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...