Hello there,

I have a short story to show you, something completely different from my usual offerings. It's called 

The Gardenia Private Hotel

It held its secrets within the solid south-west-facing walls of stone, a short, steep walk from the Atlantic Ocean. The owner-occupiers held themselves along with the secrets of their guests. Privacy was what drew regular visitors year after year in the off-season?

Built in the nineteenth century from the traditional Cornwall stone, with sheltered windows gazing in all directions, the mansion sits smugly beyond the high walls facing the street. Nestled behind which, the garden, with the titular gardenias and fish pond creating a perfect space for afternoon tea.

Each room is secluded from the others; up a flight of stairs, through the glass door and up three more steps to a short hall. Once inside the door, it’s as if we were the only guests. We didn’t meet anyone else in the corridors or on the stairs. Were they as we were, trying to hide in plain sight miles from the Capital with its commitments and connections?

Although it was the off-season the first time for us, we didn’t dare to leave the room, afraid of meeting a friend or colleague on a similar, illicit getaway. The next visit, we dared to dine out on freshly-caught seafood and to stroll along the seafront. Deception became easier and we began to behave recklessly; dining and dancing in the most prestigious hotel on the seafront; the most likely place to bump into someone that one of us knew. A year or so into the affair, the excitement started to pale. We bickered about small things, whether the windows should be opened or closed at night; whose turn it was to drive down and who should catch the train. I wanted us to continue to travel separately but it no longer suited her. I enjoyed the solitary drive or the gentle swaying of the train.

It was becoming clear that the fun was over; it was getting seriously complicated and I just didn’t want my everyday life to change. I didn’t need Noel Coward to see it for what it was, a fling, no more no less. We never declared our love, or did we? I can’t recall. I had to find a way extricate myself somehow from the web of lies that I had told; make a clean breast of it to my wife and move on. She’d be furious of course but she always took me back. I was a very good provider and I never asked how she spent her allowance or what she did when I was away on business. Suited us both.

cheers until next time

Gen

Besides, the new secretary in the office caught my eye and I want to get to know her better. Maybe lunch one day next week?