Anne Douglas by The Wardens Daughters Page A

I’d had time for a cigarette.’
    ‘Want to smell of smoke?’ Frank started the car’s engine. ‘And there’s me only having an egg for my breakfast because you didn’t want to smell of bacon.’
    ‘Sorry, Dad – you’ll be back to bacon tomorrow. Listen, drop me here and I’ll walk down the drive, eh?’
    ‘OK, if it’s what you want. And you’ll be all right getting the bus back?’
    ‘Of course. See you soon, and thanks for the lift.’
    ‘Good luck, pet. Not that you’ll need it. Bet you any money you get the job.’
    ‘You’re hopeful!’
    With a wave of her hand, Lynette left the car and began walking quickly towards the hotel’s entrance, and after watching for a moment, Frank, wishing her luck, drove away. She wouldn’t need it, she was the best.
    In the spacious vestibule of the hotel, where a few guests were sitting talking, Lynette, advancing towards the reception desk, was puzzled to find herself facing three women.
    Hello, who’s leaving? she wondered, guessing that one of the three would be the outgoing senior receptionist – which ruled out the youngest, a good-looking, dark-haired girl with almond-shaped, dark eyes who looked no more than seventeen. All that could be seen of her outfit was a stiff white blouse for she was standing behind the desk, but up bounced Lynette’s spirits when she saw that the other two women, one in her twenties, one perhaps forty, were both wearing smart black suits with calf length skirts.
    So, she’d made the right choice. Point to me, she thought, and taking off her coat, knew she looked good. Good enough to be confident as she introduced herself as a candidate for interview for the post of senior receptionist.
    ‘Ah, good morning, Miss Forester,’ replied the woman Lynette had judged to be the oldest of the three. She was sharp-eyed, sharp-featured, and oozing efficiency from every pore. ‘I’m Mrs Atkinson, Mr Allan’s assistant and secretary – I believe we spoke on the phone.’
    Oh, yes, the haughty one . . . Lynette agreed that they had.
    ‘This is Mrs Burnett, the present senior receptionist,’ the secretary continued, introducing a pale, fair-haired young woman at her side who was giving a welcoming smile. ‘It’s our loss that she is moving to England with her husband – hence the vacancy – but Miss MacLewis, who hasn’t been with us very long, is fast learning the ropes.’
    ‘Nice to see you.’
    While the young Miss MacLewis politely smiled, Lynette turned to Mrs Atkinson.
    ‘I hope I’m not late, am I?’
    ‘No, indeed, it’s we who are running late. But if you’ll give me your coat and come with me, Miss Forester, I’ll take you to the other candidates. You’ll be called for interview very soon.’
    Having followed Mrs Atkinson through swing doors at the rear of the vestibule, Lynette was shown to a small room, where two young women, already in easy chairs, were skimming through magazines. Both, Lynette noticed with satisfaction, were wearing dark suits and white shirts.
    ‘Hi, there.’ She gave them friendly smiles. ‘I’m Lynette Forester. Have you two already had your interviews?’
    ‘We have.’ The girls shook hands. One, a slightly built redhead, said her name was Audrey Logan, while the other, tall, with brown hair and sad brown eyes, was Joan Campbell.
    ‘But there’s another lassie in there now,’ Audrey Logan told Lynette, in a pleasant Highland voice. ‘You’re the last.’
    ‘I see.’ Lynette dropped her voice. ‘What’s the manager like, then?’
    ‘Oh, lovely!’ Audrey cried. ‘Isn’t he, Miss Campbell? Oh, an absolute dreamboat!’
    Joan Campbell shrugged. ‘Very good looking,’ she admitted. ‘Bit cold, I thought. Still, I wouldn’t mind the job.’
    The door opened and a slim, anxious-looking young woman came in, followed by Mrs Atkinson.
    ‘Miss Forester?’ She gestured towards the door. ‘This way, please. Mr Allan will see you now.’

Fifteen
    Dreamboat? This man? As he