The Hawkshead Hostage Read Online Free

all very well organised. Dan lives in. He’s got a couple of rooms round the corner. Bodgett’s in residence as well, of course. They share the old servants’ quarters. He’s the butler and Dan’s the housekeeper. Funny, eh?’
    ‘It’s a whole little world,’ said Simmy, thinking there was a sort of magic to hotel life. The core of permanent staff on one hand and the constantly shifting procession of guests on the other. ‘I presume there’s a gardener and kitchen hands and waiters as well.’
    ‘Pretty much. The dining room staff are mostly foreign, same as the cleaners.’
    ‘And you’re always full, right? Twenty-five people to look after, day and night. Very weird, when you think about it.’
    ‘Hospitality,’ said Melanie. ‘One of the oldest professions.’
    Simmy thought again of her father. ‘I suppose so. If my dad was here, he’d talk about pilgrimages and ancient customs, or Victorian dosshouses with four to a bed.’
    Melanie laughed. ‘He would, too. Now come on. I’m meant to be working. Before all this nonsense with thelost kid blew up, I was trying to track down a missing pillowcase. I mean – people steal towels, but you don’t often lose a pillowcase .’
    ‘Makes a useful extra bag, I suppose.’
    ‘Right,’ said Melanie inattentively. ‘There’s Dan, look. Now, make sure you give me proper credit for putting you in touch with him. I need to keep on his right side.’ She indicated a figure still too far off to hear what they were saying.
    Simmy gave her a surprised look. ‘You sound scared of him, same as you are of Penny.’
    ‘No, I’m not a bit scared of him. But Dan’s the real power here. Does just what he likes and nobody dares challenge him. It pays to stay on the right side of him.’ Again, she flushed, as she’d done that morning. ‘But he’s perfectly nice.’ It sounded defensive to Simmy.
    She watched the man approaching them. He walked with a loose easy gait, unselfconscious and unhurried. Aged about thirty-five, she guessed, with dark colouring. His hair had been cut carefully, to capitalise on its thickness and slight wave. In another age, he might have been mistaken for Clark Gable without the moustache and with an additional three inches of height. ‘He should grow a moustache,’ she murmured to Melanie. ‘Then he’d be perfect.’
    Melanie snickered, quickly putting a hand over her mouth. ‘Shut up – he’ll hear you.’
    And that, Simmy suspected, would be a very bad thing.

Chapter Three
    Men who worked in hotels ought to be handsome, as a general rule. It endeared them to the guests and made complaints less frequent. Dan fitted the bill in a way, but the veneer of insincerity was almost palpable. ‘I’m Persimmon Brown,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I came to talk to you about flowers. I gather Melanie told you about me.’
    ‘Oh, right. Pleased to meet you. Dan Yates.’ He smiled at a point some inches from her left ear and added, ‘Thank you, Melanie. I think I can take it from here.’
    ‘I’m sure you can,’ said the girl, using her uncanny skill at conveying insolence, scepticism or plain disapproval in words that nobody could find objectionable.
    ‘Let’s go to my office, then. Follow me.’ He set off briskly in the direction of the converted stables, Simmy following like a schoolgirl. Power politics of some kind, she judged. She could easily have walked by his side. She had never worked in an environment where such games were played;all she knew of them came from TV sitcoms and stories told by her former husband. She was aware that there were plenty of people in the outside world who enjoyed throwing their weight around, using tricks like this. And yet Melanie had said he was ‘okay’, so she should probably give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was basically insecure or merely amusing himself by toying with her to make life more interesting. Perhaps he had no idea what he was doing and just wanted them to