Chapter Nine

It was a few minutes after three and there was still no sign of Robin. Evie didn’t mind. She knew Jane would keep him talking. Jane Dorset loved to talk. Evie was alone in the reception. Raven was outside, probably being more of a hindrance than a help but at least she was happy. Jessie was having an afternoon nap in her room and Molly  had nipped over the bridge to take some mince pies to Winnie and Arthur Beadleshaw, who lived in Water’s Edge, one of the two, semi-detached Victorian villas at the far end of the tiny village. Evie had made tea for herself, her dad, Roland and Raven and was just about to take a sip when the landline rang.

‘Snowflake Inn, Evie speaking. How may I help you?’

‘I want to book some rooms,’ a rather prim voice said.

‘Some rooms?’ Evie liked the sound of that. ‘Yes, of course. How many would you like and when are you hoping to stay with us?’

‘We’ll be with you by tomorrow evening. Possibly late afternoon. It depends on traffic.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Is that a problem? You’ve got rooms, haven’t you?’

Evie didn’t like this woman’s tone. She sounded somewhat demanding. She’d no doubt be the type who’d complain about not being able to drive to the door.

‘As it happens, we do have one or two rooms vacant due to a cancellation. How many do you require?’ There was no way Evie was telling this woman that she could virtually take her pick. Only two of the fifteen guest rooms were taken – and one of those was by Raven.

‘Ten.’

‘Ten!’ Evie coughed uncontrollably.

‘Are you choking on something?’ The woman sounded more irritated at the delay than concerned for Evie’s health.

‘Sorry. I had a bit of a tickle in my throat. Um. Ten rooms. From tomorrow night. Until when?’

‘Six until Christmas Eve. The other four until the 27th. I’ve had a quick look at your website and they all seem to be doubles, is that right?’

‘Um. Yes. Sorry. Until the 27th. So … you want to stay with us for Christmas?’

‘Six of us, yes. Is that a problem?’

‘Six? I thought you said four.’

‘Four rooms, six people.’

‘Oh. I see. Um. The thing is …’ Evie hesitated. ‘May I ask you to hold for just one second please whilst I check availability?’

‘Fine.’

What should she do? The inn usually closed to guests the day before Christmas Eve and reopened the day after Boxing Day. It said that on the website, but if this woman had only taken a quick look perhaps she hadn’t seen that. Or perhaps she didn’t care. The Starrs liked to spend Christmas together as a family, not running around after guests. With finances the way they were though, could they really afford to turn down this sort of booking? Her dad and Roland were fixing tiles on the roof; her mum hadn’t taken her phone to the Beadleshaw’s house and her gran was no doubt sound asleep. Evie didn’t have time to run outside and ask her dad.

She made a snap decision. If her family disagreed, she’d have to phone the woman back and say there had been a mistake. Better to do that than stall now and risk the woman looking elsewhere for rooms.

‘I’m pleased to say it seems we should be able to accommodate you. May I take a name, please? And for such a large booking, it is customary for us to take a non-refundable deposit. I hope that isn’t a problem. We accept all major credit and debit cards.’

‘Give me a moment.’ The woman seemed to be searching amongst some papers judging by the muffled rustling Evie could hear in the background. ‘OK. The booking will be in the name of Thorn. It’s an Amex card and the number is—’

‘Thorn! Did … did you say Thorn?’

‘Yes.’

‘As in … Zachary Thorn?’

‘No.’

Evie breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Joshua Thorn. But he is Zachary’s grandfather. Why?’

Evie broke out in a cold sweat. ‘No reason. Um. But I will need to speak to the cardholder to make the booking.’

‘I am the cardholder. As I would have told you if you hadn’t interrupted.’

‘Oh. I do apologise.’ Evie ground her teeth. ‘May I … may I take the names of the other guests, please?’

‘All of them? Now? Can’t I email them to you later?’

‘Yes. Yes of course. That’s fine. But … may I just ask if …?’ Evie let her voice trail off. She couldn’t say it.

‘Yes. Zachary Thorn will be one of the six people staying over Christmas, if that’s what you want to know. And I somehow suspect it is. Are you going to take this credit card number or not? I’m exceptionally busy today and I don’t have time for a fan-girl moment. This has all come out of the blue and I have a million things to do before tomorrow.’

Join the club, Evie was tempted to say. Instead she said, ‘I’m not a fan-girl. I’m simply curious because I spoke to Mr Thorn yesterday. Zachary, not Joshua. I understood he was staying at The Grand Hotel in Michaelmas Bay. I hadn’t realised he’d still be down this way over the holidays so I’m a little surprised, that’s all. I’m ready for the long number on the card, whenever you are.’

The woman reeled off the number.

‘And the name on the card?’

‘Ms Felicia Porter-Brunsnorth.’

Evie might have guessed it would be a double-barrelled name. She grinned as she asked for the expiry date followed by the security code and, as soon as the booking system – another recent improvement that had cost a fortune to install – accepted it, Evie thanked Ms Porter-Brunsnorth for her custom.

‘May I take your telephone number, please, in case we need to contact you?’ Evie asked, and typed the number she was given into the system.

‘I’m Joshua Thorn’s personal assistant. Please ensure all future contact about this booking comes to me. By the way, what’s this business about getting across the bridge? Is that a joke? I can imagine some people find that sort of thing oddly quaint, but I’m not one of them and nor is Mr Thorn. I assume I can drive to the door and have my car parked.’

‘Sadly not, Ms Porter-Brunsnorth. The bridge is far too narrow and there’s no car park on Snowflake Isle. But don’t worry. There is a small car park in Snowflake Cove and it’s directly opposite the bridge. The horse and carriage will be there waiting for you if you let us know your anticipated time of arrival. We’d appreciate being advised of travel delays though. We only need twenty minutes’ notice to be ready.’

‘This is ridiculous. I saw the photo on the website and that is a cart, not a carriage. I really can’t see Joshua climbing into some old cart. You do know who he is, don’t you?’

‘Zachary’s grandfather. You told me just now.’

Felicia sighed as if she were dealing with a child. ‘Joshua Thorn is one of the richest men in the UK. Quite why he wants to stay at your rather odd little establishment I’m not at all sure, but I am sure he will change his mind once he hears of this.’

Evie fumed in silence. How she would love to have said, ‘Perhaps you should have read the bloody note about transport properly and checked with him before booking then, you stuck-up cow. It’s big enough for anyone to see.’ But again, she retained her composure.

‘I am sorry to hear that. I hope he doesn’t. The carriage is extremely comfortable but we do understand that it isn’t to everyone’s taste, which is why we make it abundantly clear on the website. It’s a pleasant walk, if he’d prefer, but if you do decide to cancel, the deposit is non-refundable, as I believe I did mention. Perhaps you would be kind enough to get back to me if there is a problem.’

Felicia tutted. ‘I’ll speak to him the moment he’s free and send you an email either way. Goodbye.’

She didn’t wait for a reply, so Evie blew a long, loud raspberry into the phone before thumping it back into its stand. Now she would have to tell her family that they may or may not have six people staying over the holidays – unless she waited for the email from the delightful Felicia before she broke the news. That would be the best course of action. No point in causing a possible row unless it was a confirmed booking.

Well, this was shaping up to be a merry little Christmas, wasn’t it? Especially if Felicia, the harpy with two names, was coming to stay at the inn. She might possibly be worse than Zachary Thorn and his apparently, obscenely rich grandfather who was clearly far too up himself to take a five-minute journey in a carriage.

OK. It was a cart. But it was a very comfortable cart and was far better than walking if it was pouring with rain. And if they did decide to come to stay, it no doubt would be. Evie was almost certain of that.