An Endless Summer(24)

I pocketed the receipt with the ludicrous figure on it and made the decision to leave it as emergency stash only. Even though the Onslow was one giant freakin’ emergency, I needed to think about what I was going to do. I couldn’t have the hotel closed forever and the balcony repair job was almost complete, which was great. It just left the rest of the hotel that needed drastic attention.

Matt graced me with his presence again on Friday, after having made what seemed like a miraculous recovery from his deathbed. He busied himself around, opening and closing the fridge doors in the takeaway section of the bar.

I sat propped on the bar, flicking channels on the TV. “I stocked it yesterday,” I said, rather unenthusiastically.

“Ha! So I see. Seems like I’m out of a job.”

I should be so lucky.

I flicked off the TV. “Hey, Matt, can I ask a stupid question?”

Matt stilled from looking inside the fridge and appraised me with guarded uncertainty.

“Where are all the staff?”

“The staff?”

“Yeah, we’re just about in the peak season. Where are they? Surely there can’t just be you?”

Matt straightened and puffed out his chest. “Why not?”

“Have you worked here at the Onslow at summertime?”

“No.”

“Well, it gets busy – real busy. There are two bars and a restaurant. Although it seems patronage has dropped off a bit, I think we can get them back. We need more than just you.”

Matt looked unenthused.

“We have regular tourists that come back every year, Matt, and they will be coming again whether you’re prepared for them or not. Regardless of what has happened, I think we can get this place up and running, back to its full potential.”

“So does this mean the bar’s open?” Matt asked.

I took a deep breath and tried not to slap him upside the head. “It has to be. It may not be up to scratch yet, but we can’t make improvements if we don’t have money coming through the door.”

“So … what do you want from me?” Matt looked disgusted, as if everything I had said was a major buzzkill.

I sighed. “I want you to do your job!”

Heaven forbid he do anything more than that. I leapt off the bar.

“I think I will hire someone to come and mow the lawns and do some weeding,” I said.

Matt’s interest peaked. “Oh, yeah? Well if you need any extra sets of hands, I have a few mates.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’ve got it sorted.” At least, I thought I had, because what I was about to do was an absolute last resort and it scared me to death.



***



I sat in a sunlit parlour. Floral-covered La-Z-Boys flanked a 1960s-style gas heater topped with an array of shiny porcelain cats. The living room was filled with doilies and knick-knacks, but not a speck of dust on any of it.

I expected no less from Melba Stewart. Melba, a robust, portly woman with a matron-style bun and a no-nonsense attitude waddled into the room with a tray of tea and biscuits. She had worked at the Onslow since I was born and had pretty much raised me when my parents were too busy.

Melba handed me a china teacup. “You don’t still have three sugars, do you?” she asked, a look of disapproval marking her face.

“Afraid so,” I said. “But, hey, it’s my one vice in life.”

She pursed her lips together, not buying my line for one second.

I smiled. “I’ve missed you, Melbs.”

Melba scoffed, brushing my words away, a clear sign that she was trying to fob me off before she became emotional.

I didn’t know where to begin. Did I strike now that her soft underbelly was exposed, or did I wait until a few more words were exchanged? I decided to go in for the kill.

“Been to the Onslow lately?” I asked, innocently, as I sipped on my tea.

“Ha! What on earth would possess me to do that?”

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“But you have at least seen it, haven’t you? You know, from a distance?”

“Just spit it out, Amy. What do you want?”

Oh, she knew me too well.

“I need your help, Melba.”

Her icy facade refused to thaw; her eyes were so dark, I was almost intimidated myself … almost. I’d seen that look a million times.

“Dad has put this bloke Matt in charge.”

“Oh, don’t even mention that buffoon’s name; what an utter idiot he is,” Melba cut me off.

I smiled. “Well, Melbs, it seems we’re in complete agreement there. I didn’t know where else to go. I got such a shock when I came home; it’s taken me days to get over the amount of work that’s in front of me just to get the place presentable again. It’s just all such a mess and I don’t even know where to start.” I poured it all out. The days of pent-up anger and sadness, everything I hadn’t dared admit or even acknowledge, just flowed from me.