Welcome to Camelot Read online

  First published by Roundfire Books, 2014

  Roundfire Books is an imprint of John Hunt Publishing Ltd., Laurel House, Station Approach,

  Alresford, Hants, SO24 9JH, UK

  [email protected]

  www.johnhuntpublishing.com

  www.roundfire-books.com

  For distributor details and how to order please visit the ‘Ordering’ section on our website.

  Text copyright: Tony Cleaver 2013

  ISBN: 978 1 78279 645 9

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publishers.

  The rights of Tony Cleaver as author have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Design: Stuart Davies

  Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

  We operate a distinctive and ethical publishing philosophy in all areas of our business, from our global network of authors to production and worldwide distribution.

  Dedication: para Maria Cristina

  Chapter 1

  THE RECEPTIONIST

  Gwen Price waited impatiently for her interview outside the manager’s office at the Camelot Hotel, Monmouthshire. This grandly restored old country house and its surrounding estate was the latest addition to the World Traveller Hotel Group and, in the process of reopening with its plush fittings and extensive redecoration, it was taking on a team of new staff. All the senior personnel had already been appointed. Gwen was up for one of the last posts advertised as a receptionist.

  She was silently swearing at being kept waiting. Turning up five minutes late to her appointment had not been the best start and so, missing her turn, another of the young hopefuls who had been nervously sitting outside in the waiting area was called in before her. She had seen the back of this young man entering the office and closing the door just as she arrived and so for fifteen minutes now Gwen had been cursing to herself.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she moaned. “The door’s been shut for too long already. Whoever’s in there now had better not be getting offered the job I wanted…”

  Another five minutes passed before, finally, the manager’s door opened again and a smart, neatly combed young man emerged, grinning broadly from ear to ear. Whatever had happened in there, this interviewee seemed pleased with the outcome. He was shaken warmly by the hand by the good-looking, dark-suited individual who followed him out and who escorted him to the stairwell outside. The dark suit then turned and came back to stand in front of Gwen.

  “Miss Price?” the manager enquired. Gwen stood up.

  “Yes, Mr Hughes,” she answered, switching on her best smile.

  “You’re a little late. What happened?”

  “The bus was stuck in traffic for ages, Mr Hughes. And then I had a bit of a walk to get here. I’m very sorry.” This was a complete fabrication since her mother had driven as fast as she could to get her errant daughter to the hotel on time but Gwen reckoned it sounded as good an excuse as any.

  “Never mind, you’re here now. Welcome to Camelot.” A practised gentleman, the manager held the door and indicated that Gwen should go first. She gave what she thought was a gracious murmur of acceptance and swayed past him, making sure she brushed very close by as she passed inside. She took a seat without waiting to be asked, crossed her legs and sat up, looking alert, at the same time ensuring she was showing off her nineteen-year-old figure to maximum advantage. She kept her smile switched on, noting that her interviewer had had a good look at her legs and bust as he rounded the desk and found his seat. Great! First objective achieved.

  Much of the interview then passed in a blur. The whole purpose, from Gwen’s point of view, was to say little but speak sexily, to hang on to his every word, to push her breasts out, pout her lips and generally offer the promise of an eager and innocent young thing who might do just about anything to please her boss. She handed over her CV when asked, standing and bending over the desk and offering a glimpse of her boobs as she did so. She endeavoured to attract his attention to her body and away from the document she was giving him, since much of the experience she had listed there was invented and she didn’t want any close questioning of its contents.

  It all seemed to work out fine. After twenty minutes of him making polite conversation and occasionally running his eyes up and down her figure, he rose, offered his hand so that she might stand and smilingly indicated that the interview was at an end. Again he held the door open for her to leave. Again she passed by deliberately close to him and, as he followed her through the waiting area outside, Gwen swayed her bottom all the way to the entrance to the stairwell. There she said a sweet goodbye and flashed her eyes back towards him, giving him the cool come-on that she had learned in her numerous exploits over the years was a real man-catcher. Without waiting to see his reaction, she smartly stepped away and down the stairs to the exit. She would get the job, she was certain.

  “Well? How did it go? Was everything OK?” Her mother was waiting in the car in the visitor’s parking bay, hoping with all her heart that this time her daughter had not blown it. “Did they ask why you were late?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Mother,” Gwen snapped back. “Of course I wasn’t late and of course it was all OK!”

  “Did they offer you the job?” Her mother was hurt by the spiteful reply but did not want to show it.

  “They will do.” Gwen looked down and started tapping away at her iPhone, indicating she did not want to talk any more. Mother sighed and started the car. She wouldn’t get any more out of her daughter now; she just had to wait and see what happened next.

  What happened next was Gwen received a phone call two days later at home, asking her to come in the next morning to meet the company’s head of human resources. She was to be offered the post of hotel receptionist – one of three such people being appointed. Gwen smiled to herself. Everything was OK, then. She immediately called up Paula, one of her friends, to give her the news. They would have to go out and celebrate straight away.

  “Well, congratulations, dear,” said her mother, overhearing the conversation, “but don’t go out for too long – it sounds like you have an important day tomorrow.”

  “Oh do leave off!” Gwen put the iPhone down and glared at her parent. “Do you have to interfere all the time? No wonder Father left home – you never stop!” She hated her mother listening in on her personal calls; in fact she hated her mother for everything that went wrong in her life. She stormed out of the room, leaving her poor mother sighing again at her daughter’s sharp-toothed response.

  It was in the local pub, the King Offa, that Gwen and Paula had decided to meet up. They arrived together to find it was packed with students, celebrating noisily after a game of rugby, and all seats were taken. With a queue at the bar, the two girls struggled to make their orders.

  “I don’t know whether I approve of having these handsome hunks here, or whether I’d prefer them all to go away and leave us some space to sit and talk,” said Paula.

  “They’re making such a devil of a noise that it’s hard to think,” complained Gwen. “Can’t you push through?”

  One mountain of a young man turned to look at the two girls who were trying to get past him. A flicker of recognition passed across his features.

  “Hi…it’s Gwen Price, isn’t it?” A smiling but somewhat bloodied and battered face looked down.

  Gwen glanced up blankly. “Do I know you?”

  “Gareth Jones. Remember me? We were at school together…least we were until you left.”

  �
�Gareth? I don’t remember you being so ugly…not that you were the prettiest boy in the pack then.”

  The mountain shifted a little. He groaned. “Charming as ever, Gwen. You really know how to make a chap feel welcome.”

  “Well you know how it is, Gareth. So many boys like to try it on. Got to make them work for it if they want to get anywhere. You going to buy us drinks then?” She switched on the smile.

  “Er, OK.” The mountain nodded and bludgeoned his way to the bar, returning moments later with two beers for the girls. Gwen thanked him sweetly.

  “Well, I haven’t seen you in a while, Gareth,” she said, “and you look different now. What you been doing?”

  “Engineering: I’m up at university,” Gareth replied, moving his bulk round to prevent the two girls from being jostled. “And playing rugby when I’m not studying. That’s how this happened.” He flattened his nose which had evidently been broken and reshaped some time ago.

  “And it looks like you picked up a few bruises today as well,” said Paula. She thought he was a nice, genuine type of guy.

  “Aye! That’s rugby,” he grinned. “What are you two up to these days?”

  “I’m working in offices in Newport,” said Paula. “Gwen’s just been offered a job in this new flash hotel close by.”

  “Congratulations, Gwen. So you’ve come here tonight to celebrate?” Gareth smiled at her again. He thought she was a highly attractive female that he’d like to get to know again.

  “Sort of…but not with you, I’m afraid!” Gwen retorted. She thought he was a decidedly unattractive male and she wanted to get away. She signalled to her friend that it was time to move. Paula sighed and moved with her.

  The mountain with the craggy face raised his eyes to the ceiling in resignation as the two drinks he had bought weaved their way away from him in the crowd, looking for others to share with. “Great evening, girls. Thanks very much!” he called out to their disappearing backs.

  * * *

  Gwen Price arrived at the Camelot Hotel the next morning, fifteen minutes late and more than a little hung-over. Mrs Elizabeth Morley, head of human relations, was not impressed.

  “Good morning, Miss Price,” she welcomed Gwen, “I’m glad you have decided to join us. Meet the two other receptionists appointed with you. They and I have been waiting some twenty minutes already for you to arrive. Please see to it that this does not happen again!”

  Gwen smiled sweetly and said it would not. She grimaced internally and thought, What a cow! Fancy being so unpleasant with your staff on first acquaintance!

  The party all made their introductions to each other. There was Freddy, the one young man who Gwen had seen being interviewed by the manager just before her, and Victoria, a very poised twenty-something young lady that she now met for the first time. Gwen quickly decided she didn’t like the look of her. Mrs Morley waited for them all to exchange pleasantries before leading them away for a tour of the hotel.

  “We open here in just over a fortnight’s time,” explained the head of human resources, taking the group first into the ground-floor bar and restaurant. “The company has spared no expense in converting this grand old property into a thoroughly luxurious five-star establishment. You three will eventually work shifts in reception, eight hours at a time, but it is important that you come in every morning at nine am over the next weeks – not only to get to know everyone and everything about this hotel, but also the entire company. World Traveller Hotels is a big international business as I am sure you all know. Do things right here and you can go far. Look at me: I started in one of our smallest, least prestigious hotels in London and now I head up human relations for all our UK operations.”

  Was this supposed to impress? Gwen had to use all her self-control not to sneer and blow a raspberry.

  Elizabeth Morley brought the party out onto the patio outside the restaurant and stopped to show them the extensive lawns and fields rolling away into the Monmouthshire woods beyond, and from there to glimpse the distant Welsh hills where dark clouds were gathering before they would inevitably move east towards them.

  “Just look at the majesty of these surroundings. It all contributes to the central message of this distinguished hotel and the work here that we have chosen you three for. We have very carefully selected the team of staff to run this place. Local staff where we can, who we hope will be quite familiar with and at ease with the whole ethos that we wish to promote at this very special hotel. It is important – no, essential – that you fully participate in, and take on board the magical image we are promoting here, derived from the culture of this unique location. A lot has been invested in this fine property, this historic site: the company intend to make this the star attraction of all our British operations. It is going to be our Camelot – fit for a king and his courtiers. If we get this right, it will attract guests from all over the world. It is intended that the whole experience of staying here will be magical, regal, a step into an age of chivalry and honour, where service to the ideal of Camelot is the dream come alive.”

  The three new members of staff all made approving noises. The faces of two of them were shining – thinking just how incredibly lucky they were to be in on the ground floor of such an exciting, inspiring new venture and how they were determined to do their best to promote this fabulous new enterprise. One, however, was thinking that this all sounded like a lot of hooey but she had read the blurb on the job description and had done her best to echo her enthusiasm for this Arthurian fantasy in her interview. Youthful eagerness, and tastefully close-fitting clothing, had done the rest.

  Before moving on, Mrs Elizabeth Morley took the opportunity to look keenly at the three new appointees. “Receptionists are the first people our clients will call; the first they will meet on arrival here. The impression you create with our valued guests is thus of vital importance. You will transmit to them exactly the right image we wish to promote, understand? You have been selected so far because the impression you have given to date has been good. You will now undergo intensive training over a number of weeks to polish your image even more, so that in your every gesture and comment to our future clients you deliver everything that the company wishes to promote and nothing less than that. Is that clear? I am sure you won’t disappoint me…”

  And if anyone did, Gwen guessed, they wouldn’t be employed for very long. She grimaced internally for the second time. Well I’ve got so far with this job, she thought, I’d better see it through. It certainly seemed a prestigious appointment, with a salary to match, so she did not want to lose it as quickly as she had lost others before.

  The tour continued. A curving path led across a perfectly manicured lawn to old stable blocks detached from the main building. From the outside, the stables looked like two long rows of traditional and well-preserved brick-and-timber units, but inside they had now been tastefully joined together to contain a swimming pool and jacuzzi on one level and, further along in the other block, a gym and exercise room: all brand new and in excellent order, just waiting to be pressed into service. After meeting the pool and gym attendants, and being impressed by all the spotless facilities, the receptionists were eventually steered back into the hotel proper just as a heavy, damp mist breathed its way across the grounds towards them. It was approaching midday but the light had suddenly fallen as the sun disappeared in the whiteness that enwrapped them.

  Freddy stopped before re-entering the former country mansion and turned to look around and take it all in. “What atmosphere!” he remarked to Mrs Morley. “You can just imagine the Knights of the Round Table emerging out of those woods below and cantering though the mist towards us, can’t you?”

  The older woman smiled. “That’s the ticket, young man! Keep that up. That is just the sort of thing we want to sell to our guests here.”

  “Yes,” said Victoria. “This place reeks of atmosphere. It will be easy to portray the magical, mystical image you want for this hotel.”

  Creeps, the two of
them, thought Gwen. If the head of human relations buys into this fawning behaviour, then she’s a bigger fool than I took her for.

  The centuries-old estate did possess a unique character, however. The central property had been knocked down and rebuilt countless times in its long history, evolving in the process from earthworks and wooden palisades to stone battlements to a sprawling country residence and now to a hotel. Part of the ground floor of the main building was still paved with thousand-year-old flagstones; a circular stone staircase stood in one corner and a massive fireplace dominated the banqueting hall. All but the most cynical could hardly remain unimpressed by the restoration. Scholars insist that the exact location of the castle of Camelot is lost in the myths of time but World Traveller Hotels could certainly claim that their latest acquisition had a fair claim to be among the candidates to have hosted King Arthur and his knights.

  The three new members of staff were taken next to visit many of the rooms of the hotel and the prize Arthur and Guinevere suites. As before, it was clear that the company had spent a fortune providing the most comfortable surroundings for each paying guest, no matter whether they were taking the smallest room in the hotel or were booking into either of the two senior suites, complete with four-poster king-and queen-size beds and spectacular views of the surrounding countryside. Throughout, World Traveller Hotels had certainly done their best to clothe the rooms, main staircase and walls with drapes, banners, paintings and all sorts of modern evocations of the age of chivalry. There were even suits of armour standing in discreet corners on each floor, never mind that such medieval accoutrements dated from a time several centuries after King Arthur was alleged to have reigned.

  Finally the party returned to the reception area where Elizabeth Morley asked them all what they thought of the facilities and whether they thought they would be happy working here. A chorus of appreciation met her request. All said they were delighted and impressed with all they had seen and heard of the hotel and its mission. Gwen vied with the praise of the others and hoped her comments sounded sincere. Mrs Morley looked at each one in turn and nodded with apparent satisfaction that these three new appointees seemed to be making all the right noises. Time would tell how they would make out.