Mandy stared out of the large bay windows and onto the loch. It was a beautiful sunset, and she, unlike the rest of the staff, was watching it.
The rest of the staff, all dressed for a night of work, were staring at Antonia, the manageress, who looked as uncomfortable as a politician caught in the wrong place.
She had recently given up smoking and was seriously considering opening the emergency pack hidden in her desk.
“Tonight’s canceled,” she said in a rich Italian accent.
None looked surprised, although all were disappointed. Tonight’s event was a hen night, a closed affair with cocktails, male performers, and a “pleasure products” stall. It had been planned for months, a highlight in an otherwise dull winter.
The hotel was situated on the corner of Dunoon’s Main Street, and Antoni
