Love Me Or Leave Me by Claudia Carroll

Author:Claudia Carroll [Claudia Carroll]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Chloe.

Just after 8.30 p.m. and I’m frantically trying to do a discreet check on all guests. Low level panic driving me, mainly because my worry is if Dave managed to get that ossified drunk, chances are high he had a boozing buddy with him. I’ve worked in the hotel business a long time and trust me, I know the way these things play out.

I check the bar first, but it’s empty. Which is good, means they’re all still at dinner. Odd that Tommy’s not around, but then he could be downstairs in the wine cellar restocking, while it’s quiet round here.

So I slip into the back of our Yellow Dining Room just to check everyone else is all-present and correct, which by the way, is a hugely impressive room off the first floor, meticulously restored with a stunning Farrow & Ball paint job and sweeping views all the way down onto the gardens below.

We’ve laid on a set menu for tonight and it’s no exaggeration to say there really is something for everyone in the audience. Well, given everything our guests will be facing into this weekend, it’s my mission to see at the very least that everything else around them, the food particularly, is world class and completely fabulous. Our maître d’ and I pre-approved the whole menu together and to be honest, I thought everyone would turn up for dinner, just so they could salivate over it. You wanna see it! Hand dived scallops in garlic butter, lamb rump with homemade ricotta, fillet of pork with black pudding rosti. ‘Worthy of a bloody Michelin star,’ as Nick, our head chef had proudly – and not unjustifiably – boasted to me. To be perfectly honest, if it were me, I’d want photos of each finished mini-masterpiece dish, just so I could post them up on Facebook and Twitter.

And while it’s fairly full in here and most couples at least seem to be enjoying the banquet laid out for them, a second glance round the tables and somehow I don’t exactly get the feeling that all’s well.

For starters, two absent couples stick out like sore thumbs. Dawn, Kirk, Jo and Dave. Some chance of any of them wandering in here late and looking to be fed and watered now, I think ruefully.

Another lightning quick scan of the room and to my surprise, tucked into a discreet corner I see Andrew Lowe, eating alone. Polite, polished Andrew Lowe, who looks so handsome, greying and distinguished that I almost feel there should be a portrait of him hanging up on one of our walls somewhere. He just has that kind of face, that carries fifty plus years of authority with him. He looks up and catches my eye, so I weave my way through the tables over to him.

‘Good evening, Mr Lowe,’ I smile politely. ‘Just making sure everything is alright for you so far?’

He raises an eyebrow and pushes aside the Financial Times he’d been reading.

‘I’m afraid, my dear Miss

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