The Burnout(45)

“Right,” I say. “So someone’s copying those again?”

“Looks like it.” She nods. “And handing out champagne. Only I wonder who? Ooh, I wonder if it’s from Herbert?” Her face brightens. “He thinks you’re both lovely guests, don’t you, Herbert?” She raises her voice, but Herbert, who is slumped, apparently comatose, in a nearby armchair, does not respond. “Oh, he didn’t hear, bless him. He’s not asleep, he’s just having some Herbert-time,” she assures us. “He’s been busy today! First he had to help the Bergens check out with their golf clubs, and now he’s just carried two massive suitcases in for some new guests. Leather ones, proper heavy.”

“From the station?” I ask, in slight shock.

“From their car,” explains Cassidy. “Tired him out, poor love. I’ll go and ask him about the champagne.” She finishes off Finn’s dressing, then puts down her scissors and heads across the lobby.

“Herbert!” she cries, straight into his face. “Did you give this lovely couple some champagne?”

“We’re not a couple,” says Finn, sounding a bit tense, but Cassidy seems oblivious. Herbert has lifted his head about an inch off the chair back, as though to impart his last words to the world, and she bends down to hear his papery whisper of a voice.

“He says it wasn’t him,” she announces, standing up. “Funny, isn’t it? Mystery bottle of champagne on the beach. Ooh, maybe it’s for our new guests. You’re a couple, aren’t you?” she adds blithely, as a middle-aged man and woman walk into the lobby from the dining room. The woman, who has long, straight hair and glasses, tenses up.

“A couple?” she echoes, sounding on the brink of tears, and glances at the man, who shifts uncomfortably, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. The pair of them look pretty miserable for a couple who have just started a holiday.

“Mr. and Mrs. West, isn’t it?” adds Cassidy.

“For now,” says Mrs. West, after a pause. She glances at her husband, who instantly swivels his head away, as though he wants to avoid not only Cassidy’s friendly gaze and the sight of his partner but basically the whole conversation. Mrs. West’s face jolts as though he’s dealt her a blow, and then she nods, her lips tightening, as though this confirms everything she thought about life, and then some.

“It’s just we were wondering if you were expecting a bottle of champagne?” Cassidy presses on.

“Champagne!” Mrs. West sounds on the edge. She eyes Cassidy as though suspecting she’s being mocked. “Champagne? Why would we expect champagne?”

“Maybe not,” Cassidy backtracks hurriedly. “Only there was a bottle addressed to ‘the couple on the beach,’ and—”

“The couple on the beach?” Mrs. West cuts her off. “You want to know the truth? We don’t know if we’re still a couple.”

Yowser. My eyes flit to Mr. West, who is standing motionless, his face granite, as though his worst nightmare is being played out. Which maybe it is.

“Maybe we’ll find out the answer on this holiday,” adds Mrs. West, wrapping her thin arms miserably around her torso. “Or maybe not.”

She’s wearing her wedding ring, I notice. But she’s also clenching her hands pretty tightly.

“Of course,” says Cassidy, looking flummoxed. “Well, it takes all sorts, doesn’t it? Here’s hoping that …” She stops, as though not sure how to proceed. “Although, may I say, if you did want to move into … perhaps adjoining single rooms, I’m sure we could waive the surcharge—”

“I don’t believe this!” Mr. West rounds on his wife. “What have you been saying about our sex life?”

“I didn’t need to say anything, it’s obvious to everybody!” she snaps back, her voice high with distress. “Everybody!”

I glance at Finn, who pulls an awkward face back.

Actually, it wasn’t obvious to everybody. Or indeed anybody. But I’m not sure this is the moment to tell Mrs. West that. There’s an embarrassed prickly silence, broken only by Herbert snoring gently.

“So!” Cassidy clears her throat. “Well. That’s … I hope you enjoy your stay, apart from the … Obviously …” She clears her throat. “Did you still want dinner at eight?”

“Eight will be fine,” says Mrs. West, over-politely. “Thank you.”

We all watch, silent and riveted, as they walk up the stairs, and it’s only when they disappear from view that I exhale. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath.

“Lovely couple,” says Cassidy, then she seems to reconsider. “Or … whatever. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned their sleeping arrangements.” She makes a regretful face. “Only, you want people to be as comfortable as possible, you know?”

“I think that guy would be most comfortable in a different hotel from his wife,” says Finn. “Or maybe a different country.”

“Poor loves. Shame our reflexologist isn’t here,” adds Cassidy pensively. “She does couples therapy as well. Got the Walkers back together again after he slept with that Jet Ski girl. But as I say, she’s working at Burger King at present.… Anyway.” Her face brightens. “While I’ve got you both, can I mention a couple of upcoming events in our entertainments calendar? You’ll already have seen the invitation to our lobby concert. On the app!” she adds, noting my blank look. “I’ve just sent it out. Check your phone!”