Читать книгу Sunshine at Daisy’s Guesthouse: A heartwarming summer romance to escape with in 2018! - Lottie Phillips - Страница 14

Three days later, having helped assign furniture to various rooms and overseen the making of the guesthouse, Daisy had realised she had to face the sea of tweed that was Waitrose in Cirencester. A bed and breakfast was not much good without the breakfast part. She had been surprised at how easy it had been and was now safely ensconced in her own kitchen. She began to unpack all the ridiculously elaborate goodies she had bought. James, who was to be their accountant, had told her just to have fun with it, budgeting was for down the line.

‘How did that go?’ James’s voice behind her and she turned to find him in the doorway.

‘Well,’ she said, holding up two boxes of eggs, ‘I’m pretty sure these are just eggs but as everything else in the store has been seeped in Madagascan vanilla pods or been allowed to have the sea breeze of Antigua rush over them, I wouldn’t be surprised if these eggs aren’t just eggs but eggs from a hen with its own masseuse and pool.’

James chuckled. ‘Yeah but our guests will be appreciative, I’m sure.’ He smiled. ‘In fact, I can hear a car now.’

Daisy’s heart started hammering. What on earth were they doing? People were traveling to them: the pressure was immense! But, also, somewhere deep down something shifted, a kind of unwillingness to let go of her space even further. It was one thing to allow her friends in but strangers…

Then a thought occurred to her. They didn’t even have a sodding reception desk! She hurtled past James who followed closely behind. Tom was ushering the dream team out the back door, their shirts draped casually over their buff shoulders. She waved politely and then addressed Tom. ‘We haven’t even got a reception desk!’

‘You don’t need one,’ Tom said as he checked off something else on his clipboard.

‘I want to feel like we’ve got this covered,’ she said and in one fell swoop, grabbed a sideboard in the hall, twisting it into position, took a vase of flowers from off the other table and James handed her an ancient Indian bell – an anniversary present from Hugh – just as their guest entered the hall. She moved from around the sideboard and stepped forward to greet the man.

‘Oh. My. God.’ A voice boomed across the hall. ‘This is unbelievable.’ The accent was not English but the most amazing drawl of a real-life Texan. Daisy’s heart flipped with excitement. They had international visitors.

A man with a cowboy hat and boots with actual spurs stepped forward, his baby-blue gingham shirt just about containing the overhanging waistline, helped by an opal-encrusted belt thread through his jeans’ belt loops.

‘Hi, I’m Bob,’ he said assuredly. ‘Bob from the Hamptons.’ He smiled, a smile so wide it filled the frame of his face. ‘Actually, I lie. I’m from Texas but I live in the Hamptons now.’

Daisy held out her hand. ‘Daisy – welcome to Atworth Manor.’

Tom pushed himself forward. ‘I loved Dallas,’ he enthused and James nodded in agreement.

‘Dallas, huh?’ Bob said. ‘Yeah, that was shot down the road from where I used to live.’

Lisa skipped down the stairs, talking loudly as she went, her face a sweaty mess, totally unaware of their guest in the hall. ‘I’ve just finished. Oh my God, Tom, what were you thinking inviting people to stay before we had even furnished the…’

Daisy had fixed a grin to her face and was giving Lisa a hard stare.

‘What’s up, Daisy? If looks could kill…’ She turned her head to the mountain of a man blocking out the natural light. ‘Oh, holy crap, this is our guest, isn’t it?’

Daisy nodded.

Bob let out a roar of laughter. ‘Only just finished! You mean to say that this pretty little lady here—’ he indicated Lisa with a warm smile ‘—has been rushing her tiny, English feet off to get ready for me?’ He paused. ‘I’m a cowboy at heart, folks. I would’ve been happy under canvas in your back yard.’

‘Probably not a fair swap for your money,’ Daisy offered. ‘But thank you for…’ She realised Bob and Lisa were staring at each other in a strange manner and she coughed, breaking up the moment. ‘Anyway, shall I show you to your room?’

‘That’d be great, honey.’ Then he tapped in his head. ‘I tell you what, if this weren’t screwed on… I’ve forgotten something. And that something is my other half.’

Daisy nodded and Lisa excused herself.

‘I’ll only be a tick,’ Bob laughed. ‘That’s what I learnt from some English folks this morning. A tick!’ He chuckled. ‘Isn’t that what dogs get…’ He paused. ‘Oh, speaking of, I’ll go and get my little lady love.’

Daisy watched the hulk of a man leave and she turned urgently to the others. ‘Is everything ready?’

Tom crossed something off on his list with a flourish. ‘Be charming as hell to guest. Done.’ He nodded. ‘All done, dear Daisy, and James and I are just about to lock ourselves away and discuss budgets.’

James looked vaguely alarmed at the concept.

‘You look frightened,’ Daisy commented.

‘Worrying for a man who worked in the city!’ Tom hooted.

‘I don’t think that’s the bit that’s scaring him.’ Daisy laughed as Bob walked back in with just a bag.

Tom and James excused themselves and Daisy indicated the lack of wife.

‘Um, did you forget your, um…’

‘Oh, she’s in here.’ He held up his leather weekend bag.

‘Right.’ Daisy nodded, wondering if it really was wise to open one’s house to complete strangers with perhaps a variety of issues.

Then, much to her surprise, the bag moved and she stared at the opening. Suddenly a soft chestnut-coloured Chihuahua’s head popped out.

‘Here she is, my little lady.’ Bob kissed her on the head. ‘Her name’s Barbara. Had to bring her to England with me so she could see the sights, drink tea.’

‘Oh,’ Daisy laughed, almost relieved. ‘How lovely. Does she like other dogs because we’ve got a couple of border terriers, Ant and Dec, hanging about.’

‘Well, if they’re male, she’ll like them.’ He winked. ‘She’s named after Barbara Cartland and she’s a highly-sexed little pooch, though I can assure you she’s been dealt with if you know what I mean.’

‘Has Barbara enjoyed herself so far?’

‘Hell yeah,’ Bob hooted. ‘She’s seen Buckingham Palace and I showed her a picture of the Queen with her corgis. She thought that was awesome.’ He trailed off and Daisy couldn’t be sure if he was pulling her leg or not.

‘Brilliant. Lovely.’ Daisy felt so British and formal next to this man, she wished she could offer him an American welcome with cheerleaders and a BBQ, but it would have to do. ‘Let me show you your room.

Lisa reappeared at the top of the stairs, a strange smile on her face. ‘I’ll show you, just follow me.’

Daisy went to excuse herself: Lisa was clearly keen to show Bob herself but Lisa, reading her thoughts, said, ‘Come, too, Daisy. It’s your house after all. Come and see what me and the boys have done.’

They duly followed Lisa up the stairs and towards the very first room Daisy had opened up yesterday. Lisa pushed the door open and stepped back and Bob, as if he knew this was a momentous moment for them all, on so many levels, took off his hat.

The room was beautiful. The white bedstead adorned with the greys covers looked warm and inviting, the tartan curtains made it cosy and Lisa had even thought of reed diffusers and soft lighting.

Daisy’s breath caught as she thought she could almost hear Hugh sigh with contentment. He would have been happy.

‘Are you alright, Ms Daisy?’ said Bob, noticing her moist eyes.

‘Yes, sorry, fine.’ She brushed them away. ‘Just a big moment, you being our first guest and…’ She didn’t finish. This wasn’t the time to explain her life story.

‘Well, I sure am honoured,’ he said, his face serious and eyes filled with compassion. ‘And to you, Miss…? He looked at Lisa.

‘Lisa,’ she said, blushing.

Daisy had finally twigged. She hadn’t seen Lisa this lost for words in well… never. Lisa had fallen in love with their first guest.

‘I’ll head back downstairs. Do shout if you need anything…’

‘Yes, thank you, Ms Daisy.’

She gave a small smile at his polite affectation. He was certainly the loveliest first guest they could have wished for.

‘Lisa will let you know about keys and breakfast and so on…’ Lisa wasn’t really listening but Daisy could see from the new lock on the door and sheath of keys hanging from Lisa’s pocket, her friends had all the details under control.

She decided to head down to Hugh’s office. She had told everyone the room was off limits so she knew she could gather her thoughts there.

She smiled at them as she turned on her heels and went down stairs. Alarmed, she thought she heard voices coming from Hugh’s office and picked up her pace as she made her way towards the familiar oak door. That couldn’t be right; she had told them to stay away.

She pushed it open and, to her horror, James and Tom were sat on the leather chesterfield in the corner, papers adorning the coffee table. They didn’t even notice her, they were laughing so hard about something – she thought she heard snippets of Dallas storylines – that it was only when she was stood over them, they stopped.

‘Hey, Daisy, everything OK?’ Tom said.

Her body was rigid with anger, her fists in tight balls at her side. ‘I told you,’ she said in a heated whisper, ‘to stay out of this room.’ Her voice caught and tears began to cascade down her cheeks.

James immediately leapt up, his face ashen. ‘Oh shit, I’m so sorry, Daisy, I completely forgot.’

Tom nodded, shuffling the papers together. ‘Yes, we forgot. It was my idea. I guess I wasn’t thinking.’ He paused. ‘The door was open…’

James started, ‘We had a key—’

‘I’ve got the only key…’ She shook her head, distress fizzing at edges of her thoughts. ‘Get out,’ Daisy breathed quietly, her voice strangled with emotion. ‘Get out.’

They moved past her. Tom tried to put his hand on her arm and she shook him off.

‘Just go.’

Once the door had been firmly shut behind them, she collapsed onto the sofa sobbing. She felt as if she was losing her connection with Hugh, like he was slipping from her grasp and with every person in her house and every person moving about Hugh’s space, she would lose sight of him altogether.

They had moved Hugh’s favourite bowl from Indonesia to the side as well as the the drinks mat that Daisy knew he kept on the left-hand side of the table. Hugh would lie across the sofa, cup in easy reach, stop reading and admire the oak tree outside as its leaves changed from season to season. Quite often she would bring him a fresh coffee late at night, when he was working on figures for a client, and find him asleep, his specs dangling from one hand, the quiet purring of sleep as his chest rose and fell.

She placed her hand on the cool leather now and wished more than ever that she could feel Hugh’s warmth, his life.

Daisy rose from the sofa, put the bowl back as it was, realigned the mat and went to sit at his desk. She’d actually never sat there when he was alive. She knew it was his space and he needed that but now, she would do anything to feel close to him, and so she sat there and wept.

She hoped their guest, Bob (and Barbara), wouldn’t hear her. He had been invited to a boutique B&B, not a wake.

That was when she noticed it; she had never seen it before. A box. A steel metal box, the kind you might file important papers in, under the desk. She bent down to retrieve it but it was too heavy to pick up, so instead she crouched on her hands and knees to see if it would open.

It was locked shut, requiring a small key. Hugh had never mentioned such a box and surely, of all the people in the world, he would have told her its contents. She needed to get inside but, without a key, she would have to smash the lock and that felt like sacrilege.

She sat up again, her brows furrowed, and felt a twinge of guilt at even contemplating breaking into it. It was Hugh’s box and she was sure that whatever was inside couldn’t have been that important. Maybe it was information for some high profile clients.

Daisy looked at it one last time and decided to forget she had even come upon it. It was no more her business now than when Hugh was alive.

She pushed her shoulders back, checked the room had been fully restored to how it had been and looked at the ceiling.

‘Sorry, Hugh. They weren’t meant to come in here. It won’t happen again.’ She cocked her head to the side and gave the ceiling a wry smile. ‘Love you.’

She left quietly, glancing at the leather Chesterfield and whispered, ‘I’ll bring you a coffee later.’

Shutting the door, she barely noticed James sat on the stairs. He shot to his feet when she came out.