Peacock's Walk (4 page)

Tony's sour countenance broke into a grin. 'Someone's got to think of these things, Goldie,' he said unrepentantly. 'That way you won't be too disappointed if things don't work out. I'm not saying you're wrong, but don't go throwing your hat over the windmill yet. We'll wait and see what this agent

of his has to say first,' he advised gently.

In spite of Tony's doleful advice on caution, Jenny soon found herself back in the land of high hopes. Tony meant well, and was only trying to save her from sharp disappointment should his gloomy predictions prove correct, but she had this unshakable feeling that luck was on her side, and that her hopes would be realised.

For the next day or so, she was on tenterhooks waiting for a communication from Silas P. Hawter's agent, and knew a vast sense of relief when the greatly anticipated letter arrived from a Mr Moore, stating that acting as Mr Hawter's agent, he wished to make an appointment to view the premises at the earliest opportunity. Jenny lost no time in answering the letter, suggesting two dates in the near future for the visit, one of which was in three days from the time of writing, and was the date accepted by Mr Moore, who rang to confirm the appointment upon receipt of the letter.

It would not have surprised Jenny if Tony had insisted on being present at the interview, since this would have been his way of protecting her interests, but he contented himself with a, 'Don't sign anything,' comment, and left her to it, although she was sure he would give the agent a pretty thorough visual inspection, on his arrival at the hotel—from a concealed position, that was, and she also knew that if he didn't like what he saw, then he would attend the interview, whether she liked it or not.

As soon as Jenny saw Mr Moore, she felt a surge

of relief flow over her. She hadn't quite known what she was expecting him to look like, but Tony's gloomy forecasts had prompted a certain amount of trepidation, and she had wondered how she would cope if he turned out to be one of the pushy types of agent, out to satisfy the needs of his client come what may.

Now, as she shook hands with the pleasant middle-aged man, she knew her fears had been groundless, and looked forward to their coming conference. -

Two hours later a flushed and excited Jenny dared Tony to try and dampen her elation, for the discussion had far exceeded her wildest hopes, as she explained to him, 'He does want to keep the place going as a hotel. He actually requested that the staff be kept on, and ...' she added with sparkling eyes, 'that includes me. Of course,' she tacked on thoughtfully, 'I wouldn't have the final say on big decisions, sort of manager's position, I suppose you'd call it.' She smiled at Tony happily. 'As if I'd mind that! No more worrying, is how I'd put it, and wha
t a relief that's going to be !
' she sighed contentedly.

Tony surveyed her gleaming eyes and flushed countenance. 'Seems to be a little too pat for my liking,' he said cautiously. 'Almost,' he mused, 'as if he knew our circumstances.'

Jenny's smile faded and she gave an exaggerated sigh. 'Must you always look for catches?' she said crossly. 'As for knowing our circumstances, as a matter of fact, he does,' she added, giving a quick grin at the look of surprise on Tony's face. 'It

appears that a friend of his knew Malcolm, and this friend used to spend a few days here when he was attending a conference. Well,' she went on, her voice showing her satisfaction, 'this friend saw the advertisement, and knowing that Silas Hawter was in the market for just such a property, told him about it. Mr Moore told me Silas Hawter had explained it all to him when he gave him the authority to close the deal if everything was satisfactory.'

Jenny put her head on one side and surveyed the still unconvinced Tony. 'There's something else I haven't told you,' she said triumphantly. 'We've not only got a buyer, we've got a ready made market, too! This friend of Mr Hawter thinks Peacock's Walk would be ideal to accommodate businessmen who come over from the States to attend conferences in Brighton, and goodness knows there's a lot of those going on at present,' she added brightly. 'It couldn't be better. He's got the connections, and we've got the premises! '

'We're not going into partnership with him, are we?' queried Tony sceptically.

'Of course not!' exploded Jenny. 'I was only trying to explain to you that he does intend to keep Peacock's Walk as a hotel, and not,' she said accusingly, 'as a gambling casino, as you so gloomily predicted he might. Now are you satisfied?' she demanded.

Tony shrugged. 'I'd feel a great deal happier if the business wasn't being conducted by an agent. I'd like to see this Silas P. Hawter. Did he say when he

was coming over—or if he was thinking of settling in this country?' he asked.

Jenny frowned at the question. 'Lots of Americans have businesses in this country,' she said patiently, 'but that doesn't mean that they have to reside here.' She shrugged. 'They do what he's apparently going to do, keep in close touch with the business. Usually they appoint a manager they can trust to run the business, but in our case, he's apparently satisfied enough to keep things running as they are. With the capital he can back us with, and the bookings he seems assured of, the place should go from strength to strength.' She gave him a beaming smile. 'But more than that, Tony, it means the staff will keep their jobs.'

Tony nodded complacently. 'Well, it looks like you've fallen on your feet, Goldie. Better make sure that those clauses of the staff being kept on are included in the contract—just in case,' he advised sternly.

With Tony apparently satisfied, however grudgingly he had given his approval, Jenny set about concluding the sale, and the contract with the necessary clauses inserted was signed six weeks later.

No more than a week after the signing and exchange of the contracts, a delighted Jenny received a communication from the new owner to the effect that she was to expect a party of fifteen business men from the States in ten days' time, two of whom would be bringing their secretaries. This number of guests was almost maximum to the amount the hotel could hold, for there were eighteen bedrooms,

most of which had not been used for several months, and this left only one to be booked. Seeing the added footnote to say that she was to leave that booking open, Jenny did wonder whether Silas Hawter meant to accompany the party, but was not at the time of writing absolutely certain that he could make the trip—probably, she mused, through other business arrangements--but had taken the precaution of keeping the room free.

Jenny found herself hoping that he would make the trip, because she was now sure that that was his intention. The correspondence she had had with him to date had shown him to be a kindly, elderly man, and one she was sure she would be able to work very happily with for some time to come. It would also, she told herself, help to settle some of Tony's qualms; he had still not got used to the idea of working for someone he hadn't met, and she suspected the rest of the staff felt the same way. Her thoughts brightened yet further at the prospect of the activity she was about to set in motion when she related the news of the coming guests. For the past week, working under the orders of Mr Hawter, no bookings had been accepted, and the inactivity of the staff had produced a certain amount of speculation as to their future, in spite of Jenny's assurances that all was well, and as Jenny had walked through the deserted dining room, and the large empty lounge, she too knew a sense of uncertainty and could well understand their feelings.

On receipt of the news Jenny had to impart, the hotel became a hive of industry again. Rooms were

spring cleaned
by willing, happy staff, and a general air of being in business again pervaded the atmosphere.

The ten days' notice that Jenny had at the time thought a little too long, and rather wished that only a few days' notice had been given of the coming bookings, flew by with a rapidity that amazed her. For not only the bedrooms received a thorough going over. The whole hotel came under the eagle eye of Dodie Hooney, and not a corner escaped her attention. The heavy velvet curtaining in the dining room and lounge, that might have done duty for another six months without cleaning, was taken down and replaced by new curtaining, the colour and texture being faithfully adhered to, for great care had always been taken to keep to the original old-world decor that so suited the dignified old building.

On the day before the arrival of the guests, Jenny did a tour of inspection, more to please Mrs Hooney than to satisfy herself that all was in order, and duly complimented the staff on their efforts when the tour was satisfactorily completed.

With a deep sense of satisfaction, she returned to her office and sat for a moment indulging in a little self-congratulatory musing. Peacock's Walk had come into its own again. The thought of Mark Chanter's reaction to the news that she had been successful, not only in her wish to keep the staff on, but had negotiated a sale resulting in an assured trade for the hotel, was an added bonus. The kind of business that he was so keen to promote, and was

sure to bring Peacock's Walk back into the top bracket again, where it had once held pride of place. No doubt that whoever it was that had passed the previous information on to him would also pass on the current state of affairs, and Jenny was a little sorry that she would not be able to witness his fury as losing out. He had been so sure of himself during that last visit, and certain that she would have to turn back to him, to, as he had put it, 'get you out of the financial mess you've made of things'.

Her happy musings were abruptly curtailed at this point by the arrival of the very man she had been thinking about. She was too surprised by his sudden appearance to notice that he had strolled into the office without giving the customary knock, but when the fact did sink in, she glared at him and remarked coldly, 'I don't remember you asking to see me,' and added for extra measure, 'I'm rather busy at the moment, so if you don't mind ...' She left the sentence unfinished, but she was sure he had got the message.

Mark Chanter gave her a long considering look before he drawled, 'Yes, aren't you. I've just popped in to see that everything's in order.'

Jenny stared at him, then stated baldly, 'I don't see what it's got to do with you. Would you mind stating your business and leaving me to get on with mine?'

Not bothering to answer this rather direct question, he further infuriated her by picking up the printed menu forms for the week's fare. 'Seems okay,' he remarked as he looked up to meet her

fuming eyes. 'Make sure you have plenty of melons on hand, will you? They're partial to them, I understand.'

Jenny gasped, and made an attempt to snatch the menus out of his hand, but was forestalled by his merely holding them up and out of her reach.

Sit down, Miss Grange,' he commanded sternly. 'We're due for a little talk.'

Jenny knew better than to question his right in making such an order; she knew she would get nowhere by shouting and raving at him. Besides, it would be much more dignified to sit and glare at him—at least he would have to sit too, and she wouldn't have to stare up at him. She made her way towards her desk with as much dignity as she could muster, only to find her way barred and a pointing imperious finger directing her to take the chair in front of her desk.

'Sit there, will you? I'm not accustomed to holding slanging matches with my staff—I'll thank you to remember that in future.'

Jenny sat, simply because she had to. Her legs .no longer proved reliable and felt decidedly wobbly. Her lips were stiff as she managed to get. out, 'Would you mind explain
ing that last statement? Mr Haw
ter is my employer, and I've contract to prove it,' she added on a firmer note.

Mark Chanter settled himself behind her desk before bothering to answer her, then giving a wry grimace remarked dryly, 'This chair is not for me,' and got up again and walked to where Malcolm's chair stood by the office window. Picking it up as if

it were no weight at all, yet it was made of oak, he placed it in position behind the desk, pushing the lighter chair that Jenny had used back into the background.

Watching these movements, Jenny felt a sense of doom settling over her. His actions were somehow symbolic—as if he were saying, 'We've done with the past. The King is dead—long live the King!' She swallowed as her wide eyes met his implacable ones.

'Now where were we?' he asked casually, and gave a mock frown of concentration. `Ah, yes, the contract.' He gave her a grin that Jenny could only describe as wolfish, and she felt a prickly sensation along her spine. 'Silas P. Hawter,' he went on slowly, taking his time, and savouring with no little pleasure her wide eyes and white face, 'is the name of a company of which I hold a majority of shares.' He nodded slowly as Jenny attempted to intervene. 'Yes, there is a Silas P. Hawter. He was the original owner of the company, but he has since sold out. He still remains interested in the company, of course, and watches over our interests in the States, purely on an advisory basis.'

Jenny gasped as the implication hit her. Of all the low-down tricks! He couldn't have been honest about it from the start, could he? Oh, no, she thought bitterly—he knew she wouldn't have entertained another bid from him for Peacock's Walk—not if she could have got someone else! 'I suppose the older staff will now get their marching orders,' she commented bitterly. 'At least you were honest