The Germans stampeded into the house, overwhelming me with the element of surprise. ‘Incoming!’ I shouted through the main staircase window into the farmyard to alert the builder boyfriend, who was haying the horses. A car was unloading two couples – double the amount of guests I was expecting.
They came at me all at once and piled up the stairs, and I ran behind protesting that there were too many of them. ‘It is no problem! They sleep with us!’ said the woman who had booked, as she and her very tall husband and their two friends crowded into Room 4.
An en suite double, Room 4 is very comfortable and rated five stars, but I doubt you could fit two extra Germans in there. Two extra Chinese maybe.
The BB came running and looked fit to burst. He is only ever a few seconds away from explosion during the height of the season, when we find ourselves fighting a desperate rearguard action against large, ruddy-faced blond travellers intent on buffet stripping and laundry-room invasion.
I took one look at the state of the BB, boiling over in his paint-spattered work jeans like a displaced demonstrator from a Tommy Robinson march and, as much as I wanted him for back-up, decided he presented too great a risk of escalation and sent him away.
‘Leave this to me,’ I growled under my breath and he slunk off muttering some choice stereotypical insults.
‘I only have two of you booked for one room, but I do have another room if you want it,’ I said firmly.
‘No no!’ said the lady who had booked, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. She then continued talking to her husband and this other couple who shouldn’t be there as they all stood in Room 4 looking around.
‘Listen to me,’ I said. ‘You can’t all stay in this room. It’s for two. I have another just here, across the hallway…’ But they weren’t interested. They were talking to each other with their backs to me as I stood in the doorway.
The woman suddenly span around. ‘We do clothes washing?’ she said, pinning me with a piercing stare. Her husband smelt strongly of cigarettes as he bore down on me with a grin that was terrifying. They just had a few things they wanted to hand wash, really nothing at all, he said, in a voice that was meant to be soothing but really wasn’t.
‘If you don’t mind, give me your washing and I will put it in the machine and let you know when it’s done,’ I said. I was now pinned against the door frame.
He explained this to her, as he evidently spoke better English, and she huffed.
‘I-I really must insist that you look at this other room,’ I said, gesturing to Room 3 and trying to puff myself up a bit. ‘It’s bigger, but I’ll do it for the same price…’
The other couple then seemed to accept they had to leave. They didn’t want a room, they assured me as we all trooped down the stairs. They had a hotel in town.
‘Which hotel?’ I asked, to test this hypothesis. ‘The West Cork,’ she said, and I thought, well, if you were going to make up a name that would be it, but the West Cork Hotel does, in fact, exist, so I had to let it go.
With that, all four of them got back in their car and drove away, saying they were going to dinner.
It was gone 11 p.m. and I was in bed reading, the BB asleep beside me, when my phone rang and the big man’s booming voice said: ‘Hello! It is the Germans here! Please come out and let us in!’ The farm gate was shut, and they had absolutely ignored my instructions not to use it. He said he couldn’t possibly drive a few hundred yards to the bottom gate that was open. The BB expleted a volley of excoriating insults and told me to leave them outside, but I assured him that wouldn’t do.
I got out of bed, pushed my feet into my flipflops and went out into the farmyard in the dark.
There had to be four people in that car, so as I unpadlocked the gate I kept ducking to see if I could make out anyone crouched in a footwell.
When he and his wife got inside, the big man stood in the hallway and announced cheerfully: ‘We do our washing!’
‘What now?’ I said, but they both pretended they didn’t understand. No, fine, of course now. So I gave him a washing basket and after a lot of banging and crashing in their room, she brought it back to me with one shirt and two pairs of Y-fronts in it.
‘Right, well, I’ll wash that then,’ I said, and I took their weirdly non-urgent washing and put it on a 14-minuter.
I was sitting out the back waiting for the machine when I realised. Damn! Clever, clever! Their friends would have hidden somewhere on the driveway, having come in the bottom gate and waited in the bushes until they got the all-clear to sneak into the house!
I bolted from the laundry room to the hallway and looked about furtively. I went up the stairs and listened at their door. They were making a lot more noise than two people. I’ll get you! I muttered, restraining myself from swinging wide the door.
The next morning, they came down at 8 a.m. and I left them in the breakfast room staring furtively at the buffet. Barely a minute later, I heard them go up to their room.
I went into the breakfast room and was greeted by a wipe-out. Croissants, bagels, bread rolls, cereal, coffee… all gone in 30 seconds.
The BB came back from doing the horses and started pacing up and down. ‘Charge it! €100 a night extra! They’ve got four in that room!’ But I had to have evidence first.
I resolved to wait up that night, get the BB to go and open the rear gate for them, while I hid behind the front door…
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