And I’m not a stranger either.
I gently released the flap without making a sound and walked calmly, but quickly away.
Now my treasure lies safely in my hand, fingers closed over it, forming a tight fist. It feels electrically charged, its jagged shape burning into my flesh. This little piece of metal gives me power. But I have to act quickly, or it will fade to nothing and I’ll be back where I started – a bystander with no part to play.
Chapter Five
The weekend before
Amber feels a fresh rush of anxiety as George unlocks the door with a swipe card and they enter the hotel bedroom.
The setting is sumptuous, but also intimidating. George marches in with their overnight bags, setting them on the luggage rack, but Amber looks about her, absorbing the scene and all that it implies. The centrepiece is a super-king-size four-poster bed, its sides draped in soft muslin. The bed itself is covered with satin cushions in various tones of dull silver and plum and faces a large, extravagantly framed mirror strategically positioned on the opposite wall. The furniture is painted pale grey and is vaguely French in style – bowed legs on the dressing table, crystal knobs on the wardrobe doors and drawers. The silvery grey carpet has a velvety sheen on it and is so thick you could almost trip over the pile. But the most disturbing thing in the room is the polished pewter bathtub that sits brazenly on a platform in the bay overlooking the gardens. It’s not as if the glass in the windows is frosted. Surely nobody actually takes a bath in full view of the other guests? Amber briefly plants herself into the scene, her dressing gown slipping off her shoulders to reveal her flabby naked body. She shudders visibly.
‘You okay?’ George asks. She nods and sits down on the bed. ‘Stunning, eh?’
‘Yes,’ she fibs. She takes her phone from her bag and starts composing a text to Ruby. It’s been less than an hour since they last exchanged messages, but it feels like days. The last she heard, Mabel had done a messy poo (the second today – a little worrying), and had just gone down for her afternoon nap. She was only forty-five minutes behind schedule, which considering Ruby was in charge wasn’t bad at all. Amber’s fingers fly across the screen.
Arrived. Hotel like something out of TOWIE. How are things? Send me a photo! xxx
‘Amber,’ George says warningly. ‘I thought we’d agreed not to keep texting.’ She stares at her handset, willing an image of Mabel to pop onto the screen. ‘Please, babe. Turn the thing off and put it away.’
‘How can I?’ she responds crossly. ‘What if there’s a problem? What if Ruby needs to get in touch urgently?’
‘She won’t. She’s fine.’ He sits down and puts his arm around her. ‘Oh dear, you’re so tense.’ He starts to knead the solid flesh between her shoulders. Her body wants to yield to his touch, but her mind won’t let her. ‘What shall we do first?’ he murmurs. ‘Go for a swim? Use the spa?’
Amber shakes her head. She would love a swim but can’t bear the thought of wearing a swimsuit in public, which is why she deliberately didn’t pack one. He digs his thumbs into her resistant muscles, then reaches around her and starts to undo the buttons of her shirt.
‘George … please don’t. The curtains aren’t drawn. People can see in.’
‘Only if they’re up a tree – we’re on the second floor! Anyway, I don’t care.’
‘Well I do.’ She wriggles free and jumps off the bed. ‘It’s too early. I’m not – not ready.’
His face falls. ‘I’m just trying to make the most of our time together.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry.’ She goes to the window and looks out at the bare trees, blowing in the sharp February wind.
George is clearly not about to give up. ‘We could order afternoon tea,’ he says. ‘In bed. Home-made finger sandwiches and little cakes.’
‘You know I’m trying to cut down on sugar.’
‘But this is our holiday, we’re allowed treats.’
‘I’m not.’ She feels herself welling up. ‘Ruby hasn’t replied.’
‘Give her a chance. I expect she’s playing with Mabel, or making her afternoon snack.’
‘It’s too early for her afternoon snack. Something must be wrong.’ She starts composing another text, but he walks over and snatches the phone out of her hands.
‘You’ve got to stop this.’
‘Hey! Give it back!’ She cannot allow him to look at her phone.
‘No. I’m putting it