house had suddenly starting ringing. ‘Yeah?’ Johnny got to his feet and left the room.
Ferdia said into her ear, ‘Mum. Grandpa’s going to not-die, the doctor says. Like, not yet, you know what I mean? His vitals are returning to normal. Saoirsh and me are coming home now.’
‘Great. Great! Drive safe. See you soon.’ She hung up and called, ‘Johnny!’
She found him in the hall. ‘That was Ferd. He says Michael’s going to be okay.’
Johnny put his face into his hands. Silent tears leaked from his eyes.
TODAY
* * *
NINETY-SIX
‘You’re okay to do this?’ Raoul asked Cara.
‘Totally.’
Billy Fay was on his way from the airport and Cara had asked if she could check him in.
‘Madelyn can manage,’ Raoul said.
‘Trust me.’ She made herself smile. ‘Let me.’
In the six weeks since she’d returned to work, Billy Fay had stayed at the Ardglass twice. Madelyn had taken care of him on those two occasions.
Everyone was still walking on eggshells around her.
But she had a plan. It was time to be her own hero. If she managed to banter her way through Billy Fay’s insults – while still remaining professional and polite – it would boost her opinion of herself. Even if her colleagues didn’t know the details, they were bound to pick up on the improvement in her self-esteem.
In her idealized version of events, she’d take Mr Fay to his suite. When Anto, or whichever bellboy, brought up his luggage, asked where he’d like his bags, her most ambitious imaginings had her saying, in light-hearted tones, ‘Remember, last time I checked you in, you suggested that Anto shove them up my butt? Is that still your favoured place?’
Hard to know how he’d respond but her intention was to smile, smile, smile, and keep talking. ‘You told Anto to stick them up his butt. He said it was too small, so you suggested that he stick them up mine instead. You must remember, it was so funny!’
And then, ‘So, Mr Fay, do you need anything else? Or should I just get out now – fat bitch that I am?’ Finishing up her perfect scenario, she’d give a cool smile and swing out of there, leaving him gulping like a dying fish.
It was a delicate tone to strike, but it could be done – Anto managed to be both cheeky and respectful. All Cara had to do was be a bit more Anto.
Billy Fay might find it amusing. Maybe. Bullies often dropped the front when their victim stood up for themselves. Or he might find himself shamed into better behaviour. Not entirely impossible.
There was a chance that he’d lodge a complaint. But she could insist that they’d simply been sharing a laugh. That he’d instigated some light-hearted teasing and she’d responded in kind. That she’d been demonstrating how good a sport she was …
It was potentially risky. But, technically speaking, she wouldn’t be in the wrong. All she had to do was act innocent and keep on acting it.
She might even become a cause célèbre for bullied receptionists the world over – the very idea made her smile – and Billy Fay would be black-listed at every five-star hotel on earth.
There was a teeny, teeny possibility that she might lose her job. But it was genuinely very small. And at least she’d have regained some self-respect …
Anxiously, she paced back and forth behind the front desk. Her phone buzzed. A WhatsApp from Jessie: Johnny’s birthday dinner tonight back on! 7.30
Oh, no! The sudden crushing disappointment! She loved Johnny, Jessie, all of them, but in her head she’d already eased into an uncomplicated Friday night, watching TV in her pyjamas. Instead she’d have to summon gallons of adrenalin, which had already clocked off for the weekend, hoist her energy up from the basement and hold it above her head until about ten o’clock tonight.
Her internal line rang, making all of her nerve endings frizz.
‘Incoming,’ Oleksandr, the doorman, said. ‘Mr Fay.’
Taking the key and the iPad, she went to the front step and watched Billy Fay push his way out of the car, as if he was trying to escape a chokehold. Then he thumped his flat-footed way up the steps. Honestly, he had some nerve calling her fat.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Fay.’ Her mouth made dry, popping noises.
Without answering, he lunged for the lift, Cara in his wake.
‘I would ask how your journey was.’ She strove to sound pleasant. ‘But as I remember, you prefer silence.’