‘Fair enough,’ Pino said, and then he took a proper look at her. ‘How are you doing, Antonietta?’
‘I’m getting there,’ she said, touched that with all that was going on in his world he still took the time to ask about her. ‘How about you?’
‘I’m not looking forward to Christmas. Rosa always made it so special. It was her favourite time of the year.’
‘What will you do? Are you going to visit your daughter?’
‘No, it is her husband’s family’s turn this year, so I’ve told Francesca that I’ll work. I decided that would be better than sitting at home alone. What about you—has there been any progress with your family?’
‘None,’ Antonietta admitted. ‘I have been to the house several times but they still refuse to speak with me, and my trips to the village are less than pleasant. Perhaps it’s time I accept that I’m not wanted here.’
‘Not true,’ Pino said. ‘Not everyone is a Ricci—or related to one.’
‘It feels like it.’
‘Things will get better.’
‘Perhaps—if I live to be a hundred!’
They shared a small wry smile. Both knew only too well that grudges lasted for a very long time in Silibri.
‘You’re doing well at work,’ Pino pointed out.
‘Yes!’
And the fact that she had committed to the therapy course was the main reason Antonietta had stayed even when it had become clear that her family did not want her around. With each shift, both as a chambermaid and while training as a therapist, she fell in love with her work a little more. Working at the Old Monastery was so different from the bars and café jobs that had supported her while she lived in France, and she preferred the tranquil nature of Silibri to the hustle and bustle of Rome.
‘Work has been my saviour,’ she admitted.
‘And mine,’ Pino agreed.
As she walked into the softly lit foyer the gorgeous scent of pine reached her, and Antonietta took a moment to breathe it in. Apart from the stunning Nebrodi fir tree, adorned with citrus fruits, there were no other Christmas decorations. As Nico had pointed out, many of their guests were retreating to escape Christmas, and did not need constant reminders—but Aurora, being Aurora, had insisted on at least a tree.
Still, thought Antonietta, as magnificent and splendid as the tree was, it was just a token, and somehow it just didn’t feel like Christmas once had in Silibri.
Heading into the staff room, she dropped off her bag and jacket and made her way to the morning briefing from Maria, the head of housekeeping.
Francesca, the regional manager, was also in early, and was looking on as the chambermaids were informed that a new guest had just arrived into the August Suite, which was the premier suite of the hotel.
‘I don’t have his photo yet,’ said Maria.
All the staff would be shown his photograph, so he could be recognised and greeted appropriately at all times, and so that all charges could be added to his suite without any formalities.
‘Signor Dupont is to be given top priority,’ Francesca cut in. ‘If there are any issues you are to report them directly to me.’
Ah, so that was the reason she was here so early, Antonietta thought. She was always very aware of Francesca. Antonietta liked her, but because Francesca was a close friend of her mother there was a certain guardedness between them.
‘Antonietta, that is where you shall be working today,’ Maria continued with the handover. ‘When you are not busy, you can assist Chi-Chi in the other superior suites, but Signor Dupont is to take priority at all times.’
Antonietta had been surprised at how quickly she had moved through the ranks. She was now regularly allocated the most important guests and Francesca had told her she was perfect for the role.
The August, Starlight and Temple Suites were sumptuous indeed, and the guests they housed could be anything from visiting royalty to rock stars recovering from their excesses, or even movie stars recuperating after a little nip and tuck.
The reason that Antonietta was so perfectly suited to working in the suites was her rather private nature. She had enough problems of her own and didn’t care to delve into other people’s. Nor did she have stars in her eyes, and she was not dumbstruck by celebrity, fame or title. Generally polite conversation was all that was required, and Antonietta could certainly do that. Silence was merited on occasion, and she was more than happy to oblige. She was polite to the guests, if a little distant, but she did her work quietly and well and let the guests be.
At the end of the handover, Francesca pulled Antonietta aside and gave her the pager for the August Suite. She offered a little more information.
‘Signor Dupont has declined the services of a butler. He has stated that he wants privacy and is not to be unnecessarily disturbed. Perhaps you can sort out with him the best time to service his suite—he might want to get it over and done with—but I shall leave that to you.’
A guest in the August Suite could have the rooms serviced a hundred times a day if he so demanded.
‘Also, Signor Dupont might need some assistance getting out of bed. If he—’
‘I am not a nurse,’ Antonietta interrupted. She had firm boundaries.
‘I know that,’ Francesca said, and gave her rather surly chambermaid a tight smile. ‘Signor Dupont already has a nurse—although he seems rather testy and insists that he does not need one. Should he require her assistance, she can be paged. I should warn you that he is very bruised, so don’t be shocked.’
‘Okay.’
‘Antonietta, I probably shouldn’t tell you who he is, but—’
‘Then please don’t,’ Antonietta cut in.
For her it really was as simple as that. She did not gossip and she did not listen to gossip either. Oh, the staff here were wonderful, and their gossip was never malicious. Certainly it would not reach the press, which was why there were so many exclusive guests at the hotel.
The same courtesy was extended in the village. The locals were all thrilled at the vibrancy that had returned to the town with the new hotel, and so the Silibri people looked after its guests as their own. In fact, they looked after the guests better than their own—Antonietta had been treated shabbily by many of them.
‘I don’t want to know his real name, Francesca,’ she said now, ‘because then I might slip up and use it. Tell me only what I need to know.’
‘Very well—he has his own security detail and you will need to show them your ID. He’s booked in until Christmas Eve. Although, from what I gather, I believe it is doubtful he will last until then.’
‘He’s dying?’ Antonietta frowned.
‘No!’ Francesca laughed. ‘I meant he will grow bored. Now, he wants coffee to be delivered promptly at seven.’
‘Then I had better get on.’
Francesca carried on chatting as they both made their way to the kitchen. ‘I have just finalised the roster,’ she told her. ‘And I have you down for an early start on Christmas Day.’
Antonietta stopped in her tracks, and was about to open her mouth to protest, but then Francesca turned and she saw the resigned, almost sympathetic look on her manager’s face. Francesca wasn’t just telling her that she was to work on Christmas Day, Antonietta realised. Her mother must have made it clear to her friend that Antonietta would not be invited to partake in the family’s festivities.
‘Working is better than sitting alone in that cottage,’ Francesca said as they resumed