The First Guests Read online

  ‘Or you can stay here and help get the cottage ready.’ I eyed him beadily. I knew my brother, given half a chance, he’d buy his way out of a situation every time.

  Archie took his car keys out. ‘What shall I get?’

  ‘Everything,’ I said, bundling him out of the door. ‘Find a big supermarket and get everything.’

  I found Theo at the kitchen table tipping out an old tin full of keys, string, magnets and foreign coins. ‘These belong to the cottages,’ he said, separating three key rings from the rest of the jumble. ‘But I’ve no idea which is which.’

  I picked them all up and stuffed them in my pocket and then rummaged around under the kitchen sink until I found a duster. ‘If you fetch clean bedlinen and towels, I’ll open up, let some fresh air in and flick this round.’

  Theo chewed his lip. ‘I’m not sure where we keep the bedlinen.’

  ‘Then go and look!’ I said, not wanting to dwell on how long it had been since his own sheets had been changed. I shooed him upstairs and headed outside towards the outbuildings – ahem, I mean, luxury holiday cottages.

  Their location itself, perched on the clifftops with the soundtrack of waves breaking on the south Devonshire coastline was enough to warrant a hefty weekly rental. Their interiors, I imagined, would only add to their desirability. I didn’t know Kate well, but well enough to know that she had impeccable taste.

  Three hens spotted me picking my way past the debris in the courtyard and scurried over, clucking loudly. The Birds’ three children were going to love the ducks and hens, I thought, scattering pieces of stale biscuit for them from my pocket. Collecting fresh eggs could be a lovely activity for children to join in with. And if I could locate some now, I could add them to the welcome hamper.

  I was humming by the time I reached the largest of the three cottages and automatically touched the space between my eyebrows. Smooth. Totally smooth. Trudy would be proud. I took a deep breath. Despite the drama of the last twenty-four hours, despite the obvious distress that Theo was in, and despite the fiasco of holidaymakers arriving soon to take up residence, I felt less stressed than I’d felt in a long time. I felt … useful, and it was a lovely, heart-warming feeling.

  This sensation of gooey warm happiness remained as I admired the lovely soft china-blue colour of the freshly painted window frames, it lasted through having a giggle at the signs Kate had erected outside each cottage – Beaver’s Barn, Kittiwake’s Cabin and then the final one, which the Birds were due to occupy, Penguin’s Pad – and it even lasted through me juggling and trying every key until I finally found one to fit.

  And then I opened the door.

  Any vestige of hope I’d had that all we’d need was a bit of elbow grease and a stack of clean sheets evaporated in the sea breeze. Penguin’s Pad reminded me of Victory Road Studio Two: a bomb site. I felt sweaty suddenly. This was a nightmare.

  I stepped inside on to the bare concrete floor. It was open plan in design and if I closed my eyes I could picture how it would all look when it was finished. It would be a haven of happiness and tranquillity.

  But right now the fitted kitchen had carcasses but no doors, a sink but no taps and several gaps where I guessed the appliances would go. The splashbacks had been tiled, but that was it. The other half of the room: a large living room with double doors leading into a scrubby bit of garden had a log burner and … nothing, nothing else at all. Not that there was any point going any further, but I jogged upstairs anyway.

  The three bedrooms were actually the most habitable out of all the rooms, painted, carpeted and relatively clean. All they needed was furniture. And doors. The bathroom did have a roll-top bath, I was pleased to see, but the shower consisted of a plastic tray on the floor and a cable sticking out of the wall and no taps anywhere.

  Joe Bird might have said his wife had a sense of humour, but I wasn’t sure she’d see the funny side if we told her this was to be their home for the next six days.

  My heart was racing as I ran downstairs and back outside to try the other cottages. You never know, I told myself optimistically, the other two could be showroom perfect. But if they weren’t, we were in trouble.

  I was fitting the key into the lock of Kittiwake’s Cabin, the smallest cottage, when Theo came striding towards me, looking pleased with himself.

  ‘I found these,’ he said, holding up a paltry pile of shabby-looking sheets and pillow cases. ‘Shall we make the beds?’

  ‘There are no beds,’ I said, putting my shoulder to the door and giving it a shove. ‘Goodness me, this is stiff.’

  It was stiff because behind the door was a pile of builders’ rubble.

  ‘So far there are no holiday cottages, Theo, only one big building site.’

  ‘Ah.’ Theo scratched his head once we’d stepped in and looked around the room, which if anything was in an even worse state than Penguin’s Pad. ‘That rather scuppers our plans.’

  We stared at each other for a long moment, the horror of the situation getting more and more vivid. The Birds had paid handsomely for a holiday; I had visions of them appearing on that consumer complaints TV show weeks from now talking about their holiday from hell.

  Kittiwake’s Cabin smelled of damp plaster and dust and I could feel a sneeze forming. I dragged Theo back outside.

  ‘We need a new plan,’ I said firmly. ‘The Birds are expecting a holiday and I have every intention of giving them one.’

  ‘Righto.’ Theo looked at me expectantly.

  I cast about for inspiration and my eyes alighted on the little wooden plaques next to each door. ‘What’s with the names of the cottages, by the way?’

  ‘Kate thought it would be nice to call them after indigenous wildlife.’ He pressed his lips together firmly in an attempt at loyalty but I could see the humour dancing in his eyes.

  ‘Indigenous? Penguins?’

  ‘She’s a city girl.’ He cleared his throat to stifle a chuckle. ‘What can I say? Also, she loves penguins.’

  ‘Well, naturally,’ I said, feeling a bubble of inappropriate laughter about to explode. ‘Who doesn’t love a Devonshire penguin?’

  Just like that the ludicrousness of the situation rushed up at me. The two of us, out of our depth, attempting to prepare a building site for imminent occupation, Theo with a pathetic supply of bedlinen, and me with a duster. And I began to laugh, a little refined giggle at first, followed by a snort and then a proper full-on hoot of laughter. Theo met my gaze, a bit taken aback, and then to my complete joy, he joined in. Soon the two of us were falling about, helpless with laughter, clutching our sides, tears running down our faces.

  ‘We could always try to wing it?’ Theo wheezed, wiping tears from his face. ‘Say we’ve mixed urban decay with coastal minimalism?’

  ‘And who needs an oven, when you can have a barbie on the beach?’ I said, pressing a hand to the stitch below my ribs.

  ‘And blow some inflatables up and call it a beach-themed holiday!’ Theo grinned.

  ‘Yeah, like lilos and those chairs with the holes in the arms for beer … Ooh!’ I gave an almighty gasp. ‘That’s it! That’s what we can do! Got it!’

  ‘What?’ Theo looked at me, startled by the change in direction.

  ‘Come on!’ I yelled and dashed back into the house as fast as I could with a bewildered Theo jogging behind me.

  Back in the hall I called Archie from the landline.

  ‘Twenty miles to the nearest proper shop,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ve only just arrived.’

  ‘I hope it’s a superstore because we’re going to need a lot of stuff,’ I said urgently. ‘Are you listening?’

  ‘What shall I do?’ Theo was hovering at the door, listening. I wafted him upstairs.

  ‘Go upstairs and strip the beds,’ I ordered. ‘Even the ones you can barely see.’

  I gave Archie a huge list and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for giving me a brother with a generous heart and a big enough car to put everything in.

  I mus
t have burned off about two thousand calories in the next two hours. Between us, we vacuumed, scrubbed, bleached, washed and polished everything in Driftwood Lodge. We carried packing boxes down from the spare room to the shed, made up the little camp bed in the box room and emptied all of Theo’s belongings from the master bedroom down into the garages. The bathroom was given the same treatment and was now sparkling. We aired the living room, refilled the log basket and plumped up all the cushions. When Archie returned with more cleaning supplies, food and most importantly bedlinen and towels, I stripped them from their packets, tumble-dried them with a bit of fabric freshener and hung them outside on the washing line to give them that fresh just-washed aroma. Meanwhile, Archie took a heap of new camping furniture, airbeds and a barbecue over to Penguin’s Pad while Theo took a scythe to the long grass in an attempt to transform the jungle into a more guest-friendly garden.

  By the time the Birds called from the village phone box to tell us they were on their way, the three of us were completely shattered. Archie had stayed to help in the end, thank goodness, and he and I had collapsed on to a bench in the courtyard while Theo made us a pot of tea on our new little camping stove. The sun had already sunk behind the thatched roof, but I was so hot and exhausted that the cool air was delicious against my skin.

  The amazing thing was, we were ready. My last task had been to hunt amongst the borders and hedgerows for flowers and I’d managed to fill four jugs with blossom and foliage. Now the master bedroom, living room and hallway were filled with the fragrance of spring.

  Brightside Holidays was open for business.

  ‘I do hope the Birds won’t mind staying in the house rather than the cottage,’ I said, leaning back against the bench and allowing my eyes to close for a blissful few seconds. ‘I’m going to pitch it to them as an upgrade.’

  ‘Nina Penhaligon,’ said Archie, nudging me with his elbow, ‘I bloody love you. You have quite literally saved Theo’s bacon.’

  Theo handed me a mug. ‘And I think you’re a brick for agreeing to camp out in Penguin’s Pad with me.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ I felt my stomach fizz. After starting off the day so disastrously, it was lovely to be in someone’s good books again.

  ‘I think Kate’ll be really proud of me for achieving all this,’ Theo added. He caught mine and Archie’s bemused expressions. ‘Us,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Proud of us. Perhaps I could try to track her down, call her parents and find out her exact whereabouts …’ His face took on a wistful look.

  ‘You must miss her,’ I said softly.

  He sighed. ‘I miss the sound of her voice, the smell of her perfume, the feel of her—’

  I cleared my throat. ‘If you do speak to her, ask her for the number of the builders, you need to get them back here asap to finish the job.’

  ‘I’ve got their number; they ring me most days.’ Theo rubbed his fingertips and thumb together. ‘We owe them money.’

  ‘There’s plenty we can do ourselves,’ I suggested, determined to maintain his positive mood at least until the guests arrived. I’d never attempted any DIY in my life, but how hard could it be? ‘Isn’t there, Archie?’

  ‘Count me out. Too busy.’ Archie got to his feet, taking his wallet out yet again and peeled more notes from the never-ending cash supply. ‘But I’ll help financially. Here.’

  Theo shook his head. ‘You’ve done enough.’

  Archie tucked the notes into Theo’s jacket pocket. ‘You’d be doing me a favour. Look at my sister’s rosy cheeks! Being here is as good as therapy for her; she needs you as much as you need her. Besides, you promised you’d pay her, remember?’

  Theo tapped his pocket. ‘I’m glad to help.’

  ‘Archie!’ I retorted indignantly. ‘You make me sound like some sort of care in the community case.’

  He kissed my cheek and grinned. ‘Enjoy your stay at the seaside. And try to stay out of trouble.’

  The sound of tyres bouncing along the bumpy lane made us all turn to look as Joe’s car made its way gingerly around the potholes.

  ‘Oh crikey, they’re here,’ muttered Theo.

  ‘Don’t panic, follow my lead,’ I said briskly, setting my mug down. ‘You can do this.’

  I stood and took Theo’s big warm hand in mine and we walked towards the car, smiling and waving.

  Archie took advantage of the distraction to slink off to his car. ‘Speak soon, good luck!’ he yelled before jumping in, starting up the engine and making a hasty retreat.

  Mary Bird got out of the car first and clasped her hands together. ‘Oh, heavenly! What a lovely place!’

  I liked her instantly. She was a mumsy mum, with hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, a large stain from what looked like chocolate ice-cream dribble down the front of her white T-shirt and thighs that wobbled in her leggings as she darted forward to say hello.

  ‘Thank you!’ I shook her hand. ‘I’m Nina, you must be Mary!’

  ‘I am indeed.’ Mary’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘But I thought your name was Kate?’

  I had a sudden flash of panic. Theo and I hadn’t thought this through properly. Of course I was Kate. Also, the real me was meant to be lying low. I’d have to hope Mary wasn’t a Victory Road fan. I was going to have to up my game if I wasn’t going to blow my cover. I contemplated faking a faint Birmingham accent to match Kate’s before realizing that Joe had already met me.

  ‘It is! Nina is my middle name,’ I said, improvising rapidly. ‘Which I prefer. But Nina or Kate. Whichever. I answer to both.’

  ‘I see.’ Mary looked confused and then narrowed her eyes. ‘Have we met before? In Surrey?’

  My stomach fluttered nervously. People did this sometimes. They ran through the places we may have met like the dentist or gym or hairdresser’s until eventually realizing they were watching Victory Road last night …

  I shook my head. ‘Never been to Surrey.’

  Just then two small children jumped from the back excitedly and immediately gave chase to the hens.

  ‘What lovely children!’ I said gaily, keen to change the subject. ‘They are going to have such fun, aren’t they, darling?’

  Theo nodded weakly.

  ‘Hi there!’ Joe waved and lifted a baby seat containing an even smaller child from the car.

  ‘Hello again,’ I called.

  Theo stared at him like he’d seen a ghost. When he asked me earlier to do all the talking I didn’t think he actually meant all the talking. I pinched him discreetly.

  ‘Ouch.’ He gave me a wounded look. I sent him some stern eye signals to make an effort.

  ‘Welcome to Driftwood Lodge!’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I hope you, er, have a lovely stay with us.’

  ‘Oh, we will!’ Mary, seemingly oblivious to Theo’s less than effusive greeting, bent over the car seat, unclipped the straps and lifted out a tiny infant with dark-blue eyes, a gummy smile and sand between his toes. ‘Come on then, Thomas, let’s go and explore our cottage.’

  Joe slung a casual arm around her shoulder, kissed the top of his son’s fluffy head and studied the row of cottages.

  ‘The end one, isn’t it?’

  I looked at Theo, assuming he’d explain. He looked pleadingly back at me.

  Oh, for goodness’ sake.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, stepping into my role as hostess-with-the-mostest, ‘good news! In honour of the fact that you’re our first guests, we’ve upgraded you.’

  ‘Really, we’re your first guests!’ Mary gasped. ‘But upgraded to where? I thought we’d already booked the biggest of the three?’

  ‘Ta dah!’ I made a sweeping gesture towards the house. ‘Please allow us to give you the grand tour of Driftwood Lodge!’

  ‘An upgrade, Joe, wait till our friends hear about this,’ Mary said, her eyes shining with glee.

  ‘This way, please,’ said Theo, attempting a gracious smile. He strode purposefully towards the door.

  Mary and Joe smiled delightedly at
each other and scampered after him.

  ‘Jolly decent of you.’ Joe beamed at me. ‘Kids! This way.’

  Theo, to his credit, actually did a thorough job of showing the Birds the ropes, from how to handle the stiff doorknob in the pantry, to how to find the children’s TV channel for the two older ones (Darcy and Leo) to lighting the log burner, and he even helped referee a dispute between the children as to who would get the biggest room.

  Mary was thrilled with the welcome pack we’d assembled on the kitchen table and when she joined us upstairs she was carrying a glass of the nice Beaujolais Archie had chosen. Joe was holding the baby while Theo was demonstrating the thermostatic valve on the shower.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said, taking a big slurp. ‘This is fab, Kate – Nina – and Theo, really fab. Now if you could just point us in the direction of the travel cot, we’ll let you get on.’

  ‘Travel cot?’ I echoed, with a sudden rush of unease. If Kate hadn’t got round to buying any guest beds for the cottages, the chances of having a baby’s cot stashed away were less than slim.

  ‘For Thomas.’ She shot me a look of panic. ‘I did mention it in the email. We didn’t have room to bring ours. You said it was fine.’

  A hundred different ideas ran through my head: like how we could possibly knock up a cot from the pile of old wooden pallets outside and a few cushions to whether we could fob them off long enough to tear off to the nearest shop and buy one.

  ‘It is fine, isn’t it?’ Mary chewed her lip.

  I looked at Theo. And then did a double take. His face had turned green.

  ‘Kate said that?’ he said in a hollow voice.

  Mary nodded.

  Theo scuffed his toe against the skirting board and exhaled shakily. ‘In that case, the travel cot is, the cot is in the, er, little … room under the eaves.’

  Thank goodness for Kate’s foresight; I let out a breath of relief.

  ‘Of course it is. Brain like a sieve,’ I said, rolling my eyes at my apparent memory lapse. ‘Theo, perhaps … Oh.’

  I looked at the space where Theo had been. Mary, Joe and I stared at each other awkwardly as Theo’s footsteps thundered down the stairs and out across the gravelled courtyard.