Page 20 - The Letter By Ann Newhouse

‘No problem you’re very welcome, come in out of the snow’, he stepped aside smiling.
‘Here give me your coat and take a seat’, he gestured toward a table, ‘I’m just about to make a mug of coco for myself and my mother I hope you will join us’.
‘How kind, that would be most welcome, it will help me sleep’, I said feeling a little foolish at giving a total stranger such information.
Paul kept me company telling me a little about how himself and his mother ran the bar and the B&B together since his father had died suddenly of a heart attack a couple of years ago. They both were born in the village and his mother had never left not even to go on holiday.
‘Myself, I have managed to travel around the continent’, he said proudly.
The grey-haired lady, Paul’s mother breezed in requesting permission to sit down. ‘Oh, sorry I did not realize we had company’, she apologized giving me a weary but friendly smile.
‘Mother this is Amber Shankey she has booked in for the night’, a paying guest, he made clear to his mother.
Leaving me to settle into my room Paul went to help his mother call last orders and bid the locals goodnight. There was a free -standing vintage tub in a cozy corner of the bedroom and I couldn’t resist having a bath, to ease my aching bones after the long drive here. The bed was a four-poster with lush pillows and linen to die for, it was calling me to sleep within its luxurious folds.
‘This feels like a honeymoon suite to have such opulence’, I thought as I snuggled down.