Faith Bleasdale - The Ticket to Happiness

She brushed this negative thought away. She often thought about how just a few short years ago she’d been married to Mark, a controlling man who’d turned out to be ruthless and uncaring. But she didn’t see it until it was almost too late, as one often did in such relationships, and since then she’d been largely single.

Before her divorce, Pippa had always thought she’d have children and become a mum, rather than run a hotel, but she had learnt the hard way that life didn’t always work out the way you thought it would. And she was better off now. Surrounded by her siblings and their partners, she did sometimes feel a little sad about being single, but she was only thirty-two, after all – it wasn’t as if she was an old maid just yet … although she felt like it at times. Pippa once again pushed those negative thoughts away. Lately, she’d been letting negativity creep into her head, but not today.

She hopped around the room with an energy that seemed on endless supply since the hotel opened. Though the first few months had been anxious ones, Pippa had barely come up for air, but now the hotel had found its rhythm. In fact, Pippa was preparing a party to celebrate its one-year anniversary.

Like with many things at Meadowbrook, the anniversary was slightly unconventional in that they were celebrating over a month early. The official opening of the hotel had been held on Valentine’s Day last year, and her brother Gus’s wedding to Meadowbrook garden designer, Amanda, had marked that occasion. But as they had bookings this year for those in search of romance, they were holding the party early during the first week of January. Not only was it quiet, but everyone involved with Meadowbrook would also welcome a party to fend off the post-Christmas and New Year blues. No one she knew did dry January, after all. Her brother Freddie said if you were going to pick a month to give up drinking, why pick the coldest, longest and most depressing? She had to admit he had a point.

Although they all had different strengths and often bickered, the Singer siblings all agreed that Pippa should take the lead on the hotel as manager and they supported her in different ways. She often wondered what her father would think of her now. Andrew Singer was driven, complicated, successful and loving, and she missed him every single day.

Harriet Singer was the business brain behind Meadowbrook, the hotel and the animal sanctuary, as well as their father’s various investments and complicated estate. Gus, the second oldest, took care of the gardens; Amanda and he ran a gardening company that was hugely in demand. He also painted and ran increasingly popular painting workshops at the hotel. Freddie, her third sibling, was sort of her co-manager but he ran the bar, his particular area of interest, and took care of all the marketing and social media. Somehow, they’d figured out how to do this together, without too much fighting. They’d almost made it to a year with no casualties at the very least, and Meadowbrook was open for business.

After showering, Pippa dried herself and pulled on a pair of jeans and a new cream jumper. Having kept this weekend free of guests for the anniversary party, the hotel felt eerily quiet, and Pippa wasn’t used to being here on her own. But this morning, for a little while at least, it was just her. She smiled as she made her way to the kitchen and poured a large mug of coffee. She leant against the counter, thankful for a moment’s peace and quiet. Yes, today was going to be a good day …

Hilda, Harriet’s dog, bounded through the door and jumped up at Pippa, knocking her mug of coffee all over her and getting muddy paw prints on her jumper. What on earth had possessed her to wear cream?

‘Thanks, Hilda.’ Pippa rolled her eyes but petted the big Old English sheepdog, who was boisterous but adorable. Harriet and her partner, Connor, a vet, had adopted her from the animal sanctuary a couple of years back and she was part of the family.

‘Sorry, Pip. I tried to contain her but you know what she’s like,’ Harriet sighed as she walked in behind Hilda with her new baby, Toby, strapped to her chest.

They were in the Meadowbrook kitchen, the hub of the house. It had been the scene of many a family meal growing up when they’d shunned the formal dining room for the warmth of the kitchen, with its Aga and Gwen, their housekeeper, baking, which kept the kitchen smelling inviting. Now, it was more of a commercial kitchen, but they managed to retain some of its history, not least with the huge, old kitchen table that sat in the room, etched with their childhoods on it.

‘Can I have my nephew?’ Pippa asked, itching to get her hands on four-month-old Toby.

‘If you can figure out how to get into this bloody thing. It almost needed an engineering degree to get it on; you should have heard my language. If Toby’s first words are all swearwords then you’ll know why.’

Harriet, the oldest at forty, sounded harassed, which was unlike the normally cool-headed woman, but then Pippa guessed being a new mother could do that to you. Harriet was taller than Pippa, with dark hair cut into an efficient bob, and she looked a little like their father, whereas Pippa took after their mother. Harriet was attractive and slim, with translucent skin and brown eyes, while Pippa was more delicate with her blonde hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes. They did share some similar traits, but initially to look at them you wouldn’t guess they were sisters.

Pippa managed to unhook Toby and engulfed him in her arms, where he wriggled before nuzzling into her. She sniffed his head, something she couldn’t resist doing. He looked like Harry, she thought, but his eyes were similar to his father, Connor. He was the most beautiful baby she’d ever seen. Although she was, of course, biased.

‘Right, I need coffee, and loads of it,’ Harriet announced as she left Pippa cooing and moved to the coffee machine, Hilda wagging her tail at her heels.

Pippa opened her mouth and then promptly closed it. Harriet appeared to have her jumper on inside out but Pippa wasn’t sure she dared point it out.

‘Are you all right?’ Pippa asked instead.

Harriet was so strong she rarely showed weakness, or rather vulnerability; she didn’t believe in it. As sisters, Pippa and Harriet were polar opposites. Harriet took being the oldest seriously and Pippa did the same with being the youngest, even milking it, some might say. They bickered, all four of them did, but they were closer than they ever had been – closer than their father even imagined they’d be, Pippa often thought.

‘Yes, I’m absolutely great,’ Harriet said, taking a large gulp of coffee. ‘Even better now.’

‘Good.’ Pippa frowned. She knew she worried about her siblings, but Harriet wasn’t someone who took kindly to being worried about.

‘Anyway, what needs doing for this party?’ Harriet asked.

‘I think it’s all under control. But you’re all staying here, aren’t you?’

‘Yup. I’ve got a baby monitor for Toby, so I can put him to sleep and enjoy the party,’ Harriet grinned.

‘You’re going to drink actual alcohol?’ Pippa asked.

Harriet had barely taken a sip of wine since Toby’s birth. Personally, Pippa thought maybe it would do her good.

‘Yes, I’ve pumped milk for his feeds for tomorrow, and then I can pump and dump in the morning,’ Harriet explained.

‘What?’ Pippa grimaced.

‘There might be alcohol in the breast milk if I drink, so I have to pump it out and get rid. It’s called pump and dump according to the baby book.’

‘Yuk. Anyway, can we stop talking about your breasts?’

Just then, Toby gave out a wail.

‘Well we can, but I’m going to have to whip them out now as my baby’s hungry.’