Coffee, Tea, the Gypsy & Me... by Caroline James

Author:Caroline James [James, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Humorous, Romantic Comedy, Romance, General Humor, Humor & Satire, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 0957378203
Amazon: B007RFBZPA
Publisher: RamJam Publishing
Published: 2013-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

A distinguished looking grey haired gentleman sat in the bay window of the Green Room and savoured his morning coffee. Beams of warm July sun streamed through the windows and highlighted the faded pile of a Persian rug beside the fireplace. He shook the pink pages of the Financial Times and smiled as Jo approached.

“Would you like more coffee, sir?” Jo picked up a bone china cup and poured carefully. The man leaned forward. He ignored the silver tongs, hooked on the rim of the Georgian sugar bowl, and put two lumps of crystallized sugar into the steaming brown liquid.

“Are you the proprietor?” he asked.

Dressed in a tailored Harris Tweed jacket with smart blue shirt and monogrammed cufflinks, Jo recognised the light blue stripe of his woven silk tie – Old Etonian. A hotel brochure lay face down on the table before him.

“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?” Jo replied.

The man indicated that she should join him, then laced his elegant fingers together and crossed one leg over the other. Red silk socks flashed above handmade leather loafers. Jo made herself comfortable on the opposite chair.

“I’ve secured some shooting rights nearby and I need a venue to entertain my top clients.” He looked around the room. “I run a cider company. It’s for the Glorious Twelfth and we need exclusivity.”

Jo did a quick calculation. August 12th was less than a month away.

“My guests are very important and I want them to have anything they require to make their stay comfortable. Do you think you can cater for a shooting weekend?” He picked up a gold case, snapped it open and placed a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles carefully in the holder.

“We’d be delighted to accommodate you, sir.” Jo replied. She’d crawl across a zillion broken cider bottles to secure this! “Would you like to have a look around?”

“No need, m’dear. You come recommended. I always trust my game keepers and young Alf said you’d look after us.”

He reached into his pocket and handed Jo a business card. Jo studied the gold embossed writing – Henry Mulberry MBE, Managing Director, Mulberry Cider, Tinerton, Somerset.

“Excellent, my secretary will be in touch.” Mr Mulberry bent to retrieve his briefcase and tucked the hotel brochure into a side pocket.

“I’m salmon fishing on the Tay and my ghillie says they’re biting, must be off.” He held out a hand. “You take dogs of course?”

“Of course, Mr Mulberry.” Jo shook his hand.

“First class.”

Jo watched Henry Mulberry crunch across the gravel to a waiting vehicle. A chauffeur held open the rear door of a silver Rolls Royce and Henry disappeared into the luxurious interior. Jo’s head spun. Dogs? Where the hell was she going to put a brood of well-bred hunting dogs? In her own bed if she had to. She picked up the coffee tray and raced to the kitchen.

“Sandra, start thinking about game menus. Shooting parties here we come!”

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