Page 6 of The Dolce Vita Divas
Alma Court was absolutely magnificent as we drove up the tree-lined drive four weeks later. It was an old Palladian mansion, golden stone glowing in the spring sunshine.
I’d read up a little about its history before we arrived. It had been built in the nineteenth century for some bewhiskered industrial magnate who didn’t appear to have had a conscience about his ill treatment of his workers and wanted to showcase his wealth to the world. And then, when wars and death duties ran a coach and horses through that, it was eventually bought by a faded sixties pop star who mistakenly thought it would cement his next incarnation as a respectable country squire, although hedonistic parties, raids by the vice squad and cars being driven into the carp lake didn’t exactly help.
Eventually, after many years of neglect, it was brought back to life by a hotel chain, which had installed proper plumbing, fitted carpets and new lighting, and restored the lofty, plasterwork ceilings to their former glory. It must have cost a fortune.
We trundled our suitcases up to the reception desk, which had been installed in the massive entrance hall, and waited while a white-haired couple in front of us checked in. Then, having been reassured that a young lad called Jordan would bring their luggage up to their room, they went off, pushing matching Zimmer frames in front of them to find the lifts.
The receptionist turned to us with a bright smile.
‘Welcome to Alma Court. I’m Tracy. How can I help?’
‘Joanna Dawson,’ I said, ‘two rooms, two nights.’
Tracy did some busy typing on her keyboard and frowned.
We exchanged a look and Susie cleared her throat, tapping on the desk with her fingernails.
‘Ah yes, of course, there you are. Joanna Dawson and Susanna Fellowes. I was looking in the wrong place. I thought you’d be in the new wing, the bit that isn’t still cordoned off, but you’re in the main building. Because of theincident. And you did request two rooms together. And we managed to do it. At this time of year, we’re not booked solid. A lot of our clients don’t want to deal with the stairs, which is why the ground floor rooms are always taken first.’
‘Hang on. What incident?’ I said.
Tracy wriggled uncomfortably in her seat.
‘Nothing to worry about. Just a bit of drama.’
What could that be then? A fire? A murder? Blood splattered up the walls?
Susie plonked her handbag down on the desk and leaned forward.
‘Do go on,’ she murmured.
Tracy’s eyes glittered with excitement, and we waited.
‘Well, I shouldn’t really, but there was a bit of a thing with three couples who were here with a coach party from the Midlands, part of a ballroom society, and some medication.Unprescribedmedication. The sort you get from non-residents, if you catch my drift. A chap who, shall we say, is known to us. And the police. He shouldn’t have even been on the premises but…’
‘Drugs?’ Susie breathed, absolutely delighted.
I think at this point her hair gave a little shiver of its own and I stifled a snort of laughter.
Tracy gave a tiny nod and chewed her lower lip, obviously reluctant to say more, but her willingness to gossip got the better of her.
‘Police everywhere,’ she hissed, ‘a fire engineandan ambulance parked outside just in case. And sniffer dogs. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was only yesterday they took down the blue and white tape. It was terrible trying to keep the other residents away. And Mrs Wilkins was trying to give the police sniffer dogs ham sandwiches because she thought they were looking for food. My word, she got shouted at and no mistake. People wanting to take photographs and see the room. I’d have thought people of that age would know better but of course everyone has mobile phones these days.’
‘Was someone hurt?’ I asked, not daring to look at Susie in case she made me laugh.
Tracy shook her head. ‘Oh no, nothing like that. But as my boyfriend says, if you’re not used to it, you shouldn’t take it. And a place like this, people don’t want to have fire alarms pulled when they’re waiting for their starters, and it was prawn cocktails too that night, which are always popular. And theydefinitelydon’t want to see naked people in the dining room doing the conga when they’re waiting for their Cumberland sausage surprise?—’
Susie let out a snort of laughter at this point and I pretended to be fiddling with my handbag.
‘Anyway, here are your room cards. Top of the stairs and turn left, or you can wait for the lifts down there by the bust of Margaret Thatcher.’
She gave us a brilliant smile and we left her to the next couple who had just ambled in, dragging cases and a picnic hamper on wheels behind them that clinked suspiciously as though it was filled with bottles.
‘Mr and Mrs Bulstrode! How nice to see you again…’
Susie and I exchanged a look and both of us started giggling.
‘Oh my stars this is going to be an absolute hoot,’ she said.
