Grace sighed. “OK, I’ll let you off the hook today. But next time, you’re coming with us.”
“I promise,” I said, and retrieved the room key from my locker. It was the only thing in there. I’d started taking my uniform up to my room and changing there. “Have a nice evening.”
“Thank you, you too,” Grace and Rose said almost in unison.
I left the changing room and waved goodbye to the people in the break room. I knew almost everyone by name now, and I felt very at home at The Darlington. Probably mostly due to Henry’s tour last week. No matter where in the hotel I was, I couldn’t help but think about his stories. His memories had somehow become mine. Which meant, wherever I was, I was always thinking about him and wondering what he was doing. We’d run into each other a few times in the corridors, but Henry had always been with important-looking people, and we hadn’t had a chance to talk. He had a lot on his plate, and his life had been tumultuous since the judge had approved the indictment against his dad late last week. It meant that Richard Darlington would have to face trial. The news had spread through the media like wildfire, and the scandalous headlines kept coming. There were more journalists than ever camped out before the hotel, hoping to get a photo or even a statement from the family.
I took the stairs up to the first floor, unlocked my door, and went into my room. I’d cancelled the cleaning service, so the room looked exactly as it had when I’d left it in the morning. My bed was unmade, my jeans were hung over the armchair, and a jumper lay on the floor. Yesterday’s takeaway boxes were on the bedside table. I placed the new boxes next to them for later, then went to the bathroom and ran a bath. Taking baths had become part of my daily routine. I’d been living at The Darlington for two weeks now, but it still sometimes felt surreal, like a dream I could wake up fromat any moment, shivering and hungry in St. James’s Park. If it was a dream, I had no desire to return to my reality.
After I’d checked the water temperature, I poured in a splash of the fragrant bath bubbles. The scent of lavender filled the bathroom. I inhaled deeply and went back into the bedroom to choose a new book. I’d read more in the last few days than in the last three or four years combined. I was on my way back to the bathroom with the book I had picked out when I stubbed my foot on the desk chair.
“Fuck,” I swore and grabbed my little toe. It throbbed intensely.
My rucksack had fallen from the chair in the collision, and some of its contents had spilled onto the floor. I rubbed my foot until the pain subsided, then knelt to pick up my belongings. They had seemed so vital to me for months, but I hadn’t touched them since I’d arrived at The Darlington. I crammed everything back into my rucksack until all that was left was an envelope. I pulled out the old photos of me and my mum. They were faded and well-thumbed, because of how often I’d looked at them in the past year.
The first photo was taken in hospital after my birth. My mum held me—a tiny bundle—in her arms and smiled at the camera, exhausted but happy. The second photo showed me a year later taking my first steps as I held my mum’s hand. I had no idea who’d taken the photo, but I seemed happy, and my mum looked like she was bursting with pride. In the third photo, we were in a café sharing a slice of apple cake, my mum’s favourite. We hadn’t been able to afford cake often, but every time we splashed out, it was a highlight.
I looked through the pile until I got to the last photo. It had been taken only three years ago. In it, we were sitting in St. James’sPark feeding a couple of insistent pigeons. My mum was laughing heartily while I pulled a face. I’d been convinced back then that I was too cool to enjoy the moment. Today, I would have given anything to relive that moment with her. I missed her every day and wished she were still with me. I wanted to tell her about Henry and The Darlington. She would have freaked out if she knew I lived here and would have insisted on meeting Henry. I was sure she would have got on well with him, at least the version of herself she’d been before the drugs had changed her. They had transformed her from a kind and compassionate woman, albeit one with struggles, into a selfish, dull shadow of her former self. It had been terrifying to watch her personality slip away bit by bit, along with everything else that had once defined her. Drugs were pure poison.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
“Coming,” I shouted.
I crammed the photos back into the envelope, and instead of returning it to the rucksack, I placed it in the bedside table drawer. I limped to the door, my toe still throbbing.
I opened it to find Naomi in her receptionist uniform. She had tied her hair up into a neat bun.
“Hey,” I said. I hadn’t been expecting her.
She tilted her head and looked at me with concern. I probably still had tears in my eyes. Partly because of the pain, and partly because I missed my mum. “Is everything OK?”
“Yes, I just stubbed my toe.”
Naomi pulled a face. “Ouch. That hurts. Shall I bring you some ice?”
“No, it’s fine,” I said with a smile. “What’s up?”
“I’m supposed to give you this from Henry,” she said and handed me a small white box and a black envelope, its wax seal embossed with The Darlington logo, just like the one he’d sent me on my first weekend at the hotel.
“Thanks for bringing it over,” I said as I took it.
“Henry wanted to give them to you himself, but he’s stuck in a call. He wanted you to get them today,” Naomi said with a knowing smile. “I have to get back to reception. Have a nice evening.”
“You too,” I said, and closed the door. I broke the wax seal on my way to the bed and took out the letter, which once again bore Henry’s barely legible scrawl.
Sorry for making you wait so long for the phone. The last days have been hell, and I just didn’t have time. Have fun with it. Message me.
Henry
A broad grin spread across my face, and my heart started beating faster. Knowing that Henry was sitting in his office waiting for a message from me made something in my chest flutter. I set the letter aside and reached for the box. It was the phone’s original packaging, and I lifted the lid to reveal a sleek device. It had a few small scratches, but otherwise it looked good as new.
“Shit!” I exclaimed when I remembered the bathwater was still running. I tossed the phone aside and ran into the bathroom, reaching the bathtub just in time. The water had reached the top of the overflow drain, and foam was already spilling over the edgeof the tub. I wrenched the tap shut and wiped the foam from the floor. Before undressing and slipping into the warm water, I fetched my phone from the bedroom.
I dried my hands on a towel. When I turned it on, the home display lit up immediately. It had already been set up. I instinctively checked the contacts, and sure enough, a name had been saved.
I grinned and wroteSnowflakea message.
Me:
