Holiday Capers

by

“Lady Babylonia”

Dear, dear Readers, let me first of all introduce you to the locale of this particular tale.

The Royal Bellecorps Spa is to be found on a small island at the foot of Cornwall, the southernmost county in England. As such, it is somewhat sunnier than a lot of English resorts, and a popular spot for holidaymakers who want a little autumnal sun. Unfortunately, the weather on this occasion was no different to the rest of the country, and a thick fog had drifted in after our arrival, bringing with it, a coolness that was most unwelcome. I might as well have booked a week in Formby. (It has a lovely beach, but oh, the rain!)

And why should it be royal, I hear you ask? Bellecorps was given its title after Queen Victoria washed up on its beach during a day trip gone wrong and ended up spending the night there. When the Queen died, the hotel - in memory of their unexpected visitor, decided to give itself regal status, hinting at a Royal Warrant. There’s a wildness about Cornwall that doesn’t invite questions, and there was really no harm done, was there?

The resort was made up of the large house, and its rather more exclusive cottages. There were just five of them, along with a dining room and spa, which were dotted around a fountain, rather like the petals of a flower, and these little cottages - or villas, if you prefer, all enjoyed private access to the beach. While the main house was the place to be seen, the cottages were the ideal place to hide, and there was an unspoken bond of discretion between the guests who spent a week together there.

And why was I there?

Aveney’s west wing roof was being fixed, the townhouse had visitors of the four-legged, squeaking variety which I am not happy to discuss, and at this time of dire need, Mavis had gone to Swansea to ‘take the waters’ with her sister…

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