Brad tried a little later. ‘I’ve made you a cup of tea,’ he wheedled. ‘It’s a good one. Strong, the way you like it?’
‘Thank you; I’m sorry. I just— I can’t,’ she managed.
He sighed. ‘Bella, come on. I still think we could sort this. We could at least try to salvage things. Talk to Claudine – she was upset when she fired you. She probably didn’t mean it. And the rooms… you never know, we could make them look better. Explain. You can’t be the only enterprise in Hotel Club that’s suffered some sort of setback.’
The word ‘setback’ almost made her anger flare again, but she swallowed it down as best she could, ashamed of the damage she’d already inflicted.
‘I know. But she can’t afford— I used the entire budget. Insurance probably won’t pay out, and even if they do it’ll be too late. It was a now or never thing.’
‘Then why not try now? What have you got to lose?’
He was right, in that way. She hadn’t really got anything to lose. But she also didn’t have the energy or impetus to try. What she wanted to do was abandon the whole thing. Get on a plane, forget about this chapter of her life. Sort out her divorce, take the equity she’d get from the sale and reconvene. Maybe in France. Just not in Versailles and nowhere near Hôtel Benjamin.
She didn’t reply.
Eventually he set the cup down outside and, once checking the coast was clear, she collected it gratefully. It was lukewarm, but still more than welcome.
She was embarrassed in many ways; acting like a child and she knew it. But it was as if she had no fight left.
Better just to go. To get away.
* * *
She must have fallen asleep. When she woke, the sun was still streaming through the gap between the half-closed curtains, but had the golden quality it seemed to acquire in the early evening. Footsteps sounded on the stairs; probably what had woken her. She hoped it was Brad or Henri going to their rooms rather than anyone else trying to speak with her.
She’d promised she’d go downstairs, but in truth she was hoping to pack her things, disappear in the morning for her plane. She’d write a note, maybe call them from England.
She knew that running away was immature, wrong. That she was, after all, her father’s daughter. But that was something she’d have to unpick later. Because she simply wasn’t capable of more. She never should have thought of aiming higher.
There was a knock on the door. Not the hesitant knocks of earlier, but something more urgent: a rapping. She froze and willed the person to go away.
But they clearly had no intention to.
‘Bella!’ they called. ‘Open up now!’
She stiffened, her eyes widening with recognition.
‘Bella…’ The voice had a warning tone which snapped her into action.
She found her body obeying before her brain had a chance to catch up. Getting to her feet, she walked to the door and opened it.
Kitty was leaning against the door-frame, foot tapping with impatience. ‘For goodness’ sake, woman, I’ve been travelling most of the day. The least you could do is give me a proper welcome.’
‘Oh my God, Kitty!’ Something inside Bella crumpled and she flung herself at her sister. They embraced, holding each other tightly. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘What do you think?’ Kitty replied dryly. She pushed past her sister into the room, inspecting it. Instinctively, she went to the window and opened the curtains fully. Sunlight flooded in, revealing dancing dust particles, a half-packed case. ‘Nice place,’ she said.
‘Very funny.’
Kitty shook her head, hands on hips. ‘We’d better get this lot cleaned up.’
‘Who are you? My mother?’
‘No,’ Kitty said. ‘But I suppose I’m the closest you have. And anyway, if you’re going to behave like a petulant teenager, how do you expect me to act?’
It was probably meant to be a joke, but something about it made Bella stiffen. ‘I’m not being a teenager, Kitty. Maybe you don’t know, but everything is ruined. I’ve been fired, I’ve ruined Claudine’s future, I’ve— I hurt my friends. I said some awful things.’
Kitty shook her head. ‘I know about the hotel. Why do you think I’m here?’
