The Golden Oldies Guesthouse (ARC) Read online

  What she’d actually got was a sitting room piled high with boxes and furniture, an icy draught wending its way in through the ill-fitting French windows, a kitchen without any units, and one freezing cold bathroom upstairs, with limited hot water and a great deal of dust.

  At least Nick and Jim were finished, but Pong the plumber couldn’t come back until after New Year and he couldn’t specify a date. And good old Bob had done most of the downstairs wiring, including the kitchen, which was now ready for the units to be fitted. The units, too, would arrive sometime in the New Year. Therefore, until the work was completed, these two rear rooms remained packed with beds, boxes and assorted furniture.

  So, when Matt rang up during the second week of December and casually asked, ‘Are we still coming to you for Christmas?’ Tess was taken aback.

  ‘Well, the thing is,’ she said, ‘we’re in a bit of a state here. Everyone’s about to knock off for Christmas and we’re left with a house without heat, without a kitchen and with only one antiquated bathroom.’

  ‘But we need to see the “before” so that later we can rave about the “after”. Come on, Mum, we don’t mind roughing it for a few days.’

  He might not mind but Tess didn’t think Lisa would be particularly smitten with the idea. And there was no end of exposed brickwork and sharp edges where young children could come to grief.

  ‘And Amber won’t be coming,’ Matt went on, ‘because she and Peter are off to Thailand; Phuket, I think she said. And we could give Orla a lift down if you wanted.’ Tess’s mind was in a whirl and she could scarcely believe she was saying, ‘Well, yes, of course, that would be lovely…’ wondering what Simon would have to say and how they could cope with three extra adults and two young children.

  She found Simon scraping the paint off the window of what was to become their bedroom.

  ‘We need to replace some of this wood,’ he said, ‘half of it’s rotten.’

  ‘About Christmas,’ Tess said, ‘I’ve just had a call from Matt.’

  ‘And,’ Simon said, ‘they all want to come down here?’

  ‘However did you guess?’

  ‘Because,’ he replied, ‘I can clearly remember you prattling on about lovely Cornish Christmases, huge Christmas trees, roaring fires – the whole nine yards. They do say you shouldn’t advertise what you can’t deliver.’

  ‘And that’s just it, Simon, we can’t deliver!’

  ‘Oh yes we can.’ He laid down his paint scraper. ‘The kitchen’s functional, if not glamorous. This old dining room, which you’re hell-bent on making into our bedroom, has a fireplace of sorts, so we could open that up, we could drag a couple of sofas through and, hey presto, we have a sitting room, albeit temporary.’

  ‘But where are they all going to sleep?’

  ‘They’re spoilt for choice upstairs. I think the dust has pretty well settled now and there won’t be much more until after Christmas. So we could put Matt and family in the one we originally chose for ourselves; after all, our big bed is still in there, and we can rig up something for the kids. And did you say Orla might come? Well, she could take her pick of the others, and we can move a divan up for her as well.’

  Tess scratched her head. ‘One bathroom for five adults and two kids!’

  ‘We used to manage perfectly well years ago,’ Simon said, ‘before we all became obsessed with having our own loos. And it’s only for a few days, darling. It’ll be fun! Tell you what, I’ll quit the paint-scraping and go in search of a lovely big tree! How about that?’

  * * *

  Even Orla had seemed delighted at the prospect of a chaotic, chilly, Cornish Christmas.

  ‘Both my boys are duty-bound to take turns to ask me over for Christmas Day,’ she said to Tess on the phone, ‘but one of them’s away this year, and the one that isn’t had me over last year, so I’d quite like to be able to say, “please don’t bother because I’m going to Cornwall”!’

  ‘You could live to regret that,’ Tess said. ‘Just bring plenty of warm clothing.’

  She was aware that it was her family and friend who was coming, and so felt she had to offer some sort of invitation to Simon’s son.

  ‘Don’t worry about Damien,’ Simon said, ‘I’d already suggested to him that he come down, but apparently he’s spending the festive season with some girl he met in Coventry. Said he might pop down in the New Year, though.’

  Well, Tess reckoned, that was a temporary relief at least.

  Simon was as good as his word because, the very next morning, he set out and came back a couple of hours later with a tall, well-shaped tree, complete with roots. ‘We can plant it out the rest of the year,’ he said, ‘and just bring it in for Christmas. It’s going to look great in the hall.’

  And, although the fire surround had been removed from the old dining room, they’d established that the flue was still functioning and Simon had discovered a rusty fire basket at the back of the garage which he’d cleaned up sufficiently for use temporarily. Meanwhile, Tess was doing her best to create the Christmas spirit by decorating the staircase with evergreen branches woven into the bannisters, boughs of holly, arrangements of ivy and mistletoe and lots of candles. She even managed to locate the box which contained the baubles and lights and so was able to decorate the tree properly – and had to admit that it looked very impressive indeed in the hallway.

  Both Gina Pengilly and Annie in the pub recommended buying a turkey from Tremerron Farm at the top of the hill. Beautiful birds they were, and you could get most of your vegetables there, too. A quick trip to Tesco provided everything else. Suddenly, Tess began to feel excited. Matt and the family! Orla! So much to chat about, so much to catch up on! And Matt was right; they needed to see this house in its embryonic state to best appreciate the work done when it was finally complete, although Tess did sometimes wonder if that day would ever come.

  * * *

  As Matt’s large estate car drew up outside Over and Above at 10 a.m. on Christmas Eve, Ellie was the first to come running to Tess and hurl herself into her grandmother’s arms. ‘I’ve missed you, Nana!’ Then she beamed when she spotted the tree. ‘That’s the biggest tree ever!’

  Next was Orla. ‘Jaysus!’ she said as she hugged Tess. ‘Aren’t you a million miles from anywhere!’

  And then there was Matt, giving his mother a bear hug and saying, ‘This is some place you’ve got yourselves here!’

  Lisa, carrying a half-asleep Josh, was the last to come in. ‘Rather you than me,’ was all she said, her eyebrows arched high.

  ‘Welcome, everyone! We’ll start with the apologies,’ Simon said, emerging from where he’d been fixing some skirting boards. ‘Apologies for any dust we might have missed, for the lack of heating, for the barren bedrooms and for there being only one bathroom. One!’

  ‘So we must form orderly queues,’ Matt quipped. Matt looked like his mother, with his green eyes and dark brown hair, but had inherited Gerry’s height, which was six feet two inches.

  ‘I’ve had to pee behind a tree before now,’ Orla laughed. Tess realised how much she’d been missing Orla’s unique laughter, which involved a sort of snort in the middle of a giggle.

  ‘There’s no furniture up here other than a couple of beds,’ Tess said, as she ushered them into the two back bedrooms. ‘We’ve brought a double up for Ellie and Josh because you said he’d outgrown the cot now.’ But no one was listening as they were all glued to the windows gazing at the sea.

  ‘That’s some view!’ Matt exclaimed.

  ‘And this room will be lovely,’ Lisa said, looking around with a critical eye. ‘You’ll make it nice, Tess.’

  Tess was relieved; Lisa was the one she thought would not enjoy roughing it. But of course it was early days yet.

  They’d set off at 5 a.m. in the hope of avoiding a last-minute Christmas rush to the West Country and so Josh, who’d been asleep for most of the journey, suddenly came alive and began running around the room and jumping on and off both beds.<
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  ‘And watch him,’ Tess added, ‘because there are no end of places where he could hurt himself.’

  She then explained that the empty adjoining rooms were about to become en suite bathrooms and showed them the existing bathroom where the only shower was a hand-held one attached to the roll-top bath.

  They’d arrived laden with presents, which they spread out under the tree, all over the hall floor. Both Lisa and Orla unloaded a mountain of groceries in the already packed kitchen; enough to feed a regiment: soups, pâtés, panettone, stollen, shortbread, mince pies. And bottles and bottles of champagne, Prosecco and wine. And, the pièce de résistance, Orla had made her Christmas pudding. She was famous for her Christmas pudding, which she claimed was from an ancient secret Irish recipe, the details of which she flatly refused to divulge.

  Then everyone congregated in the kitchen to admire the cooker standing in solitary splendour, surrounded by an assortment of old tables and cupboards. No one wanted a cooked breakfast, just bacon sandwiches and lots of hot drinks. The children, in the meantime, chased each other round the hallway with regular forays into the kitchen.

  Tess was relieved to see that they’d all taken her advice and were wearing several layers of clothing. The electric convector heater had been plugged in all morning, but it was a large room and the door was frequently open or ajar.

  ‘You don’t need to make a decision as to what you’re going to wear each day,’ Simon said, ‘because you wear everything.’

  Matt had gone off with Simon to see the work in progress and what still had to be done outside, while Tess explained to Orla and Lisa how they hoped to finish off downstairs. She showed them briefly into the rear rooms stacked high with assorted furniture and boxes, and as she opened each door she could feel the cold draught sneaking its way in through the French windows.

  ‘Well, I think you’re both nuts,’ Orla summarised as, back in the kitchen, they sat round the table with mugs of hot coffee. ‘You’d have to be nuts to be doing all this in your twenties or thirties, but in your sixties…!’

  ‘But we love it, Orla! And, honestly, you’re seeing it at its worst at the worst time of year. You come back next summer and you won’t think we’re mad then!’

  Orla snorted.

  ‘I can see the potential,’ Lisa said, ‘but then you’ll be slaving away looking after guests. How will you ever get a break? Catering’s a full-time job.’

  Tess produced a bottle of brandy and poured a generous measure into each of their coffees.

  ‘We’re only letting four rooms,’ she said, taking a sip. ‘They’ll be here for a minimum of two or three weeks and hope we may persuade them to stay longer. We’re advertising it as a retreat, somewhere to come to get away from it all. We’ll do breakfast and dinner, with lunch available as an extra, on request. Simon’ll share the cooking with me and I’m hoping to have some help with the cleaning, if money permits.’

  ‘What about their washing if they’re here for weeks on end?’ asked Orla.

  ‘Well,’ Tess replied, ‘we’ll obviously do the bedlinen and towels each day but we’re having two washing machines installed through there in what we now call the laundry room, along with a tumble dryer and an ironing board, so they can do their own personal things. I’m also putting hand-wash detergent in each bathroom so they can wash out their smalls.’

  ‘So, where are you two going to be sleeping?’ Lisa asked.

  ‘Oh, we’re in Windsor Castle. We’ve got quite used to it now.’

  There was a brief silence, broken by Orla, who asked, ‘Did you say Windsor Castle?’

  ‘Ah, that’s our little caravan,’ Tess replied quickly, ‘delivered by a couple of giants called the Windsor Brothers.’

  Just then there came a wailing from the hallway, and Ellie burst in to say Josh had fallen over, which necessitated Lisa having to rush to his aid and Orla to add some extra brandy to her coffee.

  ‘You’ll like Portmerryn, Orla,’ Tess said hopefully. ‘Matt and Lisa were talking about taking the children for a walk along the beach and you must go with them. You’ll need fresh air after that long drive.’

  ‘There’s quite enough fresh air in here for me,’ Orla said, as the door swung open yet again. ‘Let’s you and me catch up on the gossip, beside that fire you were talking about!’

  Simon escorted Matt and family down to the beach and, Tess suspected, an introduction to the pub. She was glad to have some time with Orla to catch up on the news.

  ‘This is more like it!’ Orla proclaimed as she lowered her bottom onto the chair nearest the fire. ‘Jaysus, this reminds me of Christmases when we were kids: cold house, one fire, the mammy yelling at us to put on our paper hats and come eat in the kitchen! What was yours like?’

  Tess had recollections of herself and her sister, Barbara, in their best dresses, sitting primly at the table for Christmas lunch while their father thanked the Lord for what they were about to receive. It was always cold because there was no central heating, the one-bar electric fire only warming the cat, who wisely plonked herself in front of it. No, in retrospect, Tess decided this was definitely more relaxed, if not a great deal warmer.

  ‘How’s Ricky?’ Tess asked as they sat down.

  ‘Oh, he’s fine. He’s actually working today. And going to his sister’s tomorrow, and wanted me to go, too but, do you know what? That woman has six kids and they run around screaming like banshees. Then he said something about coming down here with me and I said, “No, thank you very much,” because I need a break from him. I’ll have a drop more of that coffee, please.’

  Orla had met Ricky a couple of years previously on the same Internet dating site which had produced only a series of disasters for Tess. Ricky was the proud owner of a large articulated truck in which he transported anything and everything to every corner of the UK. He’d now become the owner of a second truck, which necessitated employing another driver and having someone to ‘do the books’ which, of course, was Orla.

  The relationship suited Orla, who wasn’t looking for any sort of permanency; she was completely happy with her own company, and her two days a week selling hats, while he was away.

  ‘Like I said, Ricky’s fine,’ Orla said. ‘And how’s the thespian?’

  ‘The thespian’s doing his best to charm half of Cornwall,’ Tess replied.

  Orla rolled her eyes. ‘Good luck to him. And how are you coping with Cornwall?’

  ‘Put it this way,’ Tess said, ‘we came to live here just as the weather changed so we’ve had lots of wind and rain, and we’re living in the caravan because the house is being knocked to bits, and I’m missing you guys like hell!’

  ‘Oh,’ said Orla.

  ‘But,’ Tess continued, ‘when the sun comes out and we walk along the beach, or climb to the cliff top, or even just look out of our windows at the sea and the surf, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. The natives are friendly and helpful, most of them, anyway. And the rush hour in Seagull Hill consists of the Pengillys driving up or down the hill to work, or our workmen hurtling up the drive.’

  Orla warmed her hands at the fire. ‘Well, it certainly sounds different. Reminds me a little of home.’

  ‘Reminds me of my old home in some ways, too. When I think how desperate I was to leave boring old Strathcoy and head for the bright lights of London! Now it’s gone full circle, and I’m relishing the peace and quiet of rural living again.’

  ‘We must be getting old,’ Orla muttered, ‘although I don’t think I’m ready to be put out to grass yet.’

  ‘Would you ever consider going back to Ireland?’

  Orla shook her still-dark head. ‘I’ve been away too long. I love going back to see everyone but a couple of weeks is more than enough. Particularly when the priest comes knocking on the door saying, “I haven’t seen you at Mass since you got back, Orla O’Malley!” I haven’t been an O’Malley for forty years! They never let you go! Jaysus, I was on the next flight back!’

  Tess l
aughed. ‘Well, we don’t have that problem in Cornwall. And I can’t wait for the house to be finished so you can come for a proper visit. I miss you, you know.’

  Orla grinned, her blue eyes crinkling. ‘Yeah, I miss you, too. We had some good times, didn’t we? I miss our shop and the miracles we used to make with those flattering dresses. Did I tell you it’s now called Contact and they’re selling mobile phones?’

  ‘Times change,’ Tess said sadly. ‘Shall I make more coffee? Another shot of brandy?’

  ‘Yes, please. And I have another grandson,’ Orla went on. ‘Makes five altogether. At least none of them were born in the middle of a wedding!’ She was referring to the fact that Lisa had given birth to Josh in the middle of Amber’s wedding, something that was as unlikely as meeting the man of your dreams at the same event. It had been, to put it mildly, an unforgettable occasion.

  ‘I don’t think there’ll be any more grandchildren for me,’ Tess said. ‘Matt and Lisa don’t plan on having any more now that they’ve got one of each, and Amber admits to not being very maternal. She loves her job so much; she’s been nominated a couple of times for an award as the best make-up artist.’

  ‘Good for her,’ said Orla. ‘Anyway, she must be pushing forty so why would she be wanting a squalling infant at this age?’

  ‘She’s only thirty-six,’ Tess protested. ‘But you’re right, she doesn’t want one. And there she is on yet another luxury holiday, so who could blame her?’

  ‘Who indeed?’ Orla agreed. ‘What about the fearful Damien, or whatever his name is?’

  ‘Fortunately, he’s shacked up with some girl in Coventry at the moment, but he’s threatening to come down in the New Year sometime.’

  As always Tess tried to think kindly of Damien, and offered up thanks for her own two successful offspring, neither of them having had the private education or the money spent on them that Damien had. Damien’s downfall had been drugs, and these were in plentiful supply in the murky one-night-stand world of the second-rate pop group.