The Golden Oldies Guesthouse (ARC) Read online

  ‘You might have done,’ he said. ‘I was an actor. Still am occasionally.’

  ‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Titania beamed. ‘How wonderful to find someone from show business in this remote place!’

  ‘We must have a chat later. In the meantime, let me carry your luggage upstairs. I say, I love your number plate! T1 TER!’

  ‘Well, obviously, darling, I would have preferred “Titania Terry”, but these stupid DVLA people have no imagination!’

  The stairs were tricky in the silver boots and she wobbled a little. Simon showed her into a very nice big room with a very nice big bed. There appeared to be plenty of storage for her things, and the en suite was a proper bathroom, and not those little cupboards you used to get in boarding-houses on the road. She’d hated touring. Often she’d actually had to share a bathroom with a couple of the others. At one time, when she was the star, that would have been unthinkable.

  ‘This room doesn’t have a sea view,’ Simon said. ‘But the view is very pleasant.’

  Titania glanced out of the window and all she could see was the cars parked below and a dense collection of trees and the hill above.

  ‘But the lounge and dining room downstairs do have great views of the sea,’ Simon continued. ‘So do feel free to come down any time you fancy. When the weather’s warm we sit out on the terrace. Now, can we get you anything? Shall I leave you to unpack?’

  Titania knew exactly what she wanted. ‘Yes, I’ll unpack first,’ she said.

  She waited until he was safely out of the door before she unearthed the bottle of gin from one of her bags. Somewhere there was probably a lukewarm tonic. She searched some more and found two of them. Pity there wasn’t a fridge in the room but never mind.

  She was a little concerned about Simon Sparrow having been an actor. Would he have known about her long-running relationship with Henry Houseman? Most people in the business knew about Titania Terry and Henry Houseman. Not as famous as Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton perhaps, but their names were linked together for years, too. Like Marks & Spencer. And Morecambe and Wise. Until that bitch came along, of course. No point in dwelling on it, she thought. It’s in the past and I’m going to get my revenge. And, at eighty-five, I haven’t got any time to waste.

  She poured herself a hefty measure of gin and topped it up with tonic before looking in the mirror, raising her glass and saying, ‘Here’s to you, Titania Terry, and every success in your mission!’

  18

  AN ECLECTIC MIX

  ‘My God!’ said Tess. ‘She was like a walking Christmas tree! I’ve never seen so many baubles on one person in my life! Did you see the layers of make-up, Simon? How old do you suppose she is?’

  ‘She’s ancient,’ Simon agreed. ‘Must be well into her eighties. She was treading the boards long before I started in the business. She never quite made it to the top, though.’

  ‘At least she says she’ll eat anything,’ Tess went on, ‘so that’s a relief. And she likes a cooked breakfast, as does Celia – can you imagine them sitting down together?’

  ‘Should be interesting. I feel sorry for Dominic, though, with those two for company at mealtimes. I hope he doesn’t regret coming.’

  ‘I hope not. Did Titania Terry say what she was going to be doing here?’

  Simon shook his head. ‘Nope, just coming to relax, she said.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Tess. ‘I wonder…’

  ‘Don’t let your imagination run away with you! She’s just a dotty old has-been although I do seem to remember some bloke she was tied up with. But it really all happened before my time.’

  * * *

  Dominic had almost finished his second vodka when Celia appeared.

  What a strange old girl she was, Tess thought as she removed the empty tonic can. Celia was dressed as always in some boring beige ensemble and Tess couldn’t work her out at all. She didn’t think elderly, prim, teetotal spinsters existed these days, except in Agatha Christie novels, perhaps. What was she doing here? She said she’d always wanted to paint, which she supposed was fair enough, but somehow she suspected there was more to it than that. And then there was all this ‘Mr Delamere’ and ‘Miss Winsgrove’ business.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Winsgrove,’ Dominic said, standing up politely while she sat down on the sofa opposite. ‘How are you this evening?’

  ‘Very well, thank you, Mr Delamere,’ she replied. ‘Hasn’t the weather been glorious?’

  ‘It has,’ Dominic agreed. ‘But I do wish you’d call me Dominic. After all, we do look like being under the same roof for some weeks to come and I think it’s perhaps time we relaxed a little.’

  She didn’t speak for a moment and Tess wondered if he’d overstepped her buttoned-up mark.

  Then she said, ‘Yes, indeed. After all, we’ve known each other for a few days now. I’m Celia.’

  ‘Have you had a good day, Celia?’ Dominic asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s been very enjoyable,’ she replied, ‘if a little frustrating. I don’t know why I thought watercolour painting would be easy, but I don’t seem to be getting the effects I’d hoped for.’

  ‘I should think it takes time, Celia.’

  ‘Would you like a drink, Miss Winsgrove?’ Tess asked.

  ‘A lemonade, please.’

  ‘Fine,’ Tess said. ‘By the way, we have another guest now. She’ll probably be down in a minute.’

  Celia had been sitting out on the terrace for most of the afternoon with her watercolours, and she was telling Dominic how difficult it was to depict the wild Atlantic rollers and the spray as they pounded against the cliff.

  ‘I’ve been gazing at the sea today, too, trying to fire my imagination,’ Dominic said. ‘I think I must pay a visit to the pub this evening.’

  Seven thirty came and went, dinner was almost ready and there was still no sign of Titania.

  ‘Who’s going to go up and knock on her door?’ Simon asked.

  ‘You are,’ said Tess.

  When he came back some minutes later, Simon was wiping his brow.

  ‘You’ll never guess,’ he said, ‘she was fast asleep, on top of the bed. And there was a half empty gin bottle on the table.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Tess, ‘that doesn’t bode well, does it?’

  Simon laughed. ‘We might need to keep an eye on this one. She said she’d be down in a minute.’

  ‘I suppose we should really give her the benefit of the doubt. After all she’s an old lady and she’s driven a long way.’

  ‘True,’ said Simon. ‘Anyway, we can shortly start serving dinner to the other two. She shouldn’t be long.’

  Tess went into the sitting room and placed Celia’s lemonade on the table.

  ‘Thank you. We’ve decided,’ Dominic said, ‘to dispense with the formalities and have agreed to use first names. Have we not, Celia?’

  Celia smiled primly. ‘Oh, indeed.’

  ‘Good,’ said Tess, ‘and I forgot to ask, would you like ice in your lemonade, Celia?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary, Mrs Sp—’

  ‘Tess, please!’

  ‘That won’t be necessary, er, Tess.’

  Dominic suppressed a yawn, shook his paper and tucked it down the side of his chair, focusing his attention on Celia.

  ‘So you’re retired now, Celia?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘but only a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Really? What line of business were you in?’

  ‘I was a book-keeper, Mr… er, Dominic.’

  ‘And for whom did you keep the books?’

  She hesitated, went a little pink, and was plainly considering her reply. ‘He was a garage owner.’

  Not for a moment could Tess imagine her in the world of car sales, either new or second-hand. Then again she did have a smart BMW.

  ‘I assume you’re interested in cars?’ Dominic asked.

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ Celia replied. ‘It was purely a convenient place for me to work.’

>   ‘Oh,’ Dominic said, looking baffled.

  Then she must have felt some sort of explanation was called for because she added, ‘I had to be close to home, you understand, because Mummy was an invalid for so long. I needed to be able to nip home. Always in my lunch break, and sometimes in my tea breaks, too.’

  ‘I see,’ said Dominic, who plainly didn’t. ‘Were you there for some time?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Celia replied. ‘More than thirty years.’

  ‘You must have enjoyed it, then?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she said, ‘I told you, it was convenient.’

  Tess reappeared. ‘There’s no sign yet of our newest guest,’ she said, ‘so I thought we might as well start serving dinner.’

  * * *

  The large table in the dining room next door seated twelve people, and Dominic and Celia had taken to sitting opposite each other at the far end, closest to the view. A third place had been set next to Celia.

  They’d almost finished their Cornish crab starter when Tess saw Titania walking in: a tiny old woman with badly dyed red hair, a low-cut pink mini-dress which displayed an off-putting amount of crepey cleavage and wrinkly knees, and short, silver, high-heeled boots.

  Celia almost dropped her fork and sank back in her chair, while Titania plonked herself down.

  ‘Hi!’ she said. ‘I’m Titania.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Titania,’ Dominic said. ‘I’m Dominic, and this is Celia.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Titania, picking up her napkin. ‘Have you two been married a long time?’

  Celia choked noisily on her roll.

  ‘No, no,’ he explained hastily. ‘We’re quite separate. I’m here to write, and Celia’s here to paint.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Titania, ‘I suppose that’s the sort of things people do down here.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Celia asked, openly staring at the newcomer.

  ‘Resting, darling,’ Titania replied. ‘I do have one little matter to settle, but basically I’m here to get away from it all. Show business tours are so bloody exhausting.’

  ‘So you’re an actress,’ Dominic said, ‘aren’t you? I thought I might have seen you somewhere before.’

  Titania seemed pleased. ‘Oh, you’ve no idea how tired I am! The matinees, the late nights, the parties! Do you write plays by any chance, darling?’

  ‘No, I’m hoping to write a novel about smuggling and shipwrecks on this coast. It’s a subject that’s always fascinated me.’

  Titania sighed. ‘You only need to watch a few episodes of Poldark,’ she said. Then, taking a sideways glance at Celia, said, ‘What sort of painting do you do?’

  ‘Oh, watercolours,’ Celia replied. ‘I love the soft muted colours, the seascapes and the glorious English countryside. I was just telling Dominic how difficult I’m finding it to get the paint flowing the way I want it to.’

  ‘Not my type of thing,’ Titania said dismissively. She was gazing longingly at Dominic’s wine bottle. ‘I wouldn’t mind a glass of that.’

  ‘Then you must ask Tess to bring you a bottle,’ Dominic said. ‘The idea is that you have a glass or two and then it’ll be stored away for you until dinner tomorrow.’

  ‘You must tell me what wine you like,’ Tess said as she cleared the plates.

  Titania turned to Celia. ‘What’s that you’re drinking? Doesn’t look very interesting. Aren’t you having any wine?’

  ‘No,’ Celia replied primly. ‘I rarely drink.’

  ‘How dull!’ Titania was examining her closely. ‘You know what, Celia? I reckon a couple of glasses of wine are just what you need to get your creative juices flowing. You’d have your paint flowing in no time at all.’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ Celia said.

  * * *

  ‘I don’t think Dominic knows what’s hit him with these two!’ Tess exclaimed as she leaned against the kitchen table.

  ‘He’ll cope!’ Simon said.

  ‘He’s such a gentleman,’ Tess went on. ‘Unfailingly polite and charming, although I can see him suppressing yawns where Celia’s concerned. But I can’t imagine how he’s going to cope with Titania.’

  ‘He’ll probably need an extra vodka,’ Simon said, bending down to load the dishwasher and chuckling to himself. ‘But you never know, they might all be firm friends before the week is out!’

  19

  AMBER

  Tess was finding it exhausting coping with cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping and attending to the vagaries of her very disparate guests. Although Simon often helped with the cooking, he was kept busy with general maintenance and, in particular, erecting an expanse of glass panels on top of the low wall that was all that separated their guests from a certain demise.

  They’d had the inevitable visits and inspections from Health and Safety. Their kitchen was declared to be hygienic, their fire precautions adequate, but the terrace wall might not be there at all, they said, for as much good as it was doing. You could easily trip over the thing, they said, and that would be the end of you. Something must be done about it quickly and, until such time as it was, a notice must be placed in the middle of the terrace warning guests to keep their distance. Furthermore, the inspector said, he’d be back shortly to check that the work had been done.

  ‘Does he think we’re driving our guests to suicide or something?’ Simon had joked. ‘Should we call it “Lemmings’ Leap”?’

  Tess had been worrying about the wall for some time, particularly when the children visited. How did you make the terrace secure without blocking the view from downstairs? Hence the glass panels. Tess now lived in fear that Simon might be called up to London for more voice-overs or something and leave the job half done. They couldn’t afford to turn down the opportunity of any further money. But in spite of all the extra expense Tess finally accepted that she needed help in the house, and phoned Gina.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Gina said. ‘How about I do a couple of hours every morning after I’ve finished in the pub? I’d get all the cleaning done easy and, if there was time left, I could do some of your ironing or something.’

  Tess sighed with relief. Gina began work at The Portmerryn Arms at about seven thirty, clearing up from the night before, and she could be with Tess by half past nine to start cleaning upstairs while the guests were breakfasting. Well, two of the guests would probably be breakfasting at a normal time but Titania Terry was a law unto herself, rarely emerging before the breakfast deadline of ten o’clock.

  ‘Does she have late nights, then?’ Gina asked Tess as she sat down for a coffee, having done Dominic’s and Celia’s bedrooms and bathrooms. ‘Not that there’s exactly a surplus of nightclubs round here.’

  ‘No, she doesn’t go out,’ Tess replied. ‘She says she likes to watch old movies in her room, but I suspect she has a supply of gin hidden somewhere.’

  ‘Never a dull moment!’ Gina said cheerfully. ‘I’ll check for empty bottles.’

  Tess grinned. ‘I think she’s probably thought of that because I notice she brings down a carrier bag in the morning and puts it in her car before breakfast.’

  ‘Ah, concealing the evidence!’

  ‘Exactly!’

  * * *

  Tess was concerned mainly about Celia. Dominic was amenable to everyone, did his writing, read his newspaper and drank his vodka tonics before dinner, when he had a glass or two of claret.

  Titania took herself off during the day to goodness-knows-where and generally got back in the late afternoon and probably started on the gin. She then prattled on non-stop all through dinner – always clad in something outlandish – about her theatrical experiences, who she knew, who she didn’t know.

  Celia, for all her painting aspirations, rarely ventured far. Tess reckoned she had a haunted look about her and it was patently obvious that she and Titania were not getting on. This was hardly surprising if you considered they were two completely opposite and extreme specimens of elderly womanhood.

  They breakfaste
d separately, none of them bothered about lunch, but it was in the evening that the three of them came together for drinks and dinner. This was the problem with having three single guests, and perhaps it would be easier when the fourth bedroom was let out in a week’s time to a couple from Essex who were ‘hoping to rejuvenate their marriage’, whatever that meant. In the meantime, Bedroom 4 was still vacant.

  Tess telephoned her daughter. ‘Have you any time off in the coming week, Amber?’

  ‘Let me check,’ Amber said. Then, a minute later, ‘Hey, I could do Sunday and Monday, Mum. I’ve got to be on set for a Thomas Hardy thing they’re filming for TV on Tuesday morning. Let’s see if I can get a flight down on Saturday night and one back Monday night. Peter would love to come but he’s off to Dubai on Sunday; you know how it is!’

  Tess did indeed know how it was. Although Amber and Peter had only married a couple of years ago, they’d been living together for a very long time – Peter on his worldwide business trips and Amber, a senior make-up artist who was much in demand, and frequently on location somewhere or other. Tess didn’t know how they survived as a couple because their paths so rarely coincided in that large state-of-the-art Wimbledon apartment. Perhaps that was exactly why their relationship did survive.

  Now Tess was excited at the prospect of Amber’s visit. She got on well with her only daughter and missed their lunches together when Amber related the latest juicy show business gossip, who was sleeping with whom, and all sorts of celebrity secrets.

  It was a pity Room 4 didn’t have a sea view but that couldn’t be helped. Anyway, Amber was quite capable of enjoying the scenery from the terrace without toppling over the wall.

  * * *

  Amber arrived on a late flight at Newquay and it was almost dark when Tess drove her up the drive to The Sparrows’ Nest.