Free Summer Nights at the Moonlight Hotel by Jane Costello Page A

No Entry sign. The hotel closed this weekend, sooner than anyone could ever have imagined, to
begin a massive refurbishment programme that will leave it, if Cate’s top source (aka Sally, one of the waitresses) is correct, ‘unrecognisable’.
    Sally was in Cate’s shop at the weekend, and revealed everything the staff were told in their big meeting: The hotel is going to be turned upside down and will remain closed until the
start of the summer season in July. And their jobs are far from safe. Although nobody’s been handed their P45 yet, all are now answerable to the management team, headed by Joe and his
right-hand man Gianni, under whom they’re expected to take part in a massive re-training exercise, as well as get the new hotel up and running. And after all that, only a few will be
guaranteed future employment. All of which serves to underline my instinctive belief that Joe Wilborne – Mr Travel Havens – is a Grade A arsehole.
    ‘I wonder if your man is going to show his face around here after last week?’ I ask Emily. She prickles at the comment, which I hadn’t intended.
    ‘I’m sure Marion will get over not being able to use the Moonlight Hotel for a few months. She’s found somewhere else now,’ she replies.
    ‘It’s not just Marion who’s got the hump,’ Cate replies. ‘The staff are up in arms.’ It’s hardly necessary to add that I’m with them 100 per
cent.
    ‘They’re keeping their jobs,’ Emily says defensively. ‘Nobody’s being laid off for the foreseeable.’
    ‘That’s hardly much security, is it?’ I argue. ‘Especially not if they’ve got families to support. Plus, the fact that the hotel is closing for weeks on end means
there’ll be no tips.’
    ‘I can’t imagine they had too many tips anyway,’ Emily replies. ‘You need customers for tips – and there have been few enough of those recently.’
    ‘I’m surprised he didn’t wait until the winter season to close,’ Cate remarks. ‘It seems odd, doesn’t it?’
    ‘He clearly hasn’t got the first clue about what he’s doing – not with a hotel like this, anyway,’ I grumble.
    When we arrive in Bowness, Cate parks next to the Angel Inn and we make our way down the hill towards Casa Lagos, the little Spanish restaurant that will provide a temporary home for our
Tuesday-night salsa. I am reluctantly forced to admit that it’s an acceptable alternative, with more atmosphere than that massive high-ceilinged room at the Moonlight Hotel. The rustic,
saffron-coloured walls, terracotta tiles and soft table-lights make the room feel intimate, the kind of room where this sort of dancing seems at home.
    Presumably the owners are quite happy about the prospect of a room full of people buying drinks on a Tuesday night, which is comparatively dead. Not that I’m going to admit any of this out
loud. Besides, I have other things on my mind now. Namely, Edwin.
    I’m on edge as soon as I walk in, wondering if he’ll be here. I reminded him of the change of venue at lunch and he responded with enthusiasm, saying he really hoped he could make
it. And I can’t help secretly pleading with God, Cupid, or whatever higher power has the capacity to get him here to do just that.
    There are a few new faces tonight in Lulu’s group, as well as the usual crowd. Which includes, to my astonishment, Joe. I deliberately shuffle to the opposite side of the room during the
warm-up, but when the main lesson starts and Lulu sets us up with our first partners, by some hideous twist of fate, he ends up right in front of me.
    ‘Hello,’ I say stiffly.
    ‘Hi,’ he replies, his face breaking into that smile, the one I thought was sexy and self-deprecating when I first met him, but now just looks arrogant and smug.
    ‘You’re brave,’ I mutter. ‘After Marion’s reaction to your bombshell last week, you’re lucky she didn’t chuck you out of the club.’
    ‘On what grounds would she chuck me out?’ No matter how coolly