Meg wasn’t much interested in the legal side of it, she was overcome with disappointment that hermother wasn’t coming home. ‘Oh.’ She swallowed hard, wanting to hide her feelings from Louise.
‘You’ll be OK? You’ve got Vanessa?’
‘For a little while; she has to go home soon.’ Meg paused, hoping she didn’t sound too pathetic. ‘And the charity race day is coming up.’
There was a pause in which Meg waited for her mother to say, ‘Then of course I’ll come home immediately.’ Instead, Louise just said, ‘But Cherry’s helping in the office now? You’ll be all right?’
Meg had never been the sort of daughter to make demands on her mother’s time – it had never been possible. So now she just said, ‘Of course.’ Then she added, ‘So do you have any idea when you and Andrew might be back?’
‘Not a clue, darling. But it seems to me you’re doing an absolutely brilliant job of running Nightingale Woods. Is Justin being helpful?’
‘Yes,’ said Meg, feeling even more bleak. ‘He’s paying to have the alterations done.’
‘Well, Andrew’s given him money to do that. But is he being helpful in other ways?’
‘We’re all busy, Mum! Now I’d better go. I’ve got something in the oven.’
Yet another of Susan’s relatives was now employed full time in the kitchen and dining room with Cherry spending all her time in the office. Cherry had also learnt to arrange flowers from Ambrosine and was willing to turn her hand to anything.
‘Not sure where all this will get her,’ said Susan, cutting the crusts off sandwiches one teatime. ‘But Cherry’s happy as a lark working here now. Strange to think not long ago we all thought the hotel would have to be sold because we had so few guests. Look at us now!’
‘I reckon it’s all down to you and Bob,’ said Meg, hoping that they were doing enough to stop the hotel being sold. ‘None of it would have happened without you.’
‘None of it would have happened without you, Meggy!’ said Susan. ‘Now run along and get some time off before dinner. There’s eight in tonight!’
Chapter Twenty-One
The day before the charity race day, the hotel was as near perfect as it could be, Meg thought. All the rooms were booked, mostly for Lady Lennox-Stanley and her friends. New bed linen had been bought after one guest had put their foot through an ancient linen sheet. There were toiletries in the attached bathrooms – Floris for Lady Fussy-Knickers, as she would be called forever. There were vases of freshly picked flowers in buckets in the cool larder, waiting for Ambrosine to turn them into posies for the bedrooms. The wine cellar had been investigated thoroughly by Ambrosine’s colonel and a new wine list written. Justin had visited just long enough to add the prices, which were eye-wateringly high.
There were a couple of things that were worrying Meg, however. One was the fact that the lock on Lady Lennox-Stanley’s door was a bit dodgy and Bob hadn’t had time to fix it, and the other was the rain. On and on it rained, and there was even talk that the race day might have to be cancelled.
Meg would have felt happier about it all if Vanessa had been with her for moral support, but she’d hadto go home. She would be with her mother for the race day – in fact they were arriving today – but from Meg’s point of view, that was a bit too late.
It was mid-morning; Meg, Susan and Ambrosine were in the drawing room. The room had been thoroughly dusted and swept, now they were checking on final details. The pouring rain was the subject of conversation yet again.
‘If they did cancel the race day, it would be for the first time,’ said Susan. She was lighting a fire because although it was mid-June, everyone thought the room felt a little damp.
‘And if it isn’t cancelled, it’ll be very muddy,’ said Ambrosine, tweaking a bit of Daphne, especially chosen for its fragrance. ‘And not all horses like to run around in it. Don’t much like mud myself.’
‘It’s going to make the hotel very difficult to keep clean,’ said Susan, sitting back on her heels and admiring the fire, which was finally going well. ‘But we’ll manage,’ she added, possibly seeing Meg’s stricken expression.
Meg forced a smile. ‘The weather forecast is quite good,’ she said.
Ambrosine and Susan looked at her sadly. ‘When have you ever known one of them things to be right?’ said Susan.
Meg took a breath to give an example, couldn’t think of one, and breathed out again. It was depressing; it was so important for Nightingale Woods that the race day should be a success.
‘I’m going to make up the beds now,’ she said.
‘Young Sally’s up there to help you. She’s young but a good worker.’
Sally appeared to be about twelve, Meg thought, although she was very adept at hospital corners.
‘Hello, Sally, I’m Meg.’
Sally smiled. ‘Auntie Susan told me. She’s not actually an aunt, but I can’t remember how we’re related.’
‘Well, thank you for coming to help, Sally.’
