A Room at the Manor by Julie Shackman

Author:Julie Shackman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2018-05-23T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-four

Morven and I swapped more confused stares.

‘Environmental Health?’ repeated Morven in an incredulous tone. ‘This place is spotless.’

My mind reeled. Who on earth could have done such a thing? And why? I looked around at the swept floorboards, polished tables and sparkling cutlery. We were fastidious about cleanliness. This didn’t make sense.

‘Who complained?’ I bit out, not really expecting him to divulge such information.

Back in the kitchen, the mixer’s whirring stopped. Perhaps noticing the sharp edge in my voice, Becky and Jess popped their heads round the kitchen door.

Mr Doyle’s lips rose officiously. ‘I’m afraid I can’t say.’

I gritted my teeth. ‘We’re due to open soon but, please, do what you need to do. Becky, Jess—take a minute while Mr Doyle has a look at our kitchen.’ My fingers gripped the edge of the counter as I turned back to him. ‘I’m sure you’ll find everything in order.’

Mr Doyle simply cocked a challenging eyebrow.

Becky stepped in, ‘Would you like a coffee, Mr Doyle? And perhaps a slice of cake?’

The man took a step forwards and peered into the cake display. ‘A cappuccino would be very nice. Oh, and a slice of your Persian tea loaf, please.’ He made his way past us and into the kitchen.

‘He obviously isn’t worried about food poisoning from our cakes then,’ I muttered as I came out from behind the counter. ‘Who the hell has reported us to Environmental Health?’

Morven raised her hands helplessly, her neatly manicured nails flashing. ‘Some malicious bugger with too much time on their hands.’ She sidled closer. ‘Don’t worry. This place is like a palace. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

‘Yoo-hoo! Surprise, darling!’

No way. No way. It couldn’t be.

I turned my head in slow motion, away from Morven’s open, confident expression.

‘Mum,’ I whispered in a papery voice.

‘Your mum reported us?’ blinked Becky.

‘No. I mean that’s my mum,’ I replied, jabbing a disbelieving finger at my mother where she stood framed in the patio doors, arm in arm with a young hipster bloke.

I stood, rigid with shock as she swept towards me in a cloud of orange and red fringed kaftan, her silvery hair snaking down her back. She planted two theatrical kisses airily on either side of my face before rewarding Morven with an excited squeal and two identical ‘mwah!’s and taking a step backwards in a pair of elaborately jewelled sandals.

‘You’ve filled out,’ she said to me in her fruity burr. ‘Must be all those cakes.’

Becky and Jess appeared hypnotised by the bizarre scene unfolding in front of them.

‘Mum,’ I said, ‘what are you doing here? You said you might come over at Christmas.’

My panic zoomed into overdrive when I spied a pile of luggage channelling the height of Mount Vesuvius perched precariously in the doorway.

Mum’s green eyes danced with mischief. ‘Wolf and I decided to surprise you!’

‘Oh, you’ve done that, alright—sorry, did you just say “Wolf”?’ I studied the young man beside her, all tie-dyed blue T-shirt, beige combats and cropped brown hair. ‘I thought you said his

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