ‘I can’t compete with you, lass,’ he replied.

  On the way home Laurie seemed unusually silent, and Fenella twitted her about it.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Laurie said at last.

  ‘That must have given you a headache,’ gibed Fenella.

  ‘No, this is serious. I know that I shouldn’t interfere, and Alex would slay me if he knew.’

  ‘Then don’t tell me whatever it is.’

  ‘You do like Alex, don’t you, Fenella?’ Laurie turned to look at her companion and the car swooped towards the verge.

  ‘Keep your mind on your driving, Laurie. You know I like Alex very much.’

  ‘Enough to marry him?’ queried Laurie quietly.

  ‘Marriage is too far ahead for me. I know everyone gets married young these days, but I don’t particularly want to follow that fashion.’

  ‘Alex spent a lot of time going up and down to London while you were there.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ admitted Fenella. ‘But it wasn’t only on my account. He was studying soil techniques at the laboratories and he only took me out dancing and so on when he had time to spare.’

  ‘I’d love you to marry Alex—that’s when you’re ready, of course,’ added Laurie hastily.

  ‘I suppose Alex might also be consulted?’ queried Fenella with a smile. ‘Even if we have always been pals from our childhood, he might not want to be saddled with me for a lifetime.’

  ‘That’s just the point,’ said Laurie decisively. ‘You may not be aware of it, but Miriam—’ she stopped.

  ‘Miriam? What about her?’

  ‘Well, I think she’s been making a dead set at Alex. She wants him for a second husband and she knows that he’s very fond of Jamie.’

  Fenella said nothing for a few moments. Then she asked, ‘Why d’you think this? Alex hasn’t told you?’

  ‘Naturally not. I can see for myself. Whenever Alex has been home and you’ve been in London or elsewhere, Miriam has found ways and means of meeting him or getting him to drive her somewhere.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean that she wants to marry him. All neighbours here in these parts help each other with lifts into town and so on.’

  Laurie’s pace of driving became slower until she stopped the car. ‘She knows that Alex will be staying at home now more or less permanently. He’s taking some of the work off my father, as you know. Miriam sees this as a good chance to get Alex, but you’re in the way, especially now you’ve taken on a job.’

  Fenella was silent. She was piecing together in her mind all those isolated fragments of ill-temper on Miriam’s part.

  ‘Let’s drive home,’ she said at last. ‘I must think over what you say, although I can hardly believe it.’

  ‘But you must swear not to tell Alex. He’d half kill me.’

  Laurie was apprehensive now.

  Fenella laughed. ‘I don’t really think he’d come near to slaughtering you, but I promise not to say a word to anyone.’ She knew that between Laurie and her adored brother Alex existed the strongest bond of affection and Fenella would never do anything to harm that.

  During the next few days she had little time to dwell on personal problems, either her own or Miriam’s. Everywhere was rush and bustle. The kitchen, once a comfortable but old-fashioned room, had been enlarged by knocking down an adjacent wall leading to an outhouse. Now the tiled walls housed a battery of new cooking ranges. In the centre stood a long connected row of vats, chromium plated, flush-topped.

  ‘For cooking soups, vegetables, anything that needs boiling or steaming,’ Cameron explained to Fenella.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ she said.

  He laughed. ‘Did you think we were merely going to invest in a few bigger and better saucepans?’

  She could see that in effect these vats or coppers were really bigger and better saucepans, but designed into a streamlined unit.

  There were other adjoining rooms with stainless steel sinks of some magnitude, imposing dishwashers and gadgets for preparing vegetables. What had once been a storeroom now held several large refrigerators and a zinc-topped bench for the patisserie chef.

  ‘You’ve made some marvellous changes,’ Fenella commented.

  ‘And your unspoken thought is that you hope the increased business will justify this enormous expenditure,’ he said with a sardonic grin.

  She laughed and nodded. ‘Perhaps something like that was running through my mind. My father could never have done all this with his own limited resources.’

  ‘One advantage of a large company. If it should remotely happen that the Gairmorlie is a failure, then we can always use the equipment or some of it elsewhere.’

  ‘Failure?’ she echoed. ‘You must be feeling very despondent if you can talk of failure.’

  ‘Success is never certain,’ he replied. ‘You hope for it, you work for it, but you can’t be sure what setbacks are in store.’

  She met his glance and saw a curious light in his hazel eyes, something between self-confidence and a desire to be encouraged.

  ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed and wish you luck.’ Fenella was astonished to hear herself saying the words.

  Cameron gave her a smile, then abruptly walked away.

  ‘Oh, there’s one thing I forgot,’ she said, hurrying after him as he strode through the corridor that would connect the new wing to the older building. ‘My father—he may be coming home soon if he progresses. You’ve taken his rooms, so where is he to go?’

  Cameron stared down at her. ‘What d’you mean—taken his rooms? I had all his furniture and belongings shifted temporarily so that the suite could be redecorated. Certainly I moved out of the room you gave me at first, but that was because I wanted a different one where I could see some of the work going on.’

  Fenella shrugged. ‘I must have misunderstood,’ she mumbled, wondering why Miriam had so definitely told her that Cameron insisted on taking over the manager’s private suite.

  ‘D’you want to see the rooms now?’ he asked.

  ‘Not if you’re busy.’ She had heard the impatient note in
his voice.

  ‘When d’you think I’m not busy? Come on, let’s show you, if only to satisfy you that your father is going to be treated with respect.’

  In a way she regretted having asked in the first place, for now Cameron had to get the keys from Miriam who was busy on the top floor supervising a newly-arrived staff of chambermaids.

  ‘I could easily have shown Fenella if she’d asked,’ Miriam said, as she accompanied the other two along the first-floor corridor.

  ‘Oh, they’re beautifully done,’ exclaimed Fenella as she entered her father’s bedroom, his familiar furniture rearranged for greater comfort, newly-upholstered armchairs, an elegant chaise-longue placed near the window. The Persian carpet in the sitting-room had been cleaned and its soft reds glowed and toned with the rich red brocade curtains. The private bathroom adjoining had been reequipped with a partially-sunk bath and various safety devices.

  ‘Glad you like it,’ Miriam said. ‘Excuse me, Cameron. I have to get back to the linen room. Perhaps you’ll let me have the keys back when you’ve finished.’

  When she had gone, Fenella walked round the sitting-room again. ‘How did you know what my father wanted? He often said he’d have red curtains and a cream and gold wallpaper when he had money to spare.’

  Cameron smiled over the top of the batch of papers he carried. ‘I suppose it never occurred to you that I might have consulted him?’

  ‘Where? In hospital?’

  ‘If you could sail off there in the afternoons, don’t you think I could manage an occasional call when I was in Fort William on other business?’

  ‘So it’s not really a secret from him. Only from me,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t want you knocking around and interfering and assuring me that your father wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘Thank you, both for the snub,’ she paused, then continued, ‘and for your thoughtfulness. When there’s still so much to do in the hotel generally, I appreciate the fact that you could spare time for these rooms.’

  He inclined his head in a derisory gesture. ‘So glad to have merited your approval. Now shall we both get back to work?’