Page 30 of Too Busy for Love

‘Sorry, love. If you didn’t pre-book, you’ve got no chance. Everyone will be flat out in this weather. Next time you come, it would be a good idea to book in advance.’

‘Right. Thanks.’

Our unhelpful conversation is cut short by the arrival of a substantial woman in her mid-forties. As soon as she confirms her name to the driver, he transforms into a model of courtesy, jumping out of the car to help her put her bag in the boot.

‘Are you all right there?’ she says to me as the driver opens the door for her.

‘Yes, fine. I was looking for a taxi, but this gentleman has just explained that I ought to have pre-booked.’

‘Where are you going? Maybe we can share.’

‘The Bideford Arms hotel.’

Her face cracks open into a wide smile. ‘What a coincidence! That’s exactly where I’m going. Hop in and we’ll go together. I’m Clare, by the way.’

‘Beatrice. Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘Not at all.’

The driver looks decidedly less than impressed by this turn of events, but helps me put my case in the boot nonetheless.

‘This is very kind of you,’ I say to her as the taxi pulls away. ‘Let me get the fare, at least.’

‘Absolutely not,’ she says firmly. ‘I’m putting it on expenses, so don’t worry.’

‘Are you here on business then?’ I ask.

‘Yes, you?’

‘Leisure. My parents own the Bideford Arms, and I’m staying with them for a bit.’

‘How lovely. I expect they’ll be delighted to see you. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look familiar. Have we met before?’

‘I don’t think so. I’ve probably just got one of those faces.’

‘Yes, maybe that’s it.’

The hotel is just as I remember it when we pull up. Clare pays the driver and we grab our bags from the boot.

‘Aren’t you coming?’ she asks when I don’t immediately follow her towards the front door.

‘No. I get to use the tradesmen’s entrance round the back,’ I tell her.

‘Nonsense. You’ll get soaked. I’m sure your parents won’t mind. Come on.’

I follow her reluctantly into the reception area. The faint smell of polish and sandalwood air freshener takes me straight back to my childhood, as does the floral-patterned carpet and the textured wallpaper.

‘Thank you again for the lift,’ I say to Clare as my mother appears behind the counter. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay.’

‘You too,’ she replies. ‘It was lovely to meet you. I just wish I could work out why you look so familiar.’

I’m very aware of my mother’s disapproving stare as I manoeuvre my case through the door markedPrivatenext to the reception desk that leads to the annexe where my parents live. To my surprise, my father is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea.

‘Oh, hello, love,’ he says when he spots me. ‘I was just about to come and get you. There was a spot of bother with the sink inroom twelve, but I’ve sorted it and I was just having a quick swig before setting off.’

‘Looks like I’ve saved you the trouble then,’ I tell him, trying hard not to feel hurt that he evidently thinks a cup of tea is more important than collecting his only child from the station like he’d agreed.

‘The kettle’s not long boiled if you want a cup. You know where everything is.’

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