In the Frame - By Dick Francis Page 0,57

you send four bottles of your best champagne and ten glasses up to seventeen eighteen immediately…’

‘Please bring coffee for three to seventeen eighteen at once…’

‘Electrician? All the electrics have fused in room seventeen eighteen, please come at once.’

‘… the water is overflowing in the bathroom, please send the plumber urgently.’

Who else was there? I ran my eye down the list of possible services. One wouldn’t be able to summon chiropodists, masseuses, secretaries, barbers or clothes-pressers in a hurry… but television, why not?

‘… Please would you see to the television in room seventeen eighteen. There is smoke coming from the back and it smells like burning…’

That should do it, I thought. I made one final call for myself, asking for a porter to collect my bags. Right on, they said. Ten dollar tip I said if the bags could be down in the hall within five minutes. No sweat, an Australian voice assured me happily. Coming right that second.

I left my door ajar for the porter and rode down two storeys in the lift to floor seventeen. The corridor outside Jik and Sarah’s room was still a broad empty expanse of no one doing anything in a hurry.

The ten minutes had gone.

I fretted.

The first to arrive was the waiter with the champagne, and he came not with a tray but a trolley, complete with ice buckets and spotless white cloths. It couldn’t possibly have been better.

As he slowed to a stop outside Jik’s door, two other figures turned into the corridor, hurrying, and behind them, distantly, came a cleaner slowly pushing another trolley of linen and buckets and brooms.

I said to the waiter, ‘Thank you so much for coming so quickly.’ I gave him a ten dollar note, which surprised him. ‘Please go and serve the champagne straight away.’

He grinned, and knocked on Jik’s door.

After a pause, Jik opened it. He looked tense and strained.

‘Your champagne, sir,’ said the waiter.

‘But I didn’t…’ Jik began. He caught sight of me suddenly, where I stood a little back from his door. I made waving-in motions with my hand, and a faint grin appeared to lighten the anxiety.

Jik retreated into the room followed by trolley and waiter.

At a rush, after that, came the electrician, the plumber and the television man. I gave them each ten dollars and thanked them for coming so promptly. ‘I had a winner,’ I said. They took the money with more grins and Jik opened the door to their knock.

‘Electrics… plumbing… television…’ His eyebrows rose. He looked across to me in rising comprehension. He flung wide his door and invited them in with all his heart.

‘Give them some champagne,’ I said.

‘God Almighty.’

After that, in quick succession, came the porter, the man with the coffee, and the nurse. I gave them all ten dollars from my mythical winnings and invited them to join the party. Finally came the cleaner, pushing her top-heavy-looking load. She took the ten dollars, congratulated me on my good fortune, and entered the crowded and noisy fray.

It was up to Jik, I thought. I couldn’t do any more.

He and Sarah suddenly popped out like the corks from the gold-topped bottles, and stood undecided in the corridor. I gripped Sarah’s wrist and tugged her towards me.

‘Push the cleaning trolley through the door, and turn it over,’ I said to Jik.

He wasted no time deliberating. The brooms crashed to the carpet inside the room, and Jik pulled the door shut after him.

Sarah and I were already running on our way to the lifts. She looked extremely pale and wild-eyed, and I knew that whatever had happened in their room had been almost too much for her.

Jik sprinted along after us. There were six lifts from the seventeenth floor, and one never had to wait more than a few seconds for one to arrive. The seconds this time seemed like hours but were actually very few indeed. The welcoming doors slid open, and we leapt inside and pushed the ‘doors closed’ button like maniacs.

The doors closed.

The lift descended, smooth and fast.

‘Where’s the car?’ I said.

‘Car park.’

‘Get it and come round to the side door.’

‘Right.’

‘Sarah…’

She stared at me in fright.

‘My satchel will be in the hall. Will you carry it for me?’

She looked vaguely at my one-armed state, my jacket swinging loosely over my left shoulder.

‘Sarah!’

‘Yes… all right.’

We erupted into the hall, which had filled with people returning from the Cup. Talkative groups mixed and mingled, and it was impossible to see easily from one side to the other. All to