By alexisleech
My last book ‘Let’s Talk Dirty,’ ends with Karen getting back together with her husband, Jenny happily living with her vet, and Laura meeting her long distance friend in the flesh for the first time. Laura has bought The Bedford, the hotel Karen and Jenny worked in, and after she makes them shareholders, and they wave goodbye to their horrible ex-boss, they all set out to make it a success and put their chat line days behind them…
Jenny looked over at George while he slept on the sofa. Although an attractive man, it was not an attractive sight, especially when you took in the cheek rippling effect of his snoring. Her wonderful lover had turned into a couch potato, and she’d had enough. His cat, Jasper, who had come between them since George brought him to her house, flexed his paws slowly while he blinked back at Jenny with the superior haughtiness a cat radiates so well. ‘Loser!’ he seemed to say with one languid move of his eyeballs, before he lay on his side and snuggled back into his master's chest.
Jenny stared back at the scene before her like an adversary silently viewing the enemy. When George moved in, she was convinced he was the one. For the first time in her life, she had a partner who didn’t want to go out with the ‘boys’ every weekend. Someone who wanted only her; well, at least in the beginning. He’d convinced her she was the most important thing in his life - until the bloody cat arrived. Now? Well, it was like some kind of payback for the wonderful three months before George and all his possessions were unloaded from his Land Rover. What had happened to the fun times? The time when having a ‘duvet’ day under any pretext was the norm? The time when she felt loved and content for the first time in years.
No, this wasn’t the way she’d envisioned their life together at all. Jasper now ruled the roost. At his side when George fell asleep on the sofa every evening, and pawing him awake before four o’clock every morning, his meowing louder than any alarm clock. Jenny appreciated that George was likely to be tired because he worked so hard as a vet, but in the months preceding Jasper’s arrival, when George had stayed over, they’d always had a cuddle in the morning before they got up to get ready for work. It was a bonding time that reaffirmed how much they loved each other.
Not anymore. Once Jasper started his noisy onslaught, George would be wide awake. He’d then go down to the kitchen to make himself a coffee and watch the news, only returning upstairs to have his shower and tiptoe around the bedroom while he got dressed. Because he started work an hour before Jenny, he often brought her a cup of tea before he left. But by then Jenny was past caring. Another broken night’s sleep was the last thing she needed after working with Laura at the Bedford all day while they organised the refurbishment of the twelve bedrooms.
‘It’s only until he settles in,’ George had claimed when Jenny suggested Jasper should be put in the kitchen every night with her King Charles spaniel, Katie, and his adorable golden retriever, Brody.
Yeah, right. That was a month ago, and Jenny’s constant requests to eliminate the little monster from their bedroom were still being ignored. She had to accept she made a mistake in not putting her foot down earlier. The cat had to be banned from their bedroom, or she and George were history….
Author Notes | As regular reviewers of my last book 'Let's Talk Dirty,' know, I decided to use the first three chapters I posted for 'The Bedford,' my follow up book, as the new ending for 'Let's Talk Dirty.' Hence the title of this book 'A new Beginning'--in every sense of the word! Thank you for your patience while I worked it out. |
By alexisleech
Twenty minutes before the restaurant opened for the first time, Laura stood behind the reception desk and surveyed the transformation before her. It might have taken six weeks, but all the effort, all the sheer dogged determination she, Karen and Jenny had put in to change the Bedford into a first class, bijoux hotel, had at last paid off.
With its new lighting, carpet and exquisitely elegant drapes, the reception area exuded class without being overstated. The old, built-in, veneered reception desk had been replaced with a huge, cream partner’s desk which, being made from three parts, could be disassembled and stored in the small office behind it if the area had to be cleared for a function. Because it had a chair on either side, the desk invited guests to sit down and chat to whoever was on the other side if there was anything they needed to talk about. It had already proved invaluable when anyone came in to discuss booking the Bedford for a function, because it meant Laura could keep an eye on the reception while they did.
The residents’ Lounge, separated from the reception area by two huge, arched, cream and gold doors, could be opened up to unite the two spaces, something that was essential if they were going to hold bigger functions. Similarly with the dining room. The matching carpet followed through so that when its adjacent double doors were folded back, a huge area was created that could host over a hundred and thirty people. With four weddings of different sizes already booked for July, Laura had planned the refurbishment meticulously.
The original oak-panelled bar in the residents’ lounge had remained the same, but all the built-in seating was replaced with informal, upholstered armchairs and stools, which were grouped around the room in a way that left enough space for guests to chat easily, but not be overheard by the next table. The new barman, Dominic, had spent all afternoon polishing the glasses till they shone, before getting changed into the silk, striped, waistcoat, cream shirt and black slacks Laura had bought him the previous day. His past experience at the Hilton would serve him well. There wasn’t a cocktail Dominic didn’t know how to make, and his handsome, cheery face was just what Laura had been looking for when she interviewed the dozen or so applicants.
Knowing all the bedrooms were completely refurbished was also a weight off Laura’s mind. Jenny had done well organising everything without turning any guests away. She’d systematically moved in the team of decorators five minutes after a guest checked out of whichever room would be vacant that night, so it would be ready to rent out again the following day. That way, they only ever had one room out of commission at any one time. The bedding was the same for every room, with the exception of the bridal suite, now a luxurious, romantic haven. Instead of the previous owner’s mix of different duvets and sheets in every room, the linen was now all crisp, white cotton, with elegant quilted throws that matched the light-block blinds and drapes.
‘That’s one hell of a conceited grin, if I ever saw one!’ Karen chuckled as she approached the reception desk wearing her freshly donned chef’s jacket and checked trousers. ‘Are we ready to wow everyone with the new-look Bedford?’
‘I’m ready if you are,’ Laura told her. ‘How’s it going in the kitchen?’
Karen gave her an exhausted, albeit confident smile. ‘Pretty good. My Sous chef seems to be coping, and the KP has at last worked out how to use the dishwasher. It’s like waiting for the birth of a baby now... without the contractions!’
Her analogy made Laura giggle. She looked at the clipboard with the list of the things they needed to have done before the first diners arrived. Everything was ticked off. With fourteen of the eighteen tables booked from seven onwards, she didn’t doubt it would be a stressful evening, especially for Karen, but at this point they were up to speed. ‘Well, I can’t think of anything else, can you?’
‘Nope,’ Karen confirmed with a shake of her head. ‘Have you taken any more bookings since I checked in an hour ago?’
‘Only one, but it makes sense to keep a couple of tables free in case any of the guests who still have to check in want dinner. I don’t want us to have to turn them away just because we’re fully booked.’
After a quick check of her watch, Karen took a deep breath and prepared to return to the kitchen. ‘Time for action stations, methinks,’ she decided, before giving Laura a high five. ‘Wish me luck!’
Laura knew ‘luck’ didn’t enter into the equation. She might have been a housewife all her life, but Karen’s culinary expertise was legendary.
In keeping with the words usually said to an actor before their first performance, she told Karen to break a leg instead...
By alexisleech
Nothing could have prepared Laura for the disaster that ensued after the first dinner guests arrived at seven. When Karen’s daughter, Michelle, came running through to the reception and told her to call for an ambulance, Laura momentarily froze to the spot.
‘What’s happened?' she cried out to Michelle’s back as she disappeared through the opened dining room doors as fast as she’d come through them.
With the thought of blood and carnage racing through her head, Laura picked up the phone to call 999, just as Igor, Karen’s recently appointed Polish, Sous chef, burst through the kitchen door and ran across the empty dining room towards the reception area.
‘It not my fault… it not my fault!’ he screeched at Laura as soon as he reached the desk.
Being used to hotel dramas, and the sometimes frenetic staff she and her husband had employed when they ran their hotel for three years, Laura put her hand up in the air to silence him. ‘’What’s not your fault… and why do I need to call an ambulance?’
As though he’d burnt his fingers, Igor was shaking his hands in front of him like a pair of demented window wipers. ‘It for Karen… she falling over!’ he ranted, before turning tail towards the bar as though his life depended on it. Much to the amusement of the two couples who were studying the menu while they had a cocktail, he then loudly demanded a ‘doubling, bluedy brandy’ from Dominic, the barman.
With his chef’s hat now sitting at a ridiculously, precarious angle, he headed back for the kitchen as fast as he could. ‘For the bluedy pain!’ he yelped, as he shot past Laura with the glass held up in the air.
Laura put the phone down and tried to work out how she could escape the reception desk for a minute to see how serious Karen’s fall was, when Jenny and George walked through the front doors. Although her work was done for the day in housekeeping, Jenny wanted to be around in case she was needed when the restaurant opened. Fortunately, George had come with her.
‘Thank God!’ Laura groaned when she saw them. ‘Can you take over while I go to the kitchen, Jenny? Apparently Karen’s had a fall and she might need an ambulance.’
The look that passed between them said it all. Of course Karen was their first priority, but if she had to go to hospital, the next obvious concern was how they could open the restaurant without their chef.
‘Do you want me to have a look at her?’ George asked.
Jenny scowled back at him. The argument they’d had on the way over had left her seething. He still maintained that Jasper needed a few more days to settle in before he was booted out of their bedroom.
‘You’re a bloody vet, George… she needs a doctor!' she snapped at him.
‘I’ll have you know—‘
Laura interrupted him by grabbing his arm.
‘A bloody vet can be very handy when there’s not a doctor about!’ he threw back over his shoulder as Laura propelled him towards the kitchen.
Laura just prayed that Karen hadn’t broken her leg, especially as that was what she suggested she did instead of wishing her luck fifteen minutes earlier. Hopefully it wouldn’t be anything serious, and George could save the day. If it was possible to get Karen back on her feet, they were still in with a chance of opening the restaurant, albeit a little later than expected.
That turned out to be wishful thinking. Karen was propped up against the kitchen wall, her left ankle swollen, her voice hysterical. ‘You stupid, Polish idiot!’ she berated the visibly trembling Igor.
Laura rushed to her side before crouching down beside her. ‘What happened?’ she asked. Short of deliberately tripping Karen up, she couldn’t imagine how it could be Igor’s fault.
‘The plonker only spilt cooking oil on the floor and didn’t tell me!’ Karen barked in Igor’s direction.
His hands went up in the air and started to swish rapidly again. ‘No, no, no! I try to tell her… She no listen...’
Karen let out a yelp as George knelt down in front of her and started to examine her ankle. ‘You warned me in Polish, you moron!' she retaliated over George’s shoulder. ‘How the hell was I supposed to understand you?’
George tried to calm her down as he used both hands to assess the damage. If he could manage it with the irate Rottweilers that came to his surgery on a regular basis, hopefully, Karen should be a piece of cake. ‘It sounds as though it was just an accident,’ he told her in a calm, measured voice. ‘What we have to do now is get you to the hospital for an X-ray. I can’t feel any broken bones, but that’s the only way we’ll know for sure.’
Karen was having none of it. She’d waited for this moment since her successful St Valentine’s dinner at the Bedford three months ago, and she wasn’t going to let anything, or anybody stop her now. The desserts and garnished starter plates were ready and waiting in the walk-in chiller, and just as they had done on St. Valentines, everything was cooked and keeping warm in the Bain Marie or oven. With the exception of the things that had to be warmed, fried, sautéed or microwaved, there was very little to do but plate up the food artistically, something she’d already instructed Igor on for hours. If she could just keep going until all the main courses were served, she knew he and Michelle could handle the desserts.
‘What can I do to get through the next couple of hours?’ she pleaded, her anger forgotten in her need to achieve her dream.
Realising she wouldn’t budge on the subject of going to hospital immediately, George stood up and asked Laura if they had any packets of frozen peas. When she rummaged around and found one in the freezer, he wrapped it in a tea towel before moulding it around Karen’s ankle. He was about to ask if Laura had any pain killers, when he noticed Igor spinning through the kitchen door with what looked like another very large brandy. Assuming it was for Karen, he decided she didn't need any more pain relief. Finally, he asked Laura if she had a padded mat Karen could sit on so she could still keep her leg elevated but off the cold, tiled floor.
Within ten minutes they were ready for action again. Karen was now propped up on a single mattress from the store room; Laura had exchanged her black cocktail dress for a chef’s jacket and trousers, and her heels for a sensible pair of trainers. She would become Karen’s ‘hands’ for the evening, and along with Igor, the KP, and Michelle, be instructed by a chef who delivered commands with a ferocity that made Gordon Ramsey look like a pussycat.
It turned out to be an evening none of them would ever forget…
Author Notes |
Jasper is George's cat, and he's been causing problems since George moved in with Jenny over a month ago.
A KP is a kitchen porter. His job is to load the dishwasher, keep the sink area clear, and mop down the floors at the end of the evening. 999 is the emergency number you call in the UK |
By alexisleech
Within ten minutes they were ready for action again. Karen was now propped up on a single mattress from the store room, and Laura had exchanged her black cocktail dress for a chef’s jacket and trousers. She would become Karen’s ‘hands’ for the evening, and along with Igor, the KP, and Michelle, would be instructed by a chef who delivered commands with a ferocity that made Gordon Ramsey look like a pussycat.
Four hours later.
Laura swivelled around the mattress Karen had held court from before she left for A & E, so it ran parallel with the unit free wall in the kitchen. With Igor and Michelle on either side of her, they sank down with their legs stretched out before them. It had been one hell of a night, and it was now time to relax and take the weight off their feet. Like zombies, they all stared ahead while Ted, the KP, mopped the floor around them so he could finish for the night.
‘I can’t believe we pulled that off…’ Michelle admitted before taking a swig from her glass.
The bottle of red wine usually used for Karen’s sauces was clutched in Igor’s left hand.
‘I think we do good,’ he decided with a satisfied grin. ‘You want more?’ he asked Laura when he held up the bottle.
Laura shook her head. She just wanted to sit there for a few minutes more as the events of the evening played through her head. She still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it off either. When Karen had her accident, she thought they’d have to turn away all the diners who had booked for the restaurant opening, but thanks to Karen’s forward planning, and a team effort that could only be likened to an athletic relay, against all odds, they got every plate out looking and tasting superb.
Igor turned to Laura with a sad smile. ‘I think Karen still hate me though...’
A snort escaped Laura’s lips when she remembered how Karen had harangued the poor Polish chef all evening. ‘Come on, you Polish plonker!’ she had shouted at him from her throne on the floor. ‘Shift your arse!’ The three double brandies Karen had to numb the pain hadn’t numbed her sarcasm. Believing Igor was the one who nearly ruined the evening by dropping oil on the floor before she fell, made her feel justified in making him her whipping-boy for the night.
Laura patted his knee as she turned to him.
‘You were a star, Igor. Considering the circumstances, you did really well... honestly! Karen doesn’t hate you. As I helped her into Mark’s car, before he took her to A & E, she told me to tell you how impressed she was.'
Igor's face lit up with a radiant smile. ‘She did! She say that?’
Well, not exactly, but Laura realised how important Karen’s opinion of him was, and she’d given him such a hard time, Laura decided to embellish the ‘tell the Polish plonker he might not be sacked after all,’ to something more encouraging. Laura didn’t doubt Karen would make Igor suffer a bit more after she got back, but there was no question about it, he was an excellent Sous chef. After each dish was put on the counter under the warming lights, he set to work making it look like a delectable masterpiece with glazes, garnishes, and delicately drizzled sauces. However cross Karen was with him for spilling the oil, she’d be an idiot to get rid of him.
‘It’s just a severe sprain!’ Mark announced when he popped his head around the kitchen door after he’d taken Karen home. ‘The doctor’s strapped up her ankle and told her to keep her weight off it for a day or so, but he says she’s going to be just fine.’
All three of them let out a sigh of relief. Laura didn’t doubt they could cope for another couple of days without Karen, but anything longer would be impossible.
Michelle stood up and went to retrieve her jacket and bag from the staff toilet behind the kitchen so she could get a lift home with her father. When she returned, she gave both Laura and Igor a hug before saying goodnight. After she left, Laura also decided it was time to call it a day.
‘Are you sure you’re up to doing breakfast on your own tomorrow, Igor?’ she asked as she tried to stifle a yawn. ‘I can always come down and give you a hand.’
He assured he was. With just twenty-two guests in the hotel, it was an easy job for one person.
‘I just need key,’ he told Laura after she stood up.
Laura didn’t understand. ‘What key?’
Igor jumped up and pointed to the key in kitchen door that led to the carpark.
‘If I have key, then I can lock door when I go, and open in the morning. You no need to bother.’
Laura thought that was an excellent idea. Jenny wouldn’t be in till seven to man the reception desk, so it meant she wouldn’t have to come down from the staff flat at the top of the building just to let him in.
‘No problem,’ she agreed. ‘Why don’t you chill out for a bit and enjoy what’s left of the wine before you go home? You certainly deserve it after tonight.’
Igor looked grateful. ‘You very kind,’ he told her before saying goodnight.
After she’d gone, Igor put the bottle of wine back on the shelf before picking up the mattress from the kitchen floor and dragging it through to the dry store. He then pulled his secreted rucksack and sleeping bag out from behind the rack of spare dining chairs, and pulled out his bottle of Polish vodka. Laura’s offer had been very kind, but after the night he’d had, a glass of his homeland nectar was required.
‘Witaj w domu,’ he toasted under his breath after he poured some into his glass.
If he'd lost his job at the Bedford, his new life in the UK would be over. The fact that he didn't have a home would have to remain his secret for now. If Karen found out he was actually living in the dry store, God knows what she might do to him...
Author Notes |
'Witaj w domu' means 'Welcome home' in Polish.
KP; Kitchen Porter |
By alexisleech
Jenny let out a groan as loud as the frantic mewing outside their bedroom door. She and George had reached a compromise the night before when he’d reluctantly agreed to her shutting the door with Jasper on the other side. Jenny had hoped he might settle downstairs after she placed his bed and cat litter in the hallway, but no. From three-thirty onwards, the cries that sounded as though he was being hung, drawn and quartered, filtered through to the bedroom as loudly as when he was still in it.
‘George!’ Jenny hissed at her seemingly comatose lover. Sleeping through that racket defied belief. ‘If you don’t shut that bloody cat up, I swear I’ll throw him out the window!’
That did it. Within ten seconds George had shaken himself awake, leapt from the bed, and grabbed the screeching Jasper before taking him downstairs. Jenny didn’t doubt he would stay down there until it was time for him to get ready to go to work, but at least she could get a couple more hours sleep before she got up at six. What had started as an irritation had turned into a war, and she certainly wasn’t going to back down now…
By alexisleech
Laura decided to call a meeting on Wednesday afternoon. Now Karen was back after her two days off, they could discuss the success of the restaurant opening the previous weekend, and work out how to ensure that success continued. With the exception of one complaint from a diner who said his food wasn’t hot enough, there had been nothing but praise for everything that came out of the kitchen. Laura didn’t doubt that was only because Igor was the only person capable of ‘dressing’ each dish after it had been plated up. With Karen back on her feet, Laura didn’t imagine it would be a problem in the future.
As soon as Jenny finished in housekeeping, and Karen and Igor arrived, they all settled in the group of chairs situated in the corner across from the reception desk. That way, Laura could still check in any guests who arrived while they talked.
'So, how’s your ankle, Karen?’ Jenny asked. ‘No permanent damage, I hope.’
Although she was tempted to add ‘no thanks to Igor,’ Karen assured Jenny it was fine.
As though he could hear what she was thinking, Igor looked up from his nervously clasped hands with a pleading look. ‘I sorry, Karen…’ he muttered, his brown, puppy-dog eyes begging forgiveness.
Karen immediately melted. The guy might have nearly ruined the restaurant opening with his stupidity, but as George had reminded her, it was just an accident. She put down her half drunk mug of coffee and attempted to make peace.
‘It’s okay, Igor. I’ve had plenty of time to calm down over the last couple of days, so we’ll forget it for now. Just promise me one thing…’
Igor’s face lit up. ‘Anythink!’ he begged. ‘I want be your freend, not your plonker.’
Karen cringed when she remembered the tirade of abuse she’d subjected Igor to over the weekend. Knowing what she knew now, she blamed her nastiness on the brandy she’d taken for the pain. After she’d taken the bottle out of the cupboard in her kitchen on Monday afternoon, she poured it down the sink. There was no way she was going back to the days when she got bitter and twisted after drinking too much of the stuff.
‘Learn the phrase I’ve spilt oil on the floor! Okay?’
‘I speel oil on floor!’ Igor announced triumphantly.
‘Spill!’ Karen repeated.
‘Speel!’ Igor mimicked confidently.
Jenny and Laura were in tucks of laughter. They knew they shouldn’t, but after a week of trying to decipher Igor’s version of the English language, it was almost as though he was doing it deliberately to amuse them.
‘That’ll do,’ Karen decided, her own lips beginning to twitch. ‘Speel, it is…’
Laura let out a sigh of relief. Telling Igor that Karen was very impressed with him in the kitchen was a little white lie that had troubled her all weekend. Knowing Karen forgave him meant they could all get on with their jobs and move on.
‘One of the things I’d like to address at this meeting is how we all get some time off,’ she told them. ‘I, for one, need to get out of here occasionally, and so do all of you. I know we all had to work flat-out before the restaurant opened, but now that it has, we have to decide when it’s viable to have it open and still make a profit. Do you guys think it should be open during the week?’
Karen shook her head. Her two days off had made her realise how little she’d seen Mark and Tony, her son. Because her daughter, Michelle was helping them in the kitchen until they found a permanent replacement, she’d at least seen her, but it wasn’t what you’d call quality time, especially after what happened on the night the restaurant opened.
‘I don’t think so,’ she told them. ‘I don't mind working my arse off at the weekends, but I can't see there being enough business during the week to justify the expense of opening. The only problem is, what can we do for the residents? It might be mostly single occupancy during the week because it’s usually businessmen, but that still means we’re sending between twelve and twenty-four people out to eat elsewhere.’
Laura nodded in agreement. ‘It also reduces business in the bar. Our takings last night didn’t even cover Gerry’s wages. How did you get on with room service, Igor?’
‘I have eight orderings!’ he advised her triumphantly. ‘Three with boutle of vine.’
That at least explained the low bar takings. The guests couldn’t be in two places at once.
'So what’s the answer?’ asked Jenny. ‘I don’t mind covering the reception for a couple of days during the week because we don’t have many changeovers, but Friday, Saturday and Sunday are full-on, especially when the weddings start next month.’
Igor put his hand up like an impatient child asking if he could talk. ‘Why not you have restaurant in bar during week. It save having to take food to rooms.’
All three of them stared back at him with their mouths open. ‘What a brilliant idea!’ Laura said. ‘We could offer the room service menu in the bar so the residents are likely to have a drink as well.’
The smile on Karen’s face dropped after a moment. ‘But that means we’ll have to take on another member of staff. I was hoping to be off during the week. I certainly don’t fancy hanging about the kitchen all night waiting for orders that might not arrive.’
Igor’s hand shot up in the air again. ‘I do cook. I do it for two nights… every people happy!’
Momentarily silenced by his offer, Laura shook her head. ‘But when would you get any time off, Igor? You can’t work seven days a week, and we certainly can’t do without you at the weekend.’
Igor’s gaze dropped to his hands again. If they only knew…
‘I no mind,’ he told them when he looked up again. ‘I no need day off…’
The way he said it concerned Karen. Why wouldn’t he want a day off? ‘I thought you stayed with your uncle. Do you not want to spend some time with your family?’
His reaction left them in no doubt that he didn’t. ‘I no like it there. I rather be here—‘
He was interrupted when the front door opened and a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair, and seriously out-of-date, winged glasses, almost fell through it as she pulled an old-fashioned, leather suitcase behind her.
‘Oops!’ she giggled to herself. ‘That was close, Patsy. We don’t want to fall over now, do we?’
Jenny and the others strained their necks to see who she was talking to. Having straightened herself up and eyeballed the reception desk, the woman continued to chat away to her seemingly invisible companion as she hauled the old battered suitcase in front of it.
‘I hope I’m not too early,’ she pondered out loud. ‘I’m dying for a piddle...’
Laura shot up from her seat and reached the desk just as the woman was about to ting the brass bell.
‘Welcome to the Bedford,’ she greeted her with a smile. ‘M… iss?’
The woman nearly jumped out of her skin because she hadn’t noticed them sitting in the corner behind her. After she let go of the red and green tartan scarf she’d momentarily clutched in fright, she let out a snort.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she gasped. ‘I nearly wet myself! Miss Simpson’s my name, but I’d rather you called me Patsy.’
Laura looked over her shoulder and saw Karen pulling a face as she circled her finger to the side of her head. 'Nutter!' she mouthed silently, which earned her a poke in the ribs from Jenny. Yes, the woman did look a bit strange in her oversized, black raincoat, but more in an eccentric kind of way. Whether she was actually a 'nutter' or not, would no doubt be confirmed in the next few days because Laura saw from the guest list that she was staying for a week.
‘Welcome, Mi… Patsy. I see you’ve booked our ground floor room,’ Laura confirmed when she looked up from the list. ‘Eh, would you like a hand with your luggage?’ she asked after she handed Patsy the key to her room.
Igor jumped to his feet and came over to the reception desk. ‘I take for you,’ he offered.
Patsy nearly jumped out of her skin for a second time. ‘Oh laudy, nearly another accident!’ she declared as she twisted one leg in front of the other and bent her knees. ‘You people don’t have much respect for a woman’s bladder, do you?’
With the thought of the beautiful new, taupe coloured carpet foremost in her mind, Laura ushered Patsy through to her room. Igor followed, but only after he nearly ripped his arm out of its socket when he picked up Patsy’s case…
Author Notes |
Yes, the spelling in conversations with Igor is deliberate. Remember he's Polish! Change-overs are when a guest leaves and the room has to be thoroughly cleaned, as well as having new bed linen and towels. The Bedford; A twelve bedroomed hotel near the city centre. Laura; A fifty-seven year old widow who buys the hotel after making a small fortune from her internet friendship sites. Jenny; A fifty-six year old divorcee who's recently let love back into her life. Karen; A fifty-five year old mother of two who hadn't worked a day in her life until her husband left her because of her addiction to brandy and her spiralling weight. They are now back together. Igor; A thirty-two year old Polish chef who is secretly staying in the hotel's dry store because his over-amorous step-cousin's nightly onslaughts make it impossible for him to stay at his uncle's house. George; A fifty-four year old vet who's just moved in with Jenny Michelle; Karen's twenty-three year old daughter. Tony; Karen's twenty-two year old son Paul; Laura's twenty-six year old son who runs her friendship sites for her. Dominic; the Bedford Barman. Gerry; The barman who covers Dominic's two nights off, and also helps at weekends. Patsy: A new and rather eccentric guest... |
By alexisleech
‘Welcome, Mi… Patsy. I see you’ve booked our ground floor room for a week,’ Laura confirmed when she looked up from the guest list. ‘Eh, would you like a hand with your luggage?’ she asked after she handed Patsy her key.
Igor jumped to his feet and came over to the reception desk. ‘I take for you,’ he offered.
Patsy nearly jumped out of her skin for a second time. ‘Oh laudy, nearly another accident!’ she declared as she twisted one leg in front of the other and bent her knees. ‘You people don’t have much respect for a woman’s bladder, do you?’
With the thought of the beautiful new, taupe coloured carpet foremost in her mind, Laura ushered Patsy through to her room. Igor followed, but only after he nearly ripped his arm out of its socket when he picked up Patsy’s case…
Laura chuckled to herself as she listened to Patsy having yet another full-blown, one-sided conversation in the residents’ lounge.
‘If you didn’t like the sausages, you should have said something.’
‘But if they don’t know you only like pork sausages, it’s not their fault!’
‘Really?’
‘Of course. They probably don’t serve pork sausages in case any of the guests are Jewish. It stands to reason.’
‘So what do I do about it?’
Silence followed for a few seconds while Patsy considered the question.
‘Why don’t you talk to Laura about it?’ she eventually suggested.
Another moment’s silence.
‘Good idea… Do you think she’ll mind?’
Patsy’s alter ego replied immediately. ‘Well, she seems nice enough. There’s only one way to find out…’
Laura tried to look engrossed in something on her laptop as she heard Patsy come through from the lounge and approach the reception desk. It would seem that when she knew there was another human being within ten feet of her, Patsy’s ‘friend’ disappeared. For two days everyone had looked for her companion every time she was overheard. Not anymore. Laura was just relieved the bedroom walls and ceilings were as thick as they were. When the ‘conversations’ got animated, they could be heard through her bedroom door.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Patsy said when she reached the desk and pulled out the chair so she could sit down opposite Laura. ‘But I’d like a word, please.’
The fact Patsy was wearing the same yellow sweater over the pair of black trousers she’d worn the previous day, came as no surprise. After Jenny serviced her room the morning after she arrived, she couldn’t wait to tell Laura and Karen the reason for Patsy’s heavy suitcase. The only clothes it had contained were the ones she was dressed in now, another sweater, seven pairs of knickers and socks, a pair of pink, winceyette pyjamas, and her fluffy slippers. The rest of the enormous, antiquated, leather case had been filled with an old fashioned computer, a monitor, a mouse, and a book about penguins.
‘It’s about the sausages, isn’t it?’ Laura asked as she tried to keep a straight face.
Patsy looked dumbfounded. ‘Why yes, yes it is… how did you know?’
Laura was just about to tell her about overhearing her soliloquy in the residents' lounge, but decided not to. If Patsy wasn’t aware of the fact that she talked to herself, who was she to tell her?
‘Igor told me you didn’t eat them this morning for the second time running. Would you prefer pork?’
The relief of not having to ask showed on Patsy’s face. One of the things she’d looked forward to when she booked her holiday at the Bedford, was having a full English breakfast every day. Because she hated cooking, she hadn’t had a decent sausage in months.
Her charming smile warmed Laura to her yet again. She might be a bit batty, but there was something very endearing about her. Well spoken, and always polite, Patsy had chatted amiably to all of them when she was either having her breakfast in the dining room, or a drink and snack in the bar.
‘Do you mind me asking a question?’ Laura asked.
Patsy didn’t mind at all. It was nice to have a chat with someone while her room was being serviced. Personally, she didn’t care if anyone cleaned her room or not, but it was fun being away from it for a while.
‘It’s just that Je…the chambermaid mentioned you had a computer in your room. Would it not be easier for you if you had a laptop? That way you would have access to the free Wi-Fi we have available for all the guests. It would also mean you don’t have so much to carry when you travel.’
A look of confusion swept over Patsy’s face. ‘Wi-Fi… what’s that?’
It was hard to work out what age Patsy was because of her greying hair and old-fashioned glasses, but Laura was sure she couldn’t be much over forty. It was as though she was trapped in a different time zone. A place where things like Wi-Fi didn’t exist.
‘It’s a cordless way of getting on the internet,’ she advised her without trying to sound like a know-it-all. ‘Everyone uses it nowadays. It’s so much easier. Here, I’ll show you,’ she said as she swivelled her handbag sized laptop around for Patsy to see the screen. ‘There… look, I’m on the internet now, and I can get a signal anywhere in the building.’
Patsy adjusted her glasses and squinted at the screen before shaking her head. ‘I’ve heard about the internet, but you wouldn’t catch me going anywhere near it. My father warned me about it. It’s full of nasty people trying to get hold of your money. I only need my computer to do my writing and…’ she tittered before continuing. ’Playing my games of spider solitaire. I couldn’t do that on one of those silly little things. The screen’s not big enough for a start!’
Laura was lost for words. Surely there wasn’t anyone left on the planet who didn’t know about Wi-Fi and laptops? The TV was full of adverts, as was the press. Even her seventy-eight year old aunt was up to speed in that department. Deciding to change the subject, Laura asked Patsy what she wrote about as she turned her laptop back to face her. Thanks to the information derived from Jenny, Patsy’s answer came as no surprise.
‘Penguins!’ Patsy told her with a proud smile. ‘I write about two penguins called Floyd and Fanny.’
Another conversation stopper. What was there to write about penguins? Sure, Laura had been intrigued with the David Attenborough documentary on the BBC a couple of years ago, but she couldn’t imagine it was a subject a middle-aged spinster in the UK would know much about.
‘I see…‘ Laura said, although obviously, judging by the expression on her face, she didn’t. ‘Any particular kind of penguins?’
She wished she’d never asked. Patsy hardly drew breath as she rattled on about King Penguins from Antarctica. In an effort to impress her on the merits of Wi-Fi, Laura googled ‘King Penguins’ as she listened, and found a clip from the David Attenborough documentary on YouTube. Patsy stopped talking as soon as Laura turned her laptop around to face her again, the sound of squawking penguin chicks filling the air between them.
Patsy’s face was a picture. ‘How did you do that?’ she gasped, her eyes glued to the screen.
‘My laptop’s connected to Wi-Fi. I just Googled it,’ Laura explained.
Without pulling her eyes away from one of the most fascinating things she’d ever seen in her life, Patsy asked Laura what Google was.
‘It’s a search engine on the internet. You can find out about anything these days. You just type in a question and it gives you various answers.’
Patsy took her glasses off and blinked back at Laura with the innocence of a child.
‘What’s a search engine?’
By alexisleech
Igor, the Polish Sous chef at the Bedford, continues to secretly sleep in the dry store at the hotel. Every night he pulls out the mattress he’d hidden behind a stack of spare chairs for the dining room, before settling down for the night. This charade is covered up by the fact he has a back door key, which everyone assumes he uses to lock up before he goes ‘home’ every night.
Igor’s life had settled into a comfortable routine at the Bedford. His initial spat with Karen, after he spilt the oil that resulted in her accident on the opening night, seemed to be forgotten, and they’d worked well together all weekend. With a regular flow of diners, who all raved about the food, their culinary prowess was evident. There was no doubt in Igor’s mind that Karen was one of the best cooks he’d come across. Her knowledge of herbs and spices introduced him to many not commonly used in Poland, and her sauces, most of which were her own unique recipes, turned bland pieces of meat or chicken into gastronomic delights.
Unbeknown to Igor, Karen was equally impressed with him. Although not put to the test with regard to new recipes, he seemed to be able to turn his hand to anything she asked him to do, and the way he painstakingly arranged every plate of food before it left the kitchen made the food look like a piece of art.
‘So what kind of things did you cook when you worked in Poland, Igor?’ Karen asked after they finished on Sunday night and they were having their well-deserved drink before going home.
Igor's ice-cold bottle of Heineken had gone down his throat in three satisfying gulps. 'I cook many Kielbasa where I work before,' he told her after he let out a sigh of satisfaction followed by a fist covered burp. We Polish peoples love our sausages... and Kaszanka aka Kiszka. That is very good!'
‘Kaszanka aka Kiszka?’
‘It be what you call black pooding, like what we have here at breekfaust time.’
Although she managed to ignore Igor’s pronunciation for the most part, Karen automatically corrected him with anything related to the kitchen. ‘You mean pudding?’
He looked confused. ‘Yes, that what I say, pooding…’
Karen couldn’t help smiling. The by-product of Igor’s limited English was a source of constant amusement to them all. Laura and Jenny were usually only privy to it at their twice weekly meetings, but Karen was entertained by it all weekend. Even his little tantrums could be highly amusing. If something wasn’t going the way he wanted it to, a stream of Polish would escape his lips in a demented rant while he batted the air with a spatula or tea towel.
‘Do you think a Polish evening would go down well here at the Bedford?’ Karen asked him after she finished her refreshing spritzer and started to unbutton her chef’s jacket. ‘I mean there are so many Polish people living here since they joined Europe, some of them must miss being able to dine out and have their native cuisine.’
Igor nodded enthusiastically. ‘I theenk that a very good idea!’ he told her. ‘I cook all Polish food real good.’
Seeing his obvious delight at the suggestion, Karen patted him reassuringly on the shoulder after she picked up her bag to go home. ‘Well, I can’t promise anything because I’ll have to discuss it with Laura and Jenny, but I think it’s worth a try if you’re up for it.’
The smile on Igor’s face was so wide, you’d think he’d just won the lottery….
By alexisleech
Patsy had been staying at the Bedford for a week. When she arrived she appeared a bit batty, not only because she constantly talked to herself, but because she’d lugged an old-fashioned computer and monitor all the way to the hotel in her suitcase. When Laura suggested she should get a laptop so she could use the hotel Wi-Fi, she was reluctant at first because she’d never been on the internet in her life.
Patsy looked over at her antiquated computer and monitor before looking back to her new laptop on the dressing table. If she’d known such things existed before she came to the Bedford, of course she wouldn’t have lugged it all the way there. She’d learnt so much since she arrived seven days ago, and now that she had, she was liberated, albeit in a state of confusion.
Deirdre, her father’s district nurse, had been her only friend up until the day she arrived at the Bedford. In fact, she was the one who suggested the holiday in the first place. While her father’s house was being cleared prior to its sale at the end of the month, it made perfect sense. Patsy had packed the few things she was taking to her new rented flat on the outskirts of Bristol, so she was happy for the rest of the contents to be auctioned off before the sale went through. There was nothing else she wanted from the isolated farmhouse she’d lived in all of her life. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get away from it, especially now.
Patsy had always been lonely, but until she came to the Bedford, she didn’t actually know what the word ‘lonely’ meant. She just assumed it was something everyone suffered, a by-product of being alive. But that was before she’d spent a week being respected and helped by total strangers. Not only had she bought a laptop, the holiday had bought her a window into a world where people actually talked to her and showed her respect. The computer Deirdre gave her represented the way her life had been before. The laptop in front of her represented her future. A future that wasn’t steeped in loneliness and lack of information. A future that allowed her to interact with the outside world on a daily basis.
The talking to herself issue concerned her though. Who else could she talk to? If she had a dog or a cat, then she supposed it would be quite acceptable to be caught talking to them, but Laura had told her that talking to yourself in public places didn’t give people a good impression. She’d spent the last couple of days trying to control it, not that it was hard. The amount of time she’d spent with Laura, sitting opposite her at the reception desk learning about the internet, had left her almost verbally exhausted by the time she went to bed every night. Patsy knew Laura was probably just being kind, as she seemed to be with all the guests, but in a sense she had changed her life. Patsy didn’t have to ask herself questions anymore, or forage through a pile of books. She could just go onto Google and get the answer there.
She patted her old computer and monitor as though she was saying goodbye to an old friend. She hoped Deirdre wouldn’t be offended that she wasn’t taking it back with her. She’d been so kind to her after her father died, by organising the sale of the house and accompanying her to the horrible solicitor who scared Patsy to death. Deirdre helped her fill in all the forms that were required, and had even helped her open a bank account to replace the post office account her parents opened for her years before. With that thought in mind, Patsy pulled out the form Deirdre had asked her to sign when she dropped her off at the station. After she glanced at it, she told her she would sign it when she got back, before stuffing it into her handbag. The fact that Deirdre’s long-term partner’s name was on the form was the thing that stopped her signing it right away. She’d never even met the man, so she couldn’t understand what it had to do with him.
With just fifteen minutes to go before her taxi arrived to take her to the station, Patsy turned on her laptop and opened up Google. She then typed in the words ‘third party mandate…’
Author Notes |
A 'Third party mandate' is a formal instruction to your bank. It gives a third party total control of your bank account, which includes receiving your bank statements.
Because I posted this chapter ten minutes after the last chapter, 'Nadzia' you might think the message to say I'd posted a new chapter had been repeated. I haven't posted for a few days, and because this was such a short chapter, I thought I would post two chapters today. |
By alexisleech
Patsy had been staying at the Bedford for a week. When she arrived she appeared a bit batty, not only because she constantly talked to herself, but because she’d lugged an old-fashioned computer and monitor all the way to the hotel in her suitcase. When Laura suggested she should get a laptop so she could use the hotel Wi-Fi, she was reluctant at first because she’d never been on the internet in her life.
Previous chapter ending;
Patsy patted her old computer and monitor as though she was saying goodbye to an old friend. She hoped Deirdre wouldn’t be offended because she wasn’t taking it back with her. She’d been so kind to her after her father died, by organising the sale of the house and accompanying her to the horrible solicitor who scared Patsy to death. Deirdre helped her fill in all the forms that were required, and had even helped her open a bank account to replace the post office account her parents opened for her years before. With that thought in mind, Patsy pulled out the form Deirdre had asked her to sign when she dropped her off at the station. After she glanced at it, she told her she would sign it when she got back, before stuffing it into her handbag. The fact that Deirdre’s long-term partner’s name was on the form was the thing that stopped her signing it right away. She’d never even met the man, so she couldn’t understand what it had to do with him.
With just fifteen minutes to go before her taxi arrived to take her to the station, Patsy turned on her laptop and opened up Google. She then typed in the words ‘third party mandate…’
By alexisleech
Patsy, one of guests who had been staying at the Bedford for a week, decides to check out the form on the internet that her one and only ‘friend’ had asked her to sign before she left to go on holiday. When she finds out it’s a document that gives her friend’s partner control of her bank account, Patsy is devastated. A reclusive woman who had lived in isolation with her elderly father until he died, she couldn’t believe that someone could be so dishonest. When Laura comes through to tell Patsy her taxi had arrived to take her to the station, she breaks down and shows her the form.
When Laura went back through to the reception area after she calmed Patsy down, Jenny and Karen were waiting for her. After she told them how the so called ‘friend’ had tried to con Patsy out of her inheritance, their mouths dropped open.
'What a cow!’ Karen gasped. ‘I thought you couldn’t get involved with your patient’s finances if you worked for social services or the NHS. It’s against the law, isn’t it?’
‘That’s as I understand it,’ Laura agreed. ‘But by trying to do it this way, Deirdre has possibly found a loop-hole. She’s never treated Patsy, only her father, and her partner has a different surname to her. He could claim Patsy asked for help because she wasn’t used to handling her own finances. Under normal circumstances, someone would check something before they sign it, but Patsy’s had to sign various forms recently. Deirdre obviously thought that by slipping another one under her nose just before she got on the train, she’d get her signature without a hitch.’
‘But shouldn’t we call the police?’ Jenny asked. ‘If that woman tried to con Patsy, she might try to do it to someone else.’
‘If she hasn’t already…’ Karen interjected.
Laura agreed with both of them, and she’d already suggested it, but Patsy would have none of it. In response to the question, she ripped the form up into several pieces and threw it in the bin. She claimed she couldn’t go through the humiliation of a court case, because it would make her look incredibly stupid to be so trusting. Laura doubted the unsigned form would stand up in court anyway. Anyone could pick up a form like that from the bank and put someone’s name on it. She presumed it was only if it had been signed and acted upon, that it could have been used as evidence.
‘But she shouldn’t get away Scot free.’ Karen said. ‘Surely someone should report her?’
Laura hunched her shoulders. ‘It’s not my call. If Patsy wants to forget about it, then we have to respect her wishes. From what I can make out, most of the other things she signed were either for the lease on her new flat in Bristol, or the missives at the solicitor’s office before the sale of her father’s house went through. I suspect Deirdre was just doing all she could to get into a position of trust before the money for the house was put into Patsy’s account. If Patsy had signed that form before she came here for a week’s holiday, she could have found her account cleaned out by the time she got back.’
Karen topped up their mugs from the cafetiere she’d brought through while they were waiting for Laura, before asking what they thought Patsy should do next. ‘I mean, she can’t stay here indefinitely. In fact, we’re fully booked for the weekend because of that guy’s fortieth birthday bash on Saturday night. She’s either going to have to go home, or find somewhere else to stay tomorrow night.’
‘Damn! I’d forgotten about that,’ Laura groaned. ‘Well, that settles it then. Maybe she should go home. At least that woman won’t be able to meet her off the train this afternoon. I think that’s the main reason Patsy wanted to stay another night. Now she knows what Deirdre was trying to do to her, she’s terrified of the idea of coming face to face with her again.’
‘Won’t she just ring Patsy when she finds out she didn’t get the train back, though?’ Karen suggested. ‘If she’s hoping to be handed a form that gives her partner control over Patsy’s account, she’s bound to be seriously pissed off when she doesn’t arrive.’
Laura shook her head. ‘Well, she probably would if she could. Patsy doesn’t have a mobile. She’s never needed one.’
Karen couldn’t imagine anyone surviving without a mobile phone in this day and age. It was a lifeline she used on a regular basis. ‘So what do you think this Deirdre woman will do when Patsy doesn’t turn up?’
The three of them thought about it for a few seconds, until Laura made a suggestion. ‘She’ll probably ring here. She knows where Patsy was staying because she was the one who booked this hotel in the first place. She’s bound to have all the details, including the phone number. It stands to reason she’d call here first.’
‘And then what?’ Jenny asked. ‘Do we tell her that Patsy’s still here? If we do, she might ask to speak to her in her room. It doesn’t get rid of the problem, it just complicates it.’
‘Unless…’ Karen started to say before she raised her mug to her lips and took a sip of coffee while she thought her idea through, ‘we tell her that Patsy’s out,’ she eventually added.
Jenny and Laura looked back at her, a mystified expression on both their faces.
‘And how does that help, exactly?’ Laura asked.
Karen seemed to be in a world of her own as she looked straight ahead and thought out loud. ‘Yes… I could see that being a way to kill two birds with one stone,’ she said, before turning back to them. ‘Bagsy the job of talking to Deirdre if she does ring. You know how I love a good acting part…’
Author Notes |
'I bagsy' is a popular British expression. It means, if there are treats to be had, I bag the best of them - honest!
A cafetiere is something we Brits use to filter good coffee. Your put the ground coffee in, top up with boiling water, and plunge the filter top down after a few minutes. It makes great coffee! |
By alexisleech
It had been a busy forty-eight hours. Patsy had left on Friday afternoon, safe in the knowledge she would probably never hear from Deirdre again after her conversation with Karen. Before she left, Laura set up an email address for her, and accompanied her to the Vodaphone shop to buy a mobile phone and set up a contract. That meant Patsy could not only call if she had any more problems, but access the internet until she organised Wi-Fi at her new apartment in Bristol.
After the raucous party eventually spilled out of the dining room on Saturday night, and the fifteen guests who weren’t staying in the hotel said their goodbyes, Laura let out a sigh of relief. Their first big function since taking over the hotel, it had all gone incredibly smoothly.
'Didn't we do well!' Karen declared when she and Michelle came through to the reception area before going home.
They certainly did. The buffet for thirty-seven people had been a great success, as had the sit-down meal for twenty the night before. The bar takings were spectacular as well. All in all, it had been a very profitable weekend, and one Laura hoped would be repeated on a regular basis.
After Karen and Michelle left, Carl, the guy who booked the Bedford for his birthday celebration, came over and asked Laura if she would care to join him and his remaining friends for a drink. Under normal circumstances, she would have declined, not being one to fraternise with the guests, but the idea of going up to her flat on the top floor and drinking a lonely glass of wine held no appeal, especially when Carl’s guests seemed to be such a friendly crowd. Why not? The front doors were locked, and Dominic, the barman, was perfectly capable of running things from here on in.
‘I’d love to…’ she told him. ‘I’ll just clear the reception desk, and then I’ll be over.’
After Carl asked her what she wanted to drink, Laura took the phone and registration book through to the office. It had been a long day, and chilling-out was just what the doctor ordered...
Author Notes | This chapter was inspired by a film called 'Saving Grace,' which is the story about a widow who decided to grow marijuana to try and save her home after she's left penniless. Deciding that she should smoke a joint for the first time in her life, the results are hilarious. |
By alexisleech
The night before
Igor scratched his head as he tried to work out what to do next. There was no way he could carry Laura up the three flights of stairs to her flat, however light she was. He knew from his own experience, when he first tried marijuana in his younger days, that a good sleep was probably all she needed.
‘I be back in minute!’ he told her, before running to the dry store and pulling out his secreted mattress from behind the stack of chairs in the corner. Laura’s need was greater than his, and if he had to sleep on the floor for one night, then so be it.
As soon as he positioned the mattress on the floor beside her, Laura rolled onto it, curled up in a fetal position, and fell fast asleep…
Laura’s eyes slowly opened as she tried to fathom out where she was. The fluffy warmth of her duvet was missing, as was the comfort of the two duck-down pillows that usually supported her head. When her eyes were fully open, the light from the street lamps illuminated her surroundings sufficiently to confirm she was on the floor in the dining room of the Bedford. But how? A groan escaped her lips as she remembered.
‘Oh, God…’ she said out loud as the memory of the previous evening flashed through her head like a film clip, each embarrassing scene automatically rewinding itself in glorious technicolour, over and over again.
Shaking her head, as though trying to banish her thoughts, Laura sat up and tried to work out what was cushioning her from the hardness of the carpeted floor. When she at last recognised it as the mattress Karen had lain on in the kitchen after she sprained her ankle, the image of Igor picking her up and frogmarching her through to the dining room flashed up on her mental monitor again. Had the guests noticed that the owner of the hotel they were staying at was literally legless? Another groan escaped her lips at the thought.
A quick check of her watch told her it was half past one. Having no idea what time Igor rescued her, Laura wondered if she’d slept long enough to regain the use of her legs. She rolled onto her side, then, holding onto one of the dining room chairs just in case, she rose to a standing position. Yes, they were working fine.
‘Thank goodness!’ she exclaimed as she sat down in the chair with a relieved sigh. Apart from the fact she felt mortified at the result of taking two puffs of a joint, Laura couldn’t believe she succumbed to the temptation in the first place. Because she never had the opportunity to try marijuana before, Laura could only assume she tried it because she wanted to fit in, be one of the crowd. Whatever the reason, she certainly wouldn’t be tempted again. Losing the use of her legs was one of the scariest experiences of her life.
Determined to get rid of the evidence of where she had lain in such an embarrassing state, Laura picked up the mattress and made her way through to the kitchen so she could put it in the dry store until it could be returned to the store room on the second floor. After that, she could go to her flat and grab a few hours sleep before coming down to man the reception desk at seven in the morning. What she said to the guests, far less what she would say to Igor, was something she was going to have to play by ear. Thinking on her feet had become second nature to Laura after her years in the hotel trade, so she hoped she would be able to cope should her behaviour be questioned by anyone.
Having negotiated the entry to the kitchen quite easily because of the well-oiled swing door, Laura put the mattress up against the outer wall of the dry store so she could open the door before taking it in there, but just as her hand made contact with the handle, she heard Igor's voice coming from the other side.
‘You no worry, Nadzia. When I have money, I find place for us. Then we no have to be here in secret no more...’
Laura froze to the spot for a moment, then she grabbed the mattress and took it back to the dining room as quickly and quietly as she could. In a sense, finding out Igor was meeting his lover in secret didn’t surprise her. He didn’t leave until eleven every evening, and he let himself back into the kitchen at six-thirty every morning to cook breakfast. She could well imagine how difficult it was for him to meet up with his girlfriend. Igor had told them at one of their staff meetings that he didn’t like staying at his uncle’s place because he was forced to share a room. On that basis, Laura assumed he couldn’t take her there.
Once back in her flat, Laura poured herself an ice-cold glass of water from the kitchen tap, and drank it while she stared out across the city and tried to work out what to do for the best. Instead of being annoyed at what she thought was Igor’s only duplicity, she was more concerned about the ramifications if there was some kind of confrontation and he walked out. He did the work of two people, and without complaint. They already had several bookings for his ‘Polish’ night in the restaurant, and she didn’t doubt it would be sold out by the time Friday arrived. And what would she have done if he hadn’t rescued her the night before? No, exposing Igor’s secret could be catastrophic. He was part of the ‘team,’ and his work was exemplary. Finding a way to keep him happy and have a place of his own, somewhere he could relax in private with his girlfriend, was a much better idea.
Laura decided to sleep on it. With a bit of luck, she would come up with a plan…
Author Notes |
Laura: The owner of the Bedford hotel.
Igor: The Sous chef at the Bedford who is secretly sleeping in the dry store because he hates staying at his uncle's house. Nadzia: The pregnant mouse Igor has befriended in the dry store. |
By alexisleech
Laura looked up at Carl with a cheerful smile when he arrived at the reception desk at midday to pay his bill. Unlike him and his guests, whose hangovers were plain to see by their hang-dog expressions, Laura looked the picture of health. Determined to look composed after her ungainly departure from the party the night before, she had applied her make-up with care to help cover up the fact she only had four hours sleep.
‘I can see that chef of yours managed to put a smile on your face,’ Carl teased.
‘Sorry?’
Carl gave her one of those knowing looks that implied they shared a secret. ‘Your chef… I must try that ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ approach the next time I want to get my girlfriend into the sac. It was most impressive!’
Laura could feel the colour rising in her cheeks at the suggestion, and was just about to correct him when she realised Carl’s version of events was probably more acceptable than the truth. A lot more dignified too. Her fear of being classed as a legless, drunken drug-user was much greater than her fear of everyone thinking she had a younger lover.
‘Ah yes…’ she tittered in a way she hoped would imply he was correct in his assumption. ‘To be honest, I didn’t realise he was so strong.’
‘Well, I assume he works out. He picked you up and carried you off as though you were as light as a feather.’
Again, Laura nearly corrected him, but decided he could be right. Igor was now sporting a very healthy set of biceps, along with a flat stomach. It was certainly a far cry from the weedy, pot-bellied Sous chef they had employed eight weeks ago. Maybe he was going to a gym to impress his girlfriend, Nazdia, the one he was secretly making out with in the dry store. He certainly hadn’t acquired muscles like that carrying pots and pans around in the kitchen.
‘Eh, yes,’ she replied as she took Carl’s credit card and slipped it into the terminal. The fact that his bill was an extra four hundred and forty pounds on top of his three thousand pound deposit for food and accommodation, didn’t seem to faze him. Laura was just thankful she’d ordered two extra cases of champagne. Carl and his party had drunk all but one bottle at forty pounds a pop.
‘I’ll certainly be recommending this place to my friends,’ he told her as he tapped in his pin number. ‘This weekend has been excellent, especially with the added bonus of you know what…’
Laura didn’t doubt that letting Carl and his friends smoke a few joints was what he was referring to. Her biggest concern was the smell it might leave behind in the residents’ lounge, but fortunately, having opened the windows at seven that morning, after she sprayed the room liberally with air freshener, the odour had disappeared.
Not being one to miss the opportunity of getting more business, Laura opened the top drawer of the reception desk and pulled out a handful of business cards. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Carl,’ she told him as she passed them to him along with his credit card and receipt. ‘And if any of your friends would like to use The Bedford for parties or weddings, I’ll make sure they get a really good price…’
By alexisleech
Laura was feeling a lot happier by the time she came back down to the reception hall later that evening. The three hour sleep she had on the sofa refreshed her, and the belief that she’d solved the problem of Igor having some privacy with his girlfriend contributed to her ‘feel good’ factor.
‘How did you get on in the storeroom?’ Jenny asked as soon as she reached the desk. ‘I assumed, when I didn’t hear any screams, you didn’t come across any ghosts.’
After flopping down in the opposite chair, Laura looked back at Jenny with a satisfied grin. ‘Great… well as good as I could hope. It's perfectly usable as a bedroom, so I thought I would give it to Igor. It seems a shame that he has to trek all the way across town at the crack of dawn every morning, especially when it’s just sitting there empty. I’m going to try and get it cleared by Friday, so I can surprise him with it after his Polish night in the restaurant.’
Jenny raised an eyebrow. ‘But I thought he had a place at his uncle’s. Why does he need to live here?’
There was no way Laura was going to tell Jenny about overhearing Igor’s conversation with who she believed to be his girlfriend in the dry store, or about her ungainly departure from Carl’s party. He had rescued her, and she was glad she had a means to return the favour.
‘He was a great help last night after the party,’ she told Jenny instead. ‘To be honest, it would be nice to have a man about… just in case there’s anything I can’t handle.’
Jenny hesitated before she answered. Although she thought it was a good idea with regard to Igor being ‘on hand,’ she was still concerned about what she’d been told when she first came to work at the Bedford. ‘But what if the room really is haunted?’
‘Well, if it is, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.' Laura replied with a shrug. 'It didn’t feel spooky to me, and as long as we don’t tell Igor about the rumour, he won’t be looking for something I’m sure doesn’t exist. Are we the only ones who know about the ghost story?’
Jenny thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I think so. There’s none of the original chambermaids here anymore, so there’s no one to tell tales.’
Laura looked relieved. ‘Well, let’s keep it that way. What Igor doesn’t know won’t hurt him… Now, how’s it been this afternoon? Anything I should know about?’
Stifling a yawn, Jenny looked back at her with bleary eyes. The truth be known, she hadn’t had much sleep the night before either. ‘No, it’s all quiet on the western front. All the new guests have checked in, and I’m ready to go. I promised Dominic I would take some of the empty bottles to the bottle bank on my way home. Our glass recycling bin is overflowing, and it doesn’t get emptied till Wednesday.’
‘Do you need a hand?’ Laura asked when Jenny got up and picked up four of the eight carrier bags bulging with empty bottles that Dominic had left by the desk.
‘What do you think?’ Jenny chuckled. ‘I just want to get home as soon as possible and crash. George’s cat woke us up again at four this morning, so I’m absolutely knackered.’
Laura got up and grabbed the remaining four carrier bags, two in each hand. ‘I thought you’d banned the cat from the bedroom?’
A snort of disgust escaped Jenny’s lips. ‘I did, but we could still hear it screaming through the door. The bloody thing seems to sleep all day and keep us up half the night. It’s caused so many arguments, I’m at my wit’s end.’
As they went through the swing doors on the way to the back door in the kitchen, Laura asked Jenny if there wasn’t somewhere in her house they could put the cat where they wouldn’t hear it. Jenny shook her head.
‘I wish. We can’t lock him in the kitchen with Katie and Brody. We tried it once, and I came down to a sea of cat litter spread all over the floor, and paw prints all over the work surfaces. It was like world war three had broken out. We also tried locking him in the living room but, because it’s under our bedroom, we could still hear Jasper meowing through the floorboards. Honestly, Laura, I can see George and me splitting up if we don’t do something soon.’
As she opened the back door, Laura had an idea. ‘Why don’t you leave the cat here for a few days? I’m sure we can find somewhere to put him where nobody would hear him if he starts making a racket.’
Jenny considered the suggestion for a couple of seconds before shaking her head. ‘But where? The only place that’s not within earshot of the guests is the dry store…’
She hesitated for a moment before turning back to Laura with an enlightened smile. ‘Having said that, I noticed a couple of mouse droppings in there when I was getting some more toilet rolls for housekeeping this afternoon. Perhaps having a cat around for a while might be a good idea.’
Igor, who was preparing sandwiches for one of the guests, dropped his knife on the metal work surface with such a loud clatter, Laura and Jenny nearly dropped the bags of empty bottles.
‘You no need cat!’ he almost screeched at Jenny when he turned to face her. ‘We have trops!’
Surprised by his reaction, Laura turned to Igor with a frown. ‘And have we caught any mice in the ‘trops’?’ she asked.
With a dumbfounded expression parked on his face as he tried to work out what to say for the best, Igor looked as though he’d just been asked to expand on Einstein’s theory of relativity. If he said no, then they might check out the mouse traps and find out he’d sabotaged them by jamming the springs. How would he be able to explain that? No, it was better to say yes, he was sure. ‘We cotch plenty of mice, we no need cat,’ he reiterated.
Laura could only imagine Igor was opposed to the idea of a cat being in the dry store because of his clandestine meetings with his girlfriend. But that wouldn’t matter if he was going to move into the redundant bedroom upstairs. The problem was, she wouldn’t be able to get the room cleared for a few days, and she didn’t want to mention it to him until she did. On the basis that he might have arranged another meeting with his girlfriend during the week, she suggested Jenny bring George’s cat over on Saturday.
Igor was nearly in tears. The possibility that Nadzia and her babies might be murdered by a cat was the last thing he’d expected…
As they walked towards the car park, Jenny suddenly stopped in her tracks after she looked up at the rear of the building, ‘Did you leave the lights on when you checked out the storeroom?’ she asked Laura over her shoulder.
When she looked up and saw the soft glow of the bedside lamp shining in the window, Laura’s jaw dropped open. She was certain she hadn’t turned the lamp back on after she cleaned it...
Author Notes |
The incorrect spelling of Igor's speech is deliberate.
Laura: The owner of the Bedford hotel. Jenny; A shareholder in the Bedford, and Laura's friend. Igor: The Sous chef at the Bedford who is secretly sleeping in the dry store because he hates staying at his uncle's house. Nazdia: The pregnant mouse Igor has befriended in the dry store. Jasper; Jenny's boyfriend's cat |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter;
With a dumbfounded expression parked on his face as he tried to work out what to say for the best, Igor looked as though he’d just been asked to expand on Einstein’s theory of relativity. If he said no, then they might check out the mouse traps and find out he’d sabotaged them by jamming the springs. How would he be able to explain that? No, it was better to say yes, he was sure. ‘We cotch plenty of mice, we no need cat,’ he reiterated.
Laura could only imagine Igor was opposed to the idea of a cat being in the dry store because of his secret, clandestine meetings with his girlfriend. But that wouldn’t matter if he was going to move into the unused bedroom upstairs. The problem was, she wouldn’t be able to get the room cleared for a few days, and she didn’t want to mention it to him until she did. On the basis that he might have arranged another meeting with his girlfriend during the week, she suggested Jenny bring George’s cat over on Saturday.
Igor was nearly in tears. The possibility that Nadzia and her babies might be murdered by a cat, was the last thing he’d expected…
Author Notes |
Please note that the incorrect spelling of Igor's speech is deliberate.
Laura: The owner of the Bedford hotel. Karen; The chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Jenny; A shareholder in the Bedford, and Laura's friend. Igor: The Sous chef at the Bedford who is secretly sleeping in the dry store because he hates staying at his uncle's house. Amazingly, he also loves mice! Nazdia: The pregnant mouse Igor has befriended in the dry store. Jasper; Jenny's boyfriend's cat. |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter;
‘I better make something for the hotel guests who might not like Polish food,’ Karen told him when she re-emerged from the dry store. ‘I thought I would make some Penne Carbonara, just in case.’
Igor doubted it would be necessary because he had picked six of the most popular Polish dishes that catered to the varied tastes of many nationalities. But Karen was the boss. If she wanted to make something else, then fair enough.
‘You want me to make?’ He asked over his shoulder as he stirred the huge pan of sausage and cabbage stew he’d made earlier. Karen shook her head. ‘No, it’s alright, Igor. You’ve got enough on your plate, and I’m feeling a bit redundant anyway. I’ve got everything I need right here, so I’ll just get on with it.’
Having tasted the stew, Igor decided to add a pinch more salt before turning around. When he did, the ladle in his hand dropped to the floor, the contents spraying his checked trousers with gravy. There, on the metal work surface in front of Karen, was the tin box Nazdia had given birth in two nights before…
Author Notes |
Please note that the incorrect spelling of Igor's speech is deliberate.
KP; Kitchen porter. Prep; Preparation of food prior to service in a restaurant. Laura: The owner of the Bedford hotel. Karen; The chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Jenny; A shareholder in the Bedford, and Laura's friend. Michelle; Karen's daughter who helps out in the kitchen. Igor: The Sous chef at the Bedford who is secretly sleeping in the dry store because he hates staying at his uncle's house. Nazdia: The pregnant mouse Igor has befriended in the dry store. Jasper; Jenny's boyfriend's cat |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter;
Igor downed his ice-cold lager with a satisfied gulp while he thought back to earlier in the evening. After he took the box containing Nazdia and her babies out to the car park, he’d hidden it behind the wheels of the huge refuse bin, after taking the lid off to check she was okay. This being his last night in the dry store before the dreaded cat arrived, he didn’t have a clue as to what he would do tomorrow, but at least Nazdia and her babies were safe for now…
Author Notes |
Please note that the incorrect spelling of Igor's speech is deliberate. Laura: The owner of the Bedford hotel. Karen; The chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Igor: The Sous chef at the Bedford who is secretly sleeping in the dry store because he hates staying at his uncle's house. Nazdia: The pregnant mouse Igor befriended in the dry store who has now given birth. |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter;
His beer drunk, Igor decided to call it a night. The softness and warmth of not only the cosy duvet but the fluffy pillows at his back, had the desired soporific effect. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp on the opposite side of the bed, before turning to the one on the table beside him. Just as his fingers reached the switch, the light went out…
Samantha looked down at Igor as he slept, one hand thrown back on the pillow, the other nestled close to his cheek. He reminded her of her lover before she died, and for the first time since she’d found herself trapped in the room, she didn’t feel angry because someone was invading her space. Unlike the other occupants before they stopped letting the room out, this one seemed different. There was a sincerity about him that was very endearing, and when she listened to his conversation with the woman who cleared the room, and saw his obvious enthusiasm when he found out he could sleep there, she’d warmed to him immediately.
‘Nazdia…’ he muttered in his sleep when she ran her finger across his open palm on the pillow. Samantha pulled her hand away as she felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. Was this new occupant in love with someone? If he was, she would do whatever she had to do to keep them out of this room. She had been alone for too long, with nothing to do other than learn the limitations of her powers via electricity, her only means to connect to the world she once lived in as an attractive, passionate woman.
Samantha reached down again and tried to move a lock of Igor’s hair from his cheek to behind his ear, but nothing happened. Or did it? His left hand suddenly brushed across his cheek exactly where her fingers had been. Could it be that he felt something? He’d mentioned the woman’s name when she touched his hand, so maybe he could. Perhaps they were bonded in some way that made them able to connect.
‘Can you hear me?’ she whispered in his ear.
This time Igor didn’t react, which disappointed Samantha more than she thought possible. She so missed having a man in her life. Andrew, the lover who had driven her to the edge of despair when he didn’t turn up in time six years ago, had filled her life with love and laughter after years of searching for a soul mate. Swallowing the sleeping pills she’d brought with her had seemed the only option at the time because she certainly didn’t want to live if he no longer loved her. The fact that he did, and had only been late because of a pile-up on the motorway, made that decision the worst in her life. By the time he eventually got there, Samantha was dead, and her spirit, which she felt floating above her body, could only watch the heart-breaking scene below when he rushed to her side and tried to shake her awake.
‘I love you, Samantha…’ he’d shouted at her lifeless corpse in his arms, the tears streaming down his face. ‘Jemma’s agreed to a divorce… That’s why I wanted to see you. To tell you we can be together.’
The irony of it still made Samantha weep every time she thought about it. Like a macabre work of art painted in her head, the memory plagued her night and day. Why didn’t she wait? When Andrew said he needed to talk to her face to face, she’d assumed he was going to end their relationship. Not for a moment did she think he would leave his wife, however loveless their marriage had become. When she checked into the Bedford, their usual meeting place, she only brought the pills with her in case her suspicions turned out to be correct. After waiting for nearly three hours, she stupidly assumed that they were.
As she looked back down at Igor sleeping peacefully, Samantha made a decision. No more playing with the lights or trying to make her presence felt. She wanted Igor to be happy here, so she wouldn’t be left alone again. She lay on the bed and pretended it was Andrew’s soft, rhythmical breathing she could hear beside her…
Author Notes |
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image.
Please note that the incorrect spelling of Igor's speech is deliberate. My thanks to clio85 for the use of this wonderful image. Laura: The owner of the Bedford hotel. Karen; The chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Igor: The Sous chef at the Bedford who was secretly sleeping in the dry store because he hated staying at his uncle's house. Nazdia: The pregnant mouse Igor befriended in the dry store who has now given birth and is hidden in a box behind the bin in the car park |
By alexisleech
The Previous chapter
Igor looked distracted when he answered Jenny, his eyes jumping between the pet box on the kitchen floor and the opened back door. ‘The room good,’ he answered distractedly. ‘I see you bring cat?’ he added, a look of concern etched on his face.
‘Yes, I’m just letting Jasper get used to the new surroundings. I know we can’t let him loose in the kitchen, so I thought I’d wait till he comes back in for his breakfast before I put him in the dry store. It seems a bit mean to have him locked in there 24/7 with a litter tray. It’s not a problem is it?’
Igor didn’t hang around long enough to answer her. When he realised Jasper was outside, he shot through the back door and ran over to the refuse bin to retrieve the box containing Nazdia and her babies, just as Jasper appeared from behind it licking his lips…
Author Notes |
Please note that the incorrect spelling of Igor's speech is deliberate.
Laura: The owner of the Bedford hotel. Jenny; Another friend of Laura's who's now in charge of housekeeping. Jasper; Jenny's boyfriend's cat who has come to stay at the Bedford for a few days. Karen; The chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Igor: The Sous chef at the Bedford who was secretly sleeping in the dry store before Laura turned the haunted storeroom on the second floor back into a bedroom for him. Nazdia: The pregnant mouse Igor befriended in the dry store, who has now given birth. |
By alexisleech
Igor, a Polish Sous chef, had been sleeping secretly in the dry store of the Bedford hotel until his boss, Laura, overheard him talking to his pet mouse, Nazdia, one night. Assuming he was only using the dry store for occasional, clandestine meetings with his girlfriend, she converted the long abandoned storeroom on the second floor back into a bedroom. She hoped it wasn’t haunted, as past rumors suggested, but at least Igor would be able to meet his girlfriend there instead.
Author Notes |
My thanks to Renate-Bertodi from Fan Art for the use of this excellent image
Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Nazdia; The mouse Igor befriended when he was secretly sleeping in the dry store. Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncles house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter
Unaware of what was going on upstairs in his bedroom, Igor had changed into a fresh chef’s jacket, and joined Catarina's family in the bar for a drink. He was delighted to see that the only chair available in the tightly squeezed group of ten was next to her. Within seconds of him sitting down, they were deep in conversation, the need to speak English abandoned.
The ridiculous sight of Mazeija flying through the reception area as she attempted to pull her dress back over her head, made everyone in the bar crane their necks to try and see what all the commotion was about. Not Igor. As he stared into Catarina’s beautiful blue eyes, he was totally oblivious to everything that was going on around him…
Author Notes |
Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel
Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Nazdia; The mouse Igor befriended when he was secretly sleeping in the dry store. Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncles house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the night before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. She is determined not to frighten Igor though, because she loves having him there. |
By alexisleech
Because Igor had been in the bar talking to his new girlfriend, and Laura hadn’t been at the reception desk, neither of them witnessed the hasty and undignified exit of the scantily dressed and corpulent Mazeija after the ghost, Samantha, scared her off.
The following day, Igor tells Laura he has fallen in love, so she assumes he’s referring to the ghastly Mazeija, not Catarina, the beautiful Polish girl he had admired from a distance at his local gym, but in fact had only met for the first time the night before.
Determined to get rid of the woman Laura thinks is Igor’s girlfriend, Laura decides to make sure Mazeija thinks there is a ghost in Igor’s room, should she return.
Igor couldn’t get over how well he and Catarina were getting on. During the week, they met every day at the gym, and afterwards they would sit in the coffee shop and tell each other about their lives before and after they arrived in the UK, their eyes holding each other’s gaze in a way that showed equal respect and admiration. The fact they could relax and talk in their native tongue made it all the more perfect.
By the following Friday, Igor was walking on air. Although they’d touched occasionally when they sat opposite each other at the coffee shop, they were only momentary digit clashes, when they both reached for the same thing at the table. When Catarina not only took Igor’s hand after they got up to leave, but kissed him on the lips before they parted in front of the leisure complex, Igor knew she felt the same way about him, as he felt about her. Friday was her night off at the bar where she worked, so they arranged to meet at the hotel after Igor finished in the kitchen. After he told Catarina his room number, and assured her he’d leave the door unlocked, they shared one last kiss that left neither of them in any doubt as to what might happen later that evening.
Author Notes |
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image.
Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Nazdia; The mouse Igor befriended when he was secretly sleeping in the dry store. Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncles house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the night before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. She is determined not to frighten Igor though, because she loves having him there. |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter.
Samantha was relieved when the sound of the fridge motor kicking in heralded the return of the electricity supply to Igor’s room. The frustration of not being able to play with the lights, or any of the other electrical appliances for that matter, had left her feeling totally frustrated. Now she could get rid of that wretched girl…
Author Notes |
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image.
Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Karen; The head chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncles house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the week before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. She is determined not to frighten Igor though because she loves having him there. |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter
Laura had decided to scare off the woman she thought was Igor’s girlfriend by switching off the lights in his room and ringing her mobile with the recently acquired, ghostly ringtone, which she’d hidden under his bed earlier on. Fortunately, she finds out that the girl waiting for Igor is not the corpulent Mazeija who had turned up the week before, but a pretty Polish girl he’d met at the gym, so she aborts her plan, before calling it a night and making her way up to her top floor flat.
Author Notes |
For those who haven't read the previous chapters, the 'ghostly' voice is actually the ringtone on Laura's mobile phone, which she hid under the bed because she wanted to frighten Mazeija, the woman she mistakenly thought was Igor's girlfriend.
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image. Please note Igor's speech is sometimes spelt incorrectly deliberately. Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Karen; The head chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncle's house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the week before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. She is determined not to frighten Igor though because she loves having him there. Andrew; The lover who turned up too late to stop Samantha from committing suicide several years before. |
By alexisleech
Laura had decided to scare off the woman she thought was Igor’s girlfriend by switching off the lights in his room and ringing her mobile with the recently acquired, ghostly ringtone that she’d hidden under his bed. Fortunately, she finds out the girl waiting for Igor is not the corpulent Mazeija who had turned up the week before, but a pretty Polish girl he’d met at the gym, so she aborts her plan. On the way to her top floor flat, she bumps into Igor. He’s in a state of panic because Catarina nearly passed out when he kissed her. Unbeknown to either of them, Samantha had possessed Catarina's body while they kissed, but she jumped back out again when Catarina felt faint. Satisfied that Catarina is fine, Laura leaves them in peace and goes to her flat. After she leaves, Igor and Catarina make love, then Igor walks her home.
From the previous chapter
Samantha lay on the bed where Igor and Catarina had made love before their hasty departure. Watching them had unsettled her so much. It had reminded her of how it was with Andrew. Their nights together at the hotel were not only passionate, but loving as well, and just like Igor and Catarina, they had talked as lovers do afterwards, their bodies flushed with the afterglow of their lovemaking. She closed her eyes and imagined his arms around her, his lips on hers, and the aching inside her was so intense she could hardly bear it.
‘Oh, Andrew,’ she cried. ‘I miss you so much…’
Her eyes snapped open when the sound of a ghostly voice filled the room.
Author Notes |
For those who haven't read the previous chapters, the 'ghostly' voice is actually the ringtone on Laura's mobile phone, which she hid under the bed because she wanted to frighten Mazeija, the woman she mistakenly thought was Igor's girlfriend.
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image. Please note Igor's speech is sometimes spelt incorrectly deliberately. Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Karen; The head chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncle's house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the week before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. She is determined not to frighten Igor though because she loves having him there. Andrew; The lover who turned up too late to stop Samantha from committing suicide several years before. |
By alexisleech
On the way to her flat at the end of the evening, Laura bumps into an agitated Igor on the landing. Unbeknown to either of them, Samantha, the resident ghost, had jumped into Catarina’s body so she could experience the effect of Igor’s kiss, but she jumped back out again when Catarina felt faint. Satisfied that Catarina is fine, Laura leaves them in peace and goes to her flat. After she leaves, Igor and Catarina make love, after which Igor walks Catarina home. Unbeknown to Laura, Karen rings her secreted mobile with the newly acquired ‘spooky’ ringtone, which convinces Samantha her lover had died and has come to take her to hell. When the phone rings for a second time, just before Laura walks into the room to retrieve her mobile during Igor’s absence, Samantha doesn’t hesitate to jump into her body so she can escape her suspected fate.
Karen threw down the phone on the bed as she let out a snort of frustration. It was now midnight and Laura still wasn’t answering her mobile. ‘I’ll try the hotel number one last time,’ she told Mark, who by this time was in a great state of excitement having massaged her bare back in anticipation of making love.
The phone rang five times, and Karen let out a sigh of relief when Laura answered. ‘Thank goodness!’ she told her as she pushed Mark’s wandering hand away from where it had crept around to her front and deposited itself on her left breast. ‘I’ve tried to get hold of you a few times since I left. I didn’t wake you up, did I?
Laura flopped down in the armchair in her sitting room, the phone clutched to her ear. ‘Sorry, I was helping Igor out earlier, and I had to nip downstairs for something five minutes ago. I just missed your call. What’s up?’
When Karen explained that the back door might be unlocked, Laura assured her she’d go downstairs to sort it out. The chance of her bumping into any guests at this time of night was negligible, so she said goodbye and tightened the belt on her fleecy robe before setting off for the kitchen.
‘So, where was I?’ Mark asked as his hand slipped back to Karen’s front, his fingers like a spider’s legs racing across her skin.
She reached over and put her phone back on the bedside table before pulling back the duvet and sliding into his arms…
Author Notes |
Contrary to popular belief, there are still thousands of these antiquated chillers in existence in the UK that have a latch handle on the outside, but no means to open them from the inside. Although all new models have a safety device to stop this happening, most hoteliers make do with these death traps until they break down and have to be replaced.
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image. Please note Igor's speech is sometimes spelt incorrectly deliberately. Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Karen; The head chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncle's house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the week before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. She is determined not to frighten Igor though because she loves having him there. Andrew; The lover who turned up too late to stop Samantha from committing suicide several years before. |
By alexisleech
It was only when he got back to the Bedford that Igor remembered he hadn’t locked the kitchen door before he shot up to his room to meet with Catarina, and although he assumed Karen would have done it for him, he thought he better check it out as soon as he got back. Sure enough, the door was unlocked, so he turned the key and slid the bolt into place. After that, he checked nothing was missing from the walk-in chiller. Satisfied that everything seemed to be in place, he turned around to leave just as the door slammed shut in his face.
Igor had no idea how long it would take for his body temperature to drop to the point when hypothermia set in, or indeed how long it would take for the oxygen to run out, but he knew one thing for sure. He wouldn’t last until seven in the morning when his absence would be noticed by either Laura when she came down to reception, or the first guest who arrived looking for their breakfast at seven-thirty when the dining room opened.
He and Karen had often joked about the antiquated walk-in chiller and the fact it couldn’t be opened from the inside. Karen had even suggested she’d lock him in it to ‘cool’ him down from time to time when something happened in the kitchen that had him running around like a demented warthog as he let rip with a stream of Polish profanities. Never for a moment had he thought the joke could actually come to fruition. Now he was trapped in an eight by ten tomb, with no light or means to escape, and the reality of it was deadly serious.
‘IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE?’ he shouted at the top of his voice two stunned seconds after the door shut.
Obviously not. Even if they were, the insulation required to keep the chiller at the correct temperature meant his coffin was soundproofed as well. The only connection to the outside world was the fan shaft situated on the back wall, and that vented out to the carpark at the back of the building. Even if he could open it up, and that was a big if, there would be nobody out there who could hear him. That said, did he have any other option but to try? Although he’d only been in there for ten minutes, he was already beginning to feel the cold seeping through his body because he was only wearing the tee-shirt and jeans he’d thrown on to walk Catarina home. With no sleeves to protect him, the hairs on his arms had already arched over the goose bumps on his skin in an attempt to trap his body heat. As his fingers began to numb, Igor tentatively moved to the back of the chiller and felt around for the grill in front of the fan.
Author Notes |
Contrary to popular belief, there are still many of these antiquated chillers in existence in the UK that have a latch handle on the outside, but no means to open them from the inside. Although all new models have a safety device to stop this happening, most hoteliers make do until they break down and have to be replaced.
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image. Please note Igor's speech is sometimes spelt incorrectly deliberately. Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Karen; The head chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncle's house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the week before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all guests who slept in it. She is determined not to frighten Igor though because she loves having him there. Andrew; The lover who turned up too late to stop Samantha from committing suicide several years before. |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter;
As she floated along the hallway, Samantha felt a sense of freedom for the first time since she died. She could actually feel the wind wafting through the window as it lifted her long, blonde hair from her shoulders and it fanned out behind her like a ghostly veil. As she luxuriated in the fact she could stand at the window and feel the warm summer breeze, Samantha wondered if this could be another means of escape should the hellish transporter return. At least she couldn’t fall to her death, she mused with a silent chuckle. What was the worst that could happen? Determined to find an alternative escape route, should the necessity arise, Samantha willed her translucent body to float through the window.
Her body weightless, Samantha took flight across the carpark like a bird on the wing, dipping and diving as she made her way towards the ground. When she eventually landed beside the recycling bin at the rear of the building, she looked down at her feet and marvelled at the fact the impact had caused no sensation. Was this payback for being a ghost for so long? She certainly hadn’t had this much fun since she’d died. She did a couple of floating twirls before looking up at the back of the building that had imprisoned her for nearly six years.
Catch me if you can, she thought defiantly when she remembered the ghostly voice she’d heard earlier in Igor’s room. As far as she was concerned she had never done anything bad enough to justify being dragged off to hell, and as much as she loved Andrew, the man who had been the centre of her universe, the thought of him linking her to such a horrendous fate created a need inside her to fight back. All she’d done was love someone, so she didn’t feel guilty about believing Andrew when he told her his marriage was over. If he lied, then why should she be eternally damned because of it?
When she heard the muffled cry for help, Samantha nearly jumped out of the skin she no longer owned.
‘Igor?’ she gasped as she floated towards the grill in the wall.
Two hours before, she had watched him walk out of his room when he insisted on walking Catarina home. Why was he now calling for help? There was no doubt it was him, of that she was sure—but where was he? His room was on the second floor, and a quick glance up at his window confirmed the lights were off, so why was he calling out from somewhere near the car park?
The fact she hadn’t worked out how to pass through solid objects frustrated Samantha for the second time that day. As did the fact that the only way she could communicate with the mortal race was by interfering with the electricity supply of inanimate objects.
‘I LOCKED IN CHILLER…’ she heard Igor call out, which made her stand back from the wall and stare at the metal grill where his voice had come from. Was this some kind of game he was playing? If it was, Samantha wasn’t impressed. She half expected to see him staring back at her when she pressed her face up to the bars so she could look beyond them, but she couldn’t make out anything except the metal blades of a fan.
Resigned to the fact there was nothing she could do, Samantha floated back up to the hallway window of Laura’s flat.
Author Notes |
My thanks to Cleo85 for the use of this wonderful image.
Please note Igor's speech is sometimes spelt incorrectly deliberately. Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Karen; The head chef at the Bedford, and Laura's friend Mazeija; Igor's half cousin who caused him to leave his uncle's house after he arrived in the UK because of her unending sexual advances. Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the week before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all the guests with her ghostly antics. She is now convinced that the sound of Laura's ghostly ringtone on her mobile phone was actually her lover, who she thinks has died and been sent to take her to hell. Andrew; The lover who turned up too late to stop Samantha from committing suicide several years before. |
By alexisleech
From the previous chapter;
An icy chill ran down Laura’s spine as she stood shaking in the middle of the kitchen. With no window to offer any light from the moon or the street lamps, she couldn’t see a thing. What if this ghost wasn’t friendly, and it meant to do her some harm? What if it possessed her and made her do things she didn't want to do? She was so scared, she literally wet herself. The warm trickle travelled down her legs and spilt over her bare feet forming a small puddle around her. Without any light, it was impossible for her to move safely because of the shards of glass from the smashed jar of coffee. 'Please...' she begged. 'Please, turn the light on...'
A minute later, Samantha complied, and Laura couldn’t believe what she saw when she looked down at her feet. There on the white tiled floor in front of her were the words Igor is trapped in the chiller, written in an ink made from instant coffee and hot liquid fear…
Author Notes |
Laura; The owner of the Bedford hotel
Igor; The Sous chef at the Bedford hotel Jenny; Laura's friend who is a partner in the hotel and runs housekeeping Catarina; The Polish girl Igor has admired many times at his local gym, but only met for the first time the week before. Samantha; The Bedford's resident ghost who had been without company for years because her room was turned into a storeroom after she frightened all the guests who slept in it. Having heard the 'spooky' ringtone coming from Laura's mobile phone secreted under Igor's bed, she is now convinced it is an evil spirit trying to take her to hell. |
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