Teresa Morgan - One Fine Day

“Pardon?” Ruby raised her eyebrows, as if waiting patiently.

Steve cleared his throat. “Please can you peel the potatoes,” he concentrated on sounding more British, “ Darling ? Ouch!”

***

“Okay, thinking about tomorrow,” Ruby said, tucking into her plate of food. “I think you might want to act a little clumsy or nerdy. It worked for Clark remember?”

Between them they’d knocked up a simple dinner with lamb chops and lashings of mint sauce. Damn, had he missed mint sauce. This was what living an ordinary life was about.

“More acting required, huh?”

“Yes, and I was thinking that we should change your name.”

Steve nodded. She had a point and he had thought this too.

“What about Stuart, it’s close to Steve? I wondered about Stefan, but would that be too close?”

“Stuart is good. Not so keen on Stefan.” Steve pulled a face.

“Then, Stuart it is. If I start saying Steve, at least I can correct myself. Also, as you’re my brother you’ll have Fisher back for your surname.”

Steve nodded. “Stuart, Stuart, Stuart,” he said, more to himself. Would he remember he was using a different name? Maybe he really did have to look at this as just another acting part. But there’d be no camera on him.

“Oh, and we’ve got to come up with a back-story, for why you’ve been away. You phoned from the airport.”

“How’d you know about that?”

“Lydia let it slip.”

“Will I get to meet Lydia? Is she cute?”

“I don’t know, she’s not my type.” Ruby rolled her eyes. “She’s quieter than Alice. But I’m not getting you a job so you can shag half the staff. You’re going to have to pull your weight, Steve, otherwise the others will start moaning. You have to work.”

“Yes, I know, boss.”

Ruby parked in the staff car park – as a manager she had her own space. Steve looked up at the quaint hotel, getting out of the car. Ivy grew up the corner of the brickwork and around some of the signage. Durdham Lodge. His insides jolted.

Nerves?

“It’s four stars, but it’s a small, manageable hotel,” Ruby said as she locked her car. “You’ll be fine.”

Since landing, he’d been sure someone was going to shout out, “Hey, that’s Steve Mason,” and draw attention to him. Fortunately, it hadn’t happened yet, and with a telephone call to Marie yesterday late evening, she’d reassured him the tabloids believed he was still holidaying in the Caribbean getting over his break up with Erica.

But was this foolish?

No, if he wanted to find a woman to love him sincerely, for him, not his looks, fame or fortune, then he had to give this a try. However mad it seemed.

What if he didn’t find anyone?

Then he’d given it a go. At least he’d have had quality time with Ruby…

“In the week it’s mainly people staying overnight on business, and at weekends we have spa breaks and tourists on city breaks.” Ruby chatted as they walked in through the staff entrance, at the back of the hotel and along a narrow corridor not for the viewing of the paying public. It didn’t have the luxurious decor expected in a four star country hotel, just dirtying magnolia walls. They passed a waiter and a chambermaid, and a small room that looked like it was for the staff, with smells of coffee wafting from it. Ruby swung open a door, they hit the plush red carpet, lavish decor and the aroma of freshly cut flowers. They were inside the hotel. A telephone was ringing in the background. Steve pushed his new glasses up on his face and slouched a little.

Ruby held open a door to an office – her office – and closed it after them. Steve breathed a little more easily.

“I warn you now, this is not as glamorous as producing a film,” she said.

Steve chuckled, straightening his back. “You’ll be surprised. A film set can be far from glamorous at times.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s really boring.” Steve laughed again at Ruby’s sarcasm. He was starting to get used to her British wit again.

“Actually it can be very boring.”

“Yeah, yeah…We’re in early, but the hotel is staffed twenty-four seven.”

No shit early. Ruby had him up and out before seven a.m. this morning. Okay, he was used to early starts on set, and very long days, but this morning he’d found it hard to get out of bed, as if his body wanted to recoup some sleep. It had only been a couple of days since landing. Jet lag would still be taking its toll. It hadn’t helped it was still dark outside, either.

A photograph of Ruby and Mum rested on Ruby’s desk, which Steve picked up and studied, smiling at it. She took it out of his hand, scowling, and put it back in its place, then dumped her bag in the bottom drawer of the desk. How long had she been doing this job? He hadn’t even thought to ask her. All he knew from a letter she sent a while back, before Mum’s funeral, was that she was a hotel manager. “Right, I’ll show you around, give you a quick tour and find you a uniform.”

On their way down the narrow staff corridor they met a young man wearing chef whites, adjusting his hat. “Hi, Ruby,” he said.

“Oh, this is Brett,” Ruby said and smiled. Under his chef’s hat poked coal-black hair. He wore glasses and had a diamond stud earring in his left ear. “He works in the restaurant.”

Steve held out his hand and smiled. “Hello.”

“This is my brother…Stuart,” Ruby said, after a deep breath.

The young man, probably of similar age to Ruby, took Steve’s hand. He had a firm handshake, which surprised Steve, because Brett was slim built. Maybe the chef whites masked his true appearance.

“Hi, I’m the sous chef.”

“Nice to meet you, Sue,” Steve said, and winked, internally cringing – the joke had come out all wrong. He’d sounded American then. Need to concentrate on the accent.

Luckily Brett laughed. “So what you doing here? Ruby has never mentioned a brother.”

“She’s giving me a job until I find my feet,” Steve said the first thing that entered his head. Act. Remember to act.

“Right, well there’s lots to see, talk later, Brett,” Ruby said quickly, grabbing Steve’s arm.

Steve waved a friendly goodbye to Brett, who watched Ruby with a happy expression, then nodded at Steve.

Phew, one down, the rest of the staff to go. Maybe he could do this.

Entering a staff area full of lockers, Ruby rummaged through a cupboard. She handed Steve some clothes and pointed to where he could change, providing him with his own locker key.

“The rule is to get changed here,” Ruby said. “Not to wear the clothes out of the hotel.”

“Why’s that?”

“So that you don’t go down the pub wearing your uniform, and get drunk and give the company a bad name.” Ruby smiled. “Leave your belongings in the locker too. You’re not allowed a mobile phone or any money on you.” Steve nodded. “Meet me back in my office when you’re changed.”

Steve fixed his tie and pulled on the three-quarter length jacket over his waistcoat. There was a lot to be said for tailor-made suits – and he wanted his back, now. The grey uniform trousers with their starched crease down the front were a little short in the leg, especially when sitting, and the shirt, like his burgundy polyester jacket, fitted across his broad shoulders snug but was too big in the waist. This added to the dork factor, supposedly, but he was pretty sure Clark Kent’s clothes had fitted him.

Once he was as happy as he could be with his appearance, he found Ruby’s office.

“Right, I’ll show you around the hotel, introduce you to some of the staff and then leave you at the bar. I have a hotel to manage. I’ll try to make your shifts tally with mine, otherwise I’ll have to drop you in or something, if you have to come in when I’m not working.” She chewed her lip.