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Dark Days at the Beach Hotel
Can Helen save the hotel... and her reputation?
Helen Bygrove is managing the hotel, now that her husband has been conscripted. Against all expectations, Helen and her team are doing marvellously, despite the shortages brought by war. Even the exacting Lady Blackmore agrees.
But then the calm is shattered when poison pen letters are sent to prominent townsfolk and Helen finds herself the target of a police investigation. Is someone trying to ruin Helen, and the Beach Hotel? And can she rely on the handsome but taciturn Inspector Toshack to help her? When her husband, Douglas, is invalided out of the war he is determined to take back control of the hotel and things go from bad to worse.
How can she ever escape his bullying? Is she a fool to hope that she may have a second chance at love?
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Book Extract from Dark Days at the Beach Hotel, 16th February
Helen Bygrove, who’s taken over management of the Beach Hotel since her husband has been conscripted, has just heard of libellous letters being sent in the town from local guests. She’s then confronted by the new Detective Inspector, recently medically discharged from the army, who implies the hotel might have something to do with the letters.
A well-dressed man in a blue striped suit, navy mackintosh and a grey fedora entered the foyer. His appearance gave her quite a start, but in a pleasant way. She wasn’t sure why.
After looking around the foyer and seeming impressed, he approached the desk, frowning. Helen noted the dark brown hair, the large blue eyes and the dimples. She would have thought him handsome indeed, had his countenance not been so serious. He was tall, likely well over six feet.
Miss Harvey greeted him with a smile. ‘Why, Inspector. Fancy seeing you here. We meet again.’
‘Good morning, Miss Harvey,’ he said, somewhat shortly. He turned his attention to Helen. ‘I am Inspector Detective Toshack. Could I speak to the manager, please?’ There was a Scottish lilt to his accent.
‘Good morning, Inspector. I am currently the manageress, as my husband is now in the army.’
‘In that case, I would like to speak to you.’
‘Of course, in one moment, as my replacement on the desk is due about now. In the meantime, Miss Harvey, do go through to the conservatory.’
The woman looked disappointed. She hesitated before moving off without a word.
DI Toshack, meanwhile, was tapping the fingers of one hand on the desk, somewhat impatiently. ‘How long exactly, before your replacement arrives?’
The door to the staff corridor opened and Edie emerged, a few seconds before the clock chimed the half hour.
‘Here she is,’ said Helen. ‘Perhaps we could conduct this conversation in my office?’
He held out his hand. ‘Lead the way.’
‘Edie, I will be in the office, should anyone need me.’
‘Very well, Helen.’
‘Edie Moore is my undermanageress,’ she told Toshack as she led him to the staff corridor. They turned right part way down, into a smaller, narrower passageway, which led to the office.
Inside, she sat at the desk, indicating that he should take the seat on the other side.
‘I’ll stand, thank you.’
‘Is this about the anonymous letters some people have been receiving?’
‘You know about them then?’ He narrowed his eyes.
‘Only since five minutes ago, when Miss Harvey informed me of them.’
‘You haven’t received any yourself?’
‘I have not, no.’
‘That’s surprising, given that many of the proprietors of the bigger guest houses in the area have received them.’
‘Is that just in Beach Town? Miss Harvey hinted as such.’
He blew out impatiently. ‘Since I have no idea what this Beach Town refers to, I can’t answer that.’
‘It’s a local name for the area around the beach and the streets behind South Terrace, as opposed to the area around the River and the Town.’
‘It doesn’t matter where exactly they’ve been received, only who has received them, and, ultimately, who has sent them.’
‘Well, I can help you with neither I’m afraid, Inspector.’
‘You may be able to.’
‘How so?’
He pulled a face, as if in pain, and held onto the back of the chair, lifting his left leg a little. When he was composed once more, he said, ‘How many employees do you have here at the hotel?’
‘Twelve live-in staff, and twenty-five live-out staff, including gardeners, plus the attendant who looks after our private hotel garage and lives in the cottage next door. Thirty-eight in all.’
‘I will need samples of all their handwriting.’
‘I will certainly try, though one or two may not be terribly literate.’
‘Then it won’t have been them who wrote the letters, will it?’
Normally she’d have been happy to cooperate with the police, but his tone was making her feel rebellious. ‘May I ask why my staff are being singled out? Are others being asked to produce samples?’
‘Some, yes. But there are things written in the letters received, implying that someone in the immediate vicinity, and working in an establishment such as this, has sent them.’
Helen felt a little annoyed by this accusation. ‘Why would any of my staff have reason to do that? If anything, the fact that we’re the premier hotel in the area is more likely to provoke jealousy and make us the target.’
‘But you haven’t received any letters.’
‘Not yet, no.’
‘I will call back in a couple of days to collect the samples.’
‘Not everyone will have been in work by then.’
‘Then you must do your best. And I will need your handwriting too.’ He looked her squarely in the eyes, almost as if he were – accusing her?
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you. I'll find my own way out.’
As he turned, she asked, ‘May I enquire whether you are DI Davis’s replacement?’ even though she knew he was.
‘Aye, that’s right. Good day to you.’
He walked slowly towards the door, turning only briefly to consider her, before he opened the door and left.
That was an interesting introduction to the new inspector, she thought. Although DI Davis could be firm, he’d always been charming. She didn’t know what to make of this man. It was as if he resented doing his job. Or resented being in Littlehampton?
Yet… There was something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She pictured his face, his expression. Sadness. Was that it? Or had she imagined it?
Francesca Capaldi has enjoyed writing since she was a child, largely influenced by a Welsh mother who was good at improvised story telling.
Writing under both her maiden name, Francesca Capaldi, and her married name, Francesca Burgess, she is the author of historical novels, short stories and several pocket novels. She is a member of the Romantic Novelists' Association and the Society of Women Writers and Journalists.
The first novel in the Wartime in the Valleys series, Heartbreak in the Valleys, was shortlisted for the Romantic Novelists' Association Historical Award 2021. Both the Valleys series and the Beach Hotel series are published by Hera Books.
Francesca was born and brought up on the Sussex coast, but currently lives in Kent with her family and a cat called Lando Calrission.
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