The interior of the hotel took Mallory’s breath away. The architect had combined the luxury of an upmarket city hotel with a simplicity of design echoing the building’s former use. Mallory had already checked the price of a night’s stay. Cheaper than a central London hotel but only just. People would want more than a place with an interesting history for that kind of money. The lobby would be guests’ first impression of the hotel. Pale oak-framed armchairs overstuffed for comfort sat around glass-topped tables. There were flowers everywhere – Alex had eschewed orchids and lilies for more rustic hollyhocks and alliums – and Mallory could see why the place had been the darling of fashion magazines when it had first opened.
‘Alex is a little tied up. Would you like me to show you around the hotel while you’re waiting?’ Alys flicked her eyes towards a woman wearing round orange glasses who was tapping the reception desk with a pen.
‘Don’t worry. See to the guest. I’ll have a wander around the ground floor.’
‘Great.’ Alys made an effort to relax. ‘I’ll find you as soon as Alex is ready. It won’t be long.’
Mallory pushed open the door to the room adjoining the lobby. Linen-topped tables were laid for dinner and Mallory saw each held a vase of fresh flowers, echoing the theme in the lobby. The blooms must be brought fresh over from Tenby each day – a nice touch but hugely expensive. To the right, away from the diners, was a set of double doors, presumably leading to the kitchen. In the distance, she could hear a radio playing Beyoncé. Alex might be a strict taskmaster, but the music suggested he was happy to let his staff get on with the job.
A small, pale-green sitting room further along the corridor offered more clues to Alex’s taste. One wall was covered in books and not the buy-by-the-weight titles usually displayed in hotels. A selection of contemporary novels sat alongside political biographies and books on Welsh history. The wall opposite the window was dominated by a picture frame, its heavy mahogany wood in contrast to the Nordic-style restraint of the rest of the decor.
Mallory crossed to the photograph and saw it featured a group of twelve women, all in religious dress. It was difficult to date the picture from the women’s clothes but, if the house had been built in the 1920s for the first of the sisters, then this must have been a decade or so later. Most of the women were in their thirties and Greentiles, looming behind the group, had a weathered, lived-in look. Mallory leant forward and tried to decipher the expression on the women’s faces but each face presented a unified look to the world.
‘Interesting, aren’t they?’
A woman with flame-coloured hair was standing at the entrance, her arms resting on each doorpost.
Mallory stepped back. ‘They are. I wonder what it must have been like for them living here, cut off from the rest of the world.’
The woman crossed to stand next to Mallory, who was enveloped in the scent of gardenia perfume. ‘This place was luxurious even then. The order’s founder, Margaret Taylor, liked her comforts, which she saw no reason to give up when she entered holy orders.’ The woman paused. ‘They were all her friends, you know?’
Mallory turned. ‘You mean the nuns?’
‘Exactly. She recruited from within her social circle for the Companions of the Good Shepherd. Don’t forget it was 1922 when the order was founded. For some women after the losses of the First World War, spinsterhood was guaranteed.’
‘Which is why they all look the same age.’
‘Exactly, although there was about ten years’ difference between the oldest and youngest sister. Still, the same generation.’
‘You work here?’ Mallory wondered if she should mention she was here for an interview.
‘Goodness, no. I’m a guest but, as I’ve booked in for a whole month, I’ve kind of immersed myself in the island’s history. It’s interesting.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Mona Rubin.’
Mallory grasped the woman’s cool fingers. ‘Mallory Dawson. Is there enough here to occupy you for that long?’
‘No, which is why I chose the hotel. I’m an illustrator with a commission to complete. I needed a place I could be completely within my head and I discovered here. I’ve only been here a week, but I can see I’ve made the right choice.’
‘You paint in your room?’
‘Why not? The hotel doesn’t have a problem with it and, besides, it’s only watercolours. I’m not making a mess.’
Mallory smiled. ‘I hope all the guests are as well-behaved as you. I’m here for a job interview.’
‘How wonderful. I’m almost jealous. Fancy getting to stay here permanently.’
‘It’s just until Christmas when the hotel closes.’
‘I’m still jealous. There is the most wonderful flora and fauna on the island.’ A shadow crossed the woman’s face.
‘You’re interested in nature?’
Mallory felt Mona withdraw at the innocuous question. ‘No more than the ordinary person.’
‘Anywhere else I should see while I’m here for the interview?’
Mona shrugged. Mallory saw she was wearing a green dress chosen to complement her deep red hair. On one side of the bodice, she’d pinned a small amber brooch that looked expensive. ‘It’s a small hotel. There’s a little spa suite with a sauna, hot tub, and pool. All exquisitely done.’
‘I’ll take a look.’
‘There’s also a gift shop outside and the mausoleum at the other end of the island if you like that sort of thing. You get plenty of goths coming over just to pose at the door of the crypt. It’s an interesting building, though. Definitely worth taking a look.’
‘Some other time, perhaps.’ They both turned at the sound of a male voice. In the doorway, stood a man in his forties wearing a suit that could only have come from a Savile Row tailor. He gave Mallory the once over and she straightened, making sure her painful leg was firmly on the floor.
‘I’m Alex.’ Unlike Mona, he didn’t hold out his hand. ‘It’s Mallory, isn’t it? I see our guest is keeping you abreast of the island’s history.’
Mona kept her smile but Mallory picked up an undercurrent of tension between the pair. Perhaps Mona didn’t like her immaculately dressed host.
‘It’s a fascinating place. I can’t wait to hear more about the Cloister.’
Mollified, Alex nodded and inclined his head towards the door. ‘Let’s go, shall we?’