He settled back down beside her and drew her into his arms, into a protective circle, in which no harm could ever come to her. If only she could stay there. If only the world really would fade. The Egress was a special place, she’d been told that over and over again, she’d read it in the welcome note, and it was true. Certainly she’d found something special here, something that had previously eluded her. A thousand love songs suddenly made sense, classic works of fiction, poetry too. She got it, every last word; it was no longer foreign. But there was a world out there and, despite her efforts, it kept encroaching on her thoughts.
“You asked me if I was worried about work. Are you?”
He hesitated before answering. “Work? Why would I be?”
“You know, missing out on goals, targets, I suppose. Getting into trouble with your boss?”
“My boss? No. I’m my own boss in many ways.”
“Are you commission based?”
He pulled his head away to look at her, amusement on his face. “Hey, Ms. Daynes, you wouldn’t be after my money, would you?”
She smiled too. “I earn enough to keep myself, thanks.”
“That’s alright then. Yes, I’m commission based, in a way, but it’s not a problem, really. Don’t worry about it.”
A few moments passed, and then worry crept in again. “What about Elspeth? What happened to her, do you think? How can a person just die like that?”
Again he didn’t answer straight away. When he did his voice was solemn. “We don’t know how long she’s been a user – it may have been years, plenty of ’em. The strain that puts on the heart is enormous. I’m no expert but I have to say, her behaviour was very erratic, her mind almost certainly fried. Even when lucid she tripped over her words, made very little sense. You can tell she’s been in trouble for a long time.”
Caroline felt like crying again. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, I know. Drugs, they’re a scourge. Once they get their hooks into you…”
She was the one to sit now, so that she could stare down into his eyes. “You know, you were so lovely with her, you and Marilyn, you did everything you could to help her. I think that’s when I first…” Her words tailed off as her cheeks started to burn.
He wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “First what, Caroline?”
She swallowed. Could she say it, was it too soon? “I… David, you know that thing with Edward—”
“Caroline, don’t spoil this.”
“I want to explain – I have to. It was nothing, just a kiss, unexpected and, in the end, unwanted. There was never a chance of anything more happening between us.”
He nodded, sombre again. “Thanks. I think I did need to hear that, after all.”
She took a deep breath. “David, what we have, what we’ve discovered, can we make it work? I know we’re on opposite sides of the pond, but we’re both free agents, at least.” Expecting him to reply straightaway, she was surprised when he didn’t. “David?”
He sat up too, causing her insides to turn to jelly. Had she read this wrong?
He took her hands in his and held them. “You’ve been truthful with me, I need to return the favour. I’ve already told you I’m not in a relationship, the first night we met, and that’s correct… up to a point. There is a woman. Nothing’s happened; we’ve not long met either. I like her and she seems keen on me, but…” He had to stop to take a breath. “She’s not like you. I don’t feel this way about her. I’ve never felt this way. Caroline, you’re asking me if this could work. Here’s my answer: it has to.”
There was desperation in his words that she could identify with – that only intensified as his lips met hers again, lending an almost frenzied quality to their next bout of lovemaking. At the point of climax the tears started again. She couldn’t prevent them. Bittersweet. Yet again she thought that – couldn’t push the word aside – it defined them somehow. This should be the happiest time of her life. It was the happiest time. And yet…
Caroline, you have to stop fretting.
She was trying, she really was. Later, as they finally left the sanctuary of her bed and padded over to the window to see what the day was like, worry caught hold of her again, its grip as powerful as any drug that might have ensnared Elspeth. David gazed outwards whilst she gazed at him, noting again the paleness of his skin, how the bruises stood out against it. And then she turned away; saw not just the grey, leaden sky that she’d grown used to, but also a tiny patch of shimmering blue. She should have been thrilled to see it, ecstatic, as it meant change really was on its way. But all it triggered was dismay. It’s the beginning of the end, was all she could think, immediately trying to dismiss yet another rogue thought. It refused to abate. This is all going to end…
Chapter Twenty
On the fourth night there was hardly anyone in attendance at dinner, as if people were in hiding. Perhaps we should hide too, thought Caroline, standing where she had so often recently: at the entrance to the ballroom. Hole up in 1106 until the thaw really does set in. But it wasn’t feasible. Besides the pair of them having worked up a considerable appetite, David wanted to check on Elspeth’s body, he felt a responsibility for her, a reluctance to leave her completely alone in the dark, something Caroline appreciated, even if Elspeth couldn’t. It turned out Raquel wasn’t averse to the idea; on the contrary, it was as though she half expected it, and handed over the key without further question. Caroline offered to accompany him to 409, but he’d been adamant there was no need. Despite declaring dinner a sacred ritual, she could see there was no Althea, events having taken their toll on her too, most likely. Edward was there, however, doing his utmost to look composed. David had said that the two men had indeed reached a truce, albeit an uneasy one, but she was furious with him still for attacking David. “Don’t be,” he’d advised, prior to dinner. “Ignore him, and ignore Tallula too, we’ll be rid of them soon enough.” Hallelujah to that. Tallula was with him. She seemed completely unfazed by anything that had gone before. Rather, she behaved like the cat that had got the cream, leaning into Edward, one hand always on him, fawning as much as Marilyn ever had towards Elspeth.
Before taking a seat, Caroline stopped at Marilyn’s table. She’d been sitting alone initially, John coming in to join her a few minutes later, and her eyes flickering towards the doorway until he did. Their mutual dependency seemed to have evolved naturally enough, loss being the glue that united them, although what type of loss it was for John, she still didn’t know. Perhaps she never would – there was every chance she’d leave The Egress before an opportunity arose to speak to him alone again. Whatever it was, she was glad they had each other; perhaps their relationship would last long after they’d left here too.
She and Marilyn talked about Elspeth of course, Marilyn struggling for composure as her eyes started watering, one hand, perhaps inevitably, creeping up towards her neck – a nervous habit Caroline was beginning to think, certainly there was no evidence of a rash. On seeing her upset again, John had offered Marilyn water and she’d taken it, bestowing on him a grateful smile. When she’d finished drinking, she reached across, and patted John, and then she’d let her hand linger, clearly deriving comfort from such nearness. The other topic of conversation between them had been the weather. It might be imagination at work again, but she detected disappointment in them that it was on the turn too.
After a while, Caroline felt like she was intruding on the couple, although she knew that would never be their intention. These weren’t people who’d ever want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. They were good people, she decided, even John, despite his low opinion of himself. Making her excuses, she returned to her usual table.
When David arrived, he looked more haunted than ever. His eyes only briefly engaging with Edward’s, and Caroline was surprised to note it was the latter who chose to avert his gaze first. Tallula, though, was another matter. She glared at David and continued to do so long after he’d sat down. Caroline wouldn’t giv
e her the satisfaction of glaring back. He was right – the most effective thing to do was not give them the attention they craved.
Dinner was eaten; catfish this time, for both of them. There was a very real likelihood the roads would be passable again from tomorrow, or if not, the next day. She hadn’t listened to the news for a long time, couldn’t summon up the interest if she were honest, but she’d gleaned that the snowplows were now out in force. The world was opening up again, becoming theirs. She still had three days left before her scheduled flight home; days that she and David had resolved to spend together, perhaps not here, at The Egress, but somewhere. And then… Well then, who knew? She’d learnt to expect the unexpected.
Coffee finished too, David looked at her. “Your room or mine?”
“You fancy christening that too, do you?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I’ll tell you something: my room’s got one thing going for it. One thing that’s quite handy, considering.”
“Considering what?”
His eyes led her downwards. “It’s a hell of a lot closer. I’m raring to go.”
She opened her mouth. “Mr Mason, I’m shocked!”
“Bullcrap, you’re delighted.”
“But… but…”
“Seriously, honey, modesty doesn’t suit you.”
About to protest, she thought better of it. “Damn it, you’re right. I’ll race you…”
They’d actually left the ballroom in a sedate manner rather than frenzied, their pace picking up in the lobby and then increasing further on the stairwell, often taking steps two at a time. Reaching 310, she was excited to see the interior too – another unique room.
Whilst he busied himself opening the door, a thought occurred. ‘Not superstitious are you?’ That’s what Raquel had said when she’d given David this room. What had she meant by that? Just as the door swung open, she realised.
“Of course! Three plus ten equals thirteen.”
David turned to her, a frown on his face. “What’s that you said?”
“When Raquel gave you the key to your room, she asked if you were superstitious, do you remember?” It was clear he didn’t, so she elaborated. “I was puzzled too. In this hotel there’s no number 13, rooms start with the floor number, so on the second floor it’s 201 to 210, then 301 to 310, 401 and so on and so on. Well… three plus ten equals thirteen, that’s what she must have meant. Lucky for some, and it is, it’s the corner suite.”
David was still perplexed. “That’s a bit of a stretch. I mean, 310 isn’t the only room in the hotel that adds up to 13, there’s 508—”
“607,” she added, “706, 805, 904—”
“What are you, a math genius?”
“I do work in finance,” she reminded him.
“Of course. I guess that explains the way your mind works.” Reaching out, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her over the threshold. Immediately a bolt of pain threatened to blind her, similar to the one she’d experienced on the night Edward had arrived at the hotel. It caused her to screw her eyes shut and turn her head to the side.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I… It’s nothing. I just need a glass of water I think.”
“It’s not the side of garlic bread I had at dinner?” he quipped.
She tried to smile even though it hurt. “I had it too, remember? You insisted, so that we cancel each other out.”
“Did it work?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Phew, that’s a relief. One glass of water coming right up.”
He released her and she continued inwards, the pain only increasing. A large room with several windows, it had a solid feel to it, with sturdy pieces of furniture reinforcing that fact. The leather sofas, abstract artwork on the wall, and his coffee cup perched on the writing desk gave it a masculine energy too. It suited him perfectly, this room. It was exactly as she’d imagined it to be. Reaching out a hand to steady herself against the desk, she couldn’t help but think about the room below – 210 – the corner suite her parents had once occupied. It was close. Perhaps a little too close; surreal even. That’s what everything at the Egress felt like – surreal – including her feelings about David, erupting out of nowhere to consume her. And yet, in her room, on the eleventh floor, it was as real as it got.
A noise. Laughter. She was sure of it. Tinkling laughter…
“Here you go.” David had returned with the water. “Take a sip.”
She did but it failed to revive her.
Concern caused him to frown. “Caroline, you really don’t look well—”
“I’m fine, honestly.” She had to be; she didn’t want anything to mar their time together. “It’s just… I don’t know. Do you mind if we go back to my room?”
“Your room? Well, if you’d rather…”
“I really think I would. I’m sorry.”
Back in 1106, she did indeed feel better – the pain gradually subsiding. But she was shaken by her feeling of weirdness in 310; couldn’t quite forget it. And the laughter she’d heard – her mother’s laughter – that had upset her too. Imagination was such a powerful thing, able to manifest something that wasn’t there. Longing probably at the root of it.
If only her mother knew about her being here at The Egress. In some ways, she’d been born again. And yet…
God, she was tired. In bed, she’d asked David just to hold her first of all.
“Honey, I’ll hold you all night long, if that’s what you want.”
She had no idea that she’d fallen asleep. Not until she woke up. A slight movement had disturbed her. Lying on her side, she forced herself to open her eyes, fearful of what she might see. It was dark, and in the darkness there was indeed a shape, but one that was dear to her: David. He had left her bed and was pulling on his clothes, clearly trying to be as quiet as possible. She was about to call out, to ask him what he was doing, but confusion stopped her. Fear again that she was the fool Tallula said she was. That he’d had a change of heart, and wanted to escape too.
No, it couldn’t be. Despite only knowing him for such a short length of time, she trusted him. You could fake many things in life, but not love. Although neither of them had said as such, that’s what they’d shared. She knew the difference. Or at least she did now. She’d come to The Egress seeking connection, and she’d found it, in more ways than one.
Having dressed, he was leaving. She should call out, she really should.
Fear: it was such a terrible thing.
It was only as he left the room, that she found the courage to call his name, but too late. All she heard in reply was the door as it closed.
“Shit!” What should she do, go after him? Or maybe she should give him a little while, not be so damned suspicious. He might have wanted to fetch something from his room. In fact, that was most likely to be it. She’d settle back down and wait for him. Be patient.
Mere minutes passed before that patience ran out.
She’d go to the third floor, knock on his door, and ask if everything was alright. Maybe he’d come over all headachy too. Or maybe… maybe guilt was overpowering him. That woman he’d met, maybe she wasn’t so insignificant after all.
Caroline!
Okay, okay, but she wasn’t going to be too hard on herself. There was a downside to feeling this way about a person – something she’d always suspected. It left you open.
Go and find out what’s happening. He’s either in his room, or he’s in the lobby. Where else is he going to go? And remember, you ran out of coffee earlier. He loves his coffee. He could have gone on a mission to replenish stocks.
In the middle of the night?
Caroline, you’re never going to sleep until you know.
It was so quiet in the corridor, everyone in rooms either side of it slumbering – everyone except Elspeth. It seemed to take an age to reach her room, but as she passed it, she could hardly bear to look. Room 409, that was where she was now – another room whose numbers added up to thirteen.
Not so lucky after all. Waiting for the doors to open, the doubts she’d managed to suppress had a ball rearing their ugly heads.
What if he’s changed his mind about you?
What if he’s had his fun?
What if this is the kind of thing he does all the time?
What if the only people who were ever going to love you are dead?
At last the doors opened and she all but stumbled in.
“Don’t play up, please don’t play up,” she pleaded, pressing the button for three.
It cranked into life, descending swiftly enough. The doors opening, she faced another long walk up a badly lit corridor, all the way to the corner suite. The silence, although expected due to the hour, was unsettling, the thoughts louder in her head because of it.
Outside his door, she tapped gently before whispering his name. There was no reply. Again, as quietly as she could, she pushed down on the handle, but it refused to budge.
Frustrated, she laid her head against the door. Where are you, David? Where the hell are you? She felt sick again, cold and shivery, an ache in her heart as well as her chest. She’d go to the lobby. If he wasn’t there, then… well, then she’d return to 1106. She couldn’t continue to haunt the corridors like some desperate wraith.
Back in the elevator, she pressed the button for the lobby. It refused to move. Sighing, she jabbed at it a second time, a third, and a fourth.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” This wasn’t funny, not at this hour. It wasn’t funny at any hour, come to think of it. If there was only one elevator – and that was a travesty in itself – they should make sure it bloody worked!
Suddenly the doors closed and her temper, having flared, died down. She’d be in the lobby in a few seconds. Strange if Raquel was still there, a perennial fixture, sighing under her breath, rolling her eyes, as bored as ever. That thought caused a smile rather than a frown, although it was short-lived. The doors might have closed, but that was it – there was no more progress than that.
“Oh, come on,” she urged, jabbing at the button again.
The Eleventh Floor Page 17
