27 The Bridlington - Original Story By Stephanie Poppins

The Bridlington Hotel is the most prestigious getaway on the coast of the East Riding. Owned by the cantankerous Lady Perklington-Smythe, it is never far from scandal. However, reception staff members Emily, James, and Joe are professionals and committed to maintaining appearances, come what may.

In this episode, it's bad news for Cetin.

Transcript

Hello and welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

A romantic bedtime podcast guaranteed to help you drift off into a calm and restful sleep.

Come with me as we travel into the heart of the Bridlington Hotel,

The most prestigious enterprise on the coast of East Riding.

Meet the characters as they go about their everyday lives,

Albeit amongst scandal and intrigue.

Not a day goes past at the Bridlington without something happening.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose,

Then let it out on a long sigh.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing and nowhere you need to go.

This is your time.

Feel your shoulders melt away from your ears.

Feel the pressure seep away from your cheeks and let all the muscles in your face relax.

As you sink into the support beneath you,

Let the pressures of the day seep away.

The Bridlington A series set in an English hotel.

Written and performed by Stephanie Poppins.

Episode 27 Emily Smythe sat on the cold wooden bench,

Looking at the large sandstone cross silhouetted against the seascape.

She'd long since lost the surname Croft.

She'd adopted in the days she wished to be anonymous.

Now the gloves were off.

She was Emily Smythe and she would remain so.

In court and out of court,

It was time to claim her inheritance.

As the tide crept slowly in,

She considered the graveyard in which her father had been laid to rest.

Situated high on the hill overlooking the town,

East Riding Church had been quite of late.

Everyone was too busy living,

Emily reckoned.

Her included.

But that was a mistake.

She realised that now.

Sorry I haven't been for a while,

Dad,

She said out loud.

I've no excuse really.

She hung her head.

But I am fighting for what you promised,

The best I can.

And I'll bring J.

Tim with me to service on Sunday,

I promise.

It wasn't that Emily needed to pray,

Although that helped.

It was that she needed to forget her own troubles for a while.

And realise the latest goings on at the Bridlington Hotel were just a hiccup.

Church always helped her see that.

And what did it matter anyway?

People would always ask questions.

They would always grill her about where she'd been,

Quiz her about the Bridlington spate of bad luck,

What was going on.

She'd been caught before she knew it.

Then the whole of East Riding would know,

One way or the other.

And it's not as though I haven't got everyone on my side,

Even Jefferson Bailey,

She said.

Can you believe that?

Uncle Tom's been wonderful.

I know you didn't always see eye to eye,

Dad,

But he's been so kind and it's been good to have family around.

Emily gazed at the flowers she'd left.

They were already beginning to turn,

Their edges browning at the tips.

She'd stood in front of the garage forecourt that morning and taken the only bunch that wasn't dead yet.

Buying flowers for her father's grave was too small a thing,

Yet much too large a thing to choose just like that.

Sorry,

Dad.

Another of her tears fell,

But this wasn't the time for guilt,

This was the time for plans.

Emily stood up and traced her fingers along her father's name.

Lord Arthur Smythe,

Beloved father,

Was engraved in fine black marble.

The beloved bit had been all her,

Of course.

Lady P had only wanted husband and father,

Plain and simple,

Succinct,

She said.

But the relationship between father and daughter went a lot deeper than that.

Emily had secretly paid and added it anyway,

That was one win at least.

Now for the biggest win of all,

The Bridlington Hotel.

Six years old she'd been the first time her father promised her.

He'd brought her into the hotel lobby on a Sunday after church,

Just the two of them,

While their mother had the morning to herself.

He'd lifted her high up and stood her on the reception desk to oversee everything going on around them.

Emily remembered the feeling of being enormous,

Of being able to see the whole lobby from where she stood.

She remembered the smell of it,

Old wood polish and carpet cleaner in those days,

And something faintly floral from the many arrangements around her.

Then there were the sounds,

The particular hush of a well-run hotel,

The soft percussion of doors and distant cutlery,

The voices that carried differently in the lobby than anywhere else.

Things were subtle in the lobby,

More formal here.

One day my princess,

He'd said,

As she gazed up at the cut glass chandelier casting small rainbows across the desk she stood upon.

All of this will be yours,

Emily smiled.

And Emily had believed every word.

That afternoon at Mulberry Court she'd assembled her finest outfit from whatever she could find.

Her mother's good pearls looped twice around her neck,

A pair of adult-sized mules from the dressing-up box,

And her best,

Frilliest dress.

Then,

One hand gripping the banister with all her might,

She descended the magnificent staircase at Mulberry Court to greet her waiting father with what she understood to be the appropriate expression of a woman surveying her domain.

For you,

Madam,

He announced,

Handing her a bouquet fit for a queen.

Then they'd eaten toasted tea cakes by the fire and made plans for when she was a big girl.

Lord Arthur Smythe had been Emily's world,

Her everything,

And she had been his.

No wonder her mother hated her.

Emily smiled at the headstone.

She still had the pearls.

She'd never given those back.

Just one string of many,

That's all they were to her mother.

Emily pulled out the velvet pouch from her pocket and put them on.

I'm always there,

Dad.

I'm almost there.

Then a cold gush of sea air rushed through the churchyard to remind her not to count her chickens.

With a soft brush of her fingers across the top of the stone,

She said,

Next time I see you,

It'll be all over.

Then she turned and walked back through the gate,

Down the hill,

And into the grounds of the Bridlington Hotel.

It was evening and the end of a long shift.

Having left for the hotel bar before anyone noticed,

J.

Tin nursed a whiskey and waited patiently for his sister Eileen.

After receiving an unexpected message from Gene Jackson that afternoon,

Saying his sister was arriving for a visit that night,

He made sure to make himself available.

Getting together was a rare treat.

Thousands of miles did that to a relationship.

The bar was quiet,

A handful of guests scattered at tables,

Soft jazz playing from hidden speakers,

The new bartender polishing glasses with meditative focus,

The amber liquid in J.

Tin's glass catching the neon lights.

He glanced up and there she was with cheeks flushed,

Travel bag still slung over her shoulder,

And long dark ponytail swinging from side to side.

There you are.

His sister was exhausted and so achingly familiar J.

Tin felt his chest tighten.

Her coming all this way had to be bad news.

I can't believe you're here,

He declared,

Rushing to greet her.

Abby,

She replied,

Falling into her older brother's arms.

I would have picked you up from the station if you'd let me.

It's fine,

I needed some time and the plane was really noisy.

So,

What's going on?

Then thinking better of it,

J.

Tin said,

Look,

I'll get you a drink,

Sit down and we'll talk there.

Two JD's please,

Jack.

From the look on Eileen's face,

J.

Tin knew he was going to need another one.

His mind ran over the possibilities.

Worst case scenario,

It was his father.

You look well,

He said as he handed his sister a cold glass.

Thanks.

So,

What's going on then?

J.

Tin always liked to get straight to the point and out of respect for her older brother,

Eileen,

Obliged.

It's Baba,

He's sick.

J.

Tin's stomach sank.

Osman Bey was a formidable man.

He'd led the family business with a will of steel and he never got sick.

It's his lungs.

He's on oxygen now.

J.

Tin's mind shot back to Istanbul and the life he'd left behind.

The life his father insisted he keep.

Hadn't they built up the jewellery business together?

Ever since his mother died,

His family had been very close.

But J.

Tin had been given too much responsibility at a young age.

It was as if,

As the eldest boy,

He wasn't permitted a childhood.

Hadn't his father tried to marry him off the moment he'd finished high school?

To a girl of sixteen,

No less.

It had been all too much.

Not that he hadn't helped his father and now diversify into the gem mines.

But signing himself off to a girl he barely knew was not part of J.

Tin's life plan.

And now he'd met Emily.

The mines are thriving,

Said Eileen,

Jolting him back to the present.

We're doing better than ever,

J.

Tin.

We need you to come back and help manage things while father's sick.

What about Baran and Osman?

They had two younger brothers.

Two younger,

Capable brothers.

They were only too willing to lead the business to the next phase.

But J.

Tin knew his father would expect him to step up.

But J.

Tin belonged at the Bridlington Hotel.

Now,

More than ever,

He knew that.

I know you're busy here,

Said Eileen.

I know you've got settled.

Maybe we can get round it by saying you'll develop the operation here in the UK.

J.

Tin's eyes sparkled.

He'd already spoken to Emily about opening a jewellers in Reception,

And she loved the idea.

If she owned significant shares in the Bridlington,

She could put a good case forward.

But this was all rudimentary at the moment.

That sounds like a great plan,

Eileen,

But it's all up in the air here.

The most important thing is to make sure Baba's okay.

Well,

He had an episode last week and they thought he was going to be permanently affected,

But he's stable now.

Well,

That's something at least.

But J.

Tin,

You've got to come back.

You've got to speak to the other two.

We've got to work this out.

J.

Tin took another long sip and the wall tilted.

His father had always seemed invincible.

He was a man who could work 16-hour days,

Who'd built a mining company from nothing,

Who'd survived market crashes,

Labour disputes and corrupt officials.

The idea of him lying in a hospital bed was unthinkable.

I should have been there,

He said.

I should have come home months ago when he first asked.

Stop it,

Eileen said firmly.

None of us knew it was this serious.

Baba was hiding it like he always does.

She pulled J.

Tin in closer,

Her hands shaking.

And there's more.

They've discovered a new mine in South Africa.

The biggest deposit they've seen in decades.

Platinum group metals,

J.

Tin.

The geological surveys say it could be worth millions.

J.

Tin's mind began to race.

He had to speak to Emily,

But it just didn't seem fair.

She was so wrapped up in the court case.

She hardly needed any more on her plate.

Have they secured them in all rights?

The rights are secured,

But it's complicated.

There are community agreements to negotiate,

Environmental assessments,

Infrastructure is massive,

J.

Tin.

I think that's what tipped Baba over the edge.

The company needs someone who will lead the new dig.

Someone who knows the industry,

Who Dad trusts completely.

Our brothers can do that,

Easily.

Okay,

I'm with you,

But you need to come back and speak to Baba face to face.

You know you do.

The words hit J.

Tin hard.

He looked around the bar.

This hotel had become his second home.

The life he'd carefully constructed in England over the past five years was the only life he wanted now.

At first,

He'd only planned to stay six months,

Then a year,

Then he'd move to the Bridlington and met Emily,

Made solid friends with Joe and James.

Life had a rhythm now.

The work was good,

This town was peaceful.

He could be anonymous here,

Away from the weight of family expectations and his father's shadow.

I know you've built a good life here,

J.

Tin,

Said Eileen.

I know things with Baba were difficult,

But he's asking for you.

He's scared,

J.

Tin.

He needs to know the company will be in good hands,

If anything should happen.

Okay,

I'll have to come back.

I left because I couldn't breathe there,

Because every decision I made was scrutinised,

Everything was magnified.

I was always just his son.

Here,

I'm J.

Tin.

I'm my own person.

But I'll come back and see if we can't sort things out with the other two.

He managed to give his sister an awkward smile,

And her eyes were filled with understanding and sympathy.

Things are different now.

Baba's different.

Fragile.

I'm sure he'll agree to whatever you want to do.

There's a flight tomorrow morning.

I've already booked out tickets.

I had to,

Just in case.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder.

And I brought all the paperwork,

The plans for the new dig,

To give you a heads up.

With one large gulp,

J.

Tin downed the rest of his drink and set the glass on the bar with a soft clink.

I'd better start packing then.

And maybe we'll be able to make plans without disappointing Baba again.

You never disappointed him,

Said Eileen.

He just had impossible expectations.

There's a difference.

Pulling his sister into a hug,

J.

Tin realised she was crying.

It's going to be okay,

He soothed.

We'll figure it out.

We always do.

I just need to speak to Emily first.

Right.

Eileen picked up her bag and made for the door.

I feel like I just railroaded you into upending your entire life.

Emily's going to hate me.

No she won't.

I'll just stay for a couple of days and then I'll be back.

She's got a lot going on and I need to be here by her side.

And as they walked towards the reception desk,

J.

Tin glanced back at the bar.

At his empty glass and the comfortable corner where he'd spent so many evenings.

This chapter of his life was closing and tomorrow a new one would begin thousands of miles away with all its challenges and possibilities.

He was going home.

For better or worse,

He had to go home.

And he never came back.