The Eleventh Floor

by Shani Struthers

  “This is lovely,” she exclaimed. “Really nice.”

  Tom set down her case and smiled. “You sound surprised.”

  “No, well… yeah. The room size, it’s very generous.”

  “The Egress prides itself on how spacious it is. You’ll also find that each room is different, some subtly, some more noticeably, but all home comforts are included.”

  The way he said it had all the attributes of a sales pitch.

  Doing as she had promised herself only a minute or two before, Caroline crossed over to the window and drew the net curtain aside. “It’s got so much worse.”

  She sighed, partly impressed by the weather, and partly dismayed. From on high the vista should be impressive – the bright lights of Williamsfield twinkling in the distance perhaps, instead, it was a whiteout that greeted her, disguising even the blackness of the night. She’d reached the hotel in the nick of time and for that she was grateful, imagining herself still stuck on that stretch of highway, shivering in that tiny rental car, praying for someone to come along, to help her. Although it was sufficiently warm in the room, she shivered at the thought.

  She turned to find Tom waiting patiently by the door… expectantly.

  “Oh,” she said, realising what he was waiting for.

  She dug around in her handbag until she found her purse, swiftly retrieving a five-dollar bill. “Here,” she said, handing it over to him, “and thank you very much.”

  “Thank you,” replied Tom. She guessed this would have been the point where he would have tipped his hat at her, had he been wearing one. She couldn’t resist enquiring.

  “Isn’t there a hat that’s supposed to go with that uniform?”

  “A hat?” Again Tom looked taken aback.

  “Yeah,” Caroline said, smiling at him whilst gesturing to her own head.

  “Oh, I see, yes, there is,” Tom confirmed. “It got lost though, a long time ago.”

  “That’s a shame. You’ll get a new one perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.” There was no conviction whatsoever in his voice. “I’ll leave you to settle in.”

  She thanked him again and walked over to the door. About to close it behind him she heard a sudden, rather startling, burst of high-pitched laughter. Curious, she stepped further into the corridor, initially glancing right, towards the corner suite, the room that was always occupied. Was it Althea who was responsible for such a noise? Quickly, she realised it wasn’t coming in that direction, and looked to her left instead. A head appeared, poking out from one of the rooms further down – a female, definitely a female, with a shock of auburn hair. For a brief moment their eyes met, Caroline registering a whole range of emotions evident in the other woman: glee, but a manic kind of glee; surprise too – perhaps that someone had turned up in weather like this. Caroline started to smile politely in greeting but the head retreated and the door slammed shut.

  Bemused, Caroline looked at Tom. “Who’s that? Do you know?”

  “Another newcomer,” Tom answered, a slight frown on his face. “She introduced herself as Elspeth.”

  “Oh right. I’m Caroline by the way.”

  Tom simply smiled at her.

  “Are there many guests here?” She’d asked Raquel a similar question but hadn’t got a clear answer.

  “There’s enough. If you don’t mind, Ma’am…”

  “Ma’am?” She was surprised he’d addressed her as such. They’d been speaking in a fairly informal manner up until now. “No, of course not, I’m sure you need to get on. Tend to all the other… guests.”

  “Dinner is served at eight o’ clock in the ballroom,” he told her.

  “The ballroom? That sounds very grand. Where’s that?”

  “Just off the lobby.”

  So the dining room she’d spotted was a dual function room too by the sounds of it.

  “Is there room service by any chance?” she asked. She fancied just kicking off her shoes, getting out of her clothes and into more comfy attire, catching up on some news, the weather forecast, of course, and the havoc it was wreaking across Pennsylvania as well as any other states. The more she thought about it, the more that idea appealed.

  “Tom?” she prompted when he made no reply.

  “It’s best you come to the ballroom,” he insisted, turning on his heel and walking away.

  Chapter Three

  In the privacy of her room, Caroline shook her head at Tom’s insistence. Okay, have it your way, the ballroom it is. A wry smile crossed her face. What clothes will suit such palatial surrounds, I wonder? If indeed it was palatial.

  She’d brought a pretty good selection with her but it was mainly in the form of jeans, tee-shirts and jumpers – she wasn’t really a dressy kind of girl.

  Settling her case on the suitcase stand, she opened it and rummaged inside. There was one dress, which she hadn’t in fact worn yet – a close-fitting black jersey dress, which ended just above the knee and had a v-neck – that would do. Retrieving it, she smoothed any creases with her hand and laid it over the arm of the soft brown leather sofa, and added to it fresh underwear and kitten-heeled black shoes, the latter that she’d packed on a whim. She glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes past six, plenty of time to get ready – perhaps a little time to explore too, starting with her own room.

  As she’d already said to Tom, it was a sizeable room, more like a small apartment. Certainly back in London, especially central London, studios didn’t come much bigger. She’d never have guessed there’d be so much space. It seemed… exaggerated somehow. The main light was as subdued as those in the corridor, so she turned on various lamps as well; none of them were overly bright either. In the living area, in front of the sofa, was a low coffee table, a striking piece of furniture with a highly polished top – oak she guessed – making a mental note not to put any coffee cups directly down upon it. Under the window there was a writing desk and a chair, and also a flat screen TV facing the sofa, the only obvious gesture towards modernism. Immediately to the right of the main entrance was another door. She opened it, expecting to find a storage cupboard. To her surprise it was a kitchenette, compact but nonetheless boasting a white ceramic sink, tea and coffee maker, and a microwave. Delighted, she filled the coffee maker with water and switched it on. A cup of tea would be very welcome after what she’d been through, although she yearned for Twinings English Breakfast rather than the Lipton’s sachet on offer.

  The bedroom was next. Behind the double doors was another revelation. The bed was a real feature piece, enormous with an oak headboard, cream sheets, and blankets. Other than that there was a wardrobe and a dressing table. To the right was the en suite bathroom, which Caroline entered with high hopes. Not as glamorous as expected, it was actually rather basic, with a short tub that although clean was stained dark brown in places, particularly where the tap would drip drip drip if not turned off properly. Above the sink unit was an oval mirror – again it was nothing fancy, not backlit, or anything, very plain in fact, with a blue and gilt frame. Placing her hands either side of the sink she stared at her reflection. Her age was beginning to show; not just that but the loss she’d suffered in recent years was apparent too, at least to her. She had a few lines forming around her eyes and dark circles beneath them but it was actually her eyes that gave the most cause for concern. Green with brown flecks in them, the same colour as her mother’s, they had a look that was hard to describe. Haunted sounded a bit affected, but it was the only word she could drum up. She looked haunted.

  Go and turn on the TV, see what’s happening in the world.

  It was sound advice – anything to take her mind off the melancholy reflection.

  Leaving the bathroom, she was about to go back into the living room when a piece of paper on the desk caught her eye; it was fluttering slightly, probably because of the air-con. Picking it up, she found it was a welcome letter, printed rather than handwritten, but in an elegant script on cream vellum paper, an encircled E at the bottom of it.r />
  As she scanned the content, her eyes grew wider.

  To Our Guest,

  Welcome to The Egress – a very special hotel.

  We hope that you are granted peace and serenity while you remain under our roof. May those whom you love and hold dear be near to you in thoughts and dreams and, even though you may be simply passing through, we wish you nothing but good will.

  All of us are on a journey. From birth till death we travel between the eternities. May these days be pleasant for you, helpful for those you meet and a joy to those who know and love you best. When you journey onwards, may your passage be a safe one.

  For a moment all Caroline could do was stare. In every hotel she’d ever been in, never had she seen such a greeting. It was… What was it? Weird? Immediately, she berated herself. It wasn’t weird… well, maybe it was, just a little bit, what with all that stuff about travelling between the eternities, but it was something else too… special. That’s how The Egress had described itself and that’s how her mother had described it too, and in that instant she considered them both right. Glancing around she found she was smiling. She hadn’t been planning on staying here, but here she had found herself and once again she was grateful. This was an establishment that seemed to care about its guests. Although perhaps the same couldn’t be said of the receptionist, a young woman obviously bored with proceedings and not averse to showing it! Not wishing to be uncharitable, Caroline backtracked. Perhaps Raquel was having a bad day. Maybe she lived in town and couldn’t get home tonight, the weather having trapped her here too. Whatever the reason, it was no concern of hers. She was going to have that cuppa, dash off a quick text to Violet, in case she was watching CNN and was worrying about her, then take a long hot shower. The TV would be left on in the background, not only for news information but to counter the silence. Once dressed, she’d go to dinner, via the second floor and room 210.

  * * *

  At the elevator, Caroline paused. Should she take the stairs instead? She really didn’t fancy getting stuck in there, banging at the doors, yelling to be released, no one around to hear her. Don’t be so dramatic, Caroline, you’ll be fine! A laugh escaped her. Perhaps she was getting a bit carried away. Of course she’d take the elevator.

  Whilst waiting for it, she looked behind her, at the room Elspeth had poked her head out of earlier – 1101. Would she be at dinner? If so, that might prove interesting. When she returned her gaze frontwards she was surprised to see the elevator doors already open – there’d been no bell to alert her, as was the norm, no sound at all in fact.

  Everything’s so quiet, she thought, notwithstanding Elspeth’s sudden burst of laughter earlier, as quiet as a world freshly covered in snow ought to be.

  Entering, she selected the second floor. For a moment nothing happened and then it was as though the elevator remembered it had a job to do and woke up, closing its doors and travelling downwards, taking its own sweet time, as it had done earlier.

  “At last,” she muttered, slightly irritated. The elevator came to a stop, but one glance at the floor counter told her she wasn’t on two but five. “What the…?” Was it really going to take this long to travel between floors?

  The doors opened again and a girl stepped in – a young girl with a fine head of thick black hair that obscured her face, Emo style.

  Caroline smiled at her but was duly ignored. Instead, the girl turned swiftly to face the direction from which she’d come. Dressed in a lemon-coloured blouse and an A-line, knee-length blue plaid skirt, she also had on long white socks and a pair of black slip-on shoes. Although Caroline hadn’t got a good look at her face, she guessed she was a young teen – fourteen or fifteen – one who stood completely still, not jabbing at any buttons.

  The elevator waited as did Caroline… and waited. After a few seconds she at least could wait no more.

  “What floor do you want?” she asked brightly.

  The girl didn’t answer.

  “I’m going to floor two. Would you like the lobby?”

  Still the girl didn’t answer.

  What’s wrong with her? Is she deaf or something?

  Immediately she chastised herself for being uncharitable again. What if she was deaf?

  She decided to take matters into her own hands and pressed the lobby button for her. To her relief, the girl didn’t object.

  Once again it took an age to burst into life but floor two was eventually reached and Caroline skirted around the girl to walk down yet another corridor, one that was identical to the eleventh, the same patterned carpet beneath her feet, the same chipped tiles on the skirting, the same lighting but perhaps a bit duller, giving everything a somewhat shadowy edge. Before the elevator doors closed, she glanced backwards, intending to smile again at the mysterious child, but she must have moved to the side, as she couldn’t spot her.

  Mentally shrugging, Caroline continued onwards. There was not even a hint of any renovation going on, but she couldn’t deny that it was sorely needed. As she walked, she listened for signs of life behind guest room doors but couldn’t hear a thing. Once again, the quiet unsettled her. As on her floor, there was a window at the far end of the corridor, net curtains obscuring the view, and to the right of that was the corner suite: 210. Directly opposite the corner suite was another door with an illuminated Exit sign above it – the stairwell. She’d use it to reach the lobby, fearing if she opted for the elevator again she’d miss dinner altogether. But first, there were memories to indulge in, those of her living, breathing parents, when they were young and in love. Turning back to 210, she reached out a hand and laid it against the oak of the door. Is this it, is this where I was conceived, in this very room?

  How amazing if it was, the life that was hers coming into force a few feet away, in a hotel her parents had found themselves stranded in, just as she was stranded now.

  If there was an occupant in room 210, Caroline sincerely hoped they wouldn’t choose this moment to yank open the door to find her standing there. Not that she’d loiter for long. She wouldn’t. All she wanted was a little time to remember – to connect. As there was no sound of life from within, no TV blaring, no coughing, no shuffling, no snatched conversations, she figured she was safe to shut her eyes briefly as memories dutifully flooded her mind. Her mother’s smile: soft and beguiling. Her father’s laughter – he was always laughing, except at the end when cancer had wiped all humour from him.

  Think good thoughts, she reminded herself, only happy thoughts.

  She tried, but it was difficult. Every time a good memory surfaced, a bad one raced to catch up with it – the tragedy of her parents’ fate refusing to be denied. She was doing her best to obey her mother’s last instruction, to embrace life, just as Dee had embraced life, squeezing every last drop from it, but grief had a habit of consuming her.

  Unsurprisingly her memories returned to childhood – they almost always did – she and Ethan in a park, her father pushing her on a swing, her mother chasing her brother down the slide, a family day out, simple, but laced with so much joy. Eating meals together around the dinner table, her mother cooked a mean spaghetti with meatballs and her father was a dab hand too, tending to create more exotic fare such as curries and tagines, telling them that they’d travel the world one day, eat such food in their countries of origin.

  Live. Love.

  Bedtime stories were another favourite memory; her parents keeping the ritual going until she was eleven at least, long after it had ended for most of her friends. She inhaled. Chanel No.5 – a scent her mother loved. She swore she could smell it now, as sweet as ever, then a more masculine smell: soap and cologne, peculiar to her father, and just as comforting.

  “Sweet Caroline.” That’s what they called her. “Did you know there’s a song about you?”

  They’d played her that song many times, the gravelly voice of Neil Diamond always a pleasure to listen to. For years she’d thought Sweet Caroline was written solely for her, was amazed that Mr Diamond had
gone to such lengths. How did he even know she existed? Certainly she couldn’t recall meeting him. Only when she was older did she realise the truth – Mum and Dad, being Mum and Dad, hadn’t wanted to burst her bubble.

  Her eyes still closed, she started swaying to the tune, humming along to it too, still make-believing the song was about her.

  Good times never seemed so good…

  This felt good, listening to it again. It had been an age.

  Listening to it…? Her eyes flew open.

  “What the—?”

  She could hear it, actually hear it, although she couldn’t detect where it was coming from. Not from the room in front of her, it was more in the air around, the atmosphere, familiar notes that wrapped her in a soft caress. And the smells of perfume and tobacco, they had substance too – not just the wisps of memory.

  She swung around; half expecting to see a man and a woman standing beside her – Tony and Dee – but of course there was no one, only an empty space. And the tune, her special tune, began to fade, but taking its time, as slow as the elevator.

  Hardly daring to breathe, she listened until the very last note played, clinging to it.

  The perfumed fragrances had dissipated too – the pungency of them.

  Caroline dared to breathe again, stunned at the power of imagination. It was as though she’d conjured her parents up! Was that a good thing? She pondered that question, but only for a moment. Of course it was a good thing. It meant that in some way they were still with her. She laughed, couldn’t help it, relief flooding through her. But, as wonderful as it was, enough was enough. She would hug the experience to her not milk it. Turning towards the stairwell, Caroline pushed the door open. Just before it shut, she once again marvelled at the power of imagination. She’d caught another sound – tinkling laughter – her mother’s laughter – and it was coming from directly behind her.