Page 3 of The Wrong Suitcase

‘How did you know!’ I squeal. ‘That’s hilarious.’

‘Caller ID,’ she deadpans, and I laugh again.

‘I thought you were psychic,’ I tell her.

‘No,’ she replies. ‘Just able to read that the call is coming from Room Twelve.’

I explain that I’ve got the wrong bag, that somebody is coming up, and that I’ve already snaffled a look at what’s in the case I’ve got.

‘A gorgeous shirt,’ I reveal, ‘from what I can see. I don’t want to mess it all up but also, there’s a weirdly organised toiletry bag too, full of Aesop minis. Full ones. Like they’ve just been bought.’

‘A man who likes the finer things in life,’ admires Anastasia. ‘Mid-thirties, I’d guess. Young enough to know what Aesop is, and old enough to afford it.’

‘You should have your own detective show.’

‘But then my identity would be known.’

‘That’s true,’ I say. ‘Urgh, where are they? I need to start on my make-up! And if I don’t dry my hair soon it will go all frizzy and poofy, and I can’t go to this wedding with frizzy and poofy hair. I refuse.’

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. I pad to answer it with the old-school phone still cradled under my ear, my shoulder hoisted upwards to hold it in place. I look down at the porter’s feet. She doesn’t have my suitcase with her.

‘I’ve come for the incorrect luggages,’ the porter says, her English stilted, and I see her nametag saysEleanora.

‘But where is mine?’ I ask.

‘We don’t have. It’s coming, surely.’

In my ear, Anastasia bellows, ‘Don’t give them the case! Having the wrong case is better than no case at all!’

I see what she means. I know it’s naughty, but at least I can steal a dollop of toothpaste from this mystery man’s bag if I really need to. I think fast.

‘Urm,’ I say, trying the figure out the best thing to do. ‘Can we just wait until you find mine? Tell whoever it is to come directly here with it and we can switch?’

Eleanora looks uncertain. Anastasia hisses in my ear, ‘Ooooh, maybe he’ll be cute!’

‘Is that okay?’ I press, and Eleanora shrugs and then nods. I get the feeling she isn’t paid enough to truly care. I close the door and undo the towel wrapped around my head, shaking my hair out and examining my reflection.

‘Whoever has my bagmusthave realised by now that there’s been a mistake.’ I rake my fingers through the blonde knots and tease the roots with my fingers. ‘And isn’t this whole place booked out just for Sarah and Adriano? So it has to be another wedding guest.’

‘For sure,’ Anastasia reassures me. ‘It’ll get sorted, just keep breathing. Can you do your hair before your make-up gets there? We have brushes and hairspray here if you want them. There’s a hairdryer in your bathroom cabinet. Or at least, that’s where ours was.’

‘Do you have straighteners?’

‘Kat does.’

‘Amazing,’ I say. ‘Yes, I can do my hair first. But, urm, could you come here with them? Not to be a pain in the arse, but I don’t want to miss a knock at the door.’

‘Youarea pain in the arse,’ Anastasia says. ‘But yes. I’ll be there in five.’

‘You’re my hero,’ I say.

She sighs teasingly. ‘That’s what all the girls say.’

4

Birchy

‘But,’ I explain to the bored-looking woman called Eleanora behind the desk, ‘I’ve just been up there, and there was no answer.’

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