Love on the Rocks (47 page)

The knock on the door was so faint she didn’t hear it at first. But then a louder one came.

‘Hello?’

She sat up, wondering who it could be. The door opened and in came Frank, looking rather shaken.

‘Oh,’ she said, rather curt. ‘What?’

‘She’s gone,’ he said, in wonderment.

‘Who?’

‘Caragh.’ He came and sat down on the bed without being invited. ‘I told Bruno everything. Every scam and fiddle she’d been up to. I had to tell him about the one I was involved with as well, because I knew she’d dump me in it, given half the chance.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘I couldn’t stand her any longer, Hannah. She was doing my head in. She was such a total bitch. To you. To everyone. But she had me by the balls. The only way I could get away was to turn myself in.’

Hannah put a hand on his shoulder.

‘So – have you been sacked?’

‘No!’ Even as he said it, Frank couldn’t believe it. ‘He reckoned if I was brave enough to own up then I was basically an honest person.’

‘And Caragh?’

Frank grinned.

‘Half an hour to pack her bags. And a taxi to the station.’

‘No!’ Hannah threw herself back on the bed laughing, kicking her legs with glee. ‘Well done you.’

‘I thought I’d had it. I thought that would be it. I thought I’d be out on my ear. But I couldn’t take another night of it.’

Hannah remembered his scratches and sat up.

‘How is your back?’

Frank was staring at her.

‘Fine.’

Hannah stared back at him.

‘What?’

Hannah blinked. The next thing she knew, she was in Frank’s arms. They were kissing and she knew this wasn’t out of sympathy, or kindness, or desperation. She slid her hands up under his shirt and this time his skin was hers to feel, and she revelled in every inch of it. And Frank revelled in the pleasure of being stroked and caressed. It was heavenly.

‘You’re beautiful, you know that?’ Frank whispered to her.

‘Now I know you’re lying,’ Hannah laughed. ‘You don’t have to say that.’

‘Seriously. I mean it. Don’t have an operation. You don’t need an operation. I don’t want to change one little bit of you.’

Hannah lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Frank sat up.

‘Honestly. Cancel it. Just think what you could do with the four grand.’

Hannah was silent for a moment.

‘You’re not going to talk me out of it, Frank.’ She was quite determined. ‘I’ve thought and thought and thought about it. And even though my dream has come true today –’ she smiled up at him, trailing a finger down his arm – ‘my absolutely wildest dream, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to live with this nose. And I don’t have to. I’m going ahead with it. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do to make me change my mind.’

In his office, Bruno came off the phone to his lawyer. He had to laugh: the man had been rather taken aback by his agenda, which had involved long-lost illegitimate nephews, fraudulent manageresses and trust funds. He rubbed his jaw. He needed a shave, a drink and a sleep, not necessarily in that order.

There was another knock on the door. He wasn’t going to get any of them at this rate.

‘Come in,’ he sighed.

It was Lisa. Bruno felt cheered at once. He didn’t mind her interrupting him in the least.

‘Lisa – hi. That was a fantastic party, by the way. I’m sorry – I haven’t got round to doing my thank-you letter yet. It’s . . . been a hectic couple of days.’

‘Yes. It has for us too. I won’t keep you long.’

Bruno frowned. There was something very odd about her manner. She seemed unnaturally businesslike and upright. Not her usually sunny self.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘I thought you’d like first refusal. As you were interested in buying it in the first place.’

‘First refusal?’

‘On The Rocks. We’re . . . selling up.’

Bruno nearly fell off his chair.

‘What? Why?’

Lisa shut her eyes and recited her reply, in a monotone, as if it was something she’d learned by heart.

‘Victoria’s pregnant. It’s George’s baby. Justin’s going off to Sydney with Joel. So he wants his cash out because he doesn’t want to touch The Rocks with a bargepole if Victoria’s got anything to do with it. And I can’t afford to buy either of them out so . . . well, I don’t know what I’m going to do, but that doesn’t matter. I like a challenge.’

She smiled at him brightly.

‘R-i-i-i-ght.’ Bruno nodded.

‘So there you go. I said I’d ask. Are you interested? Because if not, my next stop is the estate agent.’

‘Lisa, Lisa – slow down. You’re going at this like an express train. Let me get you a drink, at least. God knows I could use one after the day I’ve had.’

He didn’t want to drop into the conversation the furore of
his
weekend. He didn’t want to look as if he was upstaging her, though it sounded as though it would be a close-run battle. Instead, he poured them each a tumbler full of whiskey.

Lisa grabbed hers gratefully and drank. Bruno thought she was only just holding on to her sanity. She looked quite shaken, underneath the brisk exterior. Poor girl – what on earth had been going on? He thought he’d get the gory details later, but the only thing he could be grateful for at that moment was that
he
hadn’t slept with Victoria. That really would have made things complicated.

‘So.’ Lisa was anxious to get back to business. ‘What do you think?’

He swirled the whiskey round in his glass, thinking carefully.

‘I can’t afford to buy The Rocks outright,’ he said eventually. ‘Not at the moment. I want to spend a good deal more money here. And there’s a few . . . commitments I need to sort out.’ He took a deep slug. ‘But . . . I might be interested in a partnership. I might be able to buy say . . . two-thirds.’

Lisa looked down into the bottom of her empty glass.

‘It’s not really what we’re looking for. I think we’re looking for an outright buyer. But I could tell George to come and have a chat.’

‘No. You misunderstand.’ Bruno held out his hand for her glass to top it up. ‘I’m not remotely interested in going into partnership with George. The only person I’d want to do business with is you . . .’

Lisa looked up sharply.

‘Me?’

‘Why should you have to give up The Rocks, when you’ve put in all that hard work? After all, you love it here, don’t you?’

‘Well, yes, but . . .’

‘But what?’

‘I can’t run it on my own.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting you did. I’ve got plenty of staff here – bags of talent looking for a new opportunity.’

Bruno’s mind was racing. He felt like his old self, that trader on the shop floor, buzzing from lack of sleep, putting deals together. Frank would be perfect for The Rocks. And Hannah – she was too inexperienced to take Caragh’s place, but she could handle a small hotel. He felt a surge of adrenalin.

‘What do you think?’ he asked Lisa.

‘I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought of it as an option.’

‘I think it makes fantastic sense.’

Lisa chewed on her thumbnail. He did have a point. She was rather aggrieved at having to give up the hotel when everyone else seemed to be ending up with what they wanted. She’d been a little hurt that Justin hadn’t stuck by her; she’d hoped he might buy George out, but he was champing at the bit to start a whole new life and, anyway, she wasn’t sure he’d be an entirely reliable business partner on his own. But Bruno. Bruno was solid and sensible. He understood Mariscombe and how it worked. He had the flair that she lacked – the sense of style that The Rocks needed.

He would, Lisa decided, be the perfect partner.

L
isa woke terribly early on Christmas morning. She always had done. Ever since she had been a small child. Even though she was now over thirty, and alone, the anticipation of the day wrenched her from her sleep and she felt a tingle in her stomach.

Her eyes sought out the luminous figures on her alarm clock. It was only just gone five. She must try and get back to sleep. There was nothing to get up for yet and if she got up now she would be exhausted later. The hotel was full; it surprised her how many people wanted to be away from home over the festive season. They could have filled it several times over, thanks to numerous mentions in glossy magazines and Sunday supplements who rated it as the ideal venue for a quiet Yuletide retreat. They were mostly young couples who wanted to escape the tyranny of a family Christmas and the drudgery of doing all the work themselves. Thus The Rocks was offering them a week of luxury and indulgence, which had begun the day before with a pair of beauty therapists treating each guest to a relaxing massage, followed by salmon coulibiac and white chocolate chestnut gateau and a screening of
It’s a Wonderful Life
on a flat screen in the drawing room, the fire lit and liqueurs or champagne discreetly served.

Breakfast was going to be wild mushroom brioches with scrambled eggs, and at each place was a present that Lisa had chosen carefully: exquisite leather-bound travel journals for the men and heavenly scented candles for the women. Impersonal but tasteful gifts that would be appreciated and used, wrapped in matt gold paper with dark purple grosgrain ribbon. She smiled to herself – George would have been proud.

It had been an incredible few months. She adored running the hotel. Dealing with guests suited her nature perfectly. She had accrued a wonderful set of staff who were loyal and reliable and took as much pride as she did in The Rocks. So she’d barely had any time for self-pity. And Bruno was there to support her. He left her to run the place as she wanted, but was always on hand if she wanted advice or another opinion. Once a month they had taken to going out for dinner, to discuss the previous month’s performance and chew over ideas for the future.

Meanwhile, George kept in touch, dutifully, faithfully. He and Victoria were back in Bath – he’d managed to get his old job back, as they hadn’t found a satisfactory replacement for him, and Victoria was opening a ‘design emporium’, whatever that was. Mimi was at college, and Lisa had already promised her a job as a chambermaid the following summer. George phoned regularly to make sure Lisa was all right, both in herself and in her dealings with the hotel. She didn’t bear him a grudge. There was no point in histrionics. Besides, she didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. She buried herself in her work and found it incredibly fulfilling. She didn’t need anyone else. She was best off on her own. She should have trusted her own instincts in the first place and never allowed herself to be seduced into a relationship.

Lisa pulled her covers back up to her chin and went to turn over. As she did so she felt something rustling at the bottom of the bed. She moved a foot experimentally and realized there was something there; something that definitely hadn’t been there when she went to sleep. She sat up in consternation, pushed back the covers and cautiously reached out an arm to investigate. She pulled a soft object back up the bed, then snapped on her bedside lamp.

It was a parcel. A present wrapped in white tissue paper tied with gold ribbon. There was no tag. She tore it open. Inside was a pair of white silk pyjamas and a matching dressing gown, soft and screamingly expensive.

Lisa sat surrounded by scrumpled-up tissue paper and discarded ribbon. She found her heart was beating rather faster than it should be. Common sense told her it was the staff who had clubbed together, knowing that she was going to wake up on her own without a present. She instilled that sort of loyalty and consideration. After all, she’d given each of them carefully chosen and personal gifts, to mark her appreciation of their commitment to her.

But try as she might, she couldn’t imagine any of them having access to the sort of shops that stocked this calibre of present. And even if they’d bunged in twenty quid each, which Lisa would have considered more than generous, the total wouldn’t cover this.

Bruno phoned her at eleven, to make sure everything was going smoothly with the guests.

‘Perfectly,’ Lisa assured him. ‘Most of them have gone off for a walk on the beach to work up an appetite for lunch.’

‘Good. Just ring if there are any snags.’

‘I will.’ She paused. ‘By the way, Father Christmas came,’ she said lightly.

‘Of course he did.’ Bruno’s tone was serious. ‘He always knows where you are. You can’t hide from Father Christmas.’

Lisa found unexpected tears in her eyes, but hastily brushed them away. It was nothing to cry about, for heaven’s sake.

‘Why don’t you come over here for tea?’ Bruno went on. ‘They won’t need you at The Rocks. Lunch will be over and everyone will be snoring in their bedrooms. You don’t need to be back till cocktail time.’

Lisa hesitated. He was probably right. She wouldn’t be missed for a couple of hours. There would be staff on hand to cover for her. And she had to admit it would be nice to get out, to be off duty.

‘OK,’ she agreed.

‘I’ll come and pick you up at four. I can have you back for half six.’

Lisa put the phone down with a slightly trembling hand. She didn’t want to think about the significance of the present. About Bruno wandering from shop to shop, thinking about what she might like. He’d probably got one of his staff to get it. From a catalogue. Putting it to the back of her mind, she went off to make sure that Frank was happy in the kitchen. He had taken over at The Rocks a month ago and was looking forward to a chance to really show off over Christmas lunch with an Italian-influenced menu – delicious smells were already beginning to waft into the hallway.

Later that afternoon, the atmosphere at Bruno’s house was seductively relaxing. Lisa sank on to the sofa and allowed herself to be waited on. She’d been on her feet nearly all day, making sure that her guests wanted for nothing. Bruno brought her a huge mug of steaming Earl Grey tea.

Bruno’s mother Joanie was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine. She wore a knitted skirt and cardigan in olive green, which suited her honey-blond hair. She was watching her husband on the floor, assembling the most elaborate train set that Lisa had ever seen.