gestured towards the nearest table and chairs.
‘You may need to sit down, Miss Flynn.’
A lump the size of Scotland formed in her throat, making speech impossible, so she replied with a brief shake of the head and a half-smile and gestured to one of the bar stools next to the tea bar.
She watched in silence as he unbuttoned his coat, scowled at the missing buttons then sat down on the stool and turned to face her, one elbow resting on the bar.
Nightmare visions flitted through her brain of having to tell the tea trade officials that the London Festival of Tea was going to going to be cancelled because she had messed up booking the venue, but she fought them back.
Not going to happen. That tea festival was going ahead even if she had to rent the damp and dusty local community centre and cancel the bingo night.
She had begged the tea trade organization to give her the responsibility for organizing the event and it had taken weeks to convince the hardened professionals that she could coordinate a major London event.
Everything she had worked for rested on this event being a total success. Everything.
Suddenly the room started to feel very warm and she dragged over a bar stool and perched on it to stop her wobbly legs from giving way under her.
Focus, Dee. Focus. It might not be as bad as she was thinking.
‘I only took over the running of the hotel today so it has taken me a while to go through all of the paperwork. That’s why I only started working through the conference-booking system this afternoon. I apologize for not calling in earlier but there has been a lot of catching up to do and I didn’t have any contact details.’
She swallowed down her anxiety. ‘But what happened to the other manager? Frank Evans? He was taking care of all my arrangements in person and seemed very organized. I must have filled in at least three separate forms before I paid the deposit. Surely he has my contact details?’
‘Frank decided to take up a job offer with another hotel company last Friday. Without notice. That’s why I came in to sort out the emergency situation at Richmond Square and get things back on track.’
She gasped and grabbed his arm. ‘What kind of emergency do you have?’ Then she gulped. ‘Has something happened? I mean, has the hotel flooded or—’ she suddenly felt faint ‘—burnt down? Gas explosion? Water damage?’
‘Flooded?’ he replied, then tilted his head a tiny fraction of an inch. ‘No. The hotel is absolutely fine. In fact, I went there straight from the airport and it is as lovely as ever. Business as usual.’
‘Then please stop scaring the living daylights out of me like that. I don’t understand. Why is there a problem with the booking?’
‘So you met Frank Evans? The previous manager?’
She nodded. ‘Twice in person, then I spoke to him several times over the phone. Frank insisted on taking personal responsibility for my tea festival and we went over the room plans in detail. Then we had lunch at the hotel just before Christmas to make sure that everything was going to plan. And it was. Going to plan.’
‘In any of those meetings, did you see him recording any of your details on a diary or paper planner? Anything like that?
‘Paper? No. Now that you mention it, I don’t remember him taking any notes on paper. It was all on his notebook computer. He showed the photos of the layout on the screen. Is that a problem? I mean, isn’t everything loaded onto computers these days?’
There was just enough of a pause from the man looking at her to send a shiver across Dee’s shoulders.
‘Okay; I get the picture. How bad is it?’ she whispered. ‘Just tell me now and put me out of my misery.’
‘Frank may have taken your details but he didn’t load them onto the hotel booking system. If he had, Frank would have found out that we were already double-booked for the whole weekend with a company client who had booked a year in advance. So you see, he should never have accepted your booking in the first place. I am sorry, Miss Flynn, I have to cancel your booking and refund your deposit... Miss Flynn?’
But Dee was already on her feet.
‘Stay right where you are. I need serious cake washed down with strong, sugary tea. And I need it now. Because there is no way on this planet that I am going to cancel that booking. No way at all. Are we clear? Good. Now, what can I get you?’
* * *
‘I don’t understand it. Frank seemed so confident and in control,’ Dee said in a low voice. ‘And he loved my oolong special leaf tea and was all excited about the conference. What happened?’
Sean was siting opposite and she watched him sip the fragrant Earl Grey that Dee had made for him. Then took another sip.
‘This is really very good,’ Sean whispered, and wrapped his fingers around the china beaker.
‘Thank you. I have a wonderful supplier in Shanghai. Fifth-generation blender. And you still haven’t answered my question. Is it a computer problem? It was, wasn’t it? Some crazy, fancy booking system that only works if you have a degree in higher mathematics?’
She waved the remains of a very large piece of Victoria sandwich cake through the air. ‘My parents were right all along: I should never trust a man who did not carry paper and pen.’
She paused with her cake half between her mouth and her plate and licked her lips.
‘Do you have paper and a pen, Mr Beresford?’
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a state-of-the-art smart phone.
‘Everything I type is automatically synched with the hotel systems and my personal diary. That way, nothing gets lost or overlooked. Which makes it better than a paper notepad which could be misplaced.’
Dee peered at the glossy black device covered with tiny coloured squares and then shook her head. ‘Frank didn’t have one of those. I would have remembered.’
‘Actually, he did. But he chose not to use it.’ Sean sighed. ‘I found it still in the original packaging in his office desk this afternoon.’
‘Ah ha. Black mark for Team Beresford Hotels. Time for some staff training, methinks.’
‘That’s why I am back in London, Miss Flynn.’ Sean bristled and put away his phone and started refastening his remaining coat buttons. ‘To make sure that this sort of mistake does not happen again. I will personally arrange to have your deposit refunded tomorrow so you can organize a replacement venue at your convenience.’
She looked at him for a second then took another swig of very dark tea before lowering her large china beaker to the table. Then she stood up, stretched and folded her arms.
‘Which part of “I am not cancelling” did you not understand? I don’t want my deposit back. I want my conference suite. No, that’s not quite right.’ Her eyebrows squeezed tight together. ‘I need my conference room. And you...’ she smiled up at him and fluttered her eyelashes outrageously
