Page 4 of The White Octopus Hotel
“Thank you for seeing me.”
Max gripped his stick and used the edge of the desk to drag himself to his feet. Eve rose too. She wished James had never let the man into her office.
“I’ll walk you out,” she said, picking up the octopus and slipping it into her pocket. Perhaps she could toss it into the taxi after him.
“There’s really no need,” Max said, but without much conviction. “I’m sure I can find my own way.”
“I was going out to buy a sandwich anyway,” Eve lied. “And perhaps I might flag down a taxi for you? Unless you’d like me to phone someone?”
“My dear,” he said with that half smile, “there is no one to call.”
Eve didn’t know what to say to that, so they left the room and walked down the corridor to the lift in silence. But as the doors closed behind them Eve realised that something was wrong. Max had suddenly lost all the colour from his face; his breathing was too shallow and his hands were trembling.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“There is so much,” he said, his voice quivering. “So very much that I would like to say to you. But it’s all…” He waved a hand. “It’s already been said.”
Eve’s gaze went to the numbers counting down at the top of the lift; she willed them to go faster. When the doors finally slid open on the ground floor, she tried to persuade Max to take a seat in the lobby, but he insisted on heading to the exit.
“I want to be outside…,” he said breathlessly.
His words made Eve shiver. She had a sudden foreboding that something bad was about to take place. She followed him as he lurched unsteadily out onto the steps, sucking in a deep lungful of air.
“Can I help you down the stairs?” she asked, reaching towards him.
He met her gaze and smiled. The smile lit up his face, and suddenly there seemed to be so much humour, and wit, and life in his eyes. So much joy.
“I’d prefer you to go back inside, but I know you won’t. So, yes. I would appreciate your help this one last time.”
It was an odd reply, but then so much of what he’d said made no sense. There was no time to linger on any of it, however—although Eve would replay his words many times in the weeks that followed. But in that moment, she simply took his arm, feeling how thin and frail it was through the fabric of his smart jacket. She heard his knees click as she helped him down one step, then another.
“Your hat,” she said, suddenly remembering that he must have left it in the cloakroom. “Shall I run back and—?”
But she didn’t finish the sentence before Max gave a sudden, sharp cry of pain. His walking stick fell from his grip to clatter down the steps and he leaned forwards, clutching a hand to his chest. Then his legs buckled, and he was dragging Eve down with him.
She shouted up to the doorman, who hurriedly got out a phone to call for an ambulance. All around, people were stopping and staring. Some came to see if they could help, but there was nothing anyone could do except wait. Eve knelt on the steps by Max’s side, holding his hand in hers. Even to her untrained eye, she could tell this was bad. His face was white and etched with lines of pain, his breathing a shallow gasp.
“The ambulance is coming,” she said helplessly. “It’s going to be okay.”
To her surprise, Max gave the smallest of smiles. “I know.”
She looked at his face and thought his eyes had a glassy look, as if he wasn’t really seeing her at all. “Promise you’ll come back to the hotel,” he said, his voice slurring slightly. “Please.”
There was such a look of hungry desperation in his eyes that Eve nodded, even though she knew he was speaking to someone else,from some time long ago. He must have regained some lucidity right at the end, though, because he used her name when he spoke again, for the final time.
“Thank you, Eve.” His hand tightened briefly around hers. “For saving me.”
She tried to offer some stumbling reply, but it was already too late. His hand was limp, and the life and light had gone from his eyes, which were now empty and unseeing. She knew, even before the paramedics arrived shortly afterwards and confirmed it, that the person Max Everly had been was gone forever. He was pronounced dead at the scene, shortly after midday. Eve hadn’t known him—they’d barely exchanged a few dozen words—yet she felt very sad as she let go of his frail hand and watched him being loaded onto the stretcher.
It occurred to her, too, that this would do nothing whatsoever to help dispel the Black Widow nickname she’d gained at work.
Chapter 3
France—One Year Later
Eve walked through the market, trying to ignore the rabbit hopping along behind her. Her hands shook as she lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to get the ferry to St. Malo a few days ago. She’d hoped that being abroad might make her birthday easier. The market was nothing like the antiques ones she often went to back home. In fact, it was little more than a flea market, full of bric-a-brac, and knitted cardigans, and secondhand books. Eve didn’t really expect to find anything of interest there, but it was something to do, something to look at.
She’d found herself thinking of Max Everly several times today, too. The episode last year had been as strange as it was sad. Eve had never seen anyone die before. It was the one small mercy when it came to her sister. She’d thought about trying to track down his next of kin in case they wanted the octopus back, but she hadn’t known where to start. The hospital had found no identification on him and the only reason the medics even knew his name was because Eve had given it to them. It made her sad to think of him being buried alone.
