“Toby asked me to push it under the door. I was given very specific instructions.”
Marly grinned. “Third door on the left as you go up.” She headed back toward the kitchen, Ginger at her heel. “Come by for pudding once you’re done playing postman—Karyn’s been testing new chocolate pots, Rosie wangled all the duds for us!”
I headed up the stairs. And look, it’s not that I went snooping. I just did some math on my way down the corridor. I know everyone who’s staying at the B&B at the moment—they’re all long-term guests and they stop at the shop now and then. There’s Red, then a couple of older guys who served in the US Army and struggled to find their feet afterward, an octogenarian living out her dream of island life, a lawyer just out of a nervous breakdown, and that’s it.
Five guests. But as I walked along the corridor, I noticed six rooms. There was another door, labeledPrivate, which I assumed led to Rosie and Marly’s room, and then the bedrooms were all numbered, with B&B-style room names. 1. Fritillary, 2. Kestrel, 3. Minke, 4. Fulmar, 5. Gannet, 6. Puffin. A small name card had been added below each room name with the guest staying there, in Rosie’s curly handwriting. But Puffin room had no guest, and the door wasn’t clicked into the frame.
When we first got here, we asked Rosie if there was a spare room, and she said no. Marly promised she’d tell me as soon as anyone moved on from the B&B, since their booking system is “unofficial,” which I think means it only exists inside Rosie’s head.
So I was surprised to find a seemingly unoccupied room. And it was so easy, as I walked past, to give the door a gentle push and check inside.
The double bed was made, but untouched. There were no personal possessions visible, just a clean towel waiting on the chair beneath the window and a little stack of books on a shelf by the bed, with titles likeThe History of Ormer,The Channel Islands Through the Ages,Ormer Families. It looked like the perfect B&B bedroom, waiting for its guest.
I pulled the door closed and made my way to Red’s door, kneeling to push Toby’s note beneath it. When I headed backdownstairs, I went into the kitchen to find Marly with her holey socks up on the dining table, eating a chocolate pudding from what looked like a recycled yogurt pot.
“G’day,” she said. “Mission accomplished?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I took the pudding she nudged my way. “It’s lovely up there. I’ve never actually been upstairs before.”
“Oh, thanks—all Rosie. I’m not really the decor type. Give me a tractor any day. Hard to believe she’s the one with the farmer genes, sometimes.”
I considered finding a subtle way to ask the question, but honestly, Marly’s my friend, she’s a straightforward person and I’d so much rather be open with her.
“Who do you guys have staying at the moment?” I asked.
Marly ran through the list of names.
“Five people. But six rooms?” I said.
I kept my tone as light as possible, but still, she stiffened.
“Puffin’s not available.”
I just about swallowed back on sayingIt looked pretty available—I didn’t want to confess to looking behind a closed door.
“You keep a whole room empty?” I said instead. “Why?”
“It’s not empty. It’s…reserved.” She sighed. “I know how it sounds. You need a room, we have a room spare…But I can’t give you Puffin.”
I told her I get it—it’s none of my business. But the pudding kind of stuck in my throat.
Marly looked at me for a long moment. “It could be your business,” she said. “I know Rosie said you can take as long as you need to open up to us about why you’re here, but it’s been almost two months, Jones. It’s time to find out who’s the best fit here, do you understand me? You or Charlie?”
She was giving me this look. As though she was trying to tell me something without saying it.
“Sorry, what? What does the shop have to do with the empty room?” I asked.
“No, nothing. It’s not about the shop. It’s about you.”
“Me?” I backtracked. “What do you mean, me or Charlie—we’re hoping we can both stay, aren’t we?”
“Forget it, Jones,” Marly said, getting up and chucking the yogurt pot in the sink. “You want to carry on playing games, then carry on playing them. But keeping your cards close to your chest might not be the best way to manage the hand you’ve been dealt.”
She just walked off after that, leaving me to show myself out. I stood for a moment in their farmhouse kitchen, absolutely bewildered. What game did she think I was playing? What did she mean,It’s about you? And what the hell did an empty room at the B&B have to do with me and Charlie?
So long,
Charlie Jones
