‘I don’t know really. I just wanted to do something slightly different. If you like it, I can do some for the bedrooms.’
‘That would be great, they’ll look amazing. And they smell absolutely gorgeous.’ She ran her finger over the willow branches. Tom had kept some of them in their natural state but a couple he’d spray painted silver and it added a touch of festive sparkle.
Tom blushed as he always did whenever he paid her a compliment or she paid him one. ‘How were the Summertons this morning?’
‘Good. They’re so lovely and they love the room. And I’ve just had some American guy turn up wanting a room for three weeks!’ She bounced onto her tiptoes. ‘He said he’s visiting family. I was really worried that once the Limstocks had gone I wouldn’t have anyone here, but I’ve got two lots of guests! Two!’
‘I told you things would pick up, didn’t I? And we’ll see what this fab marketing team have come up with in a bit.’ Tom’s voice dripped with derision as he puffed one of the Christmas cushions and sat in the armchair by the fire. He believed that Nell knew everything there was to know about the business and if she put her mind to it, she’d figure out the best ways to market the place. But she was feeling a bit insecure at the moment, particularly about herself and the future of Holly Lodge, which made it hard to look at things objectively.
‘It’s a free consultation to see if we want a full-on marketing package. I’ve got nothing to lose. We might learn something that neither of us would ever have thought of.’
‘All right,’ Tom said, sliding his coat down his shoulders.
‘I do feel a little bit guilty about the way we left the Langdon Mansion last night though. I mean, I know the whole spider thing wasn’t my fault—’
‘And Bryan with a Y treated you appallingly.’
Nell nodded. ‘And Bryan with a Y treated me appallingly, but …’
‘But?’ Tom reached down and began unfurling some more of the fake tree branches ready to hand to Nell.
‘But …’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It feels a little bit like I’ve stolen their guests.’ Tom shook his head at her and even though his gaze was kind, she bristled. ‘What?’
‘You just make me laugh, that’s all. It’s not like you went in there wearing a sandwich board advertising your hotel. We went for a quiet dinner, they treated you badly and you end up feeling guilty. You’ve always cared too much about other people.’
‘I’m going to take that as a compliment.’
‘It’s a wonderful quality. It’s what makes you different to …’
When he didn’t finish Nell looked up. ‘To who?’
Tom kept his eyes on the tree and Nell couldn’t understand why he was so embarrassed. ‘To everyone really.’ Then he brightened. ‘Have we got time for a coffee before the marketing gurus arrive?’
‘I think so. I’ll go and make some in a second and get a tray ready for the meeting.’
Mr Scrooge appeared at the window again, rubbing his body against the pane asking to come in. Nell opened it and as Mr Scrooge climbed in, he gave one look at the half-built enormous fake Christmas tree and decided it wasn’t worth his time before finding a chair to sit in. As he circled, getting ready to sleep, he gave Tom an evil glare and hissed when Tom reached his hand out.
‘That cat must belong to someone,’ Tom said. ‘Though he’s still quite skinny so he could be a stray.’
‘I keep feeding him up every time he comes in. Actually, do you want to make some drinks while I finish this off? I don’t want to leave it half done when the marketing people come. I don’t mind it not being decorated but I’d like the tree pretty much made up if I can.’
Tom agreed and shuffled off to the basement kitchen to make some drinks. He came back a few minutes later with two cups and a plate of food for Mr Scrooge.
‘You’re such a softie,’ Nell teased as she blew her tea to cool it.
On seeing the food, Mr Scrooge jumped down off his chair and hunkered by the fire, scoffing. Before long, the marketing people were due, and Nell flitted nervously around while Tom tried and failed to fuss the cat. Every time his hand went near Mr Scrooge, the cat would either recoil, bat it away with claws out, or hiss. ‘Do you think he’s been abused or something?’ she asked, moving to the cat who allowed her to stroke him.
‘Possibly. He seems quite happy with you, but he doesn’t like men.’
‘If that is the case that’s really sad.’ She leaned down and gave him another fuss. ‘Isn’t it, poor Mr Scrooge?’
Nell drank her tea and watched the waves dance together in the sea through the window of the lounge. The sky was a pale grey and rain tapped against the window. The watery late-autumn sun shone through the gaps in the heavy cloud and when it came through the window, she could feel the warmth on her face. In the holly hedge that surrounded the hotel, birds hopped in and out of the gaps, chirping happily. The very top of the Christmas tree wasn’t quite finished as she spotted the marketing duo arriving. Once they were walking through the arced iron gate and down the front path, she rushed to greet them at her little reception desk in the hall. ‘Hi, I’m Nell.’ She held out her hand for them to shake.
A woman in her mid-twenties wearing the skinniest fitting jeans Nell had ever encountered, along with a luminous pink shirt and matching trainers, gave her a firm handshake. The man with her had lank hair pulled back into a man-bun and was wearing jeans that, as he walked towards her were so low slung, they barely covered his bum. A
