He found this even funnier. ‘You are definitely lying. I know perfectly well you think I bully people who work under me.’
‘I wouldn’t suggest you bully the people who work for you any more than anyone else. You just bully everyone.’ She sounded so brave, she thought. Alexandra, who was inclined to think that Meg didn’t stand up for herself enough, would have been proud.
Justin frowned. ‘I don’t suffer fools gladly, that’s true. But I wouldn’t describe myself as a bully.’
‘Bullies never do. It doesn’t mean they don’t bully people. You try to bully me, for example.’
‘But you’re strangely resistant,’ he said.
‘That’s because you’re not actually my boss. I’m good at my job and that means I don’t have to take any notice of your nonsense.’
Justin looked a bit taken aback. ‘You don’t take any prisoners, do you?’
‘No. And while I’m speaking truth to power, my mother is definitely not a gold digger and it’s perfectly possible that your father is attracted to her just because she’s …’ Meg, who felt she’d been pretty eloquent up to this point, struggled for the right word. ‘Nice,’ she finished lamely.
‘She is very attractive,’ Justin said. ‘One might almost say she takes after her daughter in more than just looks but that would be—’
‘Ridiculous!’ said Meg before he could get any further. ‘Now I’m tired and I’m going to bed, if you’ll excuse me.’ Without waiting for a response, she left the kitchen, delighted to have had the last word for once.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Meg got up earlier than usual, pulling on a pair of slacks that were lying around and a handy Breton top that she had bought in France.
In the kitchen, she was surprised to find everything cleared away, although she’d gone to bed (or more accurately walked out in a huff) before it was finished. She took a pot of oats that had been soaking overnight and put it on the stove. Ambrosine loved porridge, with thick cream and brown sugar. Meg was fond of it too.
‘Oh! Porridge!’ said Andrew, coming in, looking freshly shaved and enthusiastic. ‘I love porridge.’
‘So does Ambrosine. We don’t have it every day but I put the oats on to soak yesterday as we have some cream to go with it.’ Meg paused. ‘I hope you don’t mind me giving the guests cream? I know Geoff—’
‘Geoff was a horrible mistake,’ said Andrew. ‘Your mother told me all about him. And Ambrosine wrote to me. She was singing your praises.’
Meg relaxed a little. They could safely talk about Ambrosine and so, with luck, wouldn’t run out of conversation.
‘Ambrosine also told me how well you’d managed the lunch.’
‘Justin came and we did it together, in the end.’
‘And it was a brilliant success. I gather that people who went to it have come back? Sunday lunch and afternoon tea?’
‘Yes. A friend of mine was staying for a few days and she typed letters to all those guests, offering them a bit of a bargain.’
‘That was a very good idea. This hotel badly needs some fresh ideas. I hope when I’ve sorted out my father’s estate – if that happy day ever dawns – we can make some changes.’
Meg felt a pang of disappointment. She’d wanted to make changes before then. She knew that it could take months and months to sort things out after someone had died.
‘What we really need,’ Andrew went on, ‘is to get back into a guide. My father let that slip and somehow I’ve never put it right.’
‘Maybe my mother and I could help you with that,’ said Meg, aware she sounded rather formal. She liked Andrew but she didn’t know him very well.
She busied herself with cooking: stirring porridge, slicing bread for toast and putting butter into a couple of dishes. Eventually, her mother appeared.
She looked different, Meg couldn’t help noticing. She had that slightly sultry look of a woman who had been thoroughly made love to. Although Meg had no personal experience of this, she’d seen it on others. It was very unsettling to see her mother’s familiarfeatures looking softer and guessing the reason. But she also looked very happy, which warmed Meg’s heart.
‘Oh, you’re here, Andrew,’ Louise said. ‘Meg, you must have got up very quietly.’
‘I got up early because I knew I’d left the kitchen in a mess,’ said Meg. ‘Thank you for doing it for me, Mum. Unless it was you, Andrew.’
‘Justin did it,’ said Andrew. ‘I came in last night to find him finishing up.’
