Jonty laughed.
“So make sure you drive carefully.”
“You know what a good driver I am. You keep your eyes open most of the time now when I’m behind the wheel, except when I’m overtaking. Then you don’t.”
“That’s true. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Jonty picked up the keys to the Aston and drove very carefully to The Dunes. They’d left Charlotte and Winnie with the concierge. Andrew brought the dogs in with him in the morning and took them home at night. He didn’t work different shifts like Jonty had. The hotel now employed a separate night porter. But Andrew would have gone home by now, so Jonty would have to drive to his house to get the dogs. He phoned him on the way to The Dunes.
“Hi, Andrew.”
“Yes, your babies are both fine. I tell you that every night when you ring.”
“A lot can happen in 24 hours. For example, I’ve come up to Seahouses. Is it okay if I collect the dogs tonight?”
“’Course it is. What time?”
“Maybe another hour or so. I have to go to the hotel to speak to Bruce and Marcus.”
“See you later.”
“Thanks.”
Jonty pulled up in the hotel car park, stared at the building, and pictured how it would look with everything he’d planned. He couldn’t rely on the sea to provide mist, so he’d hired a heavy-duty machine to create it. Though not so much mist that parking became an issue. He had a sudden vision of cars crashing and people freaking out when they couldn’t see where they were going. But he wanted enough spooky fog to give the place atmosphere, so guests had to walk through the low-level swirling mist and a few surprises to reach the entrance. He’d also hired a projector to cover the façade of the hotel with an image of a ramshackle building with giant spiders and creepy crawlies, plus speakers to fill the air with spooky sounds. It was going to be great.
Provided that the mist didn’t get out of control, that the projector did what he wanted it to and that the sounds were spooky and not stupid. Maybe he ought to pay someone to scream. Or he could go around recording all the hotel guests’ screams and play that.
He climbed out of the car, locked it, checked he’d locked it, then checked again because this was Devan’s Baby, and headed for the entrance. He knew most of the staff that worked there. Or he had, anyway, before he and Devan had set off on their Big Adventure. Marty, the night porter, was behind the desk and waved at Jonty as he came in. Marty was bald with deep inset eyes and a very cheeky grin. Oh God, he looks like…Dare I ask him to be Fester Addams? Will he be insulted?
“Hi, Jonty. You due back already?”
“Not really, I’ve come to see Bruce, then Marcus.”
“Bruce is in his office.”
Jonty went round to the manager’s office and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Bruce Kauffmann was a forty-something, grey-haired guy who always had a startled look on his face, as if Jonty had just done something weird in front of him. When Jonty had met him, he hadn’t been sure he liked him, but he’d been determined to give Bruce the benefit of the doubt. Though by the time he and Devan had left to go on their Big Adventure, Jonty had still not really taken to the guy. He was too…accommodating. Was that the right word? Don’t worry. I’ll look after your baby, change its nappy and burp it. The hotel is in safe hands. Oops. Ha ha.
“Devan not with you?”
Jonty looked over his shoulder. “I lost him somewhere.” He smiled.
Bruce didn’t smile back.
Jonty’s attention fluttered to the coffee machine behind Bruce, the one that used to be in the lounge. Why had Bruce moved it? Maybe it wasn’t just Jonty it spat at.
“What do you want?” Bruce snapped.
Don’t snap at me, I haven’t done anything yet. “I came to talk to you and to Marcus about the food for the Halloween party.”
“Right.”
“Are you okay about it?” Because really, Jonty didn’t think he was.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Shit, he’s pissed off. “Sorry.” Always a good word to lead with, even if he wasn’t sorry, though to be fair, he usually was.
“My hotel,” Bruce said. “My decisions over what goes on here.”
Temporarily yours, Jonty thought but didn’t say. Anyway, it was Alan who was ultimately in charge.
“Yes, but—”
“You’ve got a nerve,” Bruce snarled. “What do you know about running events? You’re just a porter. You picked up cases and carried them in and out of the hotel, and probably didn’t do a good job of it either. How does that qualify you to organise anything? If you weren’t shacked up with Devan, do you think you’d even have a job in this business, with your piercings and your bleached hair and your runaway mouth?”
Jonty gaped at him and curled his toes in his shoes. He wanted to yell at Bruce, but he clung onto his temper. Do not react. “The Halloween party was just a suggestion I made to Alan and he agreed to run with it. If I’d have been up here, obviously, I’d have come to you first.”
“Would you?” Bruce gave a harsh laugh. “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’m due a few days’ holiday. I think I’ll take them. Starting now. And by the way, I haven’t contacted any of the guests who are staying here that night. You can damn well do it.”
“But who’s going to be the manager when you’re not here?”
“Looks like that’s you. Knock yourself out!” Bruce picked up his keys and his coat and stalked off.
What the fuck! For a brief moment, Jonty considered going after him, but pride stopped that. Now he’d seen Bruce’s true colours, he felt justified for not liking him before. Except running the hotel as well as organising the event filled him with horror. If Devan’s mother had a relapse… There was no way Jonty could cope on his own. There should have been a deputy manager, but one hadn’t yet been appointed.
He pushed down his blossoming panic and headed for the kitchen. If Marcus threw a tantrum over the food, Jonty thought he might cry.
When he went in, Wayne spotted him first.
“Well, look who the cat’s dragged in. What the f…flip are you doing back here? Some sensible country take one look at you and not let you in?”
“I need to talk to you and Marcus when you’re done.”
Marcus walked forward. “We’re just about done now. What’s wrong?”
“There’s going to be a Halloween party here on the 31st. Hotel guests and another 200 for the evening. All in costumes. We’re going to need buffet food. Themed food. The whole ground floor of the hotel will be turned into a fright zone. I want most of the staff dressed as zombies. I’d like the kitchen staff in bloodstained aprons. Not real blood.”
“What does Bruce say?” Wayne asked.
“He’s thrown a hissy fit and gone on holiday, so it’s what I say.” Jonty hoped he sounded more managerial than he felt.
“He’s just fucked off? Sorry, walked out?” Wayne gaped at him.
Jonty nodded.
“The wanker.” Wayne spat out the words. “I told you,” he said to Marcus.