6 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.

In this episode, we hear about the revenge Emily exacts on Cunningham, the loss James and Emily are feeling, and the scheme Constance Delaware comes up with to stay on top.

Written and performed by English author Stephanie Poppins.

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.

That's it.

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.

Happy listening.

The Bridlington A series set in an English hotel.

Written and performed by Stephanie Poppins.

It was ridiculously early in the morning.

Stupid o'clock.

But at the Bridlington Hotel,

Things were busier than ever.

The hustle and bustle never stopped.

Not in the summer season,

Anyway.

Since Lewisgate,

The hotel manager,

Harold Cunningham,

Was thirsty for fresh blood.

And everyone was on tender hooks,

Waiting to see who would be next for the chop.

Staff changeover will be early tomorrow,

He denounced smugly the evening before.

And I expect standards to be as high as ever.

So early it was.

One hour earlier,

To be precise.

That precious hour between drunk and altogether hungover.

He's loving this,

Snarled James through gritted teeth.

I don't think I can take much more.

Emily sighed.

If the Bridlington's poster boy was not feeling up to the task,

How on earth was she supposed to get through the day?

Jo's long send-off in the hotel bar was taking its toll.

But she regretted nothing.

That was the least they could do for their best friend.

She ran her fingers through her tousled hair.

It was only thanks to the two remaining bottles of dry shampoo in the hotel shop that it smelled smoke-free.

And that had been no easy feat getting hold of.

Waking Lee Minup from a deep sleep to get the keys meant Emily owed her for life.

But never mind.

She'd managed it and was here in one piece,

Reporting for duty in body,

If not in spirit.

James,

Meanwhile,

Was feeling rougher than he'd done in a long time.

Jo had been sacked,

Left to fend for himself.

It was no easy feat when he hailed from Southmore Hill,

The roughest street in town.

James had always felt protective of Jo.

But what could he do for him now?

And what would they do for that matter?

Him and Emily?

If the Bridlington could sack Jo,

They could sack anyone.

There was no employee more loyal and no one more committed than Joseph Skinner.

From now on it would have to be heads down and numbers up.

No days off and no late clocking in.

No drinking and no gambling.

What a sobering thought to start the day.

This was survival of the fittest.

Or the survival of those willing to ditch all self-respect and suck up to Harald Hitler.

And there were always plenty of those snapping at his heels.

He gazed out to the sea view.

The summer sun was already warming the long white balustrades.

Its golden beams were cutting through the flags to settle upon the orangery windows.

It was as if nothing had happened,

Just another day on the coast of East Riding.

Another sunny day at the Bridlington Hotel.

Delivery vans came and went.

Towels,

Linen,

Fruit and vegetables.

The meat truck,

The fish van,

The soap company,

The industrial cleaning unit.

And yet for James it didn't feel like just another day.

His friend was gone.

That grinning unaffected face with dark curls and mischievous eyes was lying at home in bed.

And here they were,

Emily and James,

Standing at the front desk pretending it was business as usual.

They stared in disbelief as his new replacement sauntered past.

Mrs.

Delaware's dog Chuckie in tow.

His every step irritated them still further.

They didn't want anyone else as bellboy.

They wanted Joe back.

Walking Delaware's dog?

He's only been here five minutes,

Emily hissed.

And he's already got his feet under the table.

And I thought that was your job,

Golden boy.

Delaware's love affair with you's finally over then?

James grimaced.

She told me point blank she despises me because of who I am.

And anyway,

She thinks I'm the one who spilled the beans about Lewis.

And did you?

No.

And I can't believe they haven't arrested her.

It was obviously her who put Lewis up to it.

Not that he's saying anything.

Why don't you say something?

If I do,

Delaware's going to tell all about me coming out of a guest room one night.

Oh,

James.

I could do without your judgment.

I'm not judging,

Said Emily.

But now Delaware's got you over a barrel.

If Cunningham's found out,

He'll boot you out as well.

Don't I know it.

He's just waiting for an excuse.

This is the most prestigious hotel around,

Emily mocked in her best Scottish accent.

As if we didn't already know that.

And physical assault is not acceptable,

James added,

Deprecatingly.

That had been Cunningham's reason for sacking Jo.

But Emily knew she was going to end up in jail.

She knew getting rid of Jo because he hit Lewis was just smoke and mirrors.

There was far more to it than that.

This was all her mother's doing.

A not-so-gentle reminder from Lady Perklinton Smythe that her daughter should stay in her lane and not say anything about her knowledge of what had been going on below stairs.

Why does her behaviour still surprise me,

Thought Emily.

Allowing the exploitation of her staff is not the worst thing Mum's ever done.

And she doesn't even mind the scandal.

Any publicity is good publicity,

She says.

All she cares about is her own reputation.

I think she'd do anything to save her own skin.

Emily took a sweeping glance over the lobby.

It had already been dusted and the entrance carpet freshly swept.

By the looks of it,

Housekeeping were having to burn the candle at both ends too.

Up with the larks before the guests stirred in their Egyptian cotton.

Frontline defence against an easterly wind that fed the choppy waves and blew the litter so hard it collected in messy piles inside rather than out.

Enjoy,

Said Emily congenially as the night staff handed over.

But James was less pleasant about it.

Smile me kids,

Enjoy your extra hour.

James Brighton resented the night staff at the best of times.

The way he saw it,

They had it easy.

Graveyard shift was just that,

Slow and quiet.

The only guests awake were drunks and their prostitutes.

And the Bridlington had a very strict policy on both which,

For the most part,

Kept things under control.

All the night staff wanted to do after work was cash their cheques and get back to their leased cars and suburban houses.

They kept themselves to themselves and had little sympathy for those who chose to socialise with each other in their time off.

According to them,

Work was work and anything else was home.

If James and Emily chose to give Joe a boozy send-off compliments at the Bridlington,

That was on them.

Sipping their coffee slowly,

Emily and James resigned themselves to their fate.

They knew this early start was Cunningham's way of making them pay for the night before.

But they didn't care.

It was worth it.

Joe deserved the best they could give him and they'd certainly done that.

And to top it all,

Emily had got the revenge she'd long been waiting for.

Trashing Cunningham's pride and joy,

His indoor putting green,

Had been more fun than she'd had in years.

According to her mother,

A good spot of bleach cured everything.

So she decided to put that to the test.

Now,

Harold Hitler's fake grass was as white as his anemic skin or at least patches of it.

And there was no way he could prove it was them.

Security had made sure of that.

Everyone hated the hotel manager without exception.

There was precious little else to show for the night though.

Just bad heads and a huge sense of loss.

The triangle of trust had become a thin,

Wobbly line.

It was going to take more than black coffee to fix this.

Hair of the dog.

From across the lobby,

J.

Tin shot Emily and James a contagious grin.

Even though the rattle in their heads was getting louder.

How does he do it?

Mumbled James weakly.

He's as bright as a button.

His suit sharper than ever.

His shoes gleaming in the lobby lights.

Not a clue,

Emily replied.

Two nights on the trot and barely a hair out of place,

Said James.

By all rights,

I should hate him.

But I can't.

That's because he's lovely,

Emily replied.

He's my.

.

.

Your what?

Boyfriend?

We haven't really made it official.

James said no more.

Getting involved in other people's relationships was beyond his pay grade.

And as lovely as she was,

Emily was still the boss's daughter.

Some time passed and slowly they began to come round a little more.

Action stations,

I just saw Cunningham.

James hissed as the hotel manager dashed past.

They patted themselves perfect and stood to attention.

It was amazing what a bit of makeup could do.

Lipstick for her and concealer for him.

J.

Tin,

However,

Needed nothing more than to straighten his tie.

Morning,

Mr.

Cunningham,

He declared in his curious tone.

Morning,

Boss,

Added James,

Running his comb through his waxed hair.

However much I hate him,

He thought,

I'd better keep him on side.

I need this job if I understand any chance of making good my recent losses.

There's no Joe around to bail me out now with his kickbacks and dodgy deals.

Then,

When at last Cunningham was out of the way,

J.

Tin flushed a bottle of Bombay Sapphire from beneath his desk.

Where did you get that from?

Mouthed Emily.

Where he gets everything else,

Said James.

Is there anything that man can't do?

Now that will be telling,

Emily smiled smugly.

It's going to have to be our go-to today when we get stuck.

I don't see this shift going smoothly.

I'm already counting the minutes He loves it,

Said James.

That man's only been here five minutes and the guests love him.

Besides,

He already knows everything there is to know.

Hmm,

Where to eat and how to get a table?

Emily agreed.

Which shops are open all night?

Added James.

What shoes I'm wearing and where to get them fixed?

Who owns the clubs and who's barred?

Every bouncer,

Every doorman?

What kind of love's available at what kind of price?

J-team's keys open every door in town,

Emily gushed.

Well,

They certainly opened yours,

James quipped.

Is it serious they're new too?

I don't know,

Emily replied cryptically.

It's something more than not.

James turned his attention to the screen and scrolled the day's guest list.

We better get going before it begins.

But he was too late.

It was already pushing its way through the revolving doors.

Here we go.

Emily and James scanned their first victims.

This daily game of guess who was the only thing keeping them invested now.

Middle-aged,

Said Emily.

Obvious.

Well to do.

Obvious.

Been on a plane?

How'd he work that out?

Label on the luggage?

Oh yeah,

Said James,

Well spotted.

Hmm,

Louis Vuitton's latest as well.

Not too shabby.

He's a drinker.

Yep,

Face as red as a beetroot,

James agreed.

Here,

Hand me that bottle of water.

It's making me feel sick just looking at him.

Long flight,

Crumpled clothes,

Said Emily.

But not her.

Hmm,

Maybe he met her at the airport.

You're up,

Said James through his water,

Refusing to acknowledge the couple now standing in front of them.

Good morning,

Emily coughed,

And welcome to the Bridlington Hotel.

She took another sip of espresso nervously.

Forgive me,

Dry throat,

She said.

Mr and Mrs Wade,

The rotund man declared back,

Oblivious to her discomfort.

Emily coughed again,

And this time the wife raised her eyebrows.

Nothing catching,

I trust.

James stepped in reluctantly.

It's too much talking,

He muttered.

The large,

Bald-headed being appeared to find this very amusing,

But his wife remained unimpressed.

Meanwhile,

Emily was off on one of her flights of fancy.

Not the most content of couples,

She considered.

How many times have I seen this dynamic before?

James gave her a sharp nudge under the counter to wake her up.

Neither of them were up to this,

But he was feeling particularly peaky,

And he didn't know how much longer he could hold it in.

But Emily carried on dreaming regardless.

Now,

How should she play this?

According to J.

Tin,

Every interaction had to have an angle.

So what angle should she take?

Miscongeniality?

Or maybe everything by the rulebook?

It could be the,

I'll do whatever it takes.

Or should it be what's said at reception stays at reception?

At the Bridlington,

Everything was available at a price.

But what was Emily's price?

She was still figuring that out.

She valued honesty,

She knew that.

And she valued genuine people who weren't willing to sell their souls for a quick buck.

But she had a vested interest in the hotel too,

And that clouded her decisions sometimes.

The guests had to be happy,

But the hotel still had to make money.

Sorry,

She announced,

Checking is not until 11.

We do have facilities to hold your bags until then,

And a £50 surcharge will be added to your bill.

Everything by the book it was going to be.

Joe's exit had taken all the fun out of it.

And anyway,

Mr and Mrs Wade were far too early.

The wife shot her a waspish glare.

We checked in online.

Emily glared back.

If it had been any other day,

She would have relented.

But not today.

This was the day after two nights worth of drinking.

Oh,

I can see now,

Interrupted James nervously.

Our IT staff have been updating the system.

You are checked in.

Thank you.

But the room's still occupied.

We requested it in advance for that reason,

Insisted Mr Wade,

His face getting redder by the minute.

Well,

There's early and there's early.

James bit back without thinking.

This made Emily smirk.

It seemed even Mr Cool and Collected had lost it now.

Then all at once,

There was JT who had come to save the day.

Just the people I was looking for,

He announced cheerily.

Ambassador Wade,

Mrs Wade,

This way,

Please.

Your place at the premier lounge is ready,

And your complimentary breakfast will be served in half an hour.

In the meantime,

Jemima will bring you the morning's newspapers and a hot pot of coffee.

Won't you,

Jemima?

From behind a particularly large plant pot,

A fresh-faced student emerged nodding vigorously.

And in a blink of an eye,

Off they all went,

Through the orangery to the premier lounge.

Emily sighed deeply.

Here's a diamond.

Agreed,

Answered James.

But what was that all about,

The Canadian ambassador?

Why did that escape me?

We didn't see the email,

Replied Emily,

Tapping away at the keyboard.

What does Cunningham expect if he calls us in an hour early?

Sniped James.

By all rights,

I shall still be in bed.

Emily sat down with a bump.

Bed?

What's that?

Looks like you owe that man of yours big time,

Said James.

And as he made his way to the loos,

Emily thought about what she would have to do to show Jeytin just how grateful she really was.

Upstairs in room 216,

Bianca Piotrowski was making an early start.

Constance Delaware was up at all hours these days,

Which meant the biggest room in the hotel could be done and dusted before changeover kicked in.

Bianca liked getting things out of the way early.

It meant more time to take up on her girls and more time to keep tabs on her new income stream.

It was a bitter pill to swallow,

Having to suck up to this old bag,

Especially with what her and her grandson had done to her.

But now Bianca was counting her blessings.

The girls had all paid her that morning instead of Delaware,

So now she,

The head housekeeper,

Had a lot more money in her pocket,

And it was looking like she'd have a lot more control over her life in the future.

She glanced through the chink in the bedroom door.

Constance Delaware was doddering around in her front room as usual,

Doing goodness knows what.

She had style,

Bianca had to admit,

But she was getting a bit forgetful these days,

Leaving things around she really shouldn't.

And they weren't everyday things either.

Gold bracelets,

Diamond rings.

If only.

Bianca,

Have you finished in there yet?

Bianca stole herself away,

Promising one day it would be her dressed in Chanel and her fine jewellery resting beside her Parisian bed.

Yes,

Mum.

Constance Delaware turned around slowly,

Conscious of Bianca's scrutiny.

They stood face to face,

Young versus old,

Experienced versus just starting out.

They were playing the same game,

Cut from the same cloth.

You like nice things,

Young lady,

She said slowly.

Bianca remained mute,

But scanned the old woman's expression.

One could learn a lot from just looking,

And Delaware's face told a thousand stories.

The lines around her thin mouth showed struggle and persistence.

Her eyes were determined and sharp.

Her pale skin was tired,

But the thickly applied cream demonstrated a commitment to keeping up what she had worked all her life for.

Appearances.

Sit down.

It wasn't a request.

Bianca sat slowly,

Her grey pencil skirt riding up past her thin knees.

She was wearing expensive stockings,

Far removed from the regulation ones available in the staff shop.

Her nails were freshly manicured,

And she had on Chanel lipstick.

The colour was unmistakable.

Tea?

Bianca took the hint and started to pour.

There was no way Delaware would demean herself,

Even though she was obviously after something.

Curls of hot steam rose up from the spout.

The tea Bianca had brought with her was burning hot.

She offered up the plate of favoured French wafers,

And their eyes met.

I needed secretary,

Began Delaware,

Straight to the point.

And you look like the girl to do it.

Bianca froze,

Then composed herself quickly.

And why would I do that?

Her voice was calm,

Her demeanour business-like.

Because your little scheme hasn't gone unnoticed.

I learned from the best.

Bianca's retort came fast,

And Delaware smiled back.

An unexpected compliment.

Good.

And an admission even better.

She adopted number five of her best ornamental poses.

That competitiveness had never really left her.

What I did with the passports was just business.

She said,

You were free to come and go whenever you liked.

And so is this,

My business,

Bianca answered coldly.

And long may it continue,

Said Delaware,

If you go through me.

And why would I do that?

Constance Delaware sniffed.

She liked this girl,

But she needed to know her place.

One thing you should be aware of,

Bianca Petalofsky.

There is English law,

And there is Bridlington law.

Bianca could say nothing to this.

She was,

After all,

Relatively new to the country,

And this way of life.

You will be paid a wage on top of what you currently receive,

Continued Mrs Delaware,

And certain benefits.

But your new arrangement will now all come to me.

I need a young mind and an extra pair of eyes.

My grandson was alright,

But he's not like you.

Bianca nodded in spite of herself.

She knew she didn't have a choice.

That gossip Petra obviously had an even bigger mouth than she'd given her credit for.

Well,

Better to have Delaware as an ally than an enemy.

She certainly had no idea it was her who spilled the beans about the original exploitation scam.

So much the better.

And wasn't Delaware getting more and more absent-minded?

There was a killing to be made here if she played her cards right,

And this way she'd be protected.

This old woman was obviously very well connected.

Hmm.

Maybe she'd call home and ask her mother for advice.

Meanwhile,

Constance Delaware was watching Bianca's every move.

This girl wasn't giving anything away.

Perhaps she needed a little push in the right direction.

So getting up,

She slid the Turner painting aside and shielding the combination lock from prying eyes,

Opened the safe.

Will this persuade you?

She asked.

And meeting the elegant hand offered,

Bianca replied,

Okay,

Mrs Delaware.

I'm in.

Reviews

I’m quite invested in the story! I definitely will relisten while awake so as to not miss anything. 😘

All sorts of intrigue! What will be next…🤩 thank you!🙏🏽