High Island Blues Read Online Free PDF

morning, as she greeted other guests and waited for Rob Earl’s party to arrive, she found herself distracted. Usually she looked forward to his group. They were undemanding, polite and grateful for the service provided. They weren’t good tippers but the staff liked them. If there were any problems or misunderstandings, Rob was there to help. She’d always admired the British, since that first time when Rob and his friends had come to stay. They were the first foreigners she’d ever met. Later she’d had a vacation job in London, looking after the spoilt kids of a Houston businessman and his wife, and she’d taken to the English, to their coolness and reserve. Even the cold, grey weather had suited her.
    She was grateful to Rob. In the early years of her running the hotel his parties had made all the difference financially. A big booking, right at the beginning of the season, proved to the bank that she was capable of running the place at a profit, that all the investment was worthwhile. And he had spread the word in England. Many of her British guests came there on his recommendation.
    She still looked up to him a bit as she had when she was twelve. She looked forward to showing him the improvements she had made since his last visit and discussing with him her plans for the future. He made her laugh and she didn’t do that very often. She had lots of plans. She wanted to establish a Wildlife Refuge right here in the grounds of the Oaklands Hotel. There was the Birdathon and the party she intended to throw for all the participants. She’d always been good at putting on a show and this would be special. All the Houston media would be there. She imagined the place full of lights and people and music, as it must have been when the hotel first opened.
    Then she thought of Laurie, who seemed so respectable but who was still the street-fighter she’d always been. She thought of Mick and Laurie Brownscombe and wondered if she’d ever be free of them.
    There was a knock at her office door to tell her that the English party had arrived. She straightened her skirt and went out to meet them. There would be iced lemonade and cookies set out on the porch for them and she liked to be available to answer any questions. She had learned that first impressions were important.
    Esme and Joan had been quarrelling all the way from Houston. About the names of the rivers they crossed, the date Sam Houston set out on his march for freedom and whether McDonald’s used the same quality of beef on both sides of the Atlantic. Neither lady had ever tasted a hamburger. They were sisters and they had always argued.
    In childhood Joan had been considered the brainy one and Esme the pretty one and they continued to play those roles though both were now in their fifties. Joan was the older. She was large, big boned, with wild grey hair. She wore sensible Crimplene slacks and loose, brightly coloured patterned overshirts. She was a primary teacher and talked to Esme as if she were a wayward, slightly backward, eleven-year-old.
    Esme was not much bigger than an eleven-year-old and still now there were traces of the prettiness. Her hair was carefully dyed and permed and she always wore make-up, which Joan considered an extravagance. It was something else to argue about. Esme worked in a tea shop in a smart market town in Somerset. She earned very little and Joan resented having to support her. Of the two, Esme was by far the happier.
    Now she was delighted by the hotel. She pointed to the bluejays and to the hummingbird which came to a feeder to drink. She declared that the lemonade and biscuits were almost as good as those supplied by the Copper Kettle at home. Mary Ann accepted the compliments with a smile but as soon as it was polite she left her visitors chatting and went to join Rob who was standing on the grass, looking up into the canopy of the oaks.
    After leaving the air-conditioned bus Rob found the heat intense. It was like stepping out of