Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor

‘Good point, Gemma,’ Gwen said. ‘Don’t worry, love, they bicker a lot. You’ll get used to it, but when the chips are down they all support each other. Don’t you?’ Gwen glared at each of them in turn.

‘Of course we do,’ Pippa mumbled. ‘Gemma, will you accept a trial period, just to keep the peace? After all, I knew as soon as I met you, you were right for Meadowbrook, so therefore I have every confidence in you, even if my siblings don’t in me.’ She folded her arms.

Gemma felt sick. She had to resist holding her hands up and saying she wasn’t sure she could do it after all. But then again she thought of her nan, before she got ill, telling her that she was capable of so much, that she needed to aim for the stars and start taking risks. It was one of the last, most lucid conversations they’d had. She needed to take her words on board. She owed her that much.

‘Of course. I’m confident in my abilities and am happy to prove it to you all,’ she replied, feeling her leg shaking under the table and hoping she was a good liar, because she clearly needed to be.

‘Right, well that’s all decided.’ Harriet finally smiled. ‘So, welcome to Meadowbrook, Gemma, and perhaps we can now all go to the kitchen and have a nice cup of tea and some of Gwen’s famous cake.’

‘Great, thanks.’ Gemma felt relief pumping through her veins, although she also felt a bit faint.

‘Or I could make a cocktail?’ Freddie suggested.

‘Fred, it’s only three o’clock,’ Gus said.

‘All right, all right, tea it is then.’ He rolled his eyes.

Gemma felt as if she had jumped, or rather stumbled over the first hurdle. Hilda sat at her feet and thumped her tail against her leg. She had won over Pippa and Hilda, Gwen and Connor seemed supportive, so just the other three to go then.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasant blur. Harriet was a little warmer towards her – slightly south of Siberia anyway, as they sat in the largest kitchen that Gemma had ever seen, apart from on Downton Abbey. Gwen put the most sumptuous-looking cake in the centre of the kitchen table, Connor and Gus made tea, and as they all sat around the less formal table, Hilda settled herself by the Aga and promptly fell asleep. It was such a family scene, Gemma thought, but one that drew tears to her eyes, as she had never had a family like this. Visions of Sunday afternoon tea with her nan and her, sat alone around the small Formica table, illustrated her childhood. Her granddad died before she was born. Her father left days after her birth, followed four years later by her mother. She hadn’t seen either of them since. Her nan took over Gemma’s care with a devotion that she knew she was lucky to have.

Gemma loved her nan and she couldn’t have wished for more love in her childhood. She hated to sound as if she were ungrateful, but she often wondered what would have happened had her parents not left. When she was younger she fantasised that they hadn’t, that they had stayed together and given Gemma siblings. Pure childish fantasy.

‘Harry, I have to get back to the sanctuary,’ Connor said, standing up, putting his hand on Harriet’s shoulder and kissing her.

Gemma noticed the smile creep into Harriet’s face, making her look so much prettier than she did when she was scowling.

‘I’ll be down later. Leave anything you need me to do in the office.’

‘Gemma, you should think yourself lucky that you were interviewed by Pippa. When Harry had to hire an admin officer for the sanctuary she practically reduced every candidate to tears. All they have to do is make coffee and file and yet she acted as if she were hiring the next CEO of a multinational,’ Freddie quipped.

‘I am just thorough,’ Harriet snapped, then smiled. ‘But I did hire the only person who didn’t burst into tears.’

Gemma didn’t know why she was speechless but she couldn’t find her voice.

‘There’s part of me who will always think I’m a woman on a trading floor having to show a bunch of sexist men who’s boss,’ Harriet continued. ‘So I will apologise for that ahead of time.’

‘Well, the hotel business is definitely competitive,’ Gemma said, finally able to speak.

‘We might get on just fine then, because I’m nothing if not competitive,’ Harriet said, putting her hand out, palm flat towards Gemma.

Gemma ducked as if she were about to be hit, and Harriet rolled her eyes. Freddie laughed and even Gus looked amused. Gemma chastised herself – of course Harriet wasn’t going to strike her. What was wrong with her?

‘I was going for a high five, but never mind,’ Harriet said, shaking her head.

‘Gemma, tomorrow I’ll give you a tour of the land – I’ve got a buggy,’ Freddie offered.

‘And he’s not afraid to use it,’ Gus quipped.

‘I hope you’re not too fainthearted,’ was Harriet’s parting shot.

Gemma was pretty fainthearted, but she had a feeling that she needed to change, and fast, to fit in here.

Chapter 4 (#u79d4e4dc-7419-51b3-b8bb-ddc2604e61f9)

A beeping interrupted her dreams and as she woke, Gemma wondered briefly where she was. She fully opened her eyes, feeling momentarily content as she looked around marvelling at her surroundings. She stretched and felt as if her whole body had been rested. It was definitely the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in, and there was no denying that the bedding was of the highest quality, nicer than that of the last hotel she worked in. She had learnt all about thread counts and Egyptian cotton bedding, and her guess was that this was pretty damn expensive. Meadowbrook was pure luxury already, so to turn it into a lovely boutique hotel didn’t seem like much of a stretch. Although she had a long, long road ahead of her.

Last night she had eaten dinner with Pippa and Freddie in the kitchen. The others all had plans, but Gwen had prepared a meal – apparently she normally did – which they warmed up in the Aga. Gemma, having been too nervous to eat much in the days leading up to her arrival at Meadowbrook, devoured every delicious mouthful. Freddie had chatted about his ideas for a specialist cocktail bar as he kept the wine flowing.

Gemma had sipped the expensive-tasting wine cautiously.

‘Don’t you like wine?’ Freddie asked, refilling his and Pippa’s glasses but noting hers was still almost full.

‘Yes, but I’m just not much of a drinker,’ Gemma replied, taking a sip.

Freddie gaped at her in horror. Thankfully, Pippa had saved her by gushing about how much of a success the hotel was going to be now she was on board. The upside was that they didn’t expect much from her; the downside was that filtering all the information being thrown at her was quite exhausting.

After they’d eaten, Gemma had pleaded exhaustion and had headed off to bed early. There she washed, changed into her pyjamas, set her alarm and then settled down with her text books, reading as much as she could before she must have fallen asleep.

There was so much going on, and she needed to process it, but she was feeling very overwhelmed. She told herself it was only day one, and she had, if she survived her probation, six months to get plans for Meadowbrook together, so there was no need to panic just yet. But Gemma was good at panicking.

She sat up in bed and wondered what they would need to do to the room she was in. It was pretty perfect. Expensive wallpaper on some walls, Farrow & Ball paint on the others, along with furniture of the highest quality. There was a pale pink chaise longue and a pale grey velvet armchair, a dressing table with a stool that matched the chaise and a walk-in wardrobe, bigger than Gemma had ever seen. It looked shamefully understocked with Gemma’s clothes.

The en suite bathroom was also ridiculously luxurious, putting the beige suite in her nan’s house to shame. When Gemma thought about her daily routine there – the shower above the small bath that trickled rather than gushed and was never quite the right temperature – she couldn’t compare it. This was a million miles from what she was used to. The huge bath was brass coloured and was almost big enough for a family of four. The shower had its own compartment with a glass wall along one side and the largest showerhead she’d ever seen. The basin and loo matched the bath; basically, the whole room looked as if it had stepped out of an interiors magazine – which she was pretty sure it had.

Gemma thought, briefly, how she wished people could see her now. Sat up in the huge bed, about to start the job of a lifetime. Firstly her nan, who would be so proud to see her doing so well. Then those who hadn’t been quite so supportive. There was a long list, but at the top would be her ex-boyfriend, Chris, who had done his best to destroy what little self-esteem she had before dumping her when her nan took priority over his needs. And then her ex-boss, Clarissa, who took the tiny bit of self-esteem that she had escaped Chris with and tried to stamp all over that. They had nearly succeeded, but not quite, because she was here. She couldn’t believe it. Boring, ordinary Gemma Matthews was at Meadowbrook Manor.

She told herself off for getting carried away. She wasn’t here to gloat and of course, she needed to be vigilant; she had a huge task ahead of her. Being the sort of person who rarely got noticed throughout her life, Gemma noticed everything. That was one of her best skills, and she was sure that the key to the Meadowbrook Hotel was to find out what the house and the Singer siblings were really like, to unearth their personalities, to understand both the house and them fully. The hotel business was competitive and to stand out from the crowd wasn’t going to be easy. But she believed the answers lay somewhere within Meadowbrook’s walls.

Reluctantly getting out of bed, she opted for a quick shower – which didn’t disappoint – before dressing. Her heart sunk as she realised that she really hadn’t thought that latter part of it through. Not just because her clothes didn’t in any way reflect the glamorous surroundings, but also because next to the stylish Singer sisters, she felt dowdy. She had brought work suits – all grey, navy and brown – and very few casual clothes. And compared to Pippa and Harriet in their expensive jeans and soft cashmere jumpers, her clothes were cheap and outdated. Looking at the few bits she’d brought, she realised she’d stand out, for the wrong reasons. God, even Gwen was more fashionable than she was. She tried to breathe and told herself that she wasn’t going to cry or fall apart over her clothes. She would explain to Pippa that she hadn’t been sure what to bring and she would ask advice. After all, she could always go shopping at the weekend, although she would have to watch what she spent.

Previously, Gemma hadn’t the time, the money nor the energy to worry about what she looked like outside work. She had never been much of a girly girl. She didn’t make friends easily and the few friends she had tended to be as uninterested in fashion as she was. At her last job the women she worked with had all been bitchy and seemed to look down on her, mainly because of Clarissa, who had taken an instant dislike to Gemma and ensured everyone who wanted to keep their jobs followed suit. Pushing her dark thoughts away again, she turned her attention to getting ready.

She opted for a pair of dark blue jeans and a red jumper, which had seen better days but weren’t too bad, she supposed. But she still didn’t look like the Gemma she was trying to be and therefore she didn’t feel like her. Confident, capable and attractive, that was who she needed to be. That was who she wanted to be, and she would strive to get there. She needed to take pride in herself, not just for shallow reasons, but also it was time she began to believe what her nan had been trying to tell her all her life – that she was good enough.

Feeling like a visitor – which of course she was – she tentatively made her way downstairs, taking her time, drinking in her surroundings. She studied each piece of art, wondering what the origins were. She took her phone out and took photos – they would inspire her when she was working in her room, hopefully. She made her way to the kitchen, to find Pippa already there looking both groomed and beautiful. She was making a pot of coffee and munching a piece of toast at the same time.

‘Good morning, Gemma. I was going to bring you a drink, but then I realised I don’t know if you prefer tea or coffee, or how you take it,’ Pippa said, smiling warmly in greeting.

‘Coffee please, just white please, no sugar.’

Gemma went to stand by the Aga, enjoying the warmth. She watched how Pippa glided about the kitchen, making everything look effortless. Gemma sighed inwardly – would she ever be able do that? She took a seat at the kitchen table and when Pippa handed her her coffee, she decided to try to claw back some control.

‘Tell me about how the house runs at the moment,’ she asked, pulling out her notebook. She was going to ensure she had it on her at all times. No detail was too small to miss.

‘Of course, Gwen took care of everything really; we’ve only just convinced her into semi-retirement. She used to live here. I’ll show you her apartment; it’s at the back of the house. But because only Freddie and I are here, she moved back into her cottage. Between you and me, she’s got a sort of boyfriend, Gerry, and I think she wants her own space for their relationship.’

‘So who takes care of the house now?’ Gemma couldn’t see Freddie with a pair of Marigolds, that was for sure.