Chapter 46
As Issy walked through the dark carpeted corridors of the Ashworth Park Hotel, it occurred to her that Meg must have heard her talking to the shop attendant and taken pity on her. Why else would Meg invite her over on New Year’s Eve? They barely knew each other. The realisation was mortifying—she wasn’t used to people feeling sorry for her—but the truth was that Issy was so grateful for the kind offer that she didn’t care.
Hopefully she hadn’t appeared too desperate when she accepted the impromptu invitation—she was a little tipsy at the time. She’d had a drink (three) with Warwick and the subcontractors at the site earlier that afternoon to celebrate finishing the fit-outs. There were still some bits and pieces to do over the next few days—a minor plumbing issue here, a door handle there, and cleaning of course— but on the whole, it was finished. They’d made the deadline.
The mood had been jovial and she’d felt like kicking on, but the others were all heading off to New Year’s Eve gatherings. The thought of spending the night alone had left her feeling strangely bereft and she’d momentarily contemplated going to Sydney, to one of the parties she’d turned down invitations to. Instead, here she was, standing outside room 114, holding a bottle of Bollinger.
‘Happy New Year!’ Issy said when Meg opened the door, handing her the bottle. ‘Thanks for having me. I hope I’m not imposing.’
‘Not at all!’ Meg’s response came a little too quickly. She popped the cork and poured the Champagne, passing Issy a glass and putting the bottle on the little bench above the mini bar.
‘What shall we drink to?’ Meg asked, holding her glass aloft.
‘New friends?’ Issy suggested.
They clinked their glasses.
Silence fell as they sipped their Champagne.
‘I’ll call for an ice bucket,’ Issy said, picking up the phone by the bed. She made sure to mention her full name to the room service attendant who answered.
‘Shall we sit?’ Meg suggested, settling on the sofa.
Issy sat in an armchair and pulled her phone out of her bag, placing it face up on the coffee table in case she got a message from Hugh, who was spending the night on a yacht on the harbour. Or so he said.
‘How’s the room?’ she asked.
‘Perfect, thanks for sorting that out for me. It’s very generous of you.’
‘Happy I could help,’ Issy said. She looked at the heavy curtains, which were pulled shut across the French doors to the garden. ‘We should open the curtains. The view will be stunning at this time of the day.’
She went to stand, but Meg interjected.
‘I’d prefer to keep them closed.’
Issy frowned at the odd intensity of Meg’s tone.
‘Sorry.’ Meg bit her lip. ‘After the break-in at the pub I’m just feeling a little … wary.’
‘Fair enough,’ Issy said, although it did seem a little paranoid. She took a long sip of her Champagne.
Another awkward silence was broken by the sound of the doorbell.
Meg got up and returned with an ice bucket and a cheese board loaded with brie, prosciutto, figs and crackers.
‘Compliments of the hotel,’ she said, putting it down on the table. She topped up the glasses, then reached for the cheese knife. ‘This is a bit special. I’m not used to the VIP treatment.’
‘Honestly, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, cheese plates aside.’
‘Really?’
Issy shrugged. ‘It’s … complicated.’
‘All families are complicated.’ Meg wrapped a piece of prosciutto around a fig. ‘What’s that famous line? “All happy families are alike, but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”? Something like that. Chekhov or someone.’
‘I’m not across my Russian writers, but it sounds accurate. How’s your family unhappy, then?’
Meg let out a little laugh. ‘I’ve recently discovered that everything my mother has ever told me about herself is a lie.’
