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…