Summer Evenings at the Seafront Hotel: Exclusive Short Story by Vanessa Greene Page A

ponytail, carrying a bag of bed linen. ‘Hey, Cally,’ she called out cheerily.
    ‘Hi, Lili. Have you got a sec?’
    ‘Sure.’ Liliana put the bag down in front of the reception desk and leaned against the counter.
    Cally turned a piece of paper around to face her. ‘This is the list of rooms that the
Sol y Luna
tour group will be in next week – does it all look OK?’
    She pointed to the room numbers and Liliana ran her finger down the list. ‘Yes, sure. We’ll have that all done.’
    ‘Perfect.’ Cally put the paper away. ‘How’s everything been going?’
    ‘Good, actually,’ Liliana said, her eyes bright. ‘Do you remember me saying my little brother was coming over? Giovanni. Well, he’s got a job here.’
    ‘That’s terrific.’
    ‘Isn’t it? He’ll be taking Joe’s place. Working with you here.’
    ‘Joe’s
leaving
?’
    ‘He didn’t tell you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘He’s not leaving, leaving – he’s going to be training up to be a barman.’
    ‘Oh,’ Cally said, relieved. ‘I see. That’s good, then.’
    ‘Yeah, he seems really happy about it. You’ll help Giovanni settle in, won’t you?’
    ‘Of course I will. Any member of the Spiazzo family is a friend of mine.’
    Liliana smiled. ‘Do you want to come out for a drink on Saturday, when he arrives?’
    Cally shook her head. ‘I can’t at the moment. You know how it is with Dad.’
    ‘Sure, of course.’ Liliana nodded sympathetically, then tilted her head to read the list in front of Cally upside-down. ‘Kitchen?’
    ‘Yep, I just need to pop down and check with Anton that they’re all set up for the group next week.’
    ‘Rather you than me,’ Liliana said, wrinkling her nose.
    ‘Anton’s not that bad,’ Cally said. Yes, the French chef had a reputation for his bad temper, but he’d always been polite to Cally.
    ‘Really? I think he’s a dragon.’ She pulled a face, baring her teeth and roaring. ‘You’re too nice, Cally.’
    After her shift, Cally walked back along the Esplanade towards home, the two-bedroom flat she shared with her dad. Her pace was brisk – her aunt would have popped by to check on him at lunch, but since then he would have been on his own, just him and the TV. He’d seemed low since leaving his job. When he was diagnosed with MS, the doctor had told him that at some point soon he would have to stop work, but saying goodbye to his colleagues at the factory in February had hit him hard.
    Cally turned the corner towards their street, where the sunset had tinted the terraced houses a pink-orange. Her mobile rang in her pocket: LOUISE . Her old tutor.
    ‘Hi,’ she answered.
    ‘Hi, Cally.’ Louise’s voice was calm and reassuring, as always. ‘Have you got a second?’
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘I know you said you’d made your mind up, but are you certain there’s no way I can persuade you to come back onto the course?’
    ‘I’m afraid not.’ Cally had a lump in her throat as she answered. She hadn’t slept for a week before deciding to pull out of her midwifery course. That first year, studying and sitting in on sessions between experienced midwives and nervous mums-to-be, she’d felt sure of where it was she wanted to be in life.
    ‘Things are different now, I have to work – with Dad unwell I need to be earning.’
    ‘I know studying is a big commitment, but there’s financial support for people like you. I can get you more details, if you’d like.’
    ‘Thanks, Louise. That’s really kind, but I’ve got a job now, and it’s working out fine.’ Cally was standing on her doorstep. As much as she liked Louise, she just wanted the conversation to end.
    ‘I understand. It’s just … You’re a natural, Cally. Student midwives like you don’t come along every day.’
    ‘I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Louise, since the day I started. But I’ve made my mind up.’
    ‘OK. I thought you might say that.’ She gave a weary, good-natured laugh. ‘Couldn’t let you go