you,’ she interrupts.
‘No, not thick,’ I agree.
‘Exceptionally good-looking,’ she goes on.
I nod.
‘He’s certainly what some people might call attractive,’ I say, determined to remain non-committal.
‘Including you?’ She raises her eyebrows.
‘Look, for God’s sake, he’s going out with Valentina,’ I say. ‘Why on earth are you trying to set me up with him?’
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, I suppose I reckon you’d be good together,’ she says. Then she shakes her head. ‘No, you’re quite right, I don’t know what I’m talking about.’
I pour myself some pear juice.
‘So you don’t think we’d be good together?’ I mumble.
She laughs and puts her arm around me.
‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘if you must know, I may not have seen the back of Jack this weekend anyway.’
‘Oh?’ She looks interested.
‘He left his mobile phone here last night, and I’ve got the dubious pleasure of dropping it off at the Crown and Garter where he and Valentina are staying.’
Grace stifles a giggle. ‘Good luck,’ she says.
An hour later, I find myself in the reception of the Crown & Garter, face to face with a hotelier who looks about 132 years old.
‘So, you think they may have already checked out?’ I ask, Jack’s mobile phone in my hand.
‘Oooh, I’m not sure,’ he says, doddering over to a large, leather-bound diary. ‘My wife Edith tends to look after these things, you see. But she had her varicose veins done on Friday and is out of action for a few days. So it’s just me. And I’m afraid I’m probably not as on top of things as she is.’
His shaking fingers turn the pages onto February of last year.
‘I don’t think we’ve got anybody by the name you’re after,’ he says. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right hotel?’
I help him turn the page.
‘I think it’s this February you need to look at,’ I say gently, turning it to the right page. I scan its columns silently myself.
‘Look, there they are,’ I say, seeing Valentina’s name. ‘Room 16. So do you have a record of whether they’ve checked out?’
He frowns. ‘I know I’m meant to,’ he says, starting to look around the desk. ‘But I think that’s in another book. My wife Edith is better at this sort of thing than me. Only, she had her varicose veins done on Friday.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Well, perhaps somebody could go and knock on their door. You know, to see if they’re still there?’
‘That’s a wonderful idea,’ he says, shutting the book. ‘That would solve the problem!’
I smile. ‘Great,’ I say.
‘A very good idea,’ he reiterates.
‘So, will you ask someone to go up there?’ I ask.
He thinks for a second. ‘Oh, well I would do, but I’m by myself, you see,’ he says. ‘My wife Edith has had her varicose veins done.’
‘Okay–well, maybe you could go?’ I suggest.
‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that,’ he says. ‘I need to man the desk in case there’s a rush on. You see, Edith has—’
‘Had her varicose veins done, I know,’ I say.
I look around at the empty reception. The chances of there being a rush on in the next five minutes are so slim they’re anorexic. But I haven’t the heart to argue with him.
‘Right,’ I say instead. ‘What do you suggest then?’
‘Only one thing for it,’ he concludes. ‘You’ll have to go up and see them yourself.’
Chapter 22
The noises coming from Room 16 are really not what I want to hear. They consist of long, guttural snores that are audible from the other end of the corridor and bear an uncanny resemblance to a heavy-duty pneumatic drill. They can only mean one thing: Jack must be in there with Valentina.
I take a deep breath and wonder what the hell I am going to do. Coming face to face with a couple who’ve obviously just spent the night shagging like two randy racehorses–what else explains the fact that they’re still sleeping it off at 11 a.m.?–is not an attractive
‘No, not thick,’ I agree.
‘Exceptionally good-looking,’ she goes on.
I nod.
‘He’s certainly what some people might call attractive,’ I say, determined to remain non-committal.
‘Including you?’ She raises her eyebrows.
‘Look, for God’s sake, he’s going out with Valentina,’ I say. ‘Why on earth are you trying to set me up with him?’
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, I suppose I reckon you’d be good together,’ she says. Then she shakes her head. ‘No, you’re quite right, I don’t know what I’m talking about.’
I pour myself some pear juice.
‘So you don’t think we’d be good together?’ I mumble.
She laughs and puts her arm around me.
‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘if you must know, I may not have seen the back of Jack this weekend anyway.’
‘Oh?’ She looks interested.
‘He left his mobile phone here last night, and I’ve got the dubious pleasure of dropping it off at the Crown and Garter where he and Valentina are staying.’
Grace stifles a giggle. ‘Good luck,’ she says.
An hour later, I find myself in the reception of the Crown & Garter, face to face with a hotelier who looks about 132 years old.
‘So, you think they may have already checked out?’ I ask, Jack’s mobile phone in my hand.
‘Oooh, I’m not sure,’ he says, doddering over to a large, leather-bound diary. ‘My wife Edith tends to look after these things, you see. But she had her varicose veins done on Friday and is out of action for a few days. So it’s just me. And I’m afraid I’m probably not as on top of things as she is.’
His shaking fingers turn the pages onto February of last year.
‘I don’t think we’ve got anybody by the name you’re after,’ he says. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right hotel?’
I help him turn the page.
‘I think it’s this February you need to look at,’ I say gently, turning it to the right page. I scan its columns silently myself.
‘Look, there they are,’ I say, seeing Valentina’s name. ‘Room 16. So do you have a record of whether they’ve checked out?’
He frowns. ‘I know I’m meant to,’ he says, starting to look around the desk. ‘But I think that’s in another book. My wife Edith is better at this sort of thing than me. Only, she had her varicose veins done on Friday.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Well, perhaps somebody could go and knock on their door. You know, to see if they’re still there?’
‘That’s a wonderful idea,’ he says, shutting the book. ‘That would solve the problem!’
I smile. ‘Great,’ I say.
‘A very good idea,’ he reiterates.
‘So, will you ask someone to go up there?’ I ask.
He thinks for a second. ‘Oh, well I would do, but I’m by myself, you see,’ he says. ‘My wife Edith has had her varicose veins done.’
‘Okay–well, maybe you could go?’ I suggest.
‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that,’ he says. ‘I need to man the desk in case there’s a rush on. You see, Edith has—’
‘Had her varicose veins done, I know,’ I say.
I look around at the empty reception. The chances of there being a rush on in the next five minutes are so slim they’re anorexic. But I haven’t the heart to argue with him.
‘Right,’ I say instead. ‘What do you suggest then?’
‘Only one thing for it,’ he concludes. ‘You’ll have to go up and see them yourself.’
Chapter 22
The noises coming from Room 16 are really not what I want to hear. They consist of long, guttural snores that are audible from the other end of the corridor and bear an uncanny resemblance to a heavy-duty pneumatic drill. They can only mean one thing: Jack must be in there with Valentina.
I take a deep breath and wonder what the hell I am going to do. Coming face to face with a couple who’ve obviously just spent the night shagging like two randy racehorses–what else explains the fact that they’re still sleeping it off at 11 a.m.?–is not an attractive
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