I glance at Lucas, curious. He made a little sound when Mrs. SB mentioned Louis. A familiar, disgusted snort that generally happens after I say something, actually.
“Who else is here on a long stay?” Mrs. SB asks.
“Mr. Townsend and the Jacobses,” Lucas and I say simultaneously.
“The Jacobses are a young Belgian couple with a five-month-old,” I say. “They love everything British, have their bacon well-done, and are obsessed with Fawlty Towers.”
We all know Mr. Townsend, so I don’t bother sharing my facts about him. He’s here every winter for at least three months, and these days he and I even exchange the odd email in the time he’s away from the hotel—he’s become a friend, as many return guests do. I know Barty and Mrs. SB feel the same.
“Well, liking Fawlty Towers is a good sign,” Mrs. SB says with a grimace. “Right. And they’re . . .”
“Keen to stay,” I say promptly. “I’ve already checked.”
“Good. Well done, Izzy. As for the rest of them . . .” Mrs. SB says, staring at the laptop open on her knees. “I’ll deal with them. Somehow.”
She looks up at us with a distressed smile. Mrs. SB is the world’s nicest boss, and she can’t bear to let anybody down, so if she’s upset, that almost certainly means bad things for us.
“Now. On to you two,” she says.
Oh, God.
“I must be honest with you both. From the new year, I just can’t guarantee anything. We may well . . .” She swallows. “We’re out of money, quite frankly. These next few weeks will be make or break. But I know how important it is for each of you to be working at the hotel this winter.”
I feel rather than see Lucas stiffen at that. For the first time, I wonder exactly why Lucas is working for the whole of November and December, rather than going back to see his family in Brazil like he did last year. And then I immediately stop thinking about this, because any thoughts that involve last Christmas and Lucas are strictly forbidden by order of my friend Jem.
“With only five rooms in use . . . I just can’t justify employing you both to work on the desk alongside an agency receptionist.”
There it is. I fiddle with the strap on my bag and feel my pitch drying up in my throat. What was it I wanted to say? Something about being invaluable? I’ve worked at the hotel for eight years? The stationery drawer is much better when I’m here?
“Mrs. SB,” Lucas says, “I understand your difficulty. May I remind you of the superior digital booking system I introduced when I—”
“Personal notes!” I shout. They both turn to look at me. “It was my idea to have the personal welcome notes in the rooms, and so many of our good reviews mention those.”
“They mention your terrible handwriting,” Lucas says.
I flush. People are so mean on the internet.
“I am extremely economical,” Lucas tells Mrs. SB, who looks wearier by the minute. “When we need new printer paper, I always order—”
“The fancy overpriced stuff,” I finish for him.
“The quality paper that requires less ink,” Lucas ploughs on. “Unlike Izzy, I think carefully about cost implications.”
“Unlike Izzy? Excuse me? Who was complaining about my budget fairy lights this morning? If you had your way, we’d make everything in this hotel out of solid gold.”
“That is ridiculous,” Lucas says without even bothering to look at me. “My solution is not solid-gold fairy lights, clearly. My solution is no fairy lights.”
“What next?” I say, my voice rising. “No sofas? No beds?”
“Stop it, please,” Mrs. SB says, holding up both hands in surrender. “There’s no need to battle it out, I’m keeping you both on until the new year. The agency director has kindly released us from our contract, in the circumstances, and will just provide a skeleton staff for front-of-house on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, if the two of you are willing to work five days?”
“Yes,” we both say, so loudly that Mrs. SB startles slightly.
Usually, our fifth day is a split shift, so one of us covers the evening for Mandy to have her night off. I won’t miss that, though—evening shifts are less fun. All the kids at the hotel have gone to bed, for starters.
“Well. Good. Thank you, both of you. I need responsible, experienced staff here—I can trust you two and Mandy with anything. I know you’ll muck in wherever you’re needed. I’ll be letting half the waiting staff go, and even more of the housekeeping team, and Arjun will have to cope with just Ollie in the kitchen.”