be more damned appealing than that Cynthia-bloody-Bosworth woman, with her hips that stuck out at right angles to her body: she could probably use them as trays. And, it wasn’t as though they’d had a queue of applicants for the job.
Oh, but Henry could be so bloody-minded and set in his ways, insisting on carrying on with the ‘same old’ just because it had always worked alright. Alright? Didn’t he want anything to work better? Joe felt that for the past four years he’d been trying to drag his boss kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century, when in fact Henry was only just getting used to the twentieth century. He’d only just managed to persuade him to get Deana a computer three years ago. There had been paper ledgers and everything was being handwritten, which wouldn’t have been quite so bad if Lord Henry’s handwriting had been legible in the first place. Deana had done her best to get the administration in order, but Joe had realised that much of the paperwork had been left to flounder when Lady Hogarth had passed away.
One of the earliest tasks that Joe had set himself was to set up a website and get the castle some internet presence – other than the tourist information centres and the occasional drive-by, no one really knew they existed – which was probably how Lord Henry preferred it. But the castle needed income, and quickly, if it was going to survive. A chap called Michael, from a marketing company in the nearby town of Alnwick, had helped set up the website and designed some new brochures and adverts to attract the tourists. Trying to get Lord Henry to realise that most businesses these days had a web presence, and to commit some funds to that, was like drawing blood from a stone, but he and Michael got there in the end.
Everything seemed a battle, but over time Joe had learned how to handle Henry – introduce the idea and the reasons why it would be beneficial, for example, why they should take Ellie on, and then leave Henry to it, so in time he began to think it was his own idea after all. The ‘gently, gently’ approach seemed to work, and ‘slowly, slowly’ … but they didn’t have a lot of time with this one, Easter was less than three weeks away. The tearooms would need a freshen up before opening, staff would need to be in place, deliveries supplied … There was a massive amount of work to do in a short time.
‘So what do you think?’ Joe put the question out there as the two of them sat in the study after the interview.
‘Hmn, I might just have another slice of that cake. It was rather good, I must say. But I do still have one or two reservations. She seems very young and there is a real lack of experience there.’
‘But the cake’s pretty damn good, isn’t it, and the scones? She’s proved she can cook. I can always advise if there are any management issues. At the end of the day we need good food, good service and a clean venue. And if the food is right, then people will come along, recommend us and come back. That’s what we need.’ He was sticking his neck out. But he really didn’t want to be dealing with Cynthia, her grumpy attitude and her tasteless lumpy cakes. She’d covered a couple of weeks last year when Mrs Charlton had taken a fortnight off for a bunion operation. And in that short time she’d managed to upset the waitresses, Doris and Nicola – though upsetting Doris was an easy enough thing to do – not to mention a couple of their regular customers.
‘Ellie is pleasant, she seems well organised, a hard worker, ambitious, with some good ideas too,’ he continued.
Lord Henry gave him a sour look. Dammit, he realised he’d overstepped the mark. New ideas were always suspicious to Henry. They were not tried and tested.
‘And how will a young girl like that manage the staff?’
‘She’s worked in a team for a long while, and seems to have managed well when she had responsibility for her friend’s café. And anyway, it didn’t take Cynthia very long to upset Doris and Nicola, did it?’
‘Hmmn,’ was the answer he got. Then Lord Henry started with, ‘Cynthia doesn’t need to give notice.’
‘Well, that’s only because she’s unemployed at the moment. So that’s the best reason to take her on, then, is it?’ He couldn’t hide the hint of sarcasm in his tone. ‘Look, I think Ellie will be good. I like her,’ were Joe’s final words on the matter.
Lord Henry merely pressed his lips together.
There was no more to be said just now, so Joe got up to leave. The older man was never going to make a decision that quickly, not with the girl just five minutes out of the room. Joe was already by the door. He turned, saying, ‘We can’t leave it too long, Henry. We’ve interviewed them both twice now, and it’s not as though there’s a queue of applicants. Easter is just over three weeks away, and I don’t know how to cook a batch of scones, do you?’ He challenged his boss with a stare, as if to say over to you, but I’ll be arguing my case.
Lord Henry’s stare back didn’t falter, ‘I’ll see.’
Deana came in through the part-open door to clear the crockery. Joe guessed that she was rooting for Ellie too. Hopefully she would set to work on Lord Henry as well. A double-pronged fork action – that might just do the trick. But he could be such a stubborn old bugger. Joe was sure Deana had warmed to Ellie; the way she had helped with the tea and coffee, laid out the scones. She was on Ellie’s side. The last thing she would want was another bossy middle-aged woman in the castle … She was enough herself, and would be the first to admit it!
‘We’ll speak later.’ Joe walked on out the door. He had loads to do. He was getting a new flyer made up to distribute around other local attractions and the tourist information centres. He needed to organise an advert too for the local Gazette as they were doing a special ‘What’s On Over Easter’ section. And he had to call in some contractors to look at repairs to the roof after last week’s storms; some missing tiles had caused a leak in the Edward I Room. God, this place was falling apart, and, boy, did they need to pick up their visitor numbers this year and improve their income! The repairs and staff bills alone would eat up any chance of a profit they might make. And the farm side of the estate was only just covering its costs. Yet he’d grown fond of this place, this crumbling crazy castle that he thought of as home, and had built up over these past four years. He didn’t want to see it fail now, be sold off to some property developer and made into flats. Surely Lord Henry didn’t want that either, but the whole damn place was at risk of turning to dust.
Joe wound his way down the stone stairwell and headed for the great hall, which was the quickest way to get across to the opposite wing, where his own office and apartment were. There were two huge fireplaces in the hall, and an immense mahogany table that virtually filled the room. There must have been thirty-six chairs set at it. Deana would lay it all out with crockery and glasses just before the Easter visitors were due, ready for the banquet that never happened. The tourists could only look at it. But why couldn’t it be used, why couldn’t they move on to doing functions; weddings? Ellie seemed the sort of ambitious businesswoman who could drive that forward; the castle might be able to do function catering. That would surely bring more income in. Yes, they’d get booking fees, they might even let some of the bedrooms out as guest suites and bring these rooms to life once more. Give this place a future not just a past.
But would he ever manage to persuade Lord Henry?
*
Five days … five days it had taken, of arguing his case, then backing off a bit. The ‘softly, softly’ approach. But they were desperately in need of getting someone into the position. Lord Henry couldn’t make any decision in a hurry, oh no, and the poor girl and that awful Cynthia woman were left hanging by a thread, no doubt wondering what was going on.
Well, at least he was making the call now.
A lady answered the phone, middle-aged by her tone, definitely not Ellie. He introduced himself and then heard her shout away from the receiver but still pounding in his ears, ‘It’s for you, Ellie. That Joe chappie from the castle, I think.’ Must be her mother, he mused, with a wry smile.
He was sure he heard a little squeal in the background, of excitement or fear; he wasn’t certain. It made him grin. He could picture her dashing to the phone – it was a nice image. He couldn’t help but notice at the