Henry & Sarah

by Kadrak, Suzanne

  “Which hotel are you staying at?” Henry asked. “Where will I find you?”

  Oscar grinned at him.

  “Oh, you will find me easily; I am next door. Mrs. Potter was kind enough to offer me one of her rooms. And now, my dear friend, what about a pint of beer in a tavern? I think we have deserved it, havenʼt we?”

  Henry looked at Oscar with bleary eyes, wondering where that man kept taking his optimism.

  “I think I will rather stick to a glass of water,” he mumbled with a side glance over to the heap of wine bottles on the floor. Oscar laughed merrily and took him by the arm.

  “Whatever you like; the treat is on me. Letʼs go,” he said.

  And then, a weak smile on his lips, Henry took his coat and followed Oscar out of the room.

  * * *

  On Saturday morning, Henry approached Mount Merrion Hotel in the noble district of Kensington with rather mixed feelings. First of all, the building itself was tall and highly intimidating with all its imperialistic grandeur that it displayed. Its sight made Henry feel rather uncomfortable. After all, he had never set foot in a hotel like that before, let alone been a guest in it.

  Secondly, Henry was sure that if he entered it and should really happen to meet Sarah, he would no doubt fall right back into his dazzled state of infatuation which, as he knew, would make him throw over board all good intentions of forgetting her and beginning a new life.

  But then again, he knew that at this stage it was entirely impossible for him not to go and see her. What Oscar had told him had sent him into an abysmal state of shock. If he left without Sarah, if he let her succumb to her fate, she would be most certainly doomed. Things had obviously got out of hand with Sarah having entirely lost control over herself.

  But this wasnʼt solely about her life. It was about his own life, too. He knew that there was no way of even thinking about leaving London and going anywhere at all, as long as he knew that she was suffering like that. He knew that if he didnʼt go as far as he could possibly go in convincing her, he would spend his whole life reproaching himself.

  He wouldnʼt be able to live with the guilt of having let her alone.

  Henry recalled how scared she had been when he had told her about America many months ago and wondered how he should possibly talk her into coming with him now.

  Three months..., Henry thought. Enough time for her to finally realize that Damian is not good for her at all. She must have seen by now that hardly anything that will await her in America can be as terrible as the situation she is voluntarily putting herself in right now...

  Gradually and completely against his will, he found himself getting hopeful again.

  Youʼll never learn…

  Henry took a deep breath, then he hesitantly approached the building.

  Secretly peering through one of its frost-covered windows, he saw a zealous-looking, chirpy receptionist crouching behind a desk which was scattered all over with registration forms and other important hotel-related documents. Every now and then, the receptionist looked up in order to serve a guest and, at the same time, turned an observing eye on everything that was going on in the entrance hall.

  Henry realized quickly that it would be an impossible mission to sneak past the man behind the desk without being noticed. But if he was discovered, he would most likely raise suspicion and would be asked what he was doing here. After all, he was not a hotel guest and had no intention to become one either.

  Henry let out a sigh. He was aware that he wouldnʼt stand a chance to meet Sarah if he didnʼt come up with a cunning plan soon.

  “Have ye got a penny to spare, Sir?” he suddenly heard a faint voice croak into his ear.

  When he turned around, he stared right into the pocked face of a small toothless beggar in rags. The poor man smelt for rotten fish and other unidentifiable substances.

  “A penny to spare, Sir, just a penny…” the beggar repeated monotonously, looking at Henry with pitiful, bleary eyes.

  Slightly irritated, Henry began to fumble in his trouser pockets in search of some money and, when he found it, gave it to the man.

  “Thank ye, Sir, God bless ye, Sir, ye are a good man, Sir.” the beggar rattled on, and stuck Henryʼs money into the pocket of his filthy frayed coat. Then he turned around and slowly staggered off.

  His nose pressed against the window, Henry peered inside the entrance hall of the hotel again. The receptionist was still busy with his papers. Every now and then, he handed newly arrived guests the keys to their rooms and chatted with them. Still, he never ceased to keep a watchful eye on the entrance hall and on everyone who was coming or leaving.

  Distraction… Henry thought. He needs to be distracted…

  A suddenly, he had an idea.

  The beggar hadnʼt come very far yet. Henry spotted him slouching along the street, occasionally bending down in order to pick something that he deemed edible or otherwise useful up from the ground.

  Henry quickly ran after him.

  “Excuse me,” he said to the beggar when he came to halt next to him, “I wonder if you could do me a favor.”

  The beggar looked at him, puzzled.

  “No one has ever asked me a favor,” he mumbled, appearing a little suspicious.

  Henry went in search of his trouser pockets again and produced some more pennies. The beggarʼs eyes widened at the sight if them.

  “Look, I will give you all of this if you do a little acting for me,” Henry explained.

  The beggar frowned.

  “Acting?! Oh Sir, Iʼve never done any acting in all of my miserable life.”

  “Never mind,” Henry said. “Whatʼs your name?”

  “Well, my friends call me Waffle-Wally, because I waffle so much,” the beggar answered.

  “Alright, Waffle-Wally, this is going to be an exciting day for you…”

  And with these words Henry grabbed the confused beggar by the arm, dragged him along the street and back to Mount Merrion Hotel.

  Ten minutes later, Henry hid behind a flower pot, which was standing next to the main entrance of the hotel, and peered through the window again. From there he watched Waffle-Wally laboriously push the heavy door open. A shattered expression on his face and loudly calling out for help, Waffle-Wally staggered inside and over to the desk of the unsuspecting receptionist,. Startled, the receptionist looked up, appearing rather scandalized by the sudden and unexpected arrival of the beggar. Henry saw him quickly leaving his position behind the desk and storming over to Waffle-Wally in order to throw him out of the building before the honorable guests would notice him and feel disturbed by his presence.

  Suddenly, Waffle-Wally rolled his eyes, gasped for air, and clutched his chest. Then he doubled over and collapsed right on top of the receptionistʼs desk. Overtaken by spasms, the beggar slowly slipped off the desk and sank to the floor, and by doing so brought all the important documents and papers down to the ground.

  Great Waffle-Wally! You should really get a part in a stage play… Henry thought, smiling amusedly to himself.

  Gradually, the incident caught the attention of the hotel guests who were present and who curiously began to form a circle around Waffle-Wally. Certain that the beggar had suffered a heart attack, someone suggested to call for a doctor while someone else knelt down in an attempt to administer first aid. And amidst all the confusion, the receptionist was crouching on the ground, hastily picking up his papers and documents which all lay scattered on the floor.

  Nobody was watching Henry when he entered the entrance hall because everyone was busy pondering what to do with Waffle-Wally who had begun to breathe stertorously. Henry knew he had to hurry, though, as the beggar would shortly and very miraculously find back to his normal self again, would ask for a glass of water and then leave as if nothing had happened, just as they had agreed on. And then the receptionistʼs attention would be on the guests and the entrance hall again.

  But it didnʼt take Henry long to cross the hall, and soon he found h
imself in a long corridor. Several staircases were leading to the upper floors where the guestrooms lay. Apart from that, Henry spotted four doors and suspected that hidden behind them were staff and storage rooms. Looking around though, trying to orientate himself, his glance suddenly fell on a fifth door at the very end of the corridor. There was a plaque attached to it which read “The Winter Garden Restaurant.”

  Certain that this was the place Oscar had told him about, Henry opened the door and stepped inside, his heart hammering excitedly in his chest.

  The Winter Garden Restaurant was a big room with about thirty tables. Having once been a conservatory, it had large windows and a glass roof, and with the autumn sun shining down from above, Henry almost felt as if he was in Italy instead of novemberish London. Adding to the Mediterranean atmosphere was an assortment of palm trees and other exotic looking plants lining the walls. The glass panes offered a view out onto the back garden of the hotel where Henry could see a peacock prancing between the ornately cut bushes and trees.

  The air was filled with the delicious smell of coffee and the sultry odor of expensive ladiesʼ perfumes, which left Henry slightly dazzled. He thought that if Sarah was really there, it would be best if she didnʼt see him straight away. After all, she wouldnʼt be alone with Damianʼs aunt and his grandmother guarding her.

  He hid behind a palm tree next to a birdcage which housed a somewhat impudent looking little parrot.

  “May I take your order, Sir! May I take your order, Sir!” it croaked into Henryʼs right ear as it was imitating the comments of the waiters, who were silently floating through the room. “Cake! Cake! Two lumps of sugar, please! Cake! Cake! Two lumps of sugar, please!”

  “Shush, will you shut up!” Henry angrily hissed at the bird, which was watching him with suspicious eyes and then croaked, “Shut up! Shut up!”

  Henry let out a sigh and began to scan the room for Sarah.

  And then there she was, sitting at a table next to the piano, wedged between two old ladies, Damianʼs grandmother Abigail and his aunt Phyllis, who were wearing enormous hats and were festooned with high-carat jewelry. The two women were stuffing themselves with pastries and chatting animatedly with each other, whereas Sarah was just sitting there, staring absent-mindedly at the table in front of her. Her plate was filled with chocolate cakes and toffees, but Sarah didnʼt show any inclination to touch the delicacies.

  Sarah...

  Henryʼs heart missed a beat.

  He noticed to his horror that she looked just as white as the tablecloth. All color had faded from her, and she appeared exhausted and sick. But what struck Henry most was the fact that she was terribly thin.

  This is much worse than I imagined...

  And still, despite his initial shock at her sight, he felt the aching for her return—just as he had dreaded it to happen. He felt himself drawn to her again, just like on that very night she had sat next to him at the piano, when she had kissed him, when he had noticed that he loved her. All his intentions to forget about her disappeared into thin air, and he was immediately overcome with the desire to run over to her, embrace her, smother her with kisses, and make love to her.

  He wistfully stared at Sarah for a little while, then he picked up a newspaper that lay next to the birdcage for the visitors to read, hid his face behind it, and quickly walked over to an empty table in the corner. He sat down, opened the newspaper and secretly peered over the pages, watching Sarah and hoping that an occasion to privately speak to her would miraculously arise. He didnʼt have the faintest notion, though, how this should happen, as it was obvious that Abigail and Phyllis were keeping a strict eye on her. And as the two women were lean and tall and radiated strong will and determination, Henry immediately got the impression that it was best not to tangle with them.

  “Excuse me, Sir. May I take your order?” Henry suddenly heard the waiterʼs voice next to him.

  “Coffee, please,” Henry answered, not taking his eyes off Sarah.

  The waiter smiled politely at him and withdrew.

  Henry was watching Sarah as she lazily stuck her fork in the piece of cake in front of her and parted it with the prongs. But she didnʼt eat anything and only played with the food. Then she took a very tiny sip of her coffee and looked about the room, a sad and tired expression on her face.

  It was then that Henry decided to come out of his hiding and make himself visible to her, now that she was boredly observing the other people around her. He didnʼt know what would happen once she saw him but was willing to take the risk as he found that he could not sit there for an eternity, waiting until the three women got up and left him with a wasted chance.

  He slowly lowered the newspaper, hypnotizing Sarah with his glances, anxiously awaiting the moment their eyes would meet.

  And then she saw him.

  And froze.

  The cup she was holding in her hand slipped out of her fingers and fell onto the table, right on top of her plate with the cake, making a clashing noise. A vase with flowers, which had decorated the table, toppled over and wetted the tablecloth. And Sarahʼs dress was covered all over with coffee stains.

  Abigail and Phyllis startled as did the people sitting nearby. Phyllis got up and excitedly went into a rant about how scatterbrained Sarah was and that Damian would not be amused at all if he heard about this mess. In the meantime, Abigail threw apologetic smiles at the little crowd of silent spectators around them who exchanged surprised and curious glances. Then Henry saw the waiter hurrying over to their table with a cleaning rag.

  But Sarah didnʼt say anything and showed no reaction to what was going on around her. All she did was staring at Henry, her eyes mirroring a mixture of terror and distress but also of fascination and longing.

  Abigail grabbed her arm and indicated her to go to her room and change her clothes.

  No, not to the room...! Henry thought.

  He quickly folded the newspaper and rose from his chair although he didnʼt have the slightest idea what to do, knowing that he could hardly walk over to the womenʼs table and ask Abigail and Phyllis if he could have quiet moment with Sarah.

  When Sarah saw that Henry was not seated anymore, she immediately shook Abigailʼs arm off, equally got up and said something that Henry couldnʼt understand. Then she turned around and ran out of the restaurant—but not in direction of the entrance hall and the staircases which led upstairs to the rooms, but over to a door at the other end of the room.

  Henry threw the paper on the table and hurried after her. Despite his urgency, he tried to walk at a normal pace in order not to raise any suspicion. But throwing a secret side glance over to Abigail and Phyllis, he could see that they were still too flustered and embarrassed anyway to notice that he was following Sarah. He wondered, though, why the two old ladies hadnʼt gone with Sarah with everyone being so afraid that she might do something stupid.

  He reached the door through which Sarah had disappeared, opened it, and found himself in a small corridor. He now understood why Abigail and Phyllis had not deemed it necessary to accompany and guard her: The small corridor only led to the kitchen and the guestsʼ bathroom, and so there was no danger of Sarah escaping. Unfortunately, this meant that there was no chance for Henry to escape with her, either.

  Maybe we can leave through the kitchen? Henry pondered but dismissed the idea, as it would have been impossible to sneak her outside past the waiters and the rest of the staff.

  Sarah had just reached the ladiesʼ bathroom and disappeared inside.

  “Sarah!” Henry called and hastened after her. He quickly blocked the door with his foot before Sarah could slam it in his face. She made a half-hearted attempt to push his foot away and pull at the door in order to close it, but as Henry didnʼt give in, she eventually let go of the door knob, turned away from Henry and huddled in the farthest corner of the room. Henry quickly slipped inside after her, and locked the door behind him.

  His heart was beating heavily in his chest, so excited was he to see
Sarah again, to be near her again. Looking at her, however, he noticed that she didnʼt share his excitement. There was a bewildered expression in her eyes, as if she was afraid of him, as if he was a wild animal about to attack her.

  “Sarah...” Henry whispered. He didnʼt dare to move and approach her. She seemed far too shaken and confused by his sudden appearance.

  Pale like a ghost... and so thin...

  “I knew this would happen...” he heard her whimper.

  “What would happen, Sarah?” Henry asked her softly.

  “I knew that once I would see you, I would fall in love all over again with you... Why can you not leave me in peace?”

  Although she sounded angry, Henry could sense a hint of relief in her voice about the fact that he was there, as if her heart really wanted to say something else; something like ʻWhy donʼt you finally come and take me in your arms…ʼ