“No more work for you today, and that’s final,” Clive said, his tone firm. “If I have to march you out into the car park and shove you into your car, I’ll do it.”
“I’m going, don’t worry,” Grace laughed. “Stop making a fuss, Clive. Everyone who works here goes the extra mile, you know.”
“Everyone except for you, that is. You go the extrafivemiles, and more often than not, even more than that.”
“You know I love my job, Clive.”
“I do know it. But you’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet tomorrow because you worked twelve hours straight today.”
“My shift doesn’t start until eleven tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”
Grace had come in early that morning to cover for staff absence due to sickness and had stayed on into the early evening to allow another member of staff to rush home to deal with a family emergency. She was happy to help out, especially when it meant she was covering the reception desk, one of her favourite places to work. Grace enjoyed interacting with the guests as they checked in and checked out, answering their questions and resolving any problems they might have.
Clive Peters might be concerned that she’d worked a long twelve-hour shift in order to cover staff absences, but Grace loved her job and loved being at the hotel and it was no hardship to pitch in to plug the gap. She also figured that being willing tohelp out when there was a personnel shortage could only go in her favour when it came to her promotion prospects.
Satisfied that she appeared to be leaving work at last, Clive waved her off as she left the staff office suite. Grace was heading towards the exits when she spotted two other members of staff emerging from a corridor further down where the housekeeping office was located. The two young women smiled and switched directions towards her. Emily and Janey both worked as housekeeping shift supervisors and were close to Grace’s age.
“Hi, Grace!” Emily called out. “We were just talking about you.”
“We’ve just finished our shift and we were thinking we’d stop off at the pub once we get back to Hamblehurst,” Janey said. “We wondered if you were finished for the day and if you’d like to come with us?”
“Thanks for thinking of me, but I’ve been here since six-thirty this morning,” Grace said. “I doubt I’d last long enough for a glass of wine.”
Both Emily and Janey looked disappointed.
“Are you sure?” Emily asked. “You could always just stick to a soft drink. We thought it would be nice to catch up for a bit.”
“It’s a lovely idea, but maybe another time?”
“We’ll hold you to that, Grace,” Janey said. “You’ve turned us down the last few times we’ve invited you to the pub. We’ll start to get a complex if you keep it up.”
Janey gave a warm laugh as she and Emily said goodbye and walked off. Grace hoped she hadn’t offended the two nice young women by declining their offer to join them for a drink at the pub. The long shift she’d worked today was really just a handy excuse to get out of the invitation. Both Emily and Janey were lovely women and good company, but at this point in her life Grace didn’t have much time for socialising.
She was laser-focused on doing what she had to do in order to win the next promotion at the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel. Grace’s career meant everything to her, and she was prepared to make whatever sacrifices were required in order to keep progressing.
Tonight, once she got home, she planned to spend the rest of the evening studying and keeping up to date with the latest developments in the hospitality world. Grace subscribed to a wide range of publications and online resources that provided sector-specific news and key data, along with access to various skills training and certifications that were all invaluable to Grace as she continued to develop her abilities in the business.
She would much rather settle down at home with her laptop and her hospitality resources than sit in the pub chatting. Although she liked both Emily and Janey a great deal, there would be time for friendship and socialising later, once she’d made her way up the next rung on her career ladder.
Grace followed the corridor away from the staff office suite towards the exits that led to the staff car park at the rear of the hotel. Climbing into her car, she turned on the radio and headed for home, enjoying steering the car along the long graceful tree-lined lane that connected the hotel grounds to the road beyond the estate perimeter. It was late June, just past midsummer, and the evening sunshine cast softly dappled light through the leaves in the tree canopy as Grace drove towards the grand exit at the end of the hotel driveway.
The Hamblehurst Manor Hotel was located three miles west of the village of Hamblehurst, where Grace lived. The small town was home to many of the staff who worked at the resort, such as Emily and Janey, although some also commuted from further afield, such as Portsmouth and Chichester to the south.
Grace had moved to Hamblehurst a year ago, when she’d been promoted to her current assistant manager role and had atlast been able to afford to buy her own place to live. Home was now a mid-terraced two-bedroomed house on Foxglove Street, one of the prettiest residential areas in Hamblehurst. Grace was proud to call the small but perfectly formed little house her own, and becoming a home owner had marked a huge day and a huge milestone in Grace’s life.
Having her own roof over her head meant a great deal to Grace, and it was something she would never take for granted. Every time she left work and made the journey home in her tiny biscuit-tin of a car, she reminded herself of how lucky she was to have the security of a house to call her own.
Well, a house to call her own once she’d made another twenty-four years’ worth of mortgage payments. But she would make those payments, of that she had no doubt. And she would do that by staying committed to her career and continuing to progress in the job she loved.
The country roads around the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel soon gave way to the main trunk road that led into the town of Hamblehurst. Grace steered through the lovely roads and along the high street before turning onto Foxglove Street and following the winding route towards her own stretch of terraced houses further along. She passed the grand Edwardian townhouses and Victorian villas and small cottages and the mix of detached and semi-detached houses that were sprinkled from one end of the long street to the other, enjoying the view of the quaint and lovely street as she drove.
At this late hour in the evening, street parking wasn’t always easy to find, and it wasn’t unusual for Grace to have to drive up and down the street several times in search of a space. Sometimes she had no choice but to park her car further afield on one of the other residential streets that spurred off from Riverside Road at the far end.
But tonight, she got lucky with a space right outside her terraced block. After her long twelve-hour shift at work, she was glad the evening wouldn’t end with a parking detour elsewhere, followed by a hike all the way back to her house.
Grace climbed out of the car and hitched her bag over her shoulder, her mind already turning to the study she planned to do that evening. As she locked the car, she thought about what she could make for dinner. A mental scan of her fridge recalled eggs, cheese, tomatoes, and a red pepper that was almost past its best. All perfect ingredients for an omelette, which had the advantage of being quick to prepare and quick to clean up afterwards, and which would therefore allow her to dive into her study work without being detained too long in the kitchen.
She was digging into her bag in search of her house keys when a sudden movement on her right caught her gaze. When she looked up, she saw a small scruffy brown-and-white dog barrelling towards her along the pavement. There was no one else in sight, just the little dog.
