In Too Deep (6 page)

‘Mrs Forrester, how lovely to meet you.’ The woman’s face blooms into a smile. It’s then that I recognise her voice.

‘Did we speak on the phone?’ I ask, reflecting the smile back as best I can.

She nods, and reaches out her hand across the mahogany counter. I shake it, my arm accidentally nudging a little brass bell, making Cooper twitch his head round and give a high-pitched whine. ‘Please, call me Gina.’ I feel embarrassed now that I didn’t forewarn her about the change.

‘Welcome to Fox Court,’ she says, glancing between each of us warmly. ‘So lovely to have you here. And this is Cooper, I imagine?’

She comes out from behind the desk. At the mention of his name, Cooper stands and wags his tail. The woman fusses him.

‘I’m Susan Fox, owner, receptionist, chambermaid, sometimes cook, cleaner and chief bottle-washer,’ she says with a laugh. She glances at Hannah, but says nothing. ‘Was your journey OK?’

Back behind the desk, she’s skimming down a preprinted form. ‘Though you’ve not had far to come by the looks of it.’ She smiles, sliding the sheet of paper across the counter. ‘Just fill in here and then sign there, and I’ll get you up to your room.’

She watches as I write, making small talk. ‘If you’re
eating in tonight, I’d recommend a reservation for the restaurant as all our rooms are fully booked. Your husband specially reserved the Alexandra Room. It’s one of my favourites, and gets the morning sun.’

My heart curls up at the mention of Rick. I attempt another smile and hand back the form. Susan is tall and attractive, and obviously looks after herself – her white jeans and grey short-sleeved top show off her good figure, while her glossy hair, a chestnut shade of light brown, appears mainly blonde with its natural-looking highlights.

She’s quietly sophisticated and comfortable with her appearance, her confidence coming from understatement and simplicity, as if she doesn’t even have to try to look good. I’d say she’s around my age, but appears younger.

By comparison I suddenly feel frumpy, old-fashioned and not even vaguely attractive. But then I hear Rick’s voice inside my head, so real it’s as if he’s checking into the room with us. At least I have that over her, even if he is absent, and the way I feel is hardly Susan’s fault. She doesn’t know anything about my situation.

You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Gina. Every cell of you perfect . . .

I know he meant it. He always made me feel special.

Susan takes a swipe of my credit card, giving Hannah another glance.

‘Look,’ I say, knowing I have to mention it eventually. ‘I’m really sorry not to have let you know about the slight change of plan. I do hope it’s OK that I brought my daughter along instead of my husband.’

‘Of
course
,’ she replies, folding up the booking form and sliding it into an envelope with a key card. She leans forward on the desk, making a pained face. ‘Actually, I still feel terrible about giving away the secret when I called. And now I’m wondering if you’re here with your daughter because . . . God, I hope I didn’t cause trouble between you and your—’

‘Oh, no,’ I say before she gets the wrong idea. ‘Not at all.’ My eyes grow wide. I feel my cheeks flush with blood.

‘Dad couldn’t make it,’ Hannah chips in, when I haven’t even thought she’s been listening. I want to hug her. ‘He was busy with work stuff, so Mum said I should come along instead.’ She goes back to her phone.

The lie sounds so easy, though I know it won’t have been. Her voice wobbled at the end, and even though I doubt Susan has noticed, I have. I slip my arm around Hannah’s waist, but she pulls away.

‘We’re going to have a lovely time here,’ I say, keen to change the subject. ‘You have a gorgeous hotel. Have you owned it long?’

‘As long as I can remember,’ Susan replies, coming out again from behind the desk and taking the handle of my pull-along case. ‘Damned place has been in the family for generations.’ She rolls her eyes playfully, her broad white smile flashing fondness. ‘Come on, I’ll show you to your room.’

We go upstairs, following Susan as she leads us down a beamy corridor, the floor of which is uneven, making me feel giddy. At the end, she turns left and we have to
duck our heads as we go through into what feels like the oldest part of the building. There’s another smaller landing with an ancient-looking fireplace, a round oak table with fresh flowers and fruit on it, and three doors leading off the area. The thick carpet dulls the creaky floorboards beneath.

‘This is your room,’ Susan says, opening the door with the modern card reader. She allows us to enter first, Cooper pressing close to my side. I catch my breath – it’s beautiful and luxurious, but without being ostentatious. Mainly decorated in neutral shades with soft greys here and there, it’s light and airy yet still feels ancient with beams cross-hatching the walls.

Susan takes a moment to show us where things are, but without being intrusive. ‘Please call reception if there’s anything you need,’ she says, about to close the door behind her. But she opens it again briefly. ‘And feel free to join us for drinks at seven in the bar, won’t you? Guests tend to congregate around then. It’s sort of a tradition.’

‘Thanks,’ I say tentatively, even though it’s the last thing I actually feel like doing.

Susan leaves and I can’t help wondering that if Rick were here with me, I’d leap at the chance to be sociable. Now it seems like a chore. As if everything in life will always feel off-kilter. About a hundred miles away from normal.

‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ I say, but Hannah has gone into the bathroom. Whatever else happens, I don’t want to waste Rick’s good intentions. It must have cost him a
fortune. Cooper sniffs around a bit, before instinctively going to the dog bed in the corner. More sniffing, then he lies down on the fresh bedding, groaning, his chin resting on his paws.

Hannah comes out of the bathroom. ‘Yes, it’s great,’ she agrees. ‘But Mum . . . ?’

‘What, love?’ I sit down on a grey-and-white-painted chair, prising off my shoes. I think I’ll have a bath before we do anything else. But then I’m imagining being in the bathroom with Rick, him wrapping me in his arms, pulling me into the tub with him.

‘I don’t get it,’ Hannah continues, a frown on her face. ‘If they thought this booking was for you and Dad, then why have we got twin beds and not a double? And why are there two sets of female robes and pink slippers in the bathroom?’

I frown before going to look. I emerge from the bathroom clutching a soft robe under my chin. ‘Perhaps Susan decided to make a last-minute switch to a twin room when she saw we weren’t a couple.’ I smile weakly.

But I know that’s not true. She has just told us that the hotel is full, and that Rick personally chose this room.

‘Maybe,’ Hannah says, looking as puzzled as I feel.

‘It’s perfect though, isn’t it?’ I add, trying to make light of it. I go to the window, staring out across the beautiful grounds, realising it must be the same window at which I saw the woman’s face when we arrived.

My phone rings while I’m in the bath. Even submerged beneath the bubbles, my revving heart sends ripples through the water in case there’s news. Hannah answers it for me.

‘It was Steph,’ she calls through the door a minute later. ‘Something about work. She wants you to phone her back.’

After that I can’t relax. Not with everything that’s been going on at the office. And besides, Steph knows I’m away so it must be important. After Rick disappeared, work allowed me time off, and I didn’t go back until the new year.

‘Did she say what it was about?’ I sit up and reach over the side of the bath for the towel.

‘Something to do with a rental property,’ Hannah replies.

I can’t help the groan. It’s bound to be that place we took on recently, an empty Victorian terrace in a large village north of the city. It’s been nothing but trouble ever since. The landlord, who’s rarely available, promised he’d
get it renovated in order for us to show prospective tenants around. But, predictably, he didn’t, and all we’re left with are the keys and several annoyed neighbours who complain to the police about the build-up of rubbish and people breaking in. I see their point, but it’s the last thing I need to be dealing with right now.

‘Do you fancy a game of giant chess, Mum?’ Hannah says as I emerge into the bedroom feeling warm and sleepy. The bathrobe smells of lavender. ‘Some people are playing on the lawn, look.’ She stares out of the window, her long sleeves pulled down over her hands, nibbling one cuff idly as she looks on wistfully.

‘Isn’t it a bit chilly?’

I draw up beside her. The late-afternoon sun fans across the expanse of green below. A couple of kids lug huge pawns and knights across the grass, while their parents watch on, drinks to hand, grins plastered across their faces. It reminds me of my family, of when things were OK. Of when Rick was still here and Jacob was alive – a real, living little boy with feet that would never keep still, and a grin that stretched his face wide. All I have now are decaying memories. Sometimes I wonder who’ll be next to go: Hannah or me? I pray it’s me.

‘Did you notice if there’s a minibar?’ I say, looking around the room. My eyes scan for a little fridge, but before Hannah answers I’ve found it, tucked behind a lattice door. ‘Want anything?’ I ask, in the hope it will disguise my guilt. I pull out a small bottle of wine. ‘There’s juice, beer, Coke. Or chocolate?’

‘Isn’t it a bit early?’ Hannah asks, ignoring my question.

I shrug. If I’ve ever fancied a drink during the day these last few months, then hiding it hasn’t been a problem with Hannah away at university. I tell myself I shouldn’t feel bad, that I have a bucketload of stress, so an occasional early glass isn’t the end of the world.

‘Half past four’s not so bad. And besides, we’re on holiday.’ I settle down on the bed to phone Steph back. The quilt is soft and thick, and the scent of fresh laundry wafts around me. I sink back into the pillows.

‘I’m going out to explore then,’ she says, giving me a look. She calls Cooper to come with her, clipping on his lead. She swipes one of the key cards from the table before leaving. I wave at her just as Steph answers my call.

‘Hi, Steph,’ I say, downing a large mouthful of wine. ‘What’s the problem?’

I only catch half of her reply.

‘I can’t hear you. Will you say that again?’ I look at my screen. Reception is poor, so I stand at the window. The chess family are still playing, with Mum and Dad taking a turn now. The two of them are leaning against each other, pointing to the pieces.

‘Bishop to C4 . . .’ I say.

‘Bishop what?’ Steph asks as the line gets better. ‘Gina?’

‘Sorry, nothing. Hannah said you called. Is it Evalina Street?’

‘How did you guess?’

The place gives me the creeps. Last time I went there,
I swore I wouldn’t go again, especially alone. Not after what happened.

‘The thing is,’ Steph says, ‘Adrian wants me to get some builders’ quotes to send to the owner in the hope it might spur him into action.’

At the mention of Adrian’s name I feel cold and numb.

‘But the keys aren’t in the office,’ she goes on. ‘I was wondering if—’

‘Oh hell,’ I say, suddenly realising. ‘I’ve got them, haven’t I?’ I drain my glass.

‘I think so,’ she says gently. ‘You were the last one to sign for them, Gina.’

I get up off the bed and rummage in my handbag – the same one I was using last week at work. I check the side pocket where I always put client keys.

‘Oh God, Steph, I’m so sorry. I have them here. What an idiot I am.’ I cover my eyes. I can’t face the thought of driving all the way back to Oxford on a Friday night. ‘When do you need them?’

‘The builder’s coming to quote on Monday morning.’

I don’t say anything in the hope she’ll offer to drive out here and pick them up, or at least volunteer the services of a junior agent. She doesn’t.

‘I’m not in the office until next Thursday,’ I reply.

Steph is silent.

‘I suppose I’ll have to drop them at your house over the weekend then. It’s just that Rick booked some spa treatments for me and . . . and I don’t want to miss them.
I want to do the weekend the way he’d planned. Does that sound silly?’ I take another mini bottle of wine from the fridge, trying to open it with one hand.

‘That’s not silly at all. Look, why don’t I meet you at the property itself on Monday morning about nine? That would cut some time off the journey for you.’

‘Thanks, Steph,’ I say, finally getting the cap off the bottle. ‘Nine o’clock at the house then.’ After a quick chat, we say goodbye.

I can’t help the feeling of dread at the thought of going there again. Various alternatives race through my mind – could I arrange for a courier to pick up the keys and deliver them? Or perhaps put them in a taxi instead? But I can’t really justify the fare and Adrian would never condone the expense. He makes everything as difficult as he can for me.

I never told anyone what happened the last time I went to the property. I simply couldn’t face any more pitying looks, or comforting words. Everyone in the office knew I wasn’t sleeping, that I’d been taking tablets, that I was getting help from a counsellor. They understood that my mind played tricks from time to time; twisted my grim reality into something more palatable. Mick, my boss, had been really good, allowing me time off for appointments, but the atmosphere had changed. I felt like the odd one out.

So I decided to keep quiet about what happened that day.

That I
saw
him.

I was so sure Rick was alive and inside 23 Evalina
Street, his face peering out of the upstairs window at me – an unshaven, grey-looking version of the vibrant man he once was – but I didn’t tell anyone, worried they’d have me locked up, sent away to a psychiatric hospital.

But he was
there
.

When I glimpsed him from the street, I rushed inside, fumbling to get the key into the lock that always stuck, cursing the landlord for not spending money on the place. Once inside, I screamed out his name, convinced he’d been holed up here, hiding . . . but from what?