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Book Description
Can she choose between her duty and her heart?
While World War One changes the country beyond measure, with food becoming scarce and
Britain’s young men being called up to foreign battlefields, it is harder than ever to keep the grand
Beach Hotel in Littlehampton running smoothly.
Waitress Lili Probert, a young woman who escaped her demanding family in Wales in search of a
new life in Sussex, has seen her hard work rewarded at the Beach Hotel, but hides heartbreak
behind her sunny personality. Her sweetheart, Norman, is missing in action and has been presumed
dead, but she cannot give up hope that he may be found.
But when she meets injured soldier Rhodri, a fellow Welshman now living near Littlehampton, she
fights hard to ignore her growing attraction for him, torn between her feelings for him and her
loyalty to the man she thought she’d spend her life with.
But her emotions run ever higher when she suddenly receives a call from home; her mother is
gravely ill and Lili is needed for her care. Returning to Wales, Lili must make a difficult choice. Follow
her dreams and make her own life, or return to the place she tried so hard to escape?
Torn between her duty and her heart, Lili faces her own battle far from the conflicts in Europe…
Extract from All Change at the Beach Hotel by Francesca Capaldi
Lili Probert, has recently been promoted from a chambermaid to a waitress,
due to many of the male staff of the hotel enlisting in the Great War. Here,
serving at a charity event, Lili meets Corporal Rhodri Morgan.
As Lili neared the door to the dining room, she grinned, imagining she heard a
voice from the Valleys. She stopped. Could it be? Looking towards a group of four
men, she noticed one regaling the others with a tale of some misdemeanour in his
youth. Her breath hitched. He was handsome, oh my he was, with his thick black hair
and large brown eyes, the colour of conkers. He had a long straight nose, full lips
and a dimple in his chin. He was leaning on a walking stick.
She shook herself and carried on. What a wanton piece she was. Poor Norman
was away on the Western Front and here she was eyeing up another man. But there
was nothing in it, just an appreciation of an attractive face, like she would have had
at the picture house, watching Rudolph Valentino on the screen. However, the weird,
squirmy feeling – she could think of no other description for it – lasted until she got
into the kitchen.
Returning to the ballroom with the two new trays of canapés, she found that the
Pierrots had started singing. Tonight, rather than their usual baggy costumes with
pompoms, they were in evening dress, though she suspected their repertoire would
be the same, since the current song was Where Did You Get That Hat. The chatter
had decreased, but not stopped.
She passed the group of men where the Welsh voice had been, not looking over
at Mr Handsome, as she seemed to have nicknamed him.
‘Hey there, wait up.’
It was his voice, she was sure. It was tempting to walk on, pretend she hadn’t
heard, but that wouldn’t be very welcoming now, would it?
She turned and smiled.
‘Hello sir. After some canapés are you? These are both very nice.’
His eyes widened in surprise and a smile formed. ‘Good gracious, is that a Valleys
voice I’m hearing?’
‘It is indeed. The Rhymney Valley, to be precise.’
‘It almost feels like I’m ’ome.’
His grin widened, lighting up his face, making her stomach do that wobbly thing
again.
‘I’m from Aber Valley, originally,’ he said.
‘Well, I never. It’s good to hear a Welsh voice.’ She was supposed to be serving,
not chatting, but then, she was only being friendly, as they’d been instructed.
She held up the salver and he took a ham and tomato canapé, as did the three
men he’d been talking to. One had an incomplete arm in a sling, one was on
crutches with a foot missing, while the other had a bandage over his eye. She should
have moved away by now, offered the canapés to others, but she couldn’t resist
staying to chat awhile.
‘Are you all from Belgrave House Hospital?’
‘That’s right,’ said the Welsh soldier, a corporal by the look of the two chevrons on
the arm of his jacket. ‘And we’re all from the 7th Battalion, Royal Sussex Regiment.’
‘These are good,’ said the one with the sling. He was blond with a floppy fringe
and middle-class accent. ‘The hospital food’s not bad, but, well, the food here is
marvellous. And it’s the corporal’s birthday today. It’s a good way to celebrate.’
‘Happy birthday, Corporal,’ said Lili. ‘Here, try one of these.’ She lifted the salver
of cheese and chutney canapés towards them.
‘Thank you.’
The other three embarked on a discussion of their food experiences during the
war. The corporal turned towards her.
‘I’m Corporal Morgan, by the way. Rhodri Morgan.’ He held out his free hand.
She placed one tray down on the table beside her, to shake it, glancing around
quickly to make sure neither the manager nor his wife were close by. ‘Liliwen
Probert. Lili. I work here, as a waitress. And sometimes on the desk.’ Only once, but
it sounded good.
‘Nice to meet you, Lili.’
‘Likewise. Have you been at the hospital long?’
‘A few weeks. Took a bullet to the thigh. But I’m being discharged soon.’
‘So, you’ll be going back to the war?’ She felt an overwhelming sadness at this
prospect, as she did at the thought of any of the more able-bodied of these men
returning to the Front.
He lifted the walking stick. ‘I still have a limp, so it seems unlikely. Think I’m
destined for a desk job.’
She wanted to reply, every cloud has a silver lining, but didn’t know how he would
take that. Instead, she said: ‘I see.’
‘Miss Probert, what have you been told about chatting to guests?’
She turned sharply to find the manager standing behind her. Just her luck.
‘My apologies,’ said Corporal Morgan. ‘It’s my fault, sir. I engaged the young lady
in conversation when I heard her Welsh accent, see. Like a taste of home, it were.’
‘Well, yes, of course, Corporal. We’re happy to, er, cheer people up. She does
need to hand out the canapés though.’
‘Of course.’ The corporal gave a quick bow of his head.
She picked up the salver from the table and walked away, sorry to be doing so.
About four o’clock, the crowd began to thin out. Lili was heading for the door with
yet another empty tray when Corporal Morgan waylaid her.
‘I’d just like to say thank you for the lovely afternoon. I’ve wondered several times,
as I’ve passed by this hotel, what it was like inside. And now I know. It’s even more
luxurious than I’d imagined.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. And I ’ope you’re completely well soon, Corporal.’
'Thank you. And I ’ope we bump into each other again.’
She simply smiled, not knowing how else to reply to that, apart from: ‘Cheerio
then.’
Author Bio
Francesca has enjoyed writing since she was a child. Born in Worthing and brought up in
Littlehampton in Sussex, she was largely influenced by a Welsh mother who was brilliant at
improvised story telling. A history graduate and qualified teacher, she decided to turn her writing
hobby into something more in 2006, when she joined a writing class.
Writing as both Francesca Capaldi and Francesca Burgess, she has had many short stories published
in magazines in the UK and abroad, along with several pocket novels published by DC Thomson.
Her Welsh World War 1 sagas were inspired by the discovery of the war record of her great
grandfather, a miner in South Wales. Her latest series, The Beach Hotel, is set in her own childhood
town, where her Italian father had a café on the riverside.
Francesca is a member of the Romantic Novelists' Association and the Society of Women Writers and
Journalists. She currently lives on the North Downs in Kent with her family and a cat called Lando
Calrission.
Social Media Links
Website: https://www.francesca-capaldi.co.uk/
Facebook author page: https://m.facebook.com/FrancescaCapaldiAuthor
Purchase Link
Amazon: https://amzn.to/40AuFWR
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3HhxBkC
Apple: https://apple.co/3oISBKC
