Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) Madalyn Morgan (ebook smartphone .txt) 📖

‘Eating one of the eggs that she collected, with bread and butter soldiers.’ Bess raised an eyebrow. ‘Sylvie made them for her. She has won the hearts of all the staff,’ Frank said, making for the door.

‘I’ll be down in fifteen minutes to do the post and the papers.’

‘All done. But you’re due to go on reception at ten.’

‘Oh heck! I’d better get up then.’ Swinging her legs out of bed, Bess took a drink of her tea. ‘Thank you,’ she called after Frank. When she’d finished, she went into the bathroom. Cleaning her teeth, Bess shook her head. If Nancy was already dressed and waiting for Frank when he got up, and they went straight downstairs, she wouldn’t have cleaned her teeth or washed her face. She probably hadn’t brushed her hair either and Frank wouldn’t think to do it.

‘Good morning, early birds.’ Bess said, joining her husband and Nancy in the dining room. Frank pulled out a chair and Bess sat down. Nancy gave her an endearing smile. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest, but as there was nothing Bess could do about it at the breakfast table, she thought it best not to say anything.

‘What would you like for breakfast this morning, Mrs Donnelly?’ Sylvie asked, suddenly at Bess’s side.

‘Scrambled egg on toast, please, and a pot of tea.’ Bess glanced at Frank. He raised his cup. Leaning to her left, Bess looked at Nancy’s empty glass. ‘And what about you, darling? Would you like some more milk?’

Nancy shook her head. ‘No thank you.’

‘Just tea for one then, Sylvie.’ When the waitress left, Bess said, ‘I have to work on reception this morning, in place of your aunt Maeve, but this afternoon when Jack has had his lunch, would you like to go and see Auntie Margot and the new baby?’

Nancy’s eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously.

‘And we’ll take--’ Bess hesitated. She felt uncomfortable calling her mother Grandma Dudley, even though that was what her mother had told Nancy to call her.

‘I’ll telephone your mother,’ Frank said. ‘I’ll tell her you’ll pick her up at, what, two?’ Bess looked at her husband and smiled. ‘Ready sweetheart?’ Nancy jumped down from her chair. ‘She promised Donnie she’d draw his portrait.’ Frank was doing his best not to laugh. ‘See you in a while, love,’ he said, following Nancy out of the dining room.

Sylvie brought Bess her breakfast and looked twice at the empty chairs. ‘Surplus to requirements again,’ Bess said, laughing.

When she had finished eating, Bess called into the kitchen to ask Chef if he needed anything. He didn’t, so she went to reception. ‘Everything all right, Jack?’

‘Yes, Mrs Donnelly, all quiet.’

‘I’ll be back in a minute, then,’ she said, and dashed into the office. ‘Nancy, while the guests are having their breakfasts, Jack doesn’t need me, so shall we go upstairs and wash your face and brush your hair?’ Nancy left her drawing of the pit pony and joined Bess at the door.

On the left side of Bess and Frank’s sitting room, Frank had put a single bed. And in the corner a tallboy that had four deep drawers and narrow wardrobe. Nancy took off her outer clothes and without being told scooped up her washbag and towel from the end of her bed and skipped off to the bathroom, a small room off Bess and Frank’s bedroom.

When she returned her face was shiny-clean but her underclothes were wet. ‘Right,’ Bess said, ‘clean undies and a pretty frock.’ Bess took vest, knickers and socks, from the top drawer of the tallboy, and a blue dress and cardigan from the wardrobe.

She helped Nancy to dress. Then sat on the bed with the child sitting on the rug in front of her and brushed out the knots in her tangled curls. Bess had curly hair and as a child was never allowed to let it grow. With a new baby arriving every eighteen months Lily Dudley didn’t have time to brush Bess’s hair for the pleasure of it. She brushed it once a day before school, often so roughly it made Bess cry. It was Ena who, as soon as she was old enough, liked to brush Bess’s hair. She would brush it until it shone. She never tired of putting ribbons in it, plaiting it, turning fine strands around her fingers to make ringlets. Bess smiled at the memory.

‘There, all done.’ Bess put down the brush and lifted Nancy’s golden locks from her shoulders. Her hair was soft and curled easily. ‘We’ll tie it back with a ribbon, shall we, then it won’t get in your eyes when you’re drawing.’ Bess took a length of blue ribbon from a box at the side of the bed, swept Nancy’s hair up and tied a bow around it.

Bess and Nancy arrived downstairs as a group of people dressed in thick jackets and walking shoes were leaving. Bess opened the door to the office. ‘You go and see Uncle Frank and finish your drawing, while I help Jack.’ Closing the door, Bess heard complimentary words about Nancy’s dress. Nancy replied, but Bess didn’t catch what she said.

‘The group that have just left are taking the public footpath down to the River Swift, and then over the bridge to the Rye Hills, and Lowarth,’ Jack said. ‘One of them has a distant relative in Bitteswell, so they’re going to walk a far as the village and have lunch in one of the pubs.

‘And I gave another man, a historian I think he said he was, directions to Market Bosworth. He wanted to see where the Battle of Bosworth took place. He said he wouldn’t be back for lunch, because he’s driving up to Nottingham, to see the castle.’ Jack gave Bess a lopsided smile.

‘I know that look! What