Read sample Saving the Lakeside Hotel

Chapter One

Stacy Townsend pulled both her case and Emily’s into their hotel room and promptly abandoned them in the corner.

‘Oh, wow, Emmy! Look at the view!’

The French doors were open, and she stepped out onto a dark brown wooden balcony and gazed over the vast blue expanse of Lake Constance stretching from right to left in front of her. Far in the distance was a hazy green shimmer – the German side of the lake? She shaded her eyes and looked to the east; some of those mountains must be in Austria, too. Three storeys below, people were enjoying drinks on a lovely sunny terrace, and look, they even had pink and white geraniums dripping from window boxes all the way along each balcony, their perfume heavy in the late afternoon sunshine. It was picture-perfect Switzerland, but yikes, it wasn’t half hot. Stacy shrugged out of her denim jacket. A quick dip in the lake would have been perfect, but her cossie was still in the drawer at home. Somehow, she hadn’t associated a holiday in Switzerland with boiling hot weather. Switzerland was alps and snow, wasn’t it?

‘Come and see, Emmy!’ She glanced back into the room, where her friend was sitting on the nearest bed, her head bent low and both hands cupped around her left knee.

Dismayed, Stacy went back inside. ‘Oh no. Is the pain back?’ It hadn’t been the best journey for someone with a wonky knee; in fact it had gone wrong right at the start, when a problem loading the luggage meant they had to sit for nearly an hour in cramped economy class seats before the plane even took off from Manchester. Poor Emmy had been stiff as a board when they eventually landed in Zurich, and then they’d had to rush for the train.

‘Not really. I’m just tired after the journey.’

Emily’s pale face and the two little lines between her eyes were telling a different story, though, and Stacy winced. The accident last December had left its mark on Emmy in more ways than one, but they were here to do something about that. She tucked a few stray blonde curls behind her ears and hoisted Emily’s case onto the stand beside the wardrobe. Time to be mum as well as best mate and head nurse.

‘You have a lie down while I unpack for us both, then we’ll investigate the hotel bar and celebrate our first evening on the continent. How’s that?’

Emily lay back and closed her eyes, and Stacy reached for her phone. Better send David a quick message first. Her thumbs moved swiftly. We’re here! Fab hotel. Add a nice pic of the lake… and send. She touched David’s photo on the screen. Her childhood sweetheart. The gangly fourteen-year-old who’d taken her to the school Christmas disco had matured into what you could only call rugged good looks. He was brainy too, at the end of his final year at medical school, so he was Doctor David now, at the start of a new, exciting phase of his career. Stacy kissed her engagement ring. David’s long hours of training meant they were apart more than she’d like, but medicine had always been his dream.

For a moment she stood still, David’s face on her phone grinning up at her, and an uncomfortable little worm of apprehension wriggling in her middle. Emily wasn’t the only one who needed fixing, was she? David’s course meant they had hardly any time together as a couple, and somehow, they weren’t communicating the way they used to. Not having time for a social life was a hazard of the profession for med students, she got that, but the niggly feeling that she and David were growing apart worried away at her every time she thought about it. And she thought about David often…

Stacy shook herself. He was through med school now, and there’d be plenty of time to fix things when she got home. Meanwhile, thanks to Emmy’s dad’s generosity, she had a whole week in Switzerland in front of her. Bring it on.

Back inside, she busied around transferring the contents of the two cases to the wardrobe and bedside tables. Emily’s brown curls were damp on her forehead and her mouth was tight. Heck. They’d have to be careful not to do anything too physical this week. Emmy was so good about doing her exercises and taking care of her knee, which had been badly smashed when her then-boyfriend skidded on a patch of black ice and upended the car into a ditch. Scumbag Sam hadn’t even stuck around long enough to help Emmy recuperate from the series of operations that followed. Who needed enemies when they had exes like Sam? At least the crutches were things of the past now; Emily could manage with one stick, and hopefully she’d soon be able to ditch that too.

Depositing the last pair of sandals into the bottom of the wardrobe on her way past, Stacy took their toilet bags into the bathroom, and laughed out loud.

‘What is it?’ Emily sat up, and Stacy beckoned her into the en suite. Thank heavens, Emmy had a bit more colour in her cheeks now.

‘There’s a French door out to the balcony in here too. You can go outside to dry off after your shower!’

Emily limped over to look. ‘I will if you will. Wow. Do you suppose we have to water all those geraniums?’

‘I guess not. Why don’t you grab first shower, now you’re in here? Yell if you need anything.’

The shower started, and Stacy made a cuppa from the hospitality tray and went back to the balcony. A shiver of excitement fizzed through her as she gazed across the lake. A week was plenty of time to pamper Emily and get her back to something more like her former self, and they’d see a bit of Europe, too, with three different countries all within a stone’s throw of their accommodation. International was trending at the Lakeside Hotel.

As for her and David… Well, if absence made the heart grow fonder, coming here was the right thing to do. Stacy flipped her phone open. Still no reply to her message.

Rico Weber slid the indicator up and eased his foot off the accelerator. Motorway, adieu – in ten minutes he’d be back home in Grimsbach, and see for himself what was going on at the hotel. According to Stefan, an old friend who’d taken his girlfriend there for a meal last Tuesday, the Lakeside Hotel was falling to pieces now, in comparison to what it used to be.

Guilt thudded into Rico’s gut. He should be doing more to help Dad run the place. Losing Mum had knocked the feet from under them both and fifteen months later, poor Dad was still struggling. So was he, to be honest. He’d go for days thinking his life was back to normal, as Mum would have wanted, and then – wham! The senselessness of her death would hit him all over again. He’d been in the middle of his IT degree in Berne when the cancer struck, and the single good thing was that Mum’s suffering had been so short. Diagnosis in January, gone in March. That was pancreatic cancer for you, and jeez, it was tough.

A picture of his mother standing in the entrance of the hotel flashed into Rico’s head, and he blinked rapidly. Mum had loved Lakeside the moment she set eyes on the place back when she first came to Switzerland for a summer job. She’d met Dad, the owner’s son, and the rest was the usual kind of boy meets girl thing. Everyone’s favourite fairy tale, but they could have done with a happier ending.

Off the motorway, Rico rolled the window down and inhaled deeply. Spring grass and lakeside air filled the car as the road wound through green countryside. On round the roundabout and down towards the lake, then he was driving past the ‘Welcome to Grimsbach’ sign. Home. He slowed down to drive through the old town part, dominated by the newly whitewashed church with the green onion dome on the tower. Rico glanced up as he passed it; the clock was still the usual two minutes fast… The village was picture-postcard Switzerland, timbered houses in this part, even, and he’d lived here all his life until he’d gone to uni. The bachelor was under his belt now, military service done and dusted, and September would see him back at uni in Berne doing a master’s degree in IT. Plenty of time before then to sort out whatever was happening at the hotel.

Further on, a few early tourists were wandering along the drowsy main street, with more down on the lake path and at the harbour. Rico grinned. This was such a great location for a hotel. His grandfather had run the big wooden chalet as a guest house before handing it over to Mum and Dad and escaping to the old family home in the Ticino, the Italian-speaking part of Switzerland south of the Alps. Nonno was long gone now, bless him, but Dad’s brother and his family still lived in Lugano.

And here it was: The Lakeside Hotel, brainchild of Mum and Dad. Swiss efficiency and comfort, English hospitality. As well as the usual kind of guests here for a holiday, they had the cycling tourists. Hundreds of enviably fit people did the three-day – or two, if you were really energetic – bike run all the way round Lake Constance every summer. Quite a few sailing folk came in, too; they’d park their yachts in Grimsbach harbour and have a night or two of comparative luxury on land before sailing on. The combo of short and longer-stay guests was ideal for a hotel in this part of the world. Business was booming – or it had been.

Rico’s stomach dropped like a stone as he turned in the hotel gates and pulled up in a ‘staff’ space. Bloody hell – what was going on? The car park was more than half empty. This was all wrong for a Saturday afternoon at the start of the summer season, when guests for the new week should be arriving en masse. He gaped up at the building – four storeys of dusky larch wood plus the obligatory terracotta window boxes. At least the geraniums looked okay – a bit sparse, but it was only May. Rico eased long legs from the car, grabbed his case from the boot and hefted it inside.

Reception was deserted, and he stood still. It was Saturday afternoon, the main changeover day. Where was the beaming receptionist and the queue of happy holiday guests? All you could hear was silence. Stefan was right; the hotel was like an echo of its former self.

Rico dumped his case in the office and stuck his head into the restaurant, where two strangers were laying tables for dinner. The terrace bar outside was busy, good. People still came for a drink by the lake. And the absence of the family cabin cruiser Lakeside Lady from its mooring place at the little jetty might explain Dad’s absence too. But on Saturday afternoon… It was hard to know what to think about that.

The bar staff were all strangers, but then they always had extra summer season workers in. They were bustling around with drinks and ice cream, so Rico left them to it and returned to the still-deserted reception. Why was no one on duty? This wasn’t good enough. He pinged the bell on the desk, staring grimly at the luxurious – but dusty – leather sofa and smoky glass coffee table at the side of the entrance hall. There weren’t even any flowers. Mum had always seen to that, but Karen, the head receptionist, had taken it on after Mum’s death. What had happened to that arrangement? Rico pinged the bell again. He’d been neglecting Mum’s hotel, hadn’t he? Well, he was here now.

Chapter Two

Emily watched from the chair by the window as Stacy stowed their return tickets and passports in the safe, which was bolted into the top shelf of the wardrobe. All this sitting around while other people helped you with things you used to do for yourself in three seconds flat was so frustrating. Some days she was able to get her head round every single thing in life having turned into a major challenge; others, like today, she could hardly believe what she’d become. And try as she might to forget the accident, her limitations were right there in her face when she was awake, and the memory of that horrible day came back at night to haunt her. Frustrating was an understatement, actually; she’d be a gibbering wreck if she didn’t get her life back soon.

Thank heavens she had Stacy on her side, and her other friends too. Girlfriends, of course. The way Sam had skedaddled off after visiting – drum roll… three times after the accident showed clearly that no man could be trusted to stick around and help. So, she’d better get fit again ASAP. Emily stuck her chin in the air. Go, girl.

Stacy banged the safe shut and pressed buttons. ‘Okay, the pin is 5711, Topsy’s date of birth.’

Emily giggled, in spite of her less than ecstatic mood. ‘You use your mum’s poor departed pussy’s date of birth as a pin number?’

‘Well, no one’s going to guess that, are they? Shall we go downstairs? Cold drink on the terrace, then grub?’

Emily stood up cautiously and stepped – also cautiously – over to the table for her handbag. She was living her life in slo-mo these days, but look on the bright side, Em. You’re on holiday now. She reached for her stick. ‘Sounds good to me.’

They went down in the lift – of course they did, her ability to run down three flights of stairs was as AWOL as Sam was – and turned towards the buzz of chatter coming from the terrace bar at the back of the hotel. Emily followed Stacy out to a huge slab of decking dotted with wicker tables and chairs and yellow sun umbrellas, the lake providing a deep blue backdrop to the scene. It was all very continental and holiday-ish, and Emily cheered up about three hundred per cent. This was a lovely place.

‘I’ll grab that table!’ Stacy headed across to the far side of the deck, as close to the lake as you could get.

Emily gripped her stick and wound her way round tables with groups of happy people out for a Saturday night drink. The heat here was a whole lot hotter than you got at home, but after the first shock it was lovely, the way it soaked into your bones. Gawd, she was beginning to sound like her granny. She sat down carefully in the chair opposite Stacy, who was fanning herself with the drinks card.

‘Prime location, Emmy – look at the water!’

Emily twisted round to watch a couple of sailing boats scudding along in the distance. ‘I wasn’t expecting it to be so hot. You always think of snow when people talk about Switzerland.’

‘Ah, but we’re a mere four hundred metres above sea level down here by the lake. Summer temperatures well over 30°C are common, they say. What can I bring you ladies?’ A young barman was standing by their table, notepad in hand.

‘You’re English!’ said Stacy, and he laughed.

‘Guilty. I decided selling insurance wasn’t my thing, so I’m summer-jobbing my way towards teacher training. I start in Leeds in September.’

Emily could identify with that. ‘Best job ever. I’m a teacher, and I can recommend it.’ She plucked the drinks card from Stacy’s fingers and glanced at it. The prices here were pretty scary, but they were celebrating tonight, weren’t they? ‘We’ll have two glasses of prosecco, please – that’s okay, isn’t it, Stace?’

Stacy gave her a ‘have you seen what that’s going to cost?’ kind of look, but she was nodding too.

The barman, whose name badge identified him as Alan West, returned with two cloudy-cold glasses and a little bowl of nuts. ‘Cheers, girls. Are you celebrating something?’

Emily clinked with Stacy then raised her glass to Alan. ‘My last ever knee operation is behind me. I hope. Mind you, we wouldn’t be celebrating in such style if my dad hadn’t won the golf club draw, and re-gifted his prize holiday to me.’

Alan’s face softened. ‘Sounds like he’s a great dad. If you need any info about places to visit, come and ask me.’

Emily sipped her drink. Oops. Did she detect a tiny spark of interest in those brown eyes gazing down at her? It wasn’t what she wanted, but he’d be off like your proverbial shot as soon as he saw her stick, currently decently hidden beneath her chair.

‘We might just do that,’ said Stacy, and Emily kicked her with her good leg under the table.

He winked at them. ‘Tell you what, my shift ends at nine. Why don’t you come back here after dinner, and I’ll give you some tourist info then?’

‘Yes, please!’ Stacy beamed at him and Alan went back inside, his cheeks pink.

Emily tried to look innocent. Stacy was glaring at her now.

‘Why the kick? He looks a nice bloke, and insider info about where we can go without getting stuck is what we need, isn’t it?’

‘Without getting stuck because I’m as good as your average ninety-nine-year-old when it comes to doing things, you mean.’

‘Don’t be so ageist. You have a wonky knee, that’s all. You’re scared because he gave you more than a passing glance there, aren’t you?’

‘I can’t imagine what you mean.’ Emily stuck her chin in the air again. Oh dear, she was doing a lot of that at the moment.

Stacy blew her a kiss. ‘Liar.’

Stacy’s phone buzzed, and she reached for her bag. ‘That’ll be David. He’s taken his time, considering he’s not working today.’ She flipped her phone case open. He could have been called in to help with something, or to observe, of course. Still… she always answered his texts promptly, and it stung when he didn’t do the same. It didn’t take forever to send a thumbs-up, did it?

The message was from her mother, though. Have fun and be good! Stacy read it aloud, and Emily’s shoulders sagged.

‘Chance would be a fine thing. I’m scared my dancing days are over, Stace.’

‘They so aren’t,’ said Stacy, lifting her glass again. ‘We’ll soon have you bopping around with the best of them, don’t worry. Drink up – I’m starving!’

Emily’s eyes were wistful, and for the millionth time, Stacy cursed scumbag Sam. He had ruined the past six months of Emmy’s life, and who knew if she’d ever be a hundred per cent sound on that leg again? But thinking like that was no use to anyone, least of all Emily. This holiday was supposed to cheer her up.

Prosecco fizzing inside them and making Stacy giggly – she’d had nothing to eat since lunchtime – they wandered through to the restaurant and settled down at a table by the open window. She lifted the menu and thank goodness, there was an English translation and a photo beneath each dish.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Two choices: there’s Bratwurst, that’s a kind of Swiss sausage. Or Geschnetzeltes, that’s ragout. And both come with rösti potatoes and a green salad.’

Emily studied the pictures. ‘I’m for the sausage. It’s too hot for ragout. And some sparkling water. Do we get pud?’

‘Vanilla ice cream with hot chocolate sauce. Perfect.’

They were finishing dessert when Alan appeared. ‘I’ve reserved us a table on the terrace – would you like a liqueur coffee, or a drink? My treat.’

He was looking at Emily, and Stacy remained quiet. Emmy was going to have to get used to being part of the real world again, with men being attracted to her. To her relief, the other girl answered before the pause became embarrassing.

‘Do you have Tia Maria?’

‘We certainly do. Tia Maria coffee? Good choice. How about you, um…’

Stacy laughed. They hadn’t even introduced themselves. ‘I’m Stacy, and this is Emily. And Tia Maria coffee sounds amazing.’

Alan saluted, and Stacy hugged herself. Look at the way his eyes were lingering on Emily… hopefully, her friend wasn’t going to cold-shoulder him every time he opened his mouth. Even a tiny holiday romance would give Emmy a confidence boost. The worst thing about the accident was how much it had changed Emily – gone was the bubbly, energetic girl who’d worked hard all day with her class of nine-year-olds then partied half the night. This new Emily was way too quiet, and it was horrible to see the bleak shadow that had become a permanent feature at the back of her eyes. Stacy seethed inwardly. If she had five minutes alone with Sam…

Alan pointed out the table on the terrace, and Stacy dumped her bag on the seat beside her so that the spare chair was next to Emily. Not that she was matchmaking, of course. She lifted her hair to let the evening breeze cool her neck. This was lovely.

Alan came back with three Tia Maria coffees on a tray, and obligingly sat down beside Emily. He handed her a list on the back of a bill form, and Stacy hid a smile – ooh, yes, look at those gorgeous brown eyes fixed hopefully on Emmy. He was definitely interested.

Alan waved a hand at his list. ‘I’ve jotted down a couple of ideas for you – places you could go that don’t involve mountaineering.’

Stacy hid a smile. Interested, and considerate, too. He’d noticed that Emmy wouldn’t want anything strenuous. She tried to read the list upside down. ‘Where are those mountains we saw from the train on the way here?’

Alan leaned forward. ‘Behind you! You can’t see them from here, but look–’ He plonked a finger halfway down his list. ‘If you do this boat trip, you’ll get a lovely view of the Alpstein range from the lake. And this suggestion below is for a trip up the Säntis, the highest mountain in the area. Train, bus, and cable car all the way, and there’s a restaurant at the summit. Don’t do it tomorrow, though – everyone and all their dogs go on Sundays.’

Stacy’s phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her bag. David really had taken his time. Except – hell! – again, it wasn’t from David, it was her phone provider reminding her of the tariff while she was abroad. Stacy deleted the message, then checked the one she’d sent David had gone out. It had, and the two ticks beside it showed he’d read it, too. Weird. Stacy screwed up her nose. He wasn’t the most romantic fiancé on the planet, but he used to do better than this. Even med students weren’t at work 24/7, and this was his day off, for heaven’s sake. She blinked round the terrace as loneliness surged inside her. Everyone else seemed to be paired up – and loved up, too. Whereas she and David were… admit it, Stace, there was trouble in paradise, and it was worse now that she’d quit her job as staff nurse in thoracic surgery.

Tears sprang into Stacy’s eyes at the memory of his aghast face when she told him. The job was everything she’d ever dreamt of, sure, but emotionally draining didn’t come into it. She tried so hard to help her patients, but there was always more to do; she was never enough and it was soul-destroying. When her mother suggested helping out in the family stationery shop for a few weeks while she considered her options, Stacy had leapt at the chance. David was so set on them both making high-powered hospital careers for themselves, and it was horrifying to think that after all that training, she might not be cut out to be a nurse after all.

Or no, that was wrong. Stacy stuck her chin in the air. She was a nurse; it was the blood and guts of intensive care that didn’t suit her. She loved working with people, so maybe something in the community would be better? She would start job-hunting as soon as they learned where David would be based for the next couple of years, and they could set a date for the wedding then, too. It wouldn’t be too much longer, which was fortunate because Mum was positively itching to be mother-of-the-bride.

She glanced around the terrace again; everyone was still loved-up and having fun. But then, a longstanding relationship was different to a romantic date, wasn’t it? It doesn’t have to be, whispered a mean little voice in her head, and Stacy shivered.

‘Don’t tell me you’re cold?’

Emily interrupted Alan in the middle of whatever he was saying, and Stacy frowned at her. Some people were their own worst enemy.

‘In this heat? You’re joking. So, what’s the plan for tomorrow? You choose.’

‘Let’s do the boat trip. Alan said we get the train up the lake to Rorschach, and then a boat to Kreuzlingen. We can have a look around there, then catch a train or a boat back again.’

‘And I’ll have the cocktails ready for your return,’ said Alan, his eyes shining as he beamed at Emily, who was still poring over the list.

Stacy was about to take her turn at kicking her friend under the table when Emily sat back and gave Alan the merest suspicion of a smile. Thank heavens. The breeze from the lake ruffled Stacy’s hair as she gazed out over the water. She was going to make sure this holiday did Emmy the world of good, and Alan might be just the person to help with that.

Rico closed his laptop and tried his father’s mobile again.

And for the tenth time, it went straight to voicemail. Knowing Dad, he’d gone somewhere in Lakeside Lady and left his phone on board while he went off to do heaven only knew what, and hopefully it wasn’t a pub crawl. Whisky had played too big a part in Dad’s grieving – understandable, but worrying. Rico slid a mug under the coffee machine and jabbed buttons for espresso. The evening was warm, but he felt chilled.

His browse through the hotel bookings file on the computer couldn’t have been more depressing. Takings for this year were way down, and you didn’t have to look further than the guest numbers to see why. The casual tourists, the bike and boat people who came for a night and then left, were still coming in more or less the same numbers, but Mum’s speciality had been the English-speaking guests who spent a couple of weeks in the hotel – and these had dwindled to almost none. This week, they had four – two young women from the north of England and an elderly couple from Brighton, all here for a week. When you added the seven biking tourists staying tonight, it meant the hotel was less than one quarter full. And as Friday and Saturday were the main one-nighter days, i.e., the busiest days, it was no wonder profits had flatlined. He needed more info here, but that was hard to come by, thanks to Dad’s disappearing act.

Rico tapped on his mobile. The only people on the list of employees he still knew were Karen the receptionist, Peter the restaurant manager, and a couple of the housekeeping staff. Karen would be the best person to ask. She’d been Lakeside’s head receptionist since he was at primary school, and he could trust her to tell him the truth.

She took the call on the second ring. ‘Rico – lovely to hear from you! Is that your degree finished, then?’

The melodic Swiss-German was Rico’s mother tongue as much as English, and he replied in the same language. ‘The bachelor is. Karen, what’s going on with the hotel? It’s deserted. I don’t even know where my dad is.’

She chuckled, but it was more of a grim chuckle than a humorous one. ‘That’s what happens when you don’t tell him you’re coming! He’s taken Lakeside Lady across the lake to Friedrichshafen. There’s a boat exhibition on there over the weekend. Things have changed since you were home at Christmas, Rico. Your dad’s heart isn’t in the hotel any more, and you can’t blame him, but you’re going to go bust if things go on like this. Edie would have hated to see it.’

Rico’s throat went dry. She was right, Mum would have been devastated. ‘What do you think we should do?’

‘Either sell up, or get someone to run the place with the same enthusiasm and commitment your mum had. Ever thought of taking it on?’

‘I can’t. I’m here for the summer, then I’m starting a master’s degree in autumn. We’ll have to get something organised, Karen. Would it help if you, Dad and I had a meeting soon, discuss options? I reckon you know the place as well as Mum did.’

‘I expect I do, but Ralph won’t be back for a day or two. I’ll see you on Monday, that’s my next shift. Reception’s closed overnight these days.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’ Rico ended the call, feeling Karen’s disapproval. He was deserting the family business… But if he’d wanted to run the hotel, he’d have gone in for business studies, or hotel school. IT had always fascinated him; that was where he wanted his future to be.

He went through to the kitchen to investigate the fridge, which was all but empty. Rico trailed back to the living room. Home was a three-bed apartment occupying half of the attic floor of the hotel, and nothing much had changed here in the last decade. Same furniture, same ornaments, same cups and saucers and plates. But the flat was different without his mother, and the thin layer of dust over everything wasn’t exactly screaming welcome home, Rico. He stared at the photo pinned on the wooden cabinet. The three of them, taken a couple of years ago at a sand sculpture event further up the lake, all with big cheesy grins – one of his better selfies.

Swallowing the loneliness, Rico ran downstairs to see what the restaurant had on offer. Here, too, you could see that no one was taking care of things. Weren’t those the same placemats Mum had chosen three seasons ago? The seat cushions were definitely the same, and looking more than a little washed out. As for the menu – a miserable two choices of main course for the hotel guests, no veggie option, and dessert take it or leave it – Mum must be turning in her grave. What was Dad thinking?

Grimly, Rico introduced himself to the kitchen staff, waited while they grilled him a Bratwurst then took it and a side salad outside. The terrace bar was full – if anything was going to save them now, it would be the bar, so they’d better start praying for a hot and dry summer. An outside bar was less attractive in the rain. He looked around the guests as he ate, hearing the buzz of Swiss-German mixed in with the odd High German voice, a couple of Italian speakers, and – the three people over there were speaking English. Maybe those were the girls who were here for the week, and hadn’t that guy been serving in the bar when he’d arrived? Rico frowned, then his mobile buzzed – ah! Dad. It might be best to take his grub upstairs to sort out what was going on here.

A heated conversation later, Rico was no further forward, apart from hearing his father say in so many words that the hotel was a millstone around his neck now.

‘I’ll see the season through, Rico, but then I’m going to live near Guido and Julia in Lugano. With you at uni at the other end of Switzerland, I want to be closer to my family. We’ll arrange something for the hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow night.’

Rico was left listening to a broken connection. Well. How much of that was the whisky talking? He banged his phone down on the arm of the sofa, then poured a glass of wine and took it out to the balcony off the living room, a lump the size of a golf ball in his throat.

Darkness had fallen and lights were twinkling all around the lake, the water a dark hole in the middle. You could hear the splash of tiny waves lapping against the stone wall of the boathouse, and a low buzz of chatter was floating up from the bar. Rico stared into the night. Lakeside had always been his home, and he was going to lose it.