‘I know!’ said Meg, hoping for a chance for a good old grumble about him as she piped filling into frangipane tarts for the sweet trolley. ‘It’s as if he doesn’t trust us to run things on our own!’
‘Maybe it’s not “things” he’s keeping an eye on,’ said Susan. ‘Maybe it’s you!’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Breakfast the following morning was a bit of a scramble, with everyone wanting to leave at the same time. But between Meg, Susan, Cherry (back in her role as waitress), Sally and Bob’s apprentice, who could turn his hand to waiting if called upon, everyone got what they wanted in reasonable time. But the best thing was that the rain had stopped, the sun had come out and the world looked freshly washed (if not dried). It was going to be a beautiful day.
When everyone had left, in pre-booked cars for those without them, cardboard picnic baskets with those who requested them, the hotel staff breathed a collective sigh of relief. Cherry was sent back to the office as the telephone kept ringing and the others set to work on the washing-up which was enlivened by a good dissection of the guests, their clothes, and anything else they could think of.
Susan, Sally and Meg were all sitting in the kitchen having finally cleared up, and drunk more tea than Meg thought possible, when Cherry came in, looking very excited.
‘You’ll never guess what!’ she said.
‘No, we won’t,’ agreed her mother. ‘Why don’t you just tell us?’
‘Well, Mr Knott-Dean – Basil?’ she added, as everyone looked blank.
‘Oh yes,’ said Meg.
‘Well, I thought he’d gone to the races with everyone else. But no!’
‘Get to the point, love, some of us have got beds to make,’ said Susan.
‘He asked if he could use the telephone and I said yes and showed him to the office,’ said Cherry, apparently now resigned to delivering her story without theatrical pauses. ‘As I had the bills to prepare – everyone is going tomorrow – I took my folder into the hall and carried on working on them.’ She checked to see that everyone was paying attention. ‘I could hear every word he said!’
‘What did he say?’ asked Susan.
‘He asked for a London number!’
‘There’s a shock,’ said Susan, refusing to be impressed. ‘Man from London telephones a number in London.’
‘It was a newspaper. He’s a restaurant critic. When he came out of the office, he said he was phoning in his copy!’
No one really understood what this meant. ‘You mean he rang the newspaper he works for, telling them what he wants to write?’ Meg said.
‘I think so,’ said Cherry. ‘And it was very complimentary!’
‘Well, isn’t that nice!’ said Meg. ‘Can you remember what he said exactly?’
‘Not really, but he did use the word quirky,’ said Cherry.
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ said Susan. ‘It sounds as if we’re a bit coggly.’
‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it as a bad thing,’ Cherry said, obviously a bit deflated.
‘You did really well, listening in,’ said Meg. ‘Even if you weren’t able to catch every word.’
It was only later that she realised praising people for eavesdropping probably wasn’t morally right.
Meg had gone out into her favourite spot in the garden, behind the walled garden, in a seat covered by an arch of roses. She had been chased there by Susan who said she needed a break. She closed her eyes and listened to the birds, trying to keep her thoughts away from the hotel and the endless meals. She even considered going to get her book. The trouble was, while she needed a mental break from cooking, her thoughts strayed to Justin however hard she tried to stop them. That was not in the least helpful. She closed her eyes.
‘Meg?’ a kindly male voice made her open them again. It was Basil.
‘Oh, hello!’
‘Meg, dear – may I call you Meg? I hope so because I’ve just done it three times in quick succession.’
Meg laughed. ‘It’s perfectly all right.’
