‘Are you sure we don’t need it?’ said Laura.
‘Quite sure,’ said Justin quietly. ‘Now, Laura? If you take the cake back to the hotel, I have to stay on here for a bit.’
For a split second, Laura looked mutinous, as if she might refuse this request. ‘Fine. I can make the cake look presentable, put on some finishing touches.’ She smiled at Meg. ‘I did a course in cake decoration. Callme when you want to be picked up, Jussy – Justin!’ she said, and left.
‘I need to discuss Louise’s travel arrangements to France and then I’d like to see the rooms you want upgraded. Make sure we wouldn’t be throwing good money after bad,’ he said.
‘I don’t think any money has been thrown at those rooms for years, good or bad,’ said Meg.
He nodded. ‘But it may not be worth trying to modernise the rooms. The house may well have to be sold anyway.’
Meg knew this, in her heart, but she tried to put it out of her mind as much as possible. She hated the thought of this lovely house belonging to people who might not love it as much as its current inhabitants. She thought of Susan, Bob and their children, who all contributed to the running of Nightingale Woods with affection and loyalty as well as because their family had been part of the household for years. Would a new owner understand that? They’d get rid of Ambrosine, for a start.
‘I’ll show you the rooms. You may need someone with imagination and creative flare with you when you look.’
‘You don’t think I have those qualities?’ he asked.
‘Not when it comes to this hotel, no.’ Then she wished she hadn’t qualified it and just denied he had creative flare at all. But she was a very fair person and couldn’t.
‘The rooms are going to have guests in them tonight but I expect they’ve been done already. Susan runs itall very well. She’s out of the dining room and up to the bedrooms with hardly time for tea and a biscuit.’
They walked up the stairs and Meg led him into the best bedroom. This was the one with the stunning views over the gardens, the ha-ha and the fields beyond. It had beautiful wallpaper, almost like a mural, with a pattern of flowers and birds. The furniture was antique and now smelt of beeswax polish. It was desperately in need of paint, new curtains, cushions, and perhaps the chair should be reupholstered. But it had immense charm. Meg could picture the lady of the manor lying in bed, her breakfast on a tray on her lap, reading her letters, deciding on which invitations to accept and whom she should invite to her next dinner party. She didn’t say any of this to Justin, of course.
Instead, she said, ‘I love this painting. A young girl with woods behind her, and her spaniel playing at her feet.’
‘Those are Nightingale Woods,’ he said. ‘They used to be much more extensive in those days. They’ve gradually been cleared to create more farmland and now they’re quite small in comparison.’
Convinced she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and this making it hard for her to breathe normally, Meg moved away a little.
‘I think this room is like a beautiful old painting,’ she said, ‘which needs cleaning and maybe a new frame, but is still beautiful.’
‘That’s a very poetic way of putting it for such a practical person, Meg,’ he said.
‘I am practical,’ she said firmly, to convince herself as much as anything. ‘I think life has meant I’ve had to be, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be poetic as well.’ Then she regretted confiding in him. Her innermost soul was nothing whatever to do with him.
‘I agree with you about this room. It is lovely. I hardly ever came in here when I was growing up, it being a guest bedroom, but it has a lot of charm. Now, where did the door to the dressing room used to be?’
‘Behind this big mirror,’ said Meg. ‘The door hasn’t been very well blocked up at all.’
‘Let’s go and see what’s on the other side.’
Once they were in the single bedroom, he said, ‘This room isn’t huge but it’s bigger than a bathroom, surely.’
‘Bigger than the private bathrooms in your hotel, you mean.’
He laughed briefly, acknowledging her dig. ‘I suppose I do.’
‘But your hotel is much more utilitarian in general than this one, isn’t it?’ said Meg. ‘Let’s go and look at the other bedrooms. It would be good to get Bob working on getting at least one of them done quite soon.’ She was thinking about the play that might be put on in the garden and wondered if she should ask Justin about that.
‘What’s on your mind?’ he said as they walked along to the next principal bedroom.
Annoyed that he could tell there was something on her mind, Meg decided she hated keeping secrets and she might as well tell Justin everything. ‘David – youremember? – has a friend who might want to put onA Midsummer Night’s Dreamin the garden. It would fill the hotel but we’d want the bedrooms to be perfect.’ She paused. ‘It’s possible Dame Miriam Twycross might appear.’
Justin appeared to be impressed. ‘Gosh. I’m a complete philistine when it comes to the theatre but I know my father is a big fan of hers.’ He paused. ‘Why would she want to appear in a play in someone’s garden though?’
‘It’s outdoor theatre! Practically Glyndebourne! But even if she didn’t come it would be a great thing for the hotel. Publicity you couldn’t pay for. We might get reviewed in the national press! We could do picnic hampers, dinners …’
‘But supposing it rains?’
