Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) by Madalyn Morgan (ebook reader ink txt) 📕

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bess had her hand poised on the handle of the kitchen door. She had abandoned her duties for long enough and had decided when Maeve left it was time she went back to work. First on her list of jobs was to look in on Chef and the kitchen staff. A daily ritual to make sure they had everything they needed.

‘Mrs Donnelly? Telephone for you,’ Maeve called.

The kitchen would have to wait. Bess turned, let her shoulders sag in an exaggerated fashion, and walking across the hall pointed to the office.

Maeve beamed her a smile. ‘Mr Burrell,’ she whispered.

‘News of Margot and the baby?’ Bess dashed into the office, picked up the phone and waited until she heard the dull click of the main telephone on the reception desk. ‘Bill?’

‘Hello Bess. I thought I’d better let you know that both my girls are doing well, and you can visit them tomorrow. Visiting hours are from two until four. The hospital only allows two visitors in at a time - and for the first few days it’s only for an hour.’

‘That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to see them. Shall I come in at three o’clock? Give you some time on your own with Margot and the baby first?’

‘Yes. Good idea. See you tomorrow.’

Bess heard the pips. ‘Give them my love,’ she shouted, but the phone went dead. Replacing the receiver on the cradle of the telephone, Bess relaxed back in her chair. She was just going to get up and return to the kitchen, when there was a tap at the door and Maeve’s head appeared.

‘I’m off now, Mrs Donnelly,’ Maeve said, already wearing her coat and hat. ‘But I just wanted to give you this.’ She crossed the room to Bess’s desk and placed a scrap of paper with a telephone number on it. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being forward, and I know you see me every day, but if you ever need to talk when I’m not on duty, you can reach me on that number.’

‘Thank you, Maeve. And thank you for spending time with me earlier. I appreciate it.’ Bess looked at the office clock. ‘Oh dear, you really are going to be late now.’

Maeve flicked the suggestion away with her hand. ‘I’ll be off then. Good night.’

‘Good night, dear. Oh, Maeve?’ Maeve turned and looked over her shoulder. ‘I won’t keep you a second. During the time that you have worked here we’ve become friends - and today I have entrusted you with my most private, most personal, secret.’

‘I won’t tell a soul, Mrs Donnelly,’ Maeve closed the door. ‘What you told me today stays between us. I would never divulge a confidence, never! I give you my word.’

‘I know you wouldn’t, Maeve. You misunderstand me.’ Bess felt embarrassment flush on her cheeks. ‘What I’m trying to say is, because we are friends I should like you to call me Bess.’

A kind but serious expression crossed Maeve’s face and she thought for a moment. ‘I’m honoured that you trust me. And I should like very much to be your friend. But when I’m working with Jack it wouldn’t be fair for me to call you by your Christian name when he, quite rightly, has to call you by your married name. He’s young and might see it as favouritism. I would also prefer to call you Mrs Donnelly in front of the guests. Let them see the moment they walk into the Foxden Hotel that it is a professional establishment.’

Maeve gave Bess an endearing smile. ‘Good night, Mrs Donnelly, I’ll see you in the morning.’

The more Bess got to know Maeve O’Leary the more she liked her. She was right of course, it was best to be professional while they were at work. She was right about Jack, too. He was charming, hardworking, and the guests liked him, but he was young. It definitely wouldn’t be fair on him if Maeve called her by her Christian name.

Bess left the office. ‘Everything all right, Jack?’ she asked, in the casual manner that she used when talking to Maeve.

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Donnelly.’

‘If anyone wants me, I’ll be in the kitchen, and then the dining room. Oh, and if anyone telephones and asks to speak to me, would you take their telephone number and a message, and tell them I’ll call them back as soon as I am free.’

‘Yes, Mrs Donnelly.’ Jack straightened up and stood with his shoulders back, as if he was on parade. He looked smart in the jacket Frank bought him to wear on reception. He was a good looking boy with a welcoming smile. He deserved his recent promotion to assistant receptionist from day porter, which had been his job since the hotel opened.

Bess knew she and Frank were lucky to have the staff they had working for them and was counting her blessings as she approached the kitchen.

Shouting brought her to a halt. Instead of opening the door, Bess stood in the passageway between the restaurant and the kitchen and listened. The chef, his voice usually high and slightly effeminate, had taken on a deep, masculine tone. ‘How dare you speak about Mrs Donnelly like that?’

‘You didn’t hear what she said after Sergeant McGann left - after he had interviewed her. I did,’ a woman boasted.

‘What did she say? Go on, Joan, tell us?’ a younger woman asked.

‘“He knows, Frank,” she said to that nice husband of hers, “McGann knows.”’

‘Well I never!’ the second woman exclaimed. ‘Was she saying the police knew she’d killed the bloke they found in the lake, then?’

‘Sounded like it. I thought it was her all along,’ the woman called Joan said.

‘Mrs Sharp? Hold your tongue and keep your opinions to yourself,’ the chef shouted. ‘I will not have malicious gossip