Free A Close Connection by Patricia Fawcett

monumental vocabulary. She supposed that his caring manner, akin to a sympathetic bedside one, would be ideal for soothingthe nerves of the learner drivers he sat beside day after day.
    As for Paula, predictably she worked as an assistant in a shop in town selling greetings cards and the like; a shop which Eleanor now avoided on her visits to Plymouth because it was just too embarrassing to see Paula in there wearing her uniform. Eleanor was retired from her teaching post having given it up years ago to help her father with the business, her linguistic skills proving very useful in his dealings with his European contacts. Her mother’s flair for languages was to be admired, but Nicola hoped she would not try to converse with the locals as that would look like she was showing off in Matthew’s mother’s eyes. Paula had the biggest inferiority complex she had ever come across.
    Awkward was the only word she could think of to describe the whole set-up.
    The four of them had nothing in common. On the one hand, a driving instructor and a shop assistant; on the other, an entrepreneur specializing in fine arts and his lady wife, a former teacher and linguist, who liked to think she was a touch above.
    It would only end in tears.
     
    ‘Hello, Barbara. How are you?’ Nicola said, heels clicking as she tapped her way into the hotel and the polished dark oak of the reception desk. It promised to be another fine warm day and already she was feeling over dressed in the suit, tights on at that, but it was important to look the part and Gerry Gilbert, the manager, was very keen that the dress code amongst the staff, senior or otherwise, was observed.
    ‘I’m good, thanks.’ Barbara nodded, giving her a quick once-over, glance hovering a moment at her stomach. Barbara had caught her being sick in the ladies’ loo a week ago and was now convinced she was pregnant, which was not true. Absolutely not true. ‘No major problems to speak of. We’ve gotthe terrace tables ready for lunch and we are fully booked but you may have noticed that it’s getting a bit breezy so we may have to abandon them.’
    ‘Have you checked the forecast?’
    ‘Not yet.’ Barbara had been here forever and she thought she ran the place but Nicola had already discovered a few loopholes in her efficiency. The woman was stuck in her ways and she needed to up her game.
    ‘Then wouldn’t it be a good idea to do that?’
    ‘I was going to,’ Barbara said, not giving an inch. ‘But you know what it’s like here. In this valley we’re in a kind of climate cocoon. Weather passes us by. I’ve found the best thing is to ignore the forecast and just to look out of the window.’
    Nicola had no time for further discussion about the weather and with a final brief smile breezed on.
    They were full, more or less, which was good news but good weather now and for the next month would mean repeat bookings, so Nicola looked anxiously out of the window as she went through the ‘quiet’ adult-only lounge on her way to the meeting with Gerry, passing through the long gallery where a couple of guests were taking morning coffee. She acknowledged them with a breezy smile, pausing to pass the time of day before continuing.
    There was a wedding coming up in a few weeks, preparations in full swing, as well as a small corporate event in a few days’ time in the form of drinks and nibbles, which Emma had handed over to her as her first solo venture. It was something of a coup because Emma was notoriously uneasy about delegating. Emma, who was in overall charge of the events team, was very efficient, calm, confident and controlled and a wonderful mentor and Nicola hoped that, by the time Emma moved on – a move back up to her beloved north with her partner was long threatened – she would be deemed ready to step into the lady’s shoes.
    She made sure she was well thought of by Emma and Gerry, adopting an agreeable stance with them, so that when the time came for Emma to go,