‘We must have everything perfect for Lady Fussy-Knickers!’ said Ambrosine, twinkling.

  Meg’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I didn’t realise other people knew of that nickname,’ she said, remembering too late that she’d said it to Sally that morning.

  ‘As long as the guests don’t hear us calling anyone that, all will be well,’ said Ambrosine. ‘Now, have you enough cakes for tea? Some people go mad for cake.’

  ‘Now you’re making me worry, Ambrosine,’ said Meg. ‘I’ll make a batch of butterfly cakes as well. They don’t take long to cook and Susan can help me ice them.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be delicious,’ said the colonel, who was one of the people who loved cake.

  Soon after they’d left, Susan and Cherry, who’d been home for lunch, came in.

  ‘Are we absolutely sure how many people Lady Fussy – Lady Lennox-Stanley is bringing?’ Susan asked.

  ‘I meant to ring Vanessa yesterday to check,’ said Meg, ‘but never got round to it. I did ring this morning but they’d already left.’

  Cherry, who had the guestbook tucked under her arm, took it out and studied it. ‘It’s just Lady Lennox-Stanley, her two friends who are a couple, and Vanessa. Plus the other guests, of course.’

  ‘Should be fine,’ said Meg, trying to sound optimistic but failing. She knew she’d feel better when Vanessa got here. She could tell her all about Laura sitting on the kitchen table and bragging about Justin.

  Tea was over and Meg was in the entrance hall, admiring Ambrosine’s floral arrangement, when a car pulled up on the gravel outside. Vanessa came tearing into the hotel. ‘My bloody mother! I swear to God she does it on purpose! I am so sorry!’

  Meg suppressed the jolt of anxiety this caused. ‘Don’t worry, Nessa. I’m sure whatever your mother has done can be managed. Where is she?’

  ‘Her new friend is parking the car. They wouldn’t let me stop on the way to telephone and warn you, but I made them let me come in now.’

  ‘We knew your mother was bringing two friends,’ said Cherry soothingly. ‘We just thought they were arriving separately. No need to panic.’

  ‘It’s not those friends! They are coming separately. It’s Basil.’

  ‘Basil?’ said Meg bemused.

  ‘A man my mother has only just met. He heard we were coming to Nightingale Woods for the race day and he said he was desperate to come too. So my mother – who has never made a spontaneous gesture before in her life, I swear – said, “That would be such fun. You can help Vanessa with the driving.”’

  Meg put on a smile. ‘Don’t worry, Ness. We can find room for a single gentleman.’

  ‘Yes!’ agreed Cherry. ‘We made up an extra room for just this emergency – although of course it isn’t one really.’

  ‘Oh, it is really!’ said Vanessa. ‘Do you still keep a bottle of sherry in the kitchen?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Meg.

  ‘You take her through,’ said Susan. ‘We can deal with Lady L-S and this Basil she’s brought with her.’

  Once in the kitchen, Meg could see that Vanessa was genuinely flustered, and poured her a teacup full of sherry.

  ‘I’d better not drink all of this,’ said Vanessa, looking at what Meg had just handed to her.

  ‘It’s a very dainty cup,’ said Meg. ‘It doesn’t hold much. Now what’s really the matter?’

  Vanessa took a desperate sip from the teacup. ‘I haven’t told you everything. Basil is close friends with Russell Rook and so he has invited him to come too! I know you’ve converted at least three single rooms into bathrooms, so where on earth are you going to put everybody?’

  Meg and Susan exchanged glances. The situation was a little more serious that it had at first seemed. ‘Well, you’re not a problem, Nessa,’ said Meg. ‘You can share my little flat.’

  ‘That sounds fun!’ Vanessa was definitely calmer now.

  ‘And Russell and Basil are friends?’ asked Meg, to make sure.

  ‘So we put them in a twin?’ suggested Susan.

  Vanessa’s eyes widened in shock at the thought. ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘OK,’ said Meg. ‘We’ll put Russell in your single as he’s almost a friend now, and then find somewhere for this Basil person.’

  ‘He’s called Basil Knott-Dean. Going on how Mummy was treating him, he may be quite important,’ said Vanessa.

  ‘You leave it all to me,’ said Susan calmly. ‘Meg? Going by the sounds coming from the hall, you’re needed there.’

  The hall was full of people. Lady Lennox-Stanley was in the middle, surrounded by luggage and two large gentlemen, one of whom was Russell Rook.

  ‘Good afternoon, everyone,’ said Meg, trying to be like her mother, who would have been gracious and helpful but not obsequious. ‘Welcome to Nightingale Woods. I do hope you all had good journeys?’

  ‘Meg, darling,’ said Russell, ‘I’ve brought my old chum with me. He’s heard good things about your hotel and was mad to come.’

  ‘Basil Knott-Dean,’ said Russell’s chum, putting his hand into Meg’s. He was tall and well spoken and seemed to have perfect manners. ‘I’m that annoying thing, a last-minute guest on what’s probably a busy night. Can you help? I can always go away again if you haven’t got room.’

  ‘How do you do?’ said Meg, shaking his hand. ‘And of course we can accommodate you.’ Meg wasn’t at all certain of this but she knew the gods of hotel-keeping would strike her down if she sent away a potential guest. ‘Can I suggest everyone goes into the drawing room and has a drink? Lady Lennox-Stanley? We can get your cases into your room and find somewhere comfortable for Mr Knott-Dean.’

  ‘I can pour drinks,’ said Russell, earning Meg’s eternal gratitude. ‘Amanda,’ he said to Lady Lennox-Stanley, ‘let me mix you a gin and ver. I have the knack.’

  Lady Lennox-Stanley was two drinks down when Meg showed her and Vanessa to her room. Sadly, alcohol did not seem to have softened Lady Fussy-Knickers very much and it was Vanessa who provided the enthusiasm.

  ‘Oh, Mummy!’ she said delightedly. ‘Isn’t it all smart now? And look! Your own private bathroom through this door. This is so pretty. And so much more like a proper home than that other hotel on the hill. Don’t you think so, Mummy?’

  ‘As everyone else seems very happy with their rooms I suppose I must be too.’ She gave one of her freezing smiles. ‘Did Vanessa order picnics for tomorrow? There will be lunch laid on at the racecourse, but some people – my friends in particular – prefer a picnic.’

  Vanessa looked at Meg in total horror. She’d obviously never heard of this requirement before either.

  ‘If you’re quite happy in your room, Lady Lennox-Stanley,’ said Meg smoothly, ‘Vanessa and I can just check on the details.’

  Vanessa started apologising the moment they were out of the room. ‘Meg, I had no idea she’d want picnics! I don’t think she’s ever wanted them before.’

  ‘It’s fine, Nessa,’ said Meg, who was not nearly as calm as she was pretending. ‘We can sort it out. We have time. Although it will have to be after dinner now.’

  As they entered the kitchen a strange sound like a rusty door hinge emerged from the corner of the room.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ asked Meg, looking at Susan.

  Susan sucked her teeth. ‘Look up there,’ she said, pointing to the bell indicator box. One of the little flags was flapping.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Vanessa. ‘Don’t let my mother see that – she’ll never stop demanding things!’

  ‘We could pretend it doesn’t work,’ said Susan. ‘No one expects things like that to work any more, do they?’

  ‘No, we can’t do that,’ said Meg. ‘We’ll just make sure they don’t work after this visit.’ She paused. Who could answer this imperious demand? Sally, the most junior member of the team, was away doing something else. Meg sighed. ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘Your legs are younger than mine,’ said Susan, inarguably.

  Meg made a face at her and left the room at a lick.

  ‘Oh, excellent service!’ said Basil Knott-Dean when she arrived. ‘Is it always so efficient? Often one waits hours for anyone to come.’

  ‘How can I help you?’ asked Meg, trying not to audibly pant.

  ‘A tray of drinks? Whisky, water, some little eats for later?’

  Meg wanted to tell this demanding guest that he’d had plenty to drink and that dinner would be more than adequate, he wouldn’t need ‘little eats for later’, but she did want to make the guests happy. She nodded and smiled and was about to leave when he stopped her. ‘Yes?’

  ‘You can charge extra for meals served in the rooms, you know.’

  Meg gave him a genuine smile this time and left the room.

  Dinner had gone relatively smoothly, pronounced by everyone to have been delicious, except by Lady Lennox-Stanley who complained it was ‘rather filling’.

  Meg was making quiches for the picnic baskets when Justin came in, as if he owned the place, Meg thought. Her heart gave a little leap of excitement to see him before she remembered her conversation with Laura and it subsided a little. She cleared her throat.

  ‘Hello!’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Rolling out pastry,’ she said. ‘It’s a technique often seen in kitchens.’

  Justin tutted and she looked away. She didn’t want to meet his eyes and was aware this probably made her look grumpy.

  ‘I came to see if you needed anything,’ said Justin. ‘More linen perhaps?’

  ‘You’re a saviour,’ said Susan, bustling in with a tray full of dirty coffee cups. ‘The hotel is full and we’ve used every sheet we have. If I know anything, Lady Fussy-Knickers will want clean linen tomorrow and we haven’t got any. Cup of tea?’

  Susan was looking at Justin as if his second name was Lancelot. For some reason this made Meg genuinely grumpy instead of just looking that way.

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Justin.

  Susan poured his tea and went to collect more dirty dishes.

  ‘Now, Meg, what’s rattled your cage?’

  Meg had a sudden urge to tell him all her problems. She sighed. ‘Just tired. Lady Lennox-Stanley brought unexpected guests, and out of the blue wants me to make picnics to take to the races. There’s catering laid on there, of course, but if Lady Fussy-Knickers wants picnics, picnics is what she gets.’ She managed a smile.

  ‘So, what are you going to put the picnics in?’ asked Justin. ‘Have you a supply of wicker baskets?’

  ‘No,’ said Meg. ‘Currently I’m planning to wrap them in large red and white spotted napkins and tie them on to sticks. Who says you don’t learn anything from pantomimes?’

  He laughed. ‘Poor Meggy! And I’m not surprised you’re tired. I can’t lend you picnic hampers, but the hotel does have a supply of white cardboard boxes used for big cakes. I reckon they’d be perfect. I’ll get them to you early tomorrow.’

  This was the ideal solution. ‘Well, thank you, Lancelot,’ she said, hiding her gratitude under sarcasm.

  ‘What’s that you called me?’

  Meg shrugged, feeling more cheerful. ‘Nothing.’

  He gave her a look that was decidedly unnerving. It was one thing teasing him as if he was a lion in a cage, but suddenly the lion was the other side of the bars. Her heart beat faster. If only he wasn’t with Laura, she may well have looked at him back, and taken the risk that he might kiss her. But she couldn’t.

  She was very glad that Susan returned at that moment, breaking the tension.

  A little later, when he’d gone, Susan said, ‘Justin likes to keep an eye on things, doesn’t he?’

  ‘I know!’ said Meg, hoping for a chance for a good old grumble about him as she piped filling into frangipane tarts for the sweet trolley. ‘It’s as if he doesn’t trust us to run things on our own!’

  ‘Maybe it’s not “things” he’s keeping an eye on,’ said Susan. ‘Maybe it’s you!’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Breakfast the following morning was a bit of a scramble, with everyone wanting to leave at the same time. But between Meg, Susan, Cherry (back in her role as waitress), Sally and Bob’s apprentice, who could turn his hand to waiting if called upon, everyone got what they wanted in reasonable time. But the best thing was that the rain had stopped, the sun had come out and the world looked freshly washed (if not dried). It was going to be a beautiful day.

  When everyone had left, in pre-booked cars for those without them, cardboard picnic baskets with those who requested them, the hotel staff breathed a collective sigh of relief. Cherry was sent back to the office as the telephone kept ringing and the others set to work on the washing-up which was enlivened by a good dissection of the guests, their clothes, and anything else they could think of.

  Susan, Sally and Meg were all sitting in the kitchen having finally cleared up, and drunk more tea than Meg thought possible, when Cherry came in, looking very excited.

  ‘You’ll never guess what!’ she said.

  ‘No, we won’t,’ agreed her mother. ‘Why don’t you just tell us?’

  ‘Well, Mr Knott-Dean – Basil?’ she added, as everyone looked blank.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Meg.

  ‘Well, I thought he’d gone to the races with everyone else. But no!’

  ‘Get to the point, love, some of us have got beds to make,’ said Susan.

  ‘He asked if he could use the telephone and I said yes and showed him to the office,’ said Cherry, apparently now resigned to delivering her story without theatrical pauses. ‘As I had the bills to prepare – everyone is going tomorrow – I took my folder into the hall and carried on working on them.’ She checked to see that everyone was paying attention. ‘I could hear every word he said!’

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Susan.

  ‘He asked for a London number!’

  ‘There’s a shock,’ said Susan, refusing to be impressed. ‘Man from London telephones a number in London.’

  ‘It was a newspaper. He’s a restaurant critic. When he came out of the office, he said he was phoning in his copy!’

  No one really understood what this meant. ‘You mean he rang the newspaper he works for, telling them what he wants to write?’ Meg said.

  ‘I think so,’ said Cherry. ‘And it was very complimentary!’

  ‘Well, isn’t that nice!’ said Meg. ‘Can you remember what he said exactly?’

  ‘Not really, but he did use the word quirky,’ said Cherry.

  ‘That doesn’t sound good,’ said Susan. ‘It sounds as if we’re a bit coggly.’

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it as a bad thing,’ Cherry said, obviously a bit deflated.

  ‘You did really well, listening in,’ said Meg. ‘Even if you weren’t able to catch every word.’

  It was only later that she realised praising people for eavesdropping probably wasn’t morally right.

  Meg had gone out into her favourite spot in the garden, behind the walled garden, in a seat covered by an arch of roses. She had been chased there by Susan who said she needed a break. She closed her eyes and listened to the birds, trying to keep her thoughts away from the hotel and the endless meals. She even considered going to get her book. The trouble was, while she needed a mental break from cooking, her thoughts strayed to Justin however hard she tried to stop them. That was not in the least helpful. She closed her eyes.

  ‘Meg?’ a kindly male voice made her open them again. It was Basil.

  ‘Oh, hello!’

  ‘Meg, dear – may I call you Meg? I hope so because I’ve just done it three times in quick succession.’

  Meg laughed. ‘It’s perfectly all right.’

  ‘I’m so glad. And I’m here because I know perfectly well that the delightful Cherry overheard me dictate my review to my paper – she was meant to overhear! I want you all to know how good I think you are. But what she can’t have overheard, because I didn’t mention it, was that I also write for Excellent Hotels and Restaurants, which you may know is where all the best hotels in the United Kingdom are listed.’ He paused, waiting for a reaction.

  Meg obliged. ‘Oh my goodness!’ She had heard of the guide and it was definitely the best one to get into.

  ‘And I want Nightingale Woods in that guide!’

  ‘I don’t know what to say!’ Meg was stunned.

  ‘My friend Russell had mentioned that Nightingale Woods was rather special so when I met Lady Lennox-Stanley and she told me she was on her way here, of course I expressed interest. Then she suggested I came along.’ He paused and smiled confidingly at Meg. ‘Part of me wanted to test how the hotel would cope when presented with a last-minute guest, and I’m happy to say you dealt with it perfectly!’

  ‘I’m so glad.’ Fancy Lady Fussy-Knickers inviting a restaurant critic to the hotel on the spur of the moment! Her mother, David – and Andrew – would be so thrilled. She couldn’t wait to tell them. But although Cherry thought his review had been good when she overheard it, maybe she’d got it wrong. What then?

  Basil patted her hand. ‘I can see that now you’re worried. No need. I’m going to give you what I’ve written so you can see for yourself. There will be small alterations, of course. I’m often told I have a rather …’ He paused. ‘Flowery writing style, but basically, here’s what I think. I won’t stay to watch you read it. I’m going to take a turn about the garden and enjoy the peace and quiet.’

  When he’d gone, Meg picked up the paper and read.

  If you search the hidden hills and dales of Dorset you may be lucky enough to chance upon the charming Nightingale Woods. It is a gem!

  I have said before in print that good service is as important as good food and accommodation and sometimes you get one or the other. Here you have all three. The beautiful old house welcomes you like a friend, and while there are definitely rooms that need redecorating, there are now some rooms with private bathrooms. If the welcome is warm, the food of a very high standard, and the staff excellent, dealing with a demanding clientele with efficiency and charm, worn-out upholstery and chipped paint fades into insignificance. Do visit this quirkily original hotel if you possibly can. It’s somewhere really very special.