‘No. I suppose not.’ I propped my elbow on the edge of the desk and leaned my chin on my hand. ‘You earn enough now from writing to do it full time then?’
‘Yeah – but it’s taken years. My parents still think I’m an idiot but they’re not really readers.’
‘So, you juggled both to begin with?’
‘Sure. It’s what most writers do.’ She waved another carrot stick in my direction. ‘You look pensive. What are you thinking about?’
‘I’m not sure actually. I think my brain’s shutting down.’
Her mouth crooked up in a sly smile. ‘Is that why you were serenading Nicholas?’
‘It wasn’t really a serenade.’ The song he’d askedmeto play hadn’t been. The song I almost playedhimwould’ve been though.
‘Well, it was gorgeous anyway. I truly am sorry for interrupting.’
‘It’s fine. Probably for the best.’ I restrained a sigh and pinched a cherry tomato from her plate. ‘You’re quite the celebrity in the village because of last night. I reckon you could set up a signing in the bookstore and shift a lot of copies.’
‘Aren’t you the little entrepreneur? It’s a great idea, but a) the copies have to be in the store for me to sell them. And b) I fly back the day after Boxing Day, so there’s no time.’
‘Oh, that sucks. I’ll miss having you around.’
‘We’re going to keep in touch though,’ Noelle said with such assurance it was like I’d forgotten a conversation we’d already had about it. Possibly I had. I wasn’t kidding about my brain beginning to melt down. ‘Maybe you could come visit me next year? Everyone loves New York at Christmas time.’
‘How come you’re here then?’
‘Inspiration. Well, partially. I have a big family. My fabulous, cosmopolitan lifestyle takes a real hammering at Christmas when I have to go home and cope with all my brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles. I become little miss helpful and it issotedious.’
‘How many siblings have you got then?’
‘Six. I’m the second oldest. I’ll be an aunt soon myself. No way I’m delivering that baby though!’
I wanted to stay in there and keep chatting to her, but my mind was already moving on to what I needed to do next; another note for the bar, to explain it was closed and offer the carolling evening as an excuse/alternative; set up the dining room; try to call my mum; pick up the voicemail messages that were blinking on the phone; speak to Mrs Henderson who was now standing at the reception desk…
‘Sorry, Noelle, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you later at dinner and I’m doing this carolling thing this evening if that’s not too provincial for a cosmopolitan girl such as yourself?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ll be there. Gotta pick up where I left off last night – I only got to speak to the old biddies and cross them off my list. Not entirely surprising.’
‘Ah, the investigation for the blogger.’
‘Yeah, have you seen the latest?’ She chewed her lip.
‘No. I’ve misplaced my phone. What’s it say? Or don’t I want to know?’
She pulled her own phone out and quickly brought up the webpage, refreshing for the latest. I saw the title of this post‘Still No Bar, Lose a Star’, with a date and time stamp from an hour ago and that was all I needed to see.
‘Yeah, I guess I don’t want to know.’ I swallowed and stood up, starting for the door. ‘Look, don’t worry yourself about it too much.’ I shrugged, fighting off the jangling feeling of being judged. ‘Whether I know who they are or not, I’ve still got to try and keep everyone happy.’
‘That’s not possible, sweetness.’ Noelle clicked her phone off.
‘No.’ I noticed Julius Mundey now lingering behind Mrs Henderson at the front desk. ‘It’s not really, is it?’
Dinner service nearly broke me. I’d managed breakfast and lunch easily enough, but between every guest in the hotel descending nearly at the same time because they had nothing better to do and the extra courses and my creeping lethargy, I could barely keep up. The disgruntled looks and whispers between the guests showed that they were starting to question why a dishevelled, weary and now somewhat forgetful member of staff – i.e. Me – was the only person they’d seen all day.
I was almost ready to cancel the carolling evening and just open the bar up. Most people would be content to drink themselves into Christmas Day and it would probably please the Hotel Hopper but the kids were excited and Mrs Henderson had come to talk to me about what I’d said to her little girl and arranging to leave out cookies and bring their Santa presents downstairs for them in the morning. Nick’s nan also caught me as I was clearing tables, to tell me what a lovely idea it was, with her eyes all twinkly.
I dumped armfuls of plates and bowls in the kitchen, without even bothering to start loading the dishwasher. Neeta and I looked at each other from across the island with matching fed-up, worn-out expressions.
‘Go home, Neeta,’ I told her, when she reached an exhausted arm out towards a dirty plate. ‘Don’t touch a thing. You’ve gone above and beyond today.’
