3 The Bridlington - 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 Cunningham - the hotel manager - on the war path. There is to be an annual gala dinner and everything has to be perfect.

At first, everything runs like clockwork. But then James is blackmailed, and forced to spend the rest of the day trying to worm his way out of it, while an unexpected visit from the police puts extra stress on the proceedings...

Written and performed by English author Stephanie Poppins.

Transcript

You're listening to S.

D.

Hudson Magic.

The Bridlington.

Written and performed by English author S.

D.

Hudson.

Episode 3.

It was one of those rare mornings when the guests were compliant,

The lobby quiet,

And Harold Cunningham busy with his very important paperwork.

Emily gazed across the lobby.

This was her favourite time of the day.

A time when the plush plum velvet sat unhindered in smooth,

Arced lines.

A time when the chandelier's golden glow danced shamelessly in the freshly polished marble.

Everything was new in the morning.

Everything was perfect.

Enjoy it while it lasts,

She said to herself.

That evening,

Julia Hammond,

The doyenne of the London music scene,

Would perform Mozart's Concerto in C minor to an audience of 500.

The rooms in each of the twelve floors were booked.

December had been the first to go,

Of course,

Being the most prestigious and highest floor.

January the last,

Filled by those who had to do the legwork themselves.

Employing a PA certainly worked to a guest's advantage at times like these.

Doused in canapé and cocktail,

Perfume and champagne,

East Riding's finest would gather in the lobby that night to compare the price of their shares before just as quickly disappearing to the performance and the annual gala dinner.

Then once again the lobby would be free,

But for their discarded napkins and echoes of fake sentiment.

The Bridlington's annual gala dinner was hailed as the highlight of the fundraising for East Riding's lifeboat association.

What with the editor of Style magazine setting the benchmark for the ladies and the owner of the local golf course driving the standards for the men,

There would be more millionaires per square metre in East Riding that night than in any adjacent county.

What is it about a dinner suit that makes people behave?

Emily asked as she watched Joe arrange the various suit carriers on his shiny luggage cart.

Dunno.

I'll bet behind closed doors those lot behave just as badly as me.

He scoffed.

I wonder what I'd look like in a penguin suit?

Very handsome,

Emily reassured him.

Not that I'll ever get the chance.

Oh well,

Chef's saved up a bit so we'll get the full flavour at lunch even if we're not going to be around tonight.

According to him it'll be plain sailing.

Emily gifted Joe a sardonic smile.

We'll see.

You're not missing anything anyway.

If you've seen one auction,

You've seen more.

These nights are just a bunch of purple-faced old men flexing their financial muscle.

You're well out of it,

Joe.

I wouldn't mind seeing Hammond though.

She's a wonderful pianist.

Why don't you?

It's not as if you won't know anyone,

Said Joe.

Emily wasn't sure if he was testing her,

But she set him right anyway.

That's not who I am anymore,

Joe.

Alright,

So mum's given me the go-ahead to work here,

But that doesn't mean she likes it.

It's been a bitter pill for her to swallow me at the front desk.

There's no way I can stick around after hours to rub her nose in it.

She thought back to the conditions Lady Perklington Smythe had put upon her so she could remain working.

No one must know she was now the Bridlington's resident spy.

If they found out,

The triangle of trust between her,

James and Joe would be broken for good.

The lobby clock chimed on cue to signal the end of breakfast service.

Emily checked the entrance.

At last.

James was blustering through the revolving doors.

Song Chucky,

Who had to be regathered and fed through by a nearby guest.

Ugh,

He complained,

Shaking off his long Bridlington overcoat.

It's freezing out there.

Get off,

Yelled Emily as darts of heavy autumn rain fired at her from all angles.

But James needed someone to share his pain.

What has my life come to?

He moaned bitterly.

Dog walking in the rain.

A far cry from cruising round the med.

Emily patted her cheeks dry,

Inadvertently smudging her makeup.

From a safe distance,

Joe chuckled to himself.

James Brighton was not designed for inclement weather.

He was made to adorn posters with cut glass crystal in one hand and a pair of sunglasses in the other.

His magnetic persona emanating from every pixel.

Still on doggy duty,

He mocked.

Delaware's really got you by the short and curlies this time.

James sighed.

Joe had no idea just how true that statement was.

But before he could deliver one of his sarcastic retorts,

The switchboard lit up and it was all hands on deck.

Welcome to the Bridlington,

Where dreams are made and roulette is played,

James declared enthusiastically.

Emily beamed.

The fresh air had clearly gotten to him.

F reports are correct by you more than most.

A hard voice bit back.

Mr.

Cunningham,

How can I help?

James made no attempt to hide the rude gesture he proffered Joe.

You can't,

Cunningham replied.

This is a test and you failed,

James Brighton.

Next time,

Make sure I hear what I want to hear.

Will do,

Said James in an upbeat voice and returning the receiver a little less softly than he otherwise might have done.

He turned on Joe.

You git,

You knew that was going to happen,

Didn't you?

There were rumours,

Chuckled Joe.

Emily shook her head in disbelief.

Plane sailing,

Chef said.

That was the kiss of death.

Now James is well and truly in it.

She secured Chucky to a nearby chair as James started for the hot air dryer in the men's room.

Stating the smell of wet dog should make a nice gift for Delaware.

Just a sec,

James,

Begged Emily.

I'm desperate for the loo.

I've been waiting for you for ages.

JT and the concierge would be there any moment now and judging by her reflection,

Emily's makeup desperately needed attention.

Not that he'd spoken three words to her since seeing through her disguise the week before.

He's playing hard to get,

James had suggested.

Obviously a whole new concept to you.

This was meant as tongue in cheek,

But the comments stung.

James wasn't wrong,

Though.

Emily had never struggled when it came to attracting men,

And JT was looking all the more desirable now he was no longer a guarantee.

She dashed to the back stairs.

Any other time she would have used the lobby loos,

But today was gala day and those extravagant floral touches were way beyond the housekeeper's comfort zone.

Knowing them,

They'd be in there till lunch if their previous efforts were anything to go by.

She braced herself against the cold.

It was always cold in the back staircase.

If she ran down,

It might not sting as much.

But to her surprise,

Huddled in the corner,

The head housekeeper was blocking her way.

You OK?

Asked Emily.

Bianca got up slowly,

Her thick black mascara running in tram lines down her sodden cheeks.

What's the matter?

Are you hurt?

Emily had never seen her looking so vulnerable.

Bianca had always presented as a strong,

Fierce type not to be messed with.

She tightened her ponytail and wiped away the evidence with a scented handkerchief.

It wasn't in Bianca's nature to be compromised.

I am OK,

Thank you,

She said.

Everything is OK.

I have had bad news,

That is all,

But now everything is OK.

Then she ran back down the stairs,

Leaving Emily to wonder what on earth was going on.

Back at reception,

James was wet and frustrated.

Not a good look for someone who was willing to die on the hill of perfection.

I think I'll start calling you Blue-Eyed Boy,

Mocked Jo.

Delaware's obviously got a thing for you.

James shot a warning stare.

He was still smarting from the night before when the old bag made a point of spotting him leaving room 1215 in the early hours.

Though why she was mincing around at that time was anybody's business.

James was usually so careful,

But he'd had a bad day and Dion the salesman was one temptation too far.

She's ill,

Jo.

It's the least I can do,

He said.

In as impassive a voice as he could muster.

But Jo didn't believe that any more than James did.

He'd seen Delaware taking in her trays every day with a face full of makeup and her trademark feathered gown.

Did people who were as ill as she was supposed to be do that?

I think you secretly like the attention,

Jo carried on.

What is it about her?

The money or the old lady perfume?

James picked up the nearest thing to him and launched it with spite,

Just in time for Cunningham to appear from behind him,

Catching him red-handed.

What on earth,

Brighton?

He snapped.

You should be at the front desk,

Not breeding up and down like a prima donna.

And why are you so wet?

Not again.

James turned to face the music,

But to his utter disbelief,

Cunningham was dressed in go-faster stripes and skin-tight lycra.

There goes a lifetime of therapy,

He quipped under his breath.

I've been helping Delaware with Chucky.

Dedicated to the last,

That's me.

And as they say,

No publicity is bad publicity,

Even if it is in the pouring rain.

All ready for the Bridlington bike ride,

Mr Cunningham?

Added Jo.

How many miles is it this morning?

But Cunningham ignored him.

That's Mrs Delaware to you,

Brighton.

James said nothing.

They both knew Cunningham's hands were tied.

As the Bridlington's only full-time resident,

Constance Delaware held clout that went beyond his jurisdiction.

Where's Emily?

She's gone to get some paper towels to dry me off,

Said James.

She's a diamond,

That one.

At this,

Cunningham gave a derisive snort and departed for the ride,

With all the grace of a lame puffin.

Room 1213 was larger than most.

It had adjoining doors and the windows overlooked the Bridlington's Japanese gardens.

Beneath the ornate pelmets hung plush velvet drapes that matched the four-poster bedding and the walk-through lounge with parquet flooring and Persian rugs.

Lewis lounged ridiculously in one of the reproduction chairs.

Awkward at the best of times,

It took all he had to keep both feet on the ground without sliding out of the chair completely.

It's all there,

He said,

Offering a wad of cash and two passports.

I had to go a bit heavy on the Polish one.

But it's all there.

Constance Delaware counted it carefully.

You're short,

She said with a voice that failed to match her flamboyant veneer.

What?

I counted it myself,

Lewis exclaimed.

They're taking advantage of you.

Maths never was your strong point,

Child.

You'll have to go back and get the rest.

Lewis stared at his grandmother through glazed eyes.

It didn't make sense.

But then he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

OK,

Nan,

But Skinner gets me at it.

He's always on to me about this and that.

I don't get a minute's peace.

Mrs Delaware thought carefully.

Don't worry about him,

She said.

I'll find something to keep him busy.

And I'll have to work out a better way to keep on top of things.

It's only a matter of time before they spot you on the CCTV.

Oh?

We should face it.

You're not always as indiscreet as you should be,

Are you?

Indiscreet?

Lewis was confused.

Listen,

Dear boy,

I know you're keen to help and heaven knows I appreciate it.

But we're going to have to do things differently.

Let me have a think about it.

And with that,

Lewis left for the lobby and Joe,

Who was wondering where on earth he had got to.

James put down the receiver and thought carefully about the conversation he'd just had.

Delaware had just insisted Joe return Chucky instead of him.

That didn't sound right.

Something was definitely up.

I'm off upstairs,

He said,

More lightly than he meant.

Can you cover for me,

Joe?

Emily will be back in a sec.

I thought you had to get dry.

It can wait,

James replied,

Much to Joe's surprise.

Joe had never known anything in James's life to come before his appearance.

I'll try,

Joe sighed,

Now that Cunningham's gone.

But it's not really my thing.

Delaware's taken a mickey out of you now.

If she needs a personal assistant,

She should get one.

James shrugged his shoulders.

Delaware blackmailing him into waiting on her hand and foot was one thing,

But roping his friend into it was something completely different.

He took the lift to the first floor.

The corridor was quiet,

But to James's surprise,

There was Lewis lurking outside Delaware's door,

Looking very suspicious.

James advanced upon him at speed.

What do you think you're doing?

Does Joe know about this?

Why are you up here?

He had never trusted this shady character.

Lewis looked into his hands as if somehow he would find the answer there,

But the crisp £50 notes offered no reply.

She's my nan,

He blurted out before he had time to realise what he was saying.

Now the cat was out of the bag.

Mrs Delaware,

Your nan.

Hmm,

James nodded slowly.

Now it all makes sense.

That's how you got this job,

Isn't it?

I had wondered.

Anyone else would have been offended,

But the slight went way over Lewis's head.

You can't tell anyone,

He drawled simply.

She'll kill me.

Mum's the word.

James passed an imaginary zip across his lips.

Got you running round as well,

Has she?

She's good at that.

He looked closely at the wad of cash Lewis tucked into his pocket.

This was something James could use to his advantage.

There was more going on here than just a conflict of interest.

You'd better come back later,

Lewis,

He said.

We don't want your nan to know I know,

Do we?

And Lewis ran away,

Just in time for the door to open.

James!

Constance Delaware looked visibly shocked.

Just passing,

James quit with a cold stare.

Then he brushed past her and sat down uninvited,

Leaving a wet chucky to roll around on her best Persian rug.

He'd just been gifted something to use against her,

Even if he wasn't quite sure what.

At least now he was playing with a full deck.

I won't be dog-walking for you any more,

He bluffed.

And neither will Jo.

Mrs Delaware froze,

Disbelief rising in her cheeks.

You look confused,

James continued.

Were you expecting someone else?

Jo or Lewis,

Maybe?

Constance Delaware quickly clicked the door shut behind her.

Then she pounced,

Her words cold and calculated.

It's unnatural,

James,

What you're doing.

And as a long-term resident,

I have a duty to report staff indiscretions.

From the deepest part of James's being,

A writhing pain broke forth.

Suck it up,

He said to himself.

Then you can leave.

You've obviously never read the National Geographic.

Mrs Delaware ignored him,

An authoritative air oozing from every pore.

It's not as though you don't turn heads,

Young man.

You could have any woman you wanted.

I've seen the way women look at you.

It took all James had not to get up and leave.

Why was he listening to this?

Then from somewhere deep within returned a fight he'd learned as a child.

What do you want from me?

Mrs Delaware remained calm.

This is coming from a good place,

James.

I lost my son 20 years ago.

He was like you.

She swallowed deeply,

Her fingers gripping the back of her dark wooden chair.

Well,

I'm not your son,

Spat James.

And I pity Lewis having to listen to this crap.

I'm finished here.

I'll tell him he can give you your cash and whatever else he was hiding behind his back.

Let that be an end to it.

Then James left,

Safe in the knowledge Mrs Delaware would leave him alone thereafter.

And sure enough,

The moment the door closed,

Constance Delaware sat down with a bump,

Desperate to know just how much that desk clerk was aware of.

This could mean the end of everything.

She'd better go easy on him until she knew more.

Back at reception,

Emily was more concerned with Bianca than the mood James had returned in.

She looked terrible,

Just like she'd had really bad news.

And when I asked her about it,

She ran off.

James paused.

What was this?

Something to take his mind off things?

Good.

That doesn't sound right,

He said.

She's as hard as nails,

That one.

Not today she's not.

It has to be something big,

Hasn't it?

To upset her,

I mean.

The lift pinged and its doors opened.

Jo,

Over here.

What is it?

Can you slip into something more to your taste?

James wasn't in the mood for joking around.

What's up with Bianca?

She's in tears downstairs.

What's going on?

What have you been up to,

Jo?

Jo was stunned,

Genuinely shocked.

And when at last he gathered himself together,

He answered incredulously,

Talk about the pot calling the kettle.

Well,

At least I have the common sense to separate business and pleasure,

Snapped James.

A one-night stand should be just that,

Jo.

Uncomplicated.

Emily couldn't believe what she was hearing.

These two,

Bickering.

She'd just got away from Mulberry Court and now here she was,

Immersed in another load of grief.

For God's sake,

You two,

Stop.

Jo turned away.

He'd done nothing to make Bianca cry,

Had he?

Emily looked at James.

What is it?

What's the matter?

Why are you biting at him like that?

James shrugged her hand off aggressively.

There's nothing the matter with me.

But before Emily had a chance to take it any further,

Three police officers pushed their way through the revolving doors and said,

We're looking for Lewis Cranley.

He's wanted in connection with an ongoing investigation.

Reviews

Such a great story! 😊

I need to listen to this again while I’m awake! 🥰

Fast moving business here! Enjoying the intrigue ❤️❤️