12 The Bridlington - Original Story By Stephanie Poppins

Hello and welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

A romantic bedtime podcast guaranteed to help you drift off into a calm and restful sleep.

Come with me as we travel into the heart of the Bridlington Hotel,

The most prestigious enterprise on the coast of East Riding.

Meet the characters as they go about their everyday lives,

Albeit amongst scandal and intrigue.

Not a day goes past at the Bridlington without something happening.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose.

That's it.

Then let it out on a long sigh.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing and nowhere you need to go.

This is your time.

Feel your shoulders melt away from your ears.

Feel the pressure seep away from your cheeks.

And let all the muscles in your face relax.

As you sink into the support beneath you,

Let the pressures of the day seep away.

The Bridlington.

A series set in an English hotel.

Written and performed by Stephanie Poppins.

Episode 12.

Harold Cunningham stood resolute,

Scanning Emily's demeanor with predatory eyes.

Little did he realize the boardroom at the Bridlington was huge in comparison,

And he looked pathetic,

Especially when flanked by the oversized Mallory monks.

Emily could see they meant business,

But they were comical with their cheap suits and even cheaper smiles.

The whole board are expected in an hour,

And this room needs preparing.

I hope you don't mind.

Emily sighed.

This was a ruse orchestrated by her mother,

And she knew it.

But Thomas Smythe had no intention of playing ball.

We are the board.

Get out.

Mallory monks started shuffling chairs around,

But Harold Cunningham refused to barge.

We are here under the order of Lady Perklington Smythe.

I'm afraid I cannot do that,

He insisted.

Then he rolled his shoulders back and stepped forward.

But when Uncle Tom stood up,

His tall frame blocked his opponent's way.

Leave,

He replied softly,

And take that with you.

He gestured to Mallory monks,

And Emily smiled.

Her uncle's voice was deep and commanding,

Just like her father's used to be.

This is what it took to get things done.

She needed him on her side.

There was no getting away from it,

Sordid affair with her mother or not.

Well,

If the preparations aren't on time,

I accept no responsibility,

Said Harold Hitler stiffly.

And off that he shuffled,

Him and his PA-cum-resident slave,

With their tails between their legs.

Thomas Smythe turned and looked at his niece sympathetically.

They've been bullying you,

Haven't they?

He said.

But at this point,

Emily did not want his sympathy,

Just the facts.

She still hated him,

But everything he said was true.

She had been bullied by Cunningham and her mother.

She was just a pawn in their games,

Beholden to the rules of those days.

Those who lied and cheated to get their own way.

Not that Cunningham knew the whole truth.

She doubted her mother ever trusted him with that,

Otherwise it would be him extorting the staff and not Mrs.

Delaware.

Lady Perklington Smythe would bleed the hotel dry if she could.

Emily's own mother had no love for this place.

Her loyalty was the colour of money,

Not sentiment.

And worst of all,

Emily had deceived the man she loved because of it.

What did you mean when you said my father was having an affair?

Exactly what I said.

He stole your aunt from me,

Her uncle replied.

And after a year,

She left,

Riddled with guilt.

I don't believe it.

Well,

It's true.

Then why hasn't mum held that over me by now?

She's been biding her time,

Emily.

She's a manipulator and she always has a trump card.

Haven't you learned that by now?

Emily had to admit there was truth in these words.

Maybe everything her uncle said was true.

My wife loved your father.

And if I'm honest,

I can see why.

My brother was everything I was not.

I was never around,

But he was.

Why he ever married your mother,

I'll never know.

Because she got pregnant with me,

Emily replied.

I know that much.

Oh.

Now it was her uncle's turn to be shocked.

But you and dad were okay together.

I don't understand why you were,

If he was doing that behind your back.

I knew,

And he knew I knew.

It was an open secret because he made my wife,

Your aunt,

Happy.

And that meant I didn't have to worry about her.

She had bipolar,

You know.

I remember mum saying.

Emily recalled Lady Perklington Smythe's words.

They certainly weren't as vanilla as all that.

It was a constant worry,

Her uncle continued.

But for a year at least,

She was okay.

Seemed to be managing her symptoms well.

They spent a lot of time together in those days.

It wasn't really about the sex.

We never struggled with that.

This was an affair of the mind.

They were better suited.

And in truth,

I was too busy to care.

That's the long and the short of it.

Emily sat up.

But what happened to her when she left East Riding?

She found God and left for a convent.

We still keep in touch.

She said she's at peace now and I'm thankful for that.

So your one night stand with mum.

It was a moment of pure madness.

Booze can do that to a man,

You know.

Thomas Smythe hung his head low and sighed deeply.

Now it all began to make sense.

Her mother had held that over him all these years.

Probably to make him feel bad after her husband died.

And he would have felt obliged to back her up when dealing with a board of governors.

I believe you,

Emily said.

But I don't want to talk about this anymore.

I'm in a very difficult situation now,

Uncle Tom.

And I need your help.

Will you help me?

He looked up at her and Emily was surprised to see his eyes matched those of her father.

Why hadn't she noticed this before?

Maybe she only saw what her mother wanted her to see by manipulating the truth.

It wouldn't be the first time.

OK,

He replied.

I'm here for you now,

Emily.

From this point on,

It'll be just you and me.

Don't worry about me.

Don't you worry about that.

Something smells good.

James Brighton chose a stall at the metal preparation station and sat down.

It was time to eat and he was ravenous.

Well,

It's not my aftershave,

Said Chef.

I picked the old one this morning.

I don't know why I keep the bottle.

Sentiment,

I suppose.

A gift from an old girlfriend?

Something like that.

This was the most Chef had said to James in days.

Slowly but surely,

He was bringing out more in him,

He thought.

That had become what he would call friends.

And that made a good excuse to escape to the kitchen every morning when his stomach started to rumble.

Maybe the old Brighton charm's working its magic after all,

He mused,

Catching a reflection of himself in the polished chrome.

What are you doing?

Between breaking eggs and tossing mushrooms into the pan,

Chef snatched a glance at him.

What?

James shrugged.

Then he began preening himself again.

Your fingers,

They're drumming at warp speed.

You taking something or what?

No.

James was horrified.

I'm many things,

Chef,

But I'm not addicted to drugs.

You lost more money then?

No.

For what?

James felt unexpectedly disarmed.

These were searching questions coming from a man who barely seemed to register anything other than the latest lunch menu.

Did he have any choice other than to be honest?

It feels like everything's going to change.

I might not even be here next week.

What?

Would you miss me?

Chef had his back to him so James couldn't see his expression.

But for just a split second,

He seemed to freeze.

There's going to be a mix-up in the board of directors,

He continued.

So I've heard anyway.

Things always change when that happens.

Chef grabbed some basil,

Chives and a block of parmesan and carried on.

Scramble?

Great,

Thanks.

James grabbed two plates and laid the bench with cutlery and glasses.

This was becoming a bit of a habit and he liked it.

There were not many constants in his life,

But over the last few months,

Chef had become one of them.

They stayed silent after that.

Until sprinkling the final result with a handful of baby plum tomatoes.

Chef sat opposite and looked him straight in the eye.

You're front of house,

James.

Front of hotel.

They won't get rid of you.

James watched Chef's fingers grip the salt cellar and twist it slowly.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

This man's hands were no less beautiful for the tattoos inked upon them.

His nails were pristine,

The fine dark hair covering his thick fingers,

The colour of warm chocolate.

No man had ever had the time for him like this man.

They must have been about the same age,

But James felt so much younger in his presence.

Chef had a maturity about him that he,

The Bridlington's poster boy,

Would never have.

Life to James Brighton was but a game and he liked playing.

But Chef was not interested in all that.

He was stable,

Resilient,

Self-assured and had no time for the frivolous.

You'd make someone a good wife,

He joked in a throwaway tone.

You too,

Chef joked back,

Neglecting to look up.

And they sat quietly together,

Enjoying a rare break from the madness.

That was the Bridlington Hotel.

It was now long past lunchtime and Emily Perklington Smythe was famished.

It had been a productive morning and for the first time in weeks,

It felt like things were really beginning to look up.

I must get something to eat,

She said,

Checking the latest list of reservations.

Do you think the Orangery will have anything left from the buffet?

Should do,

James replied,

Happy to see her appetite was back again.

I'll call them now.

Your meeting went well then.

Surprisingly,

Yes,

She beamed.

I think things might just be looking up,

James.

Her friends sighed deeply.

This was welcome news.

And all at once,

Emily realised what was going on.

She'd been so wrapped up in her own affairs,

She hadn't stopped to think what a restructure of the board and an ousting of her might look like for him.

You okay,

James?

Better for that news.

I must admit,

I've been a bit worried,

He said.

Well,

We're not out of the woods yet.

This is the first step.

But Uncle Tom's on our side and he's a major shareholder.

That's something.

I'd still like the number of that old chap you mentioned,

Though.

The lawyer?

Yeah,

Of course.

Mr Johnson.

His details are still on the system.

I'll dig them out for you later.

I reckon you've got a blinding case,

You know him.

Let's hope so.

And you alright for money now?

I'm on a bit of a winning streak at the moment.

I got lucky last night.

Oh yeah?

So that's why you had a late brunch together,

Is it?

No,

Not that kind of lucky.

I made two grand.

What?

Yeah.

James left for the back office and returned with a collection of notes.

There you go,

Love,

He chuckled.

Don't say I never give you anything.

You don't have to do that,

James.

Yes,

I do.

You've helped me out a lot,

Haven't you,

You and Joe?

And how's he doing?

I've not seen him around for a few days.

Not brilliant,

James replied.

But let me worry about that.

One problem at a time.

Emily frowned.

But before she had time to mull over what James had just said,

Over-strolled Harold Cunningham with a smug look on his face.

Again,

She hissed twice in one morning.

But the triumph on the hotel manager's face said it all.

There's a meeting in my office in ten minutes,

Miss Emily Croft.

He emphasised.

Then he waltzed off in the opposite direction.

I don't like the sound of that,

Said James.

He's on a mission.

And when ten minutes later,

Emily entered his dark cave of an office,

She was astonished to see there was her lost love,

J.

Tin,

Talking to Mallory Monks,

Who was now,

Sat poised,

Pen on pad,

Ready to take the minutes.

What's going on?

She said to herself.

What are the minutes for?

And then it came to her.

Her mother was collecting evidence.

This is what this was.

A relationship with another member of staff would be seen as unprofessional.

And a strained relationship could be billed as weakness to the board of directors.

Emily was being set up.

And by the look on J.

Tin's face,

He was doing nothing to prevent it.