Mr Gunter cleared his throat. ‘So that’s it, everyone. You’ve heard and – for those of you lucky enough to be in the room – seen all of our acts, so now it’s time to get voting.’
‘Thank you, Mr Gunter.’ The young radio DJ took over. ‘So as the verger says, it’s time for you to get your votes in online. It costs just one pound to vote and all of the proceeds go to the wonderful charities that encompass Ned’s Gift – and of course our lovely ladies from Polhampton here have been singing their lungs out for a new church roof.’
‘Quite literally,’ Jacob whispered to Raff, squeezing his hand in a rare public display of affection towards his husband.
The DJ continued, ‘And for those members of the audience who are here in person, you can either vote online, or just pop a cross on the paper slips dotted around the room, and put your donations in one of the collection boxes that are on show for the different charities. Dig deep and be generous.
‘Right, it’s song-time now while we gather the results in, and it’s our old friend Robbie Williams, with his very amusing Christmas track, “Bad Sharon”. Take it away, Robbie!’
Rosa went over to help Nate, who was busy dishing out mini pasties and warmed mince pies from the oven. Jacob and Raff were now serving drinks from behind their make-shift bar.
‘That was hilarious, sis,’ Nate told her. ‘My sides ache from laughing. I do have to say I think Angels’ Delight have got it though, purely for entertainment value alone.’
Rosa agreed. ‘I know, they were bloody brilliant – put us to shame with our slightly dull Christmas jumpers and Indian Bells routine with not a knee-length knicker-leg – or any knee-length boobs, come to that – on show. Look, I don’t mind who wins. It’s all good for the charity.’ She snaffled a mini-pasty and took a big bite.
Christopher came over and greeted his son and daughter. ‘I am enormously proud of you for organising all of this, Rosa – and thanks for getting the plug in for me.’ He put a mince pie on a paper plate and picked up a coffee.
‘Thank you.’ Rosa looked right up at the white-haired man in front of her and repeated, ‘Thank you…Dad.’
Rosa smiled as Kit looked away and coughed to hide his emotion. A tingling feeling ran through her body. It felt good to be praised. It felt good to be part of a community, but most of all it felt good to be surrounded by the love of a family, something she had never thought would ever be possible. She went over to the DJ to get him to play another couple of songs so that people could carry on eating and drinking, filling the donation boxes and voting. Lucas and Jacob were now looking pensive as they knew that they would shortly know their Seaside Star fate. Titch came and stood by Rosa and grasped her hand.
The DJ sprang into vocal action again. ‘So, that was “Starman” by the legendary Ziggy Stardust himself, which leads me nicely into talking to Mr Morgan, who is the Marketing Director of Seaside Stars Limited. For those of you who are not aware of this, Cockleberry Bay’s very own Ship Hotel and the Lobster Pot had both applied to up their current Star ratings.’
The trainee reporter from the South Cliffs Gazette came running back in from having a cigarette outside, notepad at the ready as the DJ went on. ‘They currently hold a worthy four Seaside Stars between them already, so let’s see what happened after their visits from a mystery hotel inspector, shall we?’
Silence fell over the hall, and everybody held their breath as the DJ said smoothly, ‘Mr Morgan, welcome to South Cliffs Radio and a very Happy Christmas to you…’
CHAPTER 56
Anna Wallace checked her watch, then put her finger up to shush her husband, who had just returned with a box of last-minute drink supplies from the off-licence. She had already tuned her phone into the Devon radio station online.
‘So, firstly, to the Lobster Pot in Cockleberry Bay, with its current Seaside Star rating of two… Well, our secret hotel inspector said that it couldn’t be faulted for cleanliness, friendliness, and standard of food, so we have no hesitation in offering it an extra star – which now makes it an accredited Three-Star Seaside-rated property. Big congratulations and an even bigger round of applause in the room to the proprietors, Jacob and Raffaele Fernandez-Johnson.’
Anna smiled as a big cheer went up in the background.
‘Glass of Sauvignon?’ her husband offered.
‘One second,’ she said brusquely, holding up her hand for silence. She carried on listening intently, hoping she might be able to hear some background voices or a speech at least. She knew what was coming. Putting the phone on speaker, she turned the volume up. The Ship Hotel had been exceptional; she couldn’t have faulted it: the room was stylish, clean and with a great view, the bedding was as soft as fresh snow, and the food had been delicious. And, if she were honest, although she couldn’t prove it, it was more likely the amount of Sauvignon Blanc she had consumed than any food that had passed her lips and caused her to be so ill. But how could she ever have admitted to that? It would have been mortifying.
After meeting him that once at the Corner Shop, followed by their session at the Lobster Pot, when Danny had appeared again at the Ship, well, it was like Christmas and her birthday rolled into one. He was not only incredibly sexy, but a thoroughly decent and likeable bloke – and who was she to ruin a place’s reputation, let alone cause such a great lad to lose his job? The Lobster Pot had been an easy decision, the new Star well-deserved. However, with the Ship, and with it having become common knowledge that she had been ill there, it was her reputation which was on the line here. Just because Danny Green had given her the most mind-blowing sex she had ever had in her entire life, it didn’t mean she could dish out Stars just to save his job – or did it?
Anna looked pained. She had thought long and hard about her final decision. She put her hand over her mouth in anticipation of the reaction as Mr Morgan carried on.
‘And now to the Ship Hotel, Cockleberry Bay, also with its current Seaside Star Rating of two…’
CHAPTER 57
Josh chinked his fork against his champagne flute. ‘Before we all sit down to stuff our faces, I would like to propose a Christmas Day toast.’
He had to shout over the noise of an excitable Theo and Alfie, who were running up and down holding new toy planes high above their heads. Rosa put her arm around her husband’s waist. Little Ned was already sat in his new highchair bashing his plastic spoon as if in support of his father. Mary was next to him, clucking and fussing.
Gull’s Rest could not have looked more Christmassy. Jacob had put a tree with lights on outside that could be viewed from the beach. Another huge tree, surrounded by a sea of presents, stood tall in the corner next to the log-burner, and the paper chains and garlands that Rosa had made with Titch the other day were draped around the huge open-plan room, along with various other chintzy decorations that she had got from the Corner Shop. She had even sprayed fake snow onto the bay window in the shape of holly leaves. The Christmas table, spread along the length of their large kitchen-dining area, was made up of their own bench seat, plus two of the long folding tables and some plastic chairs they had borrowed from the church hall.