Chapter Two
Once Meg had been shown the flat over the garages where her mother lived – two bedrooms, a sitting room, a tiny bathroom and a kitchenette, Louise said, ‘Right. If you don’t need or want to unpack or anything, I’ll show you around the hotel.’
As Meg followed her, she realised just how much of her mother’s heart was committed to Nightingale Woods.
It wasn’t very different from the large, rambling, fairly grand family home it had been, although there were a few obvious differences. The black and white tiled hall contained a reception desk, for example, as well as a couple of small sofas, some chairs and a stand filled with leaflets about local places of interest.
‘This is the hall, obviously,’ said Louise, ‘and that’s the morning room, where guests go after breakfast if they’re not going out. The sun streams in.’ She paused as she and Meg inspected the room from the doorway.
‘It’s lovely,’ said Meg, and she meant it, but she couldn’t overlook the rather faded air it had about it.
‘But it definitely needs to be redecorated,’ Louise said, who obviously felt the same.
Although they agreed about this, Meg could tell her mother felt invested in the house and would take any criticism personally. She decided not to offer any opinions unless asked.
The ladies’ drawing room, another of the many reception rooms, was at the side of the house and had a big bay window looking out on to the garden. The furniture was antique and beautiful and looked as if it had always been here. But the sofas and chairs were quite shabby and possibly no longer comfortable, the curtains were faded and the rugs were threadbare in places. There was a grand piano near the window, covered with silver framed photographs.
‘Does the piano work?’ asked Meg.
‘Oh yes. It was tuned the other day, by a blind tuner. It’s really quite good, apparently, although not by a famous maker.’
‘I bet the new hotel doesn’t have a room with a grand piano in it,’ said Meg.
Louise rolled her eyes. ‘It’s probably got a Hammond organ that rises out of the floor! Now come and see the main drawing room. It’s about the same as this really. Old-fashioned, really quite shabby but somehow elegant,’ she said. ‘Let me show you.’
‘It’s really lovely!’ said Meg when they got there. This room looked out from the front of the house and the river could be seen glinting at the bottom of the valley. ‘I love the wallpaper. It’s like a mural, birds and flowers climbing up the walls. Faded, but all the more beautiful because of it.’
‘I’m so glad you feel the same as I do,’ said Louise. ‘It just needs a lick of paint, and new curtains and cushions. It wouldn’t take a lot of money. I’d make the curtains myself or even repair them. The carpets are ancient but genuine Persian so it doesn’t matter if they’re old.’
‘It has a lovely light,’ said Meg. ‘It’s like being in a picture from a book of fairy tales.’
Louise nodded. ‘I know what you mean. But it’s the dining room that makes us popular for weddings and larger events. Come and see.’
This room had been extended at some time in its history, the extension reaching out into the garden at the back of the house. It was far larger than the other rooms but light and welcoming and its decor was less tired.
‘Andrew told me that one of the brides who married into the family brought money with her and she was insistent on having a room where they could have dances.’
‘It looks as if it’s been redecorated quite recently,’ said Meg, admiring the beautifully painted cornices, pilasters and the huge ceiling rose from whence hung a huge chandelier.
‘Yes. Andrew said he had to get out quite a large loan to do it as it needed a fair bit of repair as well as just decoration. But it’s the room that earns the money.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘I wonder why no one has started to get it ready for the banquet. It takes a little while to get all the tables and chairs into place.’
‘When is it?’ asked Meg.
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s tomorrow.’
‘Yikes!’ said Meg. ‘That’s very soon!’
‘Let me show you the kitchen,’ Louise said. ‘Geoff is bound to be there prepping for the meal. I was so excited about you coming, I didn’t ask him how things were going this morning.’
Meg sensed her mother appreciated having her there as moral support.
A stocky man in grubby chef’s whites was talking loudly into a telephone. On the table was a box full of frozen chickens.
Meg looked around. It was a kitchen that had hardly changed, she reckoned, since it had been the engine room of the house, cooking for the family for generations. There was a large professional oven and one or two other more modern appliances but basically it was the same. A large wooden table, the surface ridged with decades of scrubbing, took up the middle of the room. A vast dresser covered nearly the whole of one wall, full of every kind of crockery, plate, dish, jug or jelly mould one could imagine. Two enormous sinks were located under the window and near these were huge plate racks. An old range, currently out of use, filled a fireplace big enough to roast an ox. It was a lovely room, Meg decided, but needed organising.
‘Fuck off!’ said Geoff and slammed down the receiver.
Meg instantly looked at her mother in shock. While Meg was quite accustomed to hearing such language in professional kitchens, she was horrified that hermother should have been subjected to it. Louise caught her gaze, equally embarrassed.
