Finally, it’s done, and she leaves, pressing a fiver into my hand on her way out. Jennifer nods her approval and I’m able to make my escape.
Stepping outside onto the pavement, my breath hitches in my throat at the icy wind barrelling down the street, stinging my ears and making my eyes water. As I battle my way through freezing air and Christmas shoppers, I can’t help looking out for my sister. Although I mustn’t dawdle if I’m going to make it back in time for my next client. Why the hell did this health thing have to happen today of all days?
I jog down Gold Hill, the impact from the cobblestones juddering up my legs. Finally, I reach my car, throw my bag onto the passenger seat and drive out to the hotel, trying not to speed, as I know the police are out in force at this time of year. Normally, I’d whack on the radio and sing along to some tunes, but right now I need to get my thoughts in order, so I opt for silence. I try to work out what I’m going to do if it turns out the restaurant is closed, and the party has to be cancelled. If Madeline and I weren’t going through this weird awkwardness, I’d ring to ask if she could throw some of her amazing canapés together. She’d do it, I know she would. But with the way things are between us, I doubt she’d even return my call.
Eventually, I turn off the main road and onto the hotel’s long, winding driveway. I pull up outside the creeper-covered building, leave the car and jog up the front steps, worried I’m going to find the entrance doors locked. Thankfully, I’m able to push them open and I walk into the lobby, where an extravagant gold vase bursting with red-leaved stems and Christmassy flowers sits on a polished circular table. At the reception desk, an employee I don’t recognise stares at a computer screen. He looks up as I approach and gives a genuine smile. That’s what I love about this place – the staff are all so friendly.
‘Good afternoon. Can I help you?’
‘Is Vicky Trentwith in? I need to speak to her. It’s urgent.’
‘I’m afraid she’s in a meeting. Can I help at all?’
‘No. I need to speak to Vicky. I’m having my anniversary party here tomorrow evening.’
‘Oh, yes, you must be Mrs Johnson.’
‘Yes, I’m Zoe. Please can you let her know I need to speak to her urgently.’
‘She should be out in half an hour or so. If you go through to the brasserie, I’ll get someone to bring you a drink while you wait.’
‘Coffee? Are you serving food as well?’
‘I… uh.’ His face flushes and he seems a little lost for words. This doesn’t bode well.
‘Mrs Johnson.’ I turn at the sound of a woman’s voice. ‘I thought I saw you pull up outside.’
‘Vicky, thank goodness. I really need to talk to you.’
Dressed in a tailored pale-grey suit, Vicky, the hotel’s general manager, is about five years older than me, tall and slim, with a sleek conker-brown ponytail. She gives me a bemused look. ‘Nothing wrong, I hope.’
‘Well’ – I decide to launch straight into it, I’m on a tight schedule here – ‘I’ve just heard a rather worrying rumour about the environmental health department, and I need to talk to you about it.’
Her eyes widen and she ushers me past the reception desk into the back office, where a couple of staff sit at desks and glance up as we walk through. It feels a little strange to be in an area obviously not meant for customers’ eyes.
‘Sorry to bring you back here,’ Vicky says in a low voice, ‘but we all get a bit twitchy when that particular department’s name is spoken aloud.’
‘I’m sure. So is it true?’
‘Come through to my office.’ She ushers me through into another functional room with a bookshelf, a desk and a view out onto a deserted courtyard. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘No, I’m here on my lunch break. I don’t have long. Didn’t you get my voicemails or my text?’
‘Sorry, no, I’ve been in meetings all morning.’ She smooths her jacket, sits in front of the desk, rather than behind it, and gestures to me to take a seat next to her.
‘So, what’s going on?’ I sit, getting a bad feeling. She’s definitely looking a bit shifty. I think about the nightmare of having to call everyone to cancel tomorrow’s party. To explain what’s happened. I suddenly feel like crying with disappointment and exhaustion.
Vicky blows air out through even white teeth. ‘Look, there’s nothing to worry about, Mrs Johnson.’
‘So you didn’t have a visit from environmental health then?’
She tilts her head from side to side. ‘We-ll. We did—’
‘What?!’
‘But it’s fine.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’