to her non-Irish colleagues. ‘We’ve been given identities, like people from Agatha Christie books, you know, vicars, explorers, retired majors. We dress up and stay in character all weekend. A couple of people will be “murdered” and we have to figure out who did it.’
Patience’s smooth brow puckered. ‘White people are weird,’ she eventually said, and went off to her office.
‘Who’s your character?’ Zachery asked. ‘Do you know yet?’
‘Madame Hestia Nyx, renowned spiritualist.’ She’d been terrified that she’d have to squeeze herself into a short dress or a fitted evening gown, so she’d pleaded with Johnny for a role that didn’t require figure-hugging clothing. Johnny had protested that the hotel made those decisions but Cara had insisted, ‘It can’t hurt to ask.’
He’d come back and said, ‘Would a spiritualist do you? Sort of like a fortune teller?’
‘What does a spiritualist wear?’ Ling asked Cara.
‘You know, floaty stuff, scarves, jingly bracelets, black kohl. I provide the clothes and the hotel provides the props – I suppose things like a crystal ball. Maybe tarot cards.’
‘What’s the hotel?’ Vihaan asked. They were all very interested in hotels.
‘Gulban Manor. In Northern Ireland. Antrim.’
‘Never heard of it,’ Ling said.
‘Well,’ Vihaan sighed, ‘not everywhere can be the Ardglass.’
In fact, Cara had been able to find out almost nothing about Gulban Manor, save the location, which was two miles from the nearest village. The website gave no information on room amenities – specifically mini-bars – except to say, ‘Gulban Manor offers a variety of accommodation, from generously sized family rooms to fun, themed spaces.’ That meant she’d have to sneak chocolate into her luggage, just in case the urge to overeat came on her. And, with a sinking heart, she realized that it probably would.
Despite her incessant resolutions to stop, she didn’t seem to be able to. It was scaring her now. Every day – at least twice or three times, sometimes even more – the longing overtook her. Being out of her routine seemed to make her more susceptible.
Her ribs ached, her throat felt raw, and all of a sudden, her broken tooth had begun to throb.
Fond as she was of Jessie and Johnny, she was worn out by these elaborate weekends. After those horrible few days in Mayo, only a month ago, couldn’t Johnny have done something simpler? Her time with Ed and the kids was limited and precious. Johnny had decreed that this party was a no-kids thing, which meant that the lads would barely see Ed for two weeks in a row.
As for finding a decent gift for Jessie! Usually she gave spa vouchers for the Ardglass, because she got a 50 per cent discount. And because everyone was in love with that spa. But she needed to up her game for a fiftieth. The Ardglass gave an annual two-night stay to many of their employees, which could be bartered with staff in other hotels around the world. By doing a deal with the woman who managed a small gem of a hotel in Finland, she’d got a two-night stay for Jessie and Johnny, in a suite overlooking Helsinki harbour. And Tiina and Kaarle would have a dreamy weekend in the Ardglass at a time of their choosing. Lucky feckers.
Peak time for a complaint was twenty or thirty minutes after a guest had arrived in their room. That was when the relief of finally being in their own private space wore off. Suddenly they found themselves back in their body, redirecting all their habitual dissatisfactions at their new surroundings.
They might decide that actually, 700 square feet was too small and they needed an upgrade. Or, beautiful though the view over the square was, they didn’t like the sounds of the traffic.
It was fifteen minutes since Mr O’Doherty had been shown to his suite.
‘Five euro says he will want a second bathroom,’ Vihaan said.
‘No,’ Ling said. ‘My bet is he will want a higher floor.’
‘Five euro?’ Vihaan was sharp-eyed with delight.
‘Guys,’ Cara said, ‘we can’t bet actual money. This is only okay if we do it for fun.’
‘So what’s your prediction?’ Vihaan asked.
‘It won’t be straightforward. It’ll be something about the décor, that it’s too –’
‘Beautiful?’
‘Which rooms are ready?’ Cara picked up the latest list from the housekeeping team. She was already mentally shuffling bookings. Today only two rooms in the whole hotel weren’t reserved: the Penthouse Suite and the mezzanine roof-garden. Some of today’s expected guests had requested specific rooms, so they couldn’t be changed, but there was a certain leeway with the