5 The Bridlington - Original Bedtime Tales Stephanie Poppins

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

This episode sees James surprised, Emily getting closer to Cetin, and Joe receiving some devastating news. The Bridlington series is set in a prestigious hotel in England, where not a day goes by without scandal.

Written and performed by English author Stephanie Poppins.

Transcript

The Bridlington A series set in an English hotel Written and performed by Stephanie Poppins Episode 5 Harold Cunningham sat back smugly in his faux leather chair,

Eager to begin the day with a splash.

He turned the cupboard key and counted what was remaining.

There was a little left,

But not enough to last him.

He'd have to hit the brandy if he didn't stock up soon,

And there was no disguising brandy.

He glanced at the door,

Then took a long swig of his remaining Smirnoff.

He had Emily Perklington-Smythe to contend with,

So he needed all the help he could get.

The management office at the Bridlington Hotel was situated away from the other rooms,

Opposite the grand lobby at the end of the corridor.

It was designed to promote focus and calm,

But unlike the lobby,

It had few defining features,

Other than its dark wood furniture,

Which hid in the long shadows cast by the various downlights.

This room suited Harold Cunningham perfectly.

He preferred the dark.

It complemented his whole outlook.

Emily entered within three taps,

Keen to get the discussion over and done with.

Rarely did Cunningham call her to his office,

But this time it made complete sense.

Hadn't she recently spoken with her mother,

And hadn't her mother told her in no uncertain terms to keep her nose out of Bridlington business?

All the more reason to put her Scottish terrier on the case.

Lady Perklington-Smythe knew all about the recent arrest of Louis the Bellboy's handyman.

In fact,

She'd known what was going on all along.

That Louis was Mrs Delaware's grandson was no news to her.

That he was withholding the passports of the housekeeping staff and extorting money from them in a seedy racket was of little consequence.

And she was well aware Cunningham was in on it too.

They were in on it together,

In fact.

They must be.

So here Emily was,

To be reminded to keep her mouth shut,

If she knew what was good for her.

It seems I need to keep a closer eye on you,

Drawled Cunningham the second she walked in.

His mouth he held in a thin line,

His eyes were glazed over.

Emily glared back in disgust.

He was slouched in a chair too big for him,

Wearing a grey suit too cheap for the job.

Her mother paid him well,

So why did he dress like that?

This must be the thinnest,

Most ill-fitting effort she had ever seen,

Probably from the local supermarket she mused.

A closer eye on little old me,

She smirked at her mother's foot soldier.

You'd have trouble in this room,

Mr Cunningham,

It's so dark.

Emily transferred her weight to the other foot.

She was desperate to sit down.

She'd been on her feet since five,

But she'd never be able to live with herself if Cunningham discerned any sign of weakness.

From the other side of his desk he ground his teeth from side to side.

The hotel manager despised the way Emily dropped her feigned submission when the others weren't around,

But it didn't change anything.

He answered to her mother,

Not her,

That over-privileged brat.

Yes,

With this new turn of events we're keeping a closer eye on all stuff,

And by your choice,

Emily,

That means you.

Having the police sniffing around is hardly a good look for the Bridlington now,

Is it?

I'm sure you'll agree.

Emily hugged her arms around her starched white blouse and thin waistcoat.

It was freezing in here.

Was the man even human?

My father would be turning in his grave with what's come to light recently,

She replied stiffly.

He shed blood,

Sweat and tears to make the Bridlington the success it is today.

It was about time she reminded this idiot of his place.

But taking it all in,

She could see this was just water off a duck's back.

The man clearly had no heart.

One more reason why she,

James and Joe had nicknamed him Harold Hitler.

From now on you will report to me every day with the goings-on at reception,

He continued.

Everything you know and everything you don't.

You will leave no detail.

This is the way we will manage to prevent such a thing happening again.

Prevent such a thing happening?

Said Emily to herself.

You were in on it all along.

The only thing you wish you prevented was someone blowing the whistle and Lewis getting a cold.

She thought carefully about what she would say next.

Then she replied unflinchingly.

Joe said he thought it was a blessing you find him Lewis at such short notice.

Was it an agency that suggested him to you?

Or did you find him yourself?

Cunningham turned away and began opening his mail.

I will see you this afternoon.

Five o'clock prompt.

That is all.

Then he dismissed Emily with a wave of his hand and she left eager to get back to the warmth of the lobby.

Fury was burning her up inside.

But she must leave it to simmer.

There was always revenge.

She just needed to work out how.

Joe knotted the belt of his Bridlington robe and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

He didn't have long to go until his shift started and neither did Bianca for that matter.

Do you like them?

He asked as Bianca rearranged the large spring bouquet.

They brighten up this room.

She replied unwilling to give too much away.

This didn't go unnoticed.

Bianca always held a little back.

That was just her.

Joe reckoned very practical.

He moved in closer keen to rekindle the night before.

I've not been able to afford flowers.

She said.

They are nice.

Joe kissed her tenderly on the neck.

Why didn't you tell me about what was going on?

I couldn't.

I was ashamed.

Joe wiped his cheek dry.

Bianca's hair was still wet.

Louis will not be back again Bianca.

It's all over now.

But I still don't have passport.

We're working on that.

But it worries me Joseph.

Bianca turned and let her robe drop over her slim white shoulders.

I'm glad you did what you did.

I'm glad you did what you did.

She ran her fingers over his sore knuckles.

My handsome hero.

Louis deserved it.

His Joe.

He was scum for bribing you like that.

He reached out to stroke her hair.

But with one flick.

Bianca snatched her robe in tight and picked up the hairdryer.

We must get ready Joe.

We'll be late and I need to call my mother before I start.

She relies on me.

Her voice had changed.

It was harder and tinged with assumed regret.

Without me she has no one.

Look I'll transfer it over today okay?

Said Joe eager to recapture her softer side.

You don't have to.

Yeah I do.

You've been through hell and back because of me.

I was the one who agreed to take Louis on.

And as you say 100 quid is nothing to me but it's a lifeline to her.

And replacing the hairdryer one last time.

Bianca let her robe slip gently to the floor.

Breakfast in the orangery was busier than usual that day.

Since the arrest there had been a dramatic uptake of nosy guests.

And not for the first time Emily wondered how long it would be until her face was in the local press.

Not that she had anything to do with Louis and his extortion scheme.

But she knew very well a significant proportion of those eating were here for the gossip.

And would do anything to promote their social status by incessant filming and documenting of the biggest scandal in the biggest hotel on the coast of East Riding.

Not that it mattered she supposed.

But she'd come to think of this place as her sanctuary.

No one from her old life knew she was here yet and neither did J.

Tin for that matter.

She'd have to tell him who she was at some point.

But when?

This relationship was different from those gold diggers of the past.

And she really liked him.

The longer the deceit went on the longer he would resent her not trusting him enough to tell him the truth.

Have you seen James?

She mouthed glancing over to where J.

Tin stood at the concierge desk.

What?

He joked back well aware of exactly what Emily was saying.

She smiled sweetly.

You just want my attention.

J.

Tin looked particularly handsome she thought.

In his new tan waistcoat and chiseled hair.

Not that he had any right to.

No one should look that calm and collected after a night drinking whiskey.

Even if it was the finest whiskey going.

And why not?

He smiled back.

You hungry?

Emily replied.

I need James to cover me I'm starving.

Call him then.

J.

Tin put his hand up to his ear in a mock gesture.

No you cover me and I'll go downstairs.

Emily insisted he's in the kitchens.

Say please.

Emily stuck out her ample chest and sang in as dramatic a pose as she could muster.

Please.

J.

Tin's grin grew wider still.

Do you want something else while I'm there?

She added.

Walking past him on her way to the lift.

Something else?

J.

Tin hesitated.

Food J.

Tin.

Do you want some food?

Emily smiled again.

Her face becoming much uglier than she intended it to be.

By God the man is impossible.

She thought pulling herself together.

If I'm not careful I'm going to be out of my depth.

Then shaking her long blonde curls she left for the kitchens with an unconscious spring in her step.

Down in the service area James Brighton was peeping his head round a steel side door eager to suss out the lie of the land before he stepped in.

His crisp cotton collar sat flawless against the soft tan of his new waistcoat and he pulled it up just standing before making his grand entrance.

The Bridlington food and beverage department was tucked safely away in a large corner of the lower ground floor.

It was either manic or peace on earth.

There was no in between.

God only knows what goes on down here late at night.

James chuckled to himself.

But at this time of the day there was hardly anyone around.

The majority of kitchen staff didn't arrive till late morning and it was the same for the service staff.

James breathed in slowly.

Delicious.

A creamy smell pervaded the air tinged with black pepper and tarragon.

God that man can cook.

He stepped in gingerly ready for the torrent of abuse.

Over in the corner a dozen or more large pans clattered into the sink.

The pot man had aged 30 years since his appointment the week before.

Kitchen staff had a short shelf life at the Bridlington,

Much the same as the a la carte menu.

Chef liked to keep things moving.

Or was it just that no one could stand his tempers long enough to stay?

James checked himself in the stainless steel.

He wasn't usually one for nerves.

You busy?

Chef refused to look up.

This sauce wasn't going to make itself.

Only I wondered if.

.

.

Chef carried on stirring.

James would have to try harder than that.

He took a large breath.

Chef's brusque demeanour only urged him on even more.

The menu says.

.

.

Then when at last the beignets reached perfection,

Chef barked.

.

.

Before you ask,

The menu's a done deal.

Not open to negotiation.

Bit like the chef I'm guessing,

Said James under his breath.

No movement on that today then.

He knew he was pushing it,

But he couldn't help himself.

Faced with Chef's large tattooed frame,

James owed it to himself to try.

But this only seemed to frustrate Chef even more.

They stood together in silence.

James looking on as Chef decanted the sauce into the many cream china jugs set out in orderly rows.

Then,

To his astonishment,

Chef slammed down the pan,

Turned to face him and said.

.

.

If I was going to turn,

I'd take you first,

Pretty boy.

But not today.

I'm busy.

Now get out here and take that with you.

Then he stepped aside to reveal an immaculous breakfast plate he'd prepared only minutes before.

James froze.

Then counting all his blessings and those he never knew existed,

He declared.

.

.

I'll take that as a maybe then.

And he left to climb the stairs back to reception,

Two at a time.

Bianca Piotrowski checked her hair in her cracked bathroom mirror,

Ever keen to keep up appearances.

According to her overinflated ego,

The other girls looked up to her because she represented success.

She was,

After all,

The first Polish head housekeeper at the Bridlington,

And no one should forget it.

She pinned her hair back carefully with a beaded pin.

Then she pulled out two dark strands,

Checking they were the same length,

Before reapplying her dark red lipstick.

Tap,

Tap.

She looked over to the door.

Come in.

Petra Mieczalski entered,

Her wide eyes fixed on Bianca's hair.

Pięknie,

She said.

Bardzo ładnie.

Thank you,

Petra,

Bianca replied.

I have five minutes.

Sit down.

Petra was not quite sure why she'd been summoned,

But she sat down compliantly.

If it wasn't for Bianca,

She wouldn't have got this job in the first place.

She'd been waiting for this news.

This was probably about the missing passports,

She reasoned,

And when they would get them back.

She was so grateful justice had been served at last,

And now it was all finally over.

Bianca eyed her closely from the bathroom doorway.

Mieczalski,

She considered,

Was the best person to begin with.

She was the biggest gossip,

And the instigator of all the fear-mongering.

So she'd appreciate what she was about to hear,

And get everybody else on board,

If she knew what was good for her.

It's about Joseph.

Joe is a nice man,

I think.

You're lucky,

Said Petra.

Joseph is a nice man,

Bianca confirmed,

And he's agreed to protect us from next problems that are coming God knows when.

Petra smiled.

This was good news.

They could trust Joe to stop anything happening again.

And because he's a nice,

Kind businessman,

We have bargain price.

Bargain price?

Bianca paused.

This girl obviously didn't understand.

She would have to spell it out for her.

Yes,

Petra.

Bargain price for protection.

Protection from problems again.

We are protected.

Ten pounds per week for protection from problems like Louis.

Petra's face remained unchanged.

But this is bargain,

Is it not?

Bianca persisted,

Doing her best to keep her voice cool and collected.

Better than twenty pound we pay for Louis,

And we get passport.

She shot Petra one of her winning smiles,

And Petra made a point of complying.

But now we work,

Insisted Bianca.

Yes,

Petra agreed,

And Friday I give Joe money.

No,

Bianca said quickly.

The money is to be here in Emberloop.

She pointed to the gap underneath her door.

Joseph is hardworking man,

Not to be bothered.

Then she escorted Petra out,

Pleased with the prospect of this additional income.

Things were certainly looking up for Bianca Petrovsky.

Phoning the police and getting rid of Louis was the best thing she could have done.

He'd been on to a good thing,

Certainly,

But she would be on to a better one still.

J.

Ting shook his head in disbelief.

How did you manage that?

Friends with benefits?

James sat his tray down in the back office,

Rather full of himself after what had just happened.

Chef's not gay,

He replied between mouthfuls.

Maybe not when he's at home,

J.

Ting smiled.

James said nothing.

The finest bacon and eggs,

Gently nestling between two hot muffins,

Did the talking for him.

That's that then,

Sighed J.

Ting.

I'll be lucky if Emily comes back with a cup of gruel.

James shot him a second look.

She has her connections,

You'd be surprised.

J.

Ting smiled.

Cunningham's on the warpath,

Did you see him?

No.

He just called Joe into his office.

James stopped eating.

When?

Five minutes ago.

Then Emily arrived,

Laden with a basket of hot croissant,

Fresh dairy butter and homemade organic preserves.

How did you do that?

J.

Ting was impressed.

I know people,

Emily smiled.

So I've heard.

Trying hard to conceal her fear,

Emily turned and looked at James inquisitively.

But James just smiled back.

Everyone loves Emily,

He said.

Don't they,

Emily?

Then checking the coast was clear,

They sat down to tuck into a breakfast fit for a king.

Or at least for two hungover lobby staff,

Desperate to soak up the night before.

But no sooner had they begun,

Than a familiar voice called from across the front desk,

In a tone little far removed from desperation.

I can't believe it.

That slimy git's only gone and given me the sack.

Reviews

Thank you! I woke up in the middle of the night and this helped me sleep. Although I want to listen while awake as it’s so lovely! 💕