Maggie watched the girl-boy with fascination. How did mothers behave towards their children at breakfast in a posh hotel? Because this hotel was definitely posh, if a bit worn, like a film star in her twilight years. And she wondered, not for the first time, how it was that Sam, the impoverished activist, was familiar with it.
‘Such a shame Father didn’t wait for us,’ the child said. ‘Don’t you think, Mother?’
Maggie held a finger to her lips. Beth was overdoing it now, sounding like a character from some black-and-white film. Mother and Father indeed! Did the upper classes even talk like that anymore? She doubted it, just as she doubted that Beth had ever called Ellie, ‘Mother.’ More likely it had been ‘Mum’ or possibly ‘Ellie.’
After breakfast Beth insisted on using the lift, even though it would have been quicker to take the stairs to the first floor. As they were waiting for it to come, Maggie felt a small hand slip into hers. She didn’t dare look down, but she felt something primeval, a lurch of emotion so intense that she felt giddy. Inside the lift, their hands remained locked together. Only when they were back in the room did Beth release her hold, but even then they remained standing side by side for several seconds, unable to move, bound together by feelings that neither yet understood.
It was the child who broke the silence. ‘Where is Father?’ she said. Even in the privacy of their room, she was still playing a part. Or was she?
Maggie wanted to say something reassuring, but she couldn’t because, like Beth, she had a feeling — a gut-wrenching fear in her case — that Sam had left them. It wouldn’t be the first time he had walked out on her. Instead, all she could do was insist that the child brushed her teeth (wasn’t that the sort of thing good mothers did?) before she would allow her to switch on the TV. Sticking your child in front of the TV was, she imagined, the first resort of a lazy mother. But Maggie needed Beth to remain safe and secure in the room while she went downstairs and nosed around. She wanted to know if Sam had really gone. If so, she would have to start making plans fast.
* * *
It would be asking too much for the platinum blonde with the heavy make-up and the cleavage to be on reception. If anyone at the hotel knew where Sam had gone, it would surely be her, but of course she was nowhere to be seen. The man standing in her place was young and — she soon realised — Polish.
‘I’d like to pay for our room,’ she said. ‘Although we aren’t quite ready to leave yet.’
‘Of course, madam. Your room number, please?’
She told him and waited while he checked his computer screen.
‘Ah!’ He straightened up. ‘The bill has been settled. I remember it. The tall gentleman paid for it, just as I was starting my shift.’’
‘What time was this?’ she asked.
‘I start at seven o’clock.’
‘He left the hotel after he had paid?’
The man shrugged. ‘I think so. But I notice he had no luggage.’
‘Did he take a taxi?’ she asked. How else would he get away from here? She doubted any buses ran down these country lanes.
‘He did not ask for one.’
She scratched the side of her head. What on earth was Sam playing at? Had he left for good? Why hadn’t he told her? Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised. People don’t change. Not people like Sam, at any rate. Maggie looked at the receptionist, but he was doing something on the computer. Or pretending to. She sensed that he was avoiding her gaze.
‘Pavel,’ she said, having belatedly taken in the name badge on his jacket pocket, ‘tell me, how did he leave the hotel? Did he just walk off?’
Pavel looked up from the vital computer activity he was engaged in. Again there was a refusal to look her in the eye. He seemed to be finding a spot above and beyond her left shoulder hugely fascinating. ‘I think Sinead gave him lift,’ he said eventually.
‘And who is Sinead?’ she asked, even though she was pretty darned sure she knew precisely who Sinead was.
‘Sinead was on duty last nig
ht. She finished her shift at seven o’clock this morning.’ Pavel’s smile was nervous. Possibly he was afraid she might make a scene. Eventually he looked directly into her face. ‘The gentleman wants to leave at seven o’clock. She finishes at seven o’clock. So she offers the gentleman a lift. That is kind of her, no?’
Kind, my arse! The words were on her lips and it took a huge effort to stop them from going any further. She told herself she needed to be forgettable. Which was all very well, but Sam’s height made that difficult. And now Pavel was sure to remember her if anyone came asking.
‘And is Sinead likely to be working the late shift tonight?’ She tried to sound casual.
‘I am not sure, madam.’
‘Can you find out?’
‘But, madam, you will not be here tonight.’ Pavel wasn’t as slow as he looked.
Maggie shrugged. ‘No matter.’ Anyway, she told herself firmly, even if she could get to speak to Sinead, what would Sinead be able to tell her? Sam would hardly have divulged his plans to her, would he?