‘How many people read this paper?’ he asks.
‘No idea. More than a handful but less than a million.’
‘That’s not helpful,’ he says.
‘Well, I’m sorry, but do I look like I have newspaper circulation figures to hand?’ Then, more gently, ‘This might not be a big deal.’ I hope I’m right, though I do know how fast a salacious rumour can spread.
Chapter 24
To be clear, I am not telling you this because I’m proud of it. I know I made it sound like I got on the plane from New York straight after meeting Chuck’s wife. But I did something else first.
I’d staggered away from the market where Chuck and his wife were probably celebrating having got shot of the loony. People avoided me on the pavement as I hyperventilated my way back uptown. I’m sure I made a pretty sight. I had to keep reminding myself that that really had just happened. Not only was my boyfriend married. Not only did he deny having any relationship with me. They were shocking realisations, but not completely unheard of. The sorry fact was that he had stonily calculated every single move, over months, to cover his tracks as he went along. In a million years, I wouldn’t have thought that the man I knew – a kind, caring, open man – was capable of such cold-bloodedness. It was the kind of thing that happened on the True Crime channel, not to people you knew in real life.
As I walked, I started worrying about how I was going to fix my face before going in to work. I didn’t have much make-up with me, and nowhere to reapply it anyway. Isn’t that crazy? Life as I knew it had just imploded and I was concerned that colleagues would see my puffy eyes. I wouldn’t even have a job for much longer, because as soon as Chuck told Andi about the hotel room that I’d essentially stolen, I’d be sacked. That meant my contract would be cancelled and, without a contract, my visa would expire. US Immigration took a very dim view of people who stayed on after that happened.
Chuck’s threat was a ticking time bomb, and I had no idea how much time I had before it exploded. Hours? Days? Not as long as weeks. He’d already told me to take myself off the anniversary party. But I couldn’t do that without an explanation, and I didn’t have one.
I had two choices: I could wait to get pushed out of my job, or I could jump.
At least if I jumped, there was a chance I’d still get a reference when I quit.
So that’s what I did.
If Andi was surprised by my sudden decision, she didn’t let on. It would have meant her showing an emotion other than anger, and that wasn’t really her thing. When I gave her my notice she said I had to work two weeks. That’s when it really hit me. In two short weeks, it would be as if I’d never even been there. Part of me craved the fast, clean break. The prospect was comforting, given the circumstances. But it was also disturbing, given the circumstances. Chuck was getting his way too easily.
My colleagues all knew I’d opted to stay in New York over going to Paris, so naturally they wondered what had changed my mind. I told them the same thing I’d told Andi: my parents needed me home. I didn’t need to elaborate. People’s imagination filled in the crisis for me. It helped that I was bursting into tears about every twenty minutes.
Work went by in a heartbroken haze. But I wasn’t so heartbroken or hazy that I wasn’t also royally pissed off. Which, I hope, explains why I did what I did.
The morning of my last day at work was bright and warm. Summer was coming to New York, though I wouldn’t be there to see it. My suitcases were packed in my flat. The next day’s travelling clothes, my make-up, toothbrush and pyjamas lying on my bed. I’d have to keep paying rent for another month to fulfil the lease and get my security deposit back, but aside from that, I was depressingly unencumbered. It wasn’t like I’d made a lot of friends there. Digby had already left, and he probably wouldn’t have classed me as a friend anyway.
I stayed on the train past my usual stop that day. I had a detour to make before work.
People ignored me as I put my plan into action. It was New York. I could have tap danced naked on a taxicab and hardly drawn a second glance.
The posters were big and brightly coloured with an eye-catching font. And Chuck’s photo – the one from skiing – was nice too. Anyone who even vaguely knew him would recognise him. Just to be sure, I added a little © Chuck Williamson, just to give him full credit. Though I doubted he’d appreciate that.
Armed with two hundred posters and rolls of sturdy tape, I worked methodically around the block where his office stood. Every signpost. Every railing and bus shelter. Phone boxes, building hoardings and steps. I taped them to the pavement, on manhole covers and on bollards. Chuck’s face went up on rubbish bins, crosswalk boxes, even on fire hydrants. By the time I’d worked my way to his office doors, I’d taped up at least a hundred in about a five-block radius.
People were starting to look at them now. A few snapped photos on their phones.
THIS IS CHUCK
CHUCK HAS A WIFE
CHUCK ALSO HAS A GIRLFRIEND
THEY DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT EACH OTHER
UNTIL THEY MET
CHUCK HAS BEEN A LYING, CHEATING BASTARD TO THEM BOTH
NOBODY SHOULD TRUST CHUCK
NOT FRIENDS, NOT COLLEAGUES
AND ESPECIALLY NOT THE WOMEN OF NEW YORK
DON’T BE LIKE CHUCK
But I couldn’t stick around to watch, because the people of Penn Station needed telling on their commute home. I taped up loads more there too, inside and out, and hurried to Chuck’s club to finish spreading the word.
I had a few dozen posters left over, and it seemed a shame to waste them, so I zigzagged my way to my hotel, taping as I went. Chuck might get the ones down around his office, but he’d never find them all.
I wasn’t looking forward to the last thing I needed to do, but I knew exactly what Chuck’s reaction would be when he realised what I’d done.
‘Andi? There’s something you should know,’ I said as soon as I saw her.
‘You’re not going to get emotional, are you?’
‘Erm, no.’ I handed her one of the posters.
‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ she asked when she’d read it.
‘I just wanted you to know. I’ve put them up around the city. In case there are any… repercussions, I’m sorry about that.’
‘Fine. Now I know,’ she said. But as she turned away, I thought I caught her smiling.
Later when I went into the events office, my eye fell on the bright poster. It was taped to the wall above the staff coffee machine. Andi had circled NOBODY SHOULD TRUST CHUCK in bold black marker pen.
I half expected him to turn up at the hotel, or at my flat, but then he wouldn’t have known he had only a few hours to catch me before I left the scene of the crime. I kept my phone turned off till I boarded my flight the next day, and didn’t get his messages till I landed at Heathrow. I was expecting it, but listening to the hatred in his voice still made me feel ill.
Ill, but not sorry. It wasn’t big or clever, but at least he hadn’t got away completely with breaking my heart.
Chapter 25
It was as I’d watched Barry sitting beside Peter during the karaoke that I got the idea. As Peter kipped in the middle of their act, Barry knew exactly what his human needed from him. ‘Barry’s all right?’ I ask Peter now, glancing in the rear-view mirror. ‘We’re nearly home anyway.’ Though I don’t really need to take my eyes off the road to know the dog is panting in the back seat. He sounds like a handsaw.
Peter cracks the window on Barry’s side. ‘We’re not great in cars. But we really appreciate this.’
‘I’m happy to help,’ I say. ‘And I’m sure they’ll approve Barry.’
Dogs can be certified as carers for people with disabilities, and not just the usual seeing-eye dogs that most people know about. Dogs are being trained to tell their humans when they need insulin or are about to have a severe allergic reaction or any number of other life-threatening conditions. And if they’re a certified car
er, then they must be allowed to live with their human.
You probably see where we’re going with this.
Peter’s meeting with the woman who runs the programme seemed to go well. They don’t usually train pets, she’d said, but having a lifetime of training already, Barry is no ordinary pet, so they’re looking at making an exception. The only sticking point was when she asked Peter to demonstrate how Barry reacts when he has a sleep attack. Peter duly fell to the floor, but Barry wasn’t fooled. He simply waited for his human to stop fooling around.
I probably could have tickled Peter or something to trigger an attack – it happens every time he laughs too hard – but the woman seemed as impressed that Barry knew the difference between real and pretend, so we didn’t have to go to those lengths.
‘We’ll just go up the back stairs,’ Peter says as we walk together across the hotel’s drive.
‘Don’t. If the Philanskys want to make a fuss, then we’ll tell them that Barry is about to become a service dog. There’s legally nothing they’ll be able to do.’
Something feels different as soon as I get inside the hotel, but it takes me a minute to put my finger on what it is.
I don’t hear the hoovers. That’s it. Normally the cleaners have finished upstairs by now and are in the common rooms. They’re very regimented like that.
One of the guests catches my attention. ‘Pardon me, but did you come by taxi?’
‘No, sorry, I drove. Why?’
‘It’s just that we’ve been waiting for one. I thought we might see if yours was free, but never mind.’ His wife is standing beside their overnight bags looking stressed.
‘I’ll just check on your taxi.’ I go into the office where Rory is on the phone. He holds up his hand.
‘Tomorrow? No, I see. Well, tell her we hope she feels better soon. Thank you.’ He hangs up.
‘Someone’s been waiting for a taxi?’ I say. ‘He says he’s been waiting for a while. Honestly, I leave you for a few hours and the whole place falls apart.’
But Rory’s in no mood for jokes. ‘That was Stella’s mum. She says Stella’s ill.’
‘Oh. Did she say what was wrong?’
‘She was evasive. Whatever it is, Sue, Liz and Zynah seem to have it too. Nobody turned up this morning.’
That explains the hoover silence. ‘Mass food poisoning?’
‘Mass something,’ he says. ‘This isn’t good.’
‘Well, no, because it means you and I are going to have to clean the rooms now. Have you got your Marigolds handy?’ I catch his expression. ‘Come on, where’s your sense of humour?’
‘It’s at home with our striking cleaners.’
‘… You don’t think this is deliberate?’
The guest pops his head around the corner. ‘Pardon me, but is the taxi coming? We need to be at the station.’
‘I have already rung,’ Rory says. ‘They said five minutes. Let me try again.’
But when the taxi firm picks up, he’s told that there are no taxis available. ‘But you assigned us one ten minutes ago,’ Rory says. ‘What happened to him? I see. And you’ve got no one else? Thank you.’
‘He says the drivers have gone on break.’
‘All of them?’ Quickly I log onto my computer and Google taxis. There’ll be other options.
As I’m reading out another number to Rory, the little envelope sign in the corner of my screen catches my eye. I’ve got mail.
I think I know it’s from Digby before I see his name in the inbox.
‘I’m really sorry,’ the man hovering in the doorway says, ‘but we’ve got non-flexible train tickets.’
‘It’s no problem, I can take you to the station,’ I tell the guest, turning away from the screen. ‘It’s only a five-minute drive.’
Plus, I’ve waited three years for Digby to talk to me. Another twenty minutes won’t kill me.
When I see at least three taxis in the queue at the station from the firm Rory just rang, I know for sure that something is wrong. They’re all empty, waiting for business, and not one of the drivers looks like he’s on a break.
Luckily Rory’s not in the office when I get back. So whatever Digby has to say to me, at least I won’t have an audience for my reaction. Taking a deep breath, I click open the email.
Hi Rosie,
To say it was a surprise to see your email would be an understatement. I almost fell off my chair!
That’s good, right? He didn’t say outright that he still hates me.
I didn’t expect to hear from you again, after what happened.
That’s maybe not so good.
You’re right, you were definitely unfair, and it pissed me off for a long time. You should have been honest with me, instead of waiting till the last minute. That made it harder, Rosie, not easier. I’d like to think I’d never treat friend like that.
I deserve this.
But…
There’s a glimmer of hope in that but.
Now I can understand why you did it. That’s not to say you weren’t a total asshole about it, but I can understand how we can do stupid things when we’re in love.
Digby’s in love? That roll-up-smoking beret-wearing girlfriend is a reality!
Yes, I’m with an amazing woman, who can make me do stupid things. So I’m glad you got in touch, and thanks for your congratulations. Paris has been awesome to me! You missed out on a great city, but I hope it was all worth it.
Of course. He doesn’t know how my story ended.
Email back and let me know what’s going on in your life. It’s good to be in touch.
Digby
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Digby has forgiven me for the way I treated him. Or, at least, he understands. And he’s in love!
But there’s no time now to answer him, because we have to coerce Janey and Cheryl after breakfast to help Rory and I clean the rooms. It’s partly because we’ve been friends for years, and mostly because I offer to pay them handsomely for sticking their hands into toilets, that they agree to do it. We’re lucky it’s a weekday when the hotel’s not full. ‘This is a very short-term solution,’ I tell Rory. ‘We can’t run a hotel without cleaners. And there’s definitely something up with the taxis. It’s that damn article. I’m Skyping Curtis as soon as he’s in the office. We’re going to need a huge peace offering for the town. Maybe he’ll listen to reason about the events.’
He’d better, or he’s going to lose his business.
‘Hi, little buddies!’ Curtis says, giving us the hang-ten hand signal. I’m so used to it now that I nearly do it back. Then I remember that I’m English.
He’s rubbing one of the long surfboards he’s laid across his desk. ‘The surf’s up today!’
I’ve got to bite down my annoyance that he’s going to faff around in the waves while we’ve been changing sheets and playing taxi driver. ‘Curtis, there’s something you should be aware of at the hotel. Did a newspaper happen to ring you about an article?’
Curtis smiles as he tucks his hair behind his ears. ‘Yeah! Great to be getting coverage, eh? They were really interested in all the improvements we’re making.’
I bet they were. ‘Did they mention anything about … apartheid?’
‘We didn’t get into politics. I’m totally against it, by the way. I was protesting Coca-Cola on campus back in the eighties when Mandiba was still in prison.’
That’s very nice but, at the moment, I’m not really interested in his political views. ‘Well then, Curtis, you’ll be interested to know that the newspaper has called us the Apartheid Hotel, thanks to your new policies. It’s causing problems for us here.’
Curtis’s normally jovial face goes very still. ‘What’s the beef, dudette?’
‘The beef, Curtis, is that we’re having to exclude the local people from the hotel now, and it’s not going over well in town.’
‘Why exclude people?’ he asks. ‘You’re supposed to welcome everyone. That’s the whole point of a hotel
.’
‘He doesn’t know,’ Rory murmurs. So we have to explain about all the rules his brother has made. With every decree, the frown lines deepen on Curtis’s forehead.
‘You shouldn’t have gone against the locals,’ I say. ‘We’ve been part of the community for a hundred years. You can’t ban them now. It might be just another business to you, some investment on your books, but it means a lot more to them. Especially the residents! This is their home, and you’ve got no right to force them out. No moral right, I mean. But you don’t think about morals, do you? No, of course not. It’s all about exploiting legal loopholes to get your way. Well, I’ve got news for you, Curtis Philansky, you’re not the only one who can think like that. I’ve rung the Council and told them what you’re trying to do. They’ll challenge your de facto evictions, in court if they need to, and I’m going to do everything I can to help them win. You’ve got no right hurting people like this.’
‘But I don’t want to hurt anyone, little dude!’ Curtis says. He’s stopped his surfboard polishing and is leaning against his desk.
‘Then challenge your brother,’ Rory says. ‘If he’s behind all the problems and you don’t agree with it, then stop him.’
‘You don’t understand,’ says Curtis. ‘That’s not how we work. We’ve got an agreement –’
‘Oh, will you just grow some bollocks!’ I shout. ‘You sit there like some overgrown child playing with your surfboards and letting PK call all the shots. You say you don’t want to hurt anyone, but all I see is a pussy who’s afraid of his brother. Seriously, grow a pair.’
‘I’ll take that under advisement, dudette,’ he says. He sounds uncharacteristically glum. ‘Bye.’ He hangs up.
There’ll be no peace out for us this time.
‘Well, that went well,’ Rory says.
‘Do you think I’ve just lost my job?’
He winces. ‘Put it this way. You’re probably not up for a raise. Are you okay?’
Am I? I look at my hands, which are shaking, whether with fury or fear, I’m not sure. But that needed to be said. Curtis might think this is just one big jolly, some investment to milk for profit, but it’s affecting people’s lives. What’s worse, these are people who can’t really fight back – our neighbours who need the companionship they find at our events, our residents who could be out on the street if they’re made to leave, and me. I can talk a good game, but what can I really do aside from ring the Council and hope? It’s a pretty hopeless feeling, actually.
The Big Dreams Beach Hotel Page 22