‘And you’re sure you’ll be OK without me? I’ll be back just after New Year! I’ve left you a couple of small presents but I wanted to bring you something really nice back from my travels.’
‘Mum, you don’t have to worry,’ Freya said as her mother caught her in a final final hug on the doorstep of her house. She’d spent the previous evening helping her mum pack, a challenge considering the amount of ‘resort wear’ that Sandra had accumulated. Freya had put on her a brave face but her mum had several times if she’d be OK.
‘Sandra!’ Neil called from the garden gate. ‘The taxi’s waiting. The driver can’t hang around any longer or we’ll miss our flight. You know what the traffic is like on the M6!’
‘All right. I’m coming!’ Sandra rolled her eyes good-humouredly at Freya and lowered her voice. ‘We’ve got loads of time. Neil ordered the taxi far too early.’
‘More time to relax before your flight to Miami,’ Freya said. ‘And I’ll be absolutely fine.’
‘Great. And thanks for taking in all the parcels for me. See you when I get back, darling. Oh, and help yourself to anything you like the look of in the wardrobes. It’s so lucky we’re the same size, and I’ll never have a chance to wear it all! I think those leather trousers would look fab on you!’
‘Thanks, Mum …’ Freya said, not sure the mustard-yellow trousers would go down well while greeting disgruntled guests at the office. Even so, she was pretty pleased with the slip nighty she’d snaffled from her mum’s stash.
With a last air kiss, her mother finally hurried towards the taxi, her new travel handbag lopped over her shoulder. With its numerous organiser pockets, matching documents clutch and reusable PVC sachet for liquids, no savvy traveller should venture forth without it. Freya smiled; she knew the spiel off by heart, having filmed her mum demonstrating it in a video that had attracted many thousand views and hundreds of comments.
Neil opened the door for her, and a hand waved out of the window. ‘Byeeeee …’
The taxi drove off and the cul-de-sac was quiet again.
After popping back inside for her own bags, Freya locked her mother’s door and set off through the grey dawn to work.
‘OK. I’ll see what I can do, Mrs Kingsley-Wolfe. I’m so sorry you haven’t found the mattress to your liking but as you’re leaving tomorrow, it’s too late to rectify the situation. I’ll certainly give your feed—’
Freya winced as the irate guest cut her off mid-phrase.
‘As I was about to say,’ she said, jumping on a nanosecond’s pause in the tirade. ‘I’ll certainly pass on your feedback to the owners, but there are two other double bedrooms in the property. Were none of those suitable?’
Just in time, she held the phone away from her ear to avoid a perforated eardrum. On the other side of the office, Mimi winced at Mrs K-W’s shrill outrage. Every word was clearly audible even without the speaker on.
Freya gripped the phone and kept her tone as neutral as she could. ‘It’s unfortunate that you didn’t like the décor in the other rooms, but at this stage of your holiday and in view of the alternative sleeping options, I’m afraid we can’t really ask the property owner to refund the rental back. Or any part of it.’
Freya braced herself as the phone vibrated with fury. Listening in on the whole exchange, Mimi mouthed a swear word. Eventually there was a brief silence, presumably as Mrs K-W paused to draw in oxygen before she passed out.
‘If you want to take it further, Mrs Kingsley-Wolfe, that’s your prerogative. However I’d rather you didn’t use that kind of language to me or my staff. Now, if there’s nothing further you wish to draw to our attention, I think it’s time we ended this discussion.’
Having no intention of allowing Mrs K-W to make further comment, Freya put the phone down and let out a small scream.
Mimi came over to her desk. ‘Deep breaths,’ she said. ‘Though Mrs K-W and her husband would drive a saint to murder. I think it’s time we started fighting back.’
‘Agreed!’ Freya said, feeling a little bruised by the encounter, even though she was used to difficult conversations. ‘She’s tried to get her money back on three separate properties over the past year and a half – and that’s just the ones we look after. I think it’s time we flagged her up to the booking agents and owners and slapped a ban on her renting any more holiday homes. She and her husband are scammers.’
‘They are – and it says a lot that they’ve never actually tried to sue. I’ll put the kettle on. Take a break. You need it.’
Mimi wasn’t wrong. It had been a long day checking that festive hampers would be delivered to all of the properties they looked after, on the correct changeover days before the Christmas holidays. Owners relied on Cottage Angels to make sure guests were kept happy – and rebooking their properties.
However, it was relentless work and would only grow more demanding as the cottages started to fill up for the festive season – which nowadays had become earlier as people booked pre-Christmas breaks, lured by the snow and events like the Christmas Fair.
She’d also been on emergency call three evenings running, each of which had resulted in callouts to a heating system that had failed, a sweet elderly couple who couldn’t turn off the smoke alarm and a man complaining that he couldn’t get Babe Station X on his telly. She’d arranged a hearing engineer, reset the alarm and explained – by phone in case he got the wrong idea – to the man that not every channel he was used to at home was available in a remote Lakeland village.
Luckily, Mimi was on duty that evening and Freya was planning on going home and curling up with a Christmas novel by her favourite author, hopefully banishing Travis from her brain. Unfortunately, that thought brought him right back to the forefront of her mind.
She wondered how he’d be spending the evening – with Hamza probably, in the pub or cosied up by the log burner with a takeout, endlessly obsessing over photos.
She must have had her eyes closed because Mimi’s voice startled her. ‘It’s past five, I’ll lock up. You go home and relax.’
‘I plan on doing just that,’ Freya said
She switched off her computer and was putting her laptop away in its bag when Mimi’s mobile rang.
Freya tried not to listen in but the topic of the call was obvious – as was the disappointment in her colleague’s voice and face.
‘No. Argh. I’d have loved to. Oh, I’m so sorry but I’m on call tonight.’
There was more conversation before she ended the call with ‘Give my love to Robbie. Tell him I’m sorry and wish him all the luck in the world. I’ll watch the video. You too.’
Mimi switched off her phone and Freya was horrified to see tears glistening in her eyes.
‘Is everything OK?’ Freya asked. ‘Is it the kids?’
‘Nothing bad,’ Mimi said, pasting on a smile. ‘Good, in fact. That was Cal,’ she explained referring to her husband. ‘It’s Robbie’s Christmas play tonight – they’re doing The Snowman and he was meant to be just a woodland creature but the boy playing the lead role has broken his wrist and Robbie’s the understudy.’
‘Wow. So he’s playing …’
‘The Boy yes. He’s worked so hard on learning the part but never thought he’d get the chance. He’ll be so excited and nervous. Cal phoned to see if I can go but it’s fine. I’ve said I can’t do it. I can’t risk the phone going off in the middle and dashing off. Well, I suppose I could … but I’d be on edge all night and we have seats in the front row – I don’t want to rush out in the middle and Robbie seeing me leaving. It might put him off.’
‘You won’t have to rush off anywhere,’ Freya declared. ‘Because I’ll take the emergency cover. You can’t miss this.’
‘You’ve done it three nights in a row!’
‘And? It won’t kill me. Nothing might go wrong – but if you’re on call and at the play, it most certainly will because that’s sod’s law. I didn’t have any plans, anyway.’
Mimi threw her arms around Freya. ‘You are the best partner. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
‘You already have, covering for me while I have the day off for Roxanne’s wedding. You just have a fantastic time and take lots of photos for me. I’ll lock up.’
‘OK, I’ll go straight to the school from here. Thank you so much. I owe you!’
‘Off you go.’
After gathering her bags, Mimi flew out of the office, phone clamped to her ear as she gave the good news to her husband.
Freya lingered, half wondering whether to stay in the office and do some admin. They were on duty twenty-four-seven technically but most people seemed to call by ten p.m. if they could. Only in the direst emergencies – fire or flood or burglary – had she ever been hauled out of bed.
One thing was for sure. She now couldn’t go home and relax with a glass of wine.
She hung around an hour longer, half-heartedly tackling some paperwork before her rumbling stomach nudged her into locking up. She would call for a takeaway from the village to have at home. She deserved a treat … She felt guilty. She mustn’t put on any weight before Roxanne’s wedding or she wouldn’t fit into that slinky bridesmaid’s dress. She’d walk to the office the rest of the week to work it off.
Although it was raining, she left her car at the office car park and walked the short distance to the Thai takeaway. Its lights glowed invitingly – but so did the windows of the gallery however, which were blazing with light even though it was seven p.m.
The bright new sign made her smile. Peak Perspectives. Nice name.
Peak Perspectives.
Gallery and photography tours
by Travis Marshall FRPS
As she read the words, an unexpected lump of emotion formed in her throat. It felt very much like pride, which surprised and startled her.
The smart and professional sign, however, didn’t match the scene through the window. There was what could only be described as chaos inside, with boxes, frames and canvases seeming to fill the small space.
She peered through the window just in time to see Travis hurl a cardboard box across the room as if he was trying to kill it.