Seemed like such a good idea…
Retire to a gorgeous victorian seaside town in Pembrokeshire, on the dramatic west coast of Wales. Build your dream house, with an added apartment for guests and additional income. What could go wrong?
Well, I’ve loved Judith Barrow’s stories about their holiday let ever since reading about the vicar and his wife who asked to rent their one-bedroom apartment, only to show up with thirteen other people. Since I’m going to be travelling for several weeks, I’ve asked Judith to be the first of my guest bloggers. And what could be more fun to get us started than more of her cautionary tales on the joys of running a holiday let?
Please grab a cup of coffee, and join Judith and Husband down in Tenby.
The Holiday Let. Fluffy Slippers Optional
–Guest post by Judith Barrow
Well, yes it is worth it – we love it, despite the unexpected. Having a holiday apartment attached to our house has brought us many friends; visitors who return year after year in the summer to enjoy the lovely Pembrokeshire coastline and all the other attractions this part of West Wales offers. We love seeing them again. And we are fortunate to meet many new people as well. But there have been downsides. Or should I say, occasions that made us think again about sharing our home.
They arrived separately.
He, aged around fifty, immaculate in a navy business suit, pristine white shirt, his tie, also navy, casually loosened in a contrived way. His smile also seemed contrived, I thought. (Or is that me now; looking back?) It was exactly ten o’clock when he parked his car on the drive.
‘Mark Smith,’ he said, holding out his hand. Firm, self- assured. I let him into the apartment. He looked around, nodded approval. His wife would arrive later, he told me; she had a business meeting.
She arrived in the afternoon in a pale blue Smart car. I only caught a glimpse of her; she’d parked the car alongside his and, mobile pressed close to her ear, weekend case in her other hand, she whizzed past our kitchen window towards the apartment door, a blur of pale blue. I heard a few murmurs of greeting. Her voice soft with a slight musical Irish hint.
‘They’ve arrived then.’ It was a statement. Husband came in from the garden. ‘D’you think they’ll want a few of these?’ He held out tomatoes and cucumbers; we’d had a glut.
‘Don’t know.’ I said, ‘ask them when you see them.’ We didn’t see them all week. Not a sign. If they went out we didn’t notice, the cars hadn’t moved as far as I could see. Glorious sunshine and the spectacular Pembrokeshire coastline didn’t tempt them outside, apparently.
We usually meet our visitors at least once if they’re staying a week; often they are wandering around the garden, the men usually gravitating to the greenhouses to chat with Husband; to compare vegetables, to bemoan the weather: too hot, too cold. The women to sit and have a chat about where to go, what to see.
But the onus is on them; we wait to see; some talk, some just wave if they see Hubby or me, some ignore the fact that we’re around. It’s fine.
Mr Smith and his wife obviously wanted privacy.
Except she wasn’t his wife.
On the Thursday, two days before they were due to leave I had a phone call.
‘Hi, it’s Hayley Smith, Mark’s wife. He’s staying with you? His secretary says he’s having meetings around Pembrokeshire (for obvious reasons I’ve changed the exact conversation). ‘Only I’ve finished work for the week and I thought I’d surprise him for our wedding anniversary tomorrow. Take advantage of this lovely weather.’
Stunned. I gestured frantically to Husband who was in the garden. Smiling he waved back. I mouthed at him to come indoors. He waved again. Stupid man!! Clearly I was on my own with this.
‘Hello?’ The woman spoke again. ‘If you could give me directions…?’
‘Er, yes, hold on please.’ I put the phone down and ran outside. ‘His wife’s on the phone,’ I hissed at Hubby, jerking my head towards the apartment door.
He looked puzzled. ‘Why?’ We both looked at the windows of the apartment, closed all week, blinds shut.
I threw my hands in the air; the situation needed a dramatic gesture, and ran to bang on the door.
Nothing. No one. Not a sound. Zilch. I jiggled from one foot to the other for ages, conscious of the woman, the actual wife, waiting in the telephone in the house. My mind running overtime.. We hadn’t seen them since they arrived; they could be ill, needing help. Dead!
I peered through the letterbox, shouted. ‘Mr Smith?’ I wasn’t going to shout, Mrs Smith, was I?
I turned to Husband. ‘Get the spare keys.’
The door opened. It was the woman. Young; around twenty. And naked as the day she was born.
I glanced at Husband; he was staring, mouth open. I wafted him away.
‘Mr Smith’s wife is on the phone,’ I said to the woman.
She closed the door. It opened again. Mr Smith. In a pale pink translucent nightdress and negligee; the kind women used to wear in the seventies. And fluffy slippers!
‘My wife?’ he said, his voice strangely hoarse, a look of panic on his face.
And well it might be I thought. I’d seen some things since we’d started the holiday let. But …
I heard a choking sound. Husband, head lowered, seemed to be concentrating hard on deadheading the roses.
‘She’s on the phone…’ I gestured towards the house.
He seemed unable to move.
‘She wants to come here. To surprise you,’ I added.
That did it; he leapt from the doorway, pushed past me and ran – or shuffled, I should say – those slippers weren’t conducive to a run, into our house.
I stayed outside, hustled Husband towards the far end of the garden.
The upshot of all this was that they were both gone in an hour.
I’ll gloss over the state of the apartment. Except to say that the man who collects the re-cycling gave us some funny looks at the amount of wine bottles we put out that week. And that Husband took a lot of ‘rubbish’ to the tip because I wasn’t having certain items in my dustbin!
It was a month later that we recognised ‘Mark Smith’ on the television, same self-assured smile and with eager reporters jostling around him.
And then there was the Football Man …
And the Hippies …
And the couple with the heavily pregnant wife – who wasn’t – when the three of them left. Worked it out?
Oh, and the couple who insisted Husband was growing his vegetables all wrong and decided to give us a surprise. Husband went only slightly crimson that time.
And the …
And the …
All stories for another time …
Judith’s books make the perfect holiday read!
Click on cover for preview and buy links!Contact Links for Judith Barrow
Holiday Let: http://saddleworth-house.co.uk/
Blogs: http://judithbarrowblog.com/ and http://www.judithbarrow.co.uk/
Cathy said:
Haha, what a great story. I wonder who ‘Mr Smith’ really is, I feel really sorry for his wife. It takes all sorts…
LikeLiked by 2 people
barbtaub said:
I’m guessing that it won’t be much longer before ‘Mrs. Smith’ knows all. Her husband doesn’t seem all that discreet. Hopefully, that confrontation will occur at some other holiday let. With or without the fluffy slippers!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
We had a fair idea she was on to him anyway, Cathy and Barb. We nearly fell of the settee when we saw him afterwards. Must have thought West Wales was well away from his usual stomping ground – especially a little apartment like ours. Thanks for dropping by, Cathy.Jx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cathy said:
Really enjoyed reading, Judith x
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
Thanks, Cathy – it’s set me off on a whole new train of thought – no, not blackmail! x
LikeLiked by 2 people
Cathy said:
😀 😀 x
LikeLiked by 2 people
Léa said:
Your let is a stage for the characters who act out their stories. You get to review them… and they can be great writing fodder as you have proven.
LikeLiked by 2 people
barbtaub said:
I know! I think it should be her next book.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
The house is already in husband’s name in case I get sued for my Indie published book, Silent Trauma, Barb. That hasn’t happened yet – naming visitors and their foibles might be a little too dangerous! Hah!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Judith Barrow said:
Well, the ‘oddities’ are thankfully few and far between. But it is fun writing about them .. afterwards. Not so sure at the time, Lea.Jx
LikeLiked by 2 people
Léa said:
Believe it or not, I understand. Some friends, a young couple, use to run a Chambers d’Hotes here in the village and I often gave a hand…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Judith Barrow said:
It would be so boring if we were all the same, Lea. Letting out a holiday apartment certainly shows us a varied slice of life.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Léa said:
You are absolutely correct.
LikeLiked by 2 people
TanGental said:
I’ll never think of Tenby in the same way again. Such a seedy underside. Great story…
LikeLiked by 2 people
barbtaub said:
Well, there was the slightly-less-than honest vicar…
LikeLiked by 1 person
TanGental said:
Yes, he’s too perfect too, isn’t he!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
I’d let you know we are a perfectly respectable establishment, Sir. At least the ‘visitors’ mostly look respectable when they arrive. As Barb say, the last holiday maker I wrote about wore a dog collar. Hmm should I have put that in a different way/
LikeLiked by 2 people
barbtaub said:
Right…and were you too embarrassed to leave the collared-dog’s rubbish in your bin?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Judith Barrow said:
Hahahaha… we have very nosey refuse collectors!
LikeLiked by 1 person
TanGental said:
I always thought there was something a little oh nurse about Tenby… lovely though it is!!
LikeLiked by 2 people
lindahuber said:
Great post, ladies. 🙂 Judith must gather ideas for about a hundred books every summer…
LikeLiked by 2 people
barbtaub said:
I know! Somehow there should be a t-shirt idea in this… Judith could greet arriving guests wearing “Be good or be in my next book…”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Judith Barrow said:
But Barb, then they would all behave and I’d have nothing to write about.Jx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Judith Barrow said:
People are a great source of inspiration, Linda, as all we authors know. Sometimes the gems just drop in your lap… or on your doorstep. jx
LikeLiked by 2 people
Mary Smith said:
Brilliant – I can’t wait for Judith to bring all her stories into one hilarious book.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
Never thought of that, Mary. Of course, you do know this means none of you will ever come to visit us in case you think we’re watching you. Not that I think you would be anything like our ‘oddities’ , of course… I hastily add.jx
LikeLiked by 3 people
barbtaub said:
We’re on our way! [Goes onto Amazon to order pink fluffy slippers]
LikeLiked by 2 people
Mary Smith said:
For you or the Hub?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
Matching Mary, matching.His and Hers, of course. Lol
LikeLiked by 2 people
Marcia said:
me, waving from across the pond Errrm…? Is a “holiday let” what we over here would call a “vacation rental?” I’m guessing so. 🙂 And now I see I have to get busy reading ALL of these stories. Great post!!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
Hi Marcia – waving right back -yes, I suppose it is, people come on holiday and stay in our small apartment for a week or two. We’re been letting for ten years this year and I enjoy meeting the people – mostly! I’ve only written one story before. It didn’t occur to me to write about our visitors before – I just accepted that there are some funny people out there and some of them land on us! Jx
LikeLiked by 2 people
Marcia said:
I always love to see the differences between English and . . . English. 😀 American English is quite different. Luckily (and enjoyably for ME), I’ve read a lot of books by
English authors. I did know that you “let” apartments, rather than “rent” them, and you go on “holiday” rather than vacation, but the phrase “holiday let” just jumped out at me, for some reason. 😀 If I’d had FIVE extra minutes today, I would have stopped to read the whole story, but I’m caring for a sick dog, packing to go on vacation (oops, holiday), and trying to schedule my normal blog posts for the week. And now, I’m exhausted!
I’ve bookmarked this page to come back and read at my leisure when I return next weekend. Also adding your books to my TBR pile. Looking forward to those! 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
Oh, you’re downloading my books? Thank you so much. Enjoy your holiday/vacation.Jx
LikeLike
ionamorrison said:
Great post ladies. I enjoyed my coffee with you this morning.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
Hi Iona, It was good to share some time with you, too. Thanks for dropping by.Jx
LikeLike
Judith Barrow said:
Reblogged this on .
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ellen Hawley said:
Great story, and you do know how to tell it.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Judith Barrow said:
Thank you, Ellen. These stories seem to write them selves – we – husband and I – just live them!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Coffee with Barb & @judithabarrow: The Holiday Let. Fluffy slippers optional #SundayBlogShare – mudasplantasnativas
linda1633 said:
I was thinking that I wasn’t real comfortable having people staying in my home. But now . . . it would be great fodder for story ideas. And it doesn’t sound boring.
LikeLike
Mick Canning said:
Thoroughly enjoyed that! Thanks!
LikeLike