Page 41 of The White Octopus Hotel
At the other table, she was aware that little Eve was getting progressively more upset about something. Jane was trying to shush her, but this only made things worse until the girl finally erupted into a shout that echoed around the restaurant. “I WANT CAKE!”
“Don’t shout!” Jane hissed, looking mortified as a sudden quiet fell around the room. “Thereisno more cake, you’ve eaten it all! Now it’s time to go home, back to Daddy.”
“No!” the girl wailed. Jane had risen to her feet, but her daughter was gripping the table like her life depended on it. “I don’t want to go! Five more minutes!”
“Eve, please!” Jane grabbed her hand and pulled her down from the chair. “Justoncecan’t we leave somewhere without tears and tantrums?”
There was an edge of pure exhaustion in her voice, and at the next table, adult Eve felt a horrible flush of guilt. She stared at her younger self, willing her to do as Jane asked and leave nicely, but instead the girl snatched a teacup from the table and hurled it to the floor, where it smashed into dozens of pieces. For a moment, Jane looked as if she might slap Eve, but then her face crumpled, and she was blinking back tears instead.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to Liesl, who had hurried over to help tidy up. “I’ll pay for it.”
“Please don’t worry, miss,” Liesl replied. “It’s only a teacup.”
Realising that she’d made a mistake, little Eve started to cry then too—noisy sobs that echoed around the veranda, causing guests to look either annoyed or sympathetic. Eve just felt furious.
“What a brat,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Mrs. Roth arched an eyebrow and shook her head. “I see you don’t have children of your own,” she said sadly. “She’s not a brat. She’s just three.”
“Come on,” Jane said, grabbing Eve’s hand. “We’re leaving.”
She tried to tug her forwards, but Eve yanked herself away so abruptly that she fell over. There were proper howls then and Jane had to bend awkwardly around her huge baby bump to haul her back up. Tears ran down her face as she carried her daughter, still screaming, out of the room. Suddenly Eve heard Jane’s words from before.
I’m just making it up as I go along and most of the time it’s not right, it’s not enough…
And Eve wanted to tell her that the problem wasn’t with Jane, it was with Eve. Bella would probably have been a better daughter. She wouldn’t have broken teacups and screamed. She would have smiled and been quiet and good. Eve wondered then whether perhaps there had always been something wrong with her, right from the start. She turned back to Mrs. Roth. “I was in the Smoking Room earlier and a guest burst in and told everyone there was a massive octopus hiding in the walls that tried to throttle him on the sixth floor.”
“Indeed?”
“Well, what do you make of that?”
“What am I supposed to make of it? Stranger things have happened at the White Octopus, I daresay. Then again, guests have been known to overindulge in martinis in the Palm Bar during the middle of the day too. Which doyouthink is more likely?”
“Ineedthat writing paper,” Eve said. “Not just for me, but for everyone else who was affected by what I did too.” She forced out the words: “My little sister died. And it was my fault.”
There it was again—that savage rush of shame, so intense that it almost flayed the skin from her bones, yet some twisted part of Eve relished the agony.
“Well,” Mrs. Roth said quietly, “I am truly sorry to hear that. But you don’t get to be as old as I am without living through atragedy or two, and in doing so you learn that sometimes terrible things happen and it’s simply no one’s fault at all.”
Eve had a bitter taste in her mouth and pushed her plate away. Mrs. Roth didn’t know anything about this particular tragedy. She had no right to comment upon it.
“My own daughter died recently,” the old woman added. She suddenly looked even smaller and frailer in her chair, the lines on her face more deeply etched. Her watery eyes blinked and her hands trembled.
“I’m sorry,” Eve said dutifully, although in truth it was hard to care about other people’s suffering when she was so consumed by her own.
The older woman gazed into the dregs of her teacup. “You know, it’s only after someone dies that we think of all the things we should have said to them. I’ve had a few months to reflect on this and if I could see my daughter one last time, I would be honoured to tell her that she was the single greatest joy of my life. I don’t think I ever told her that, not in so many words. Hopefully she felt it anyway and knew it to be true deep down. But, still. Some things ought to be said.”
Eve felt a sudden ache of loss as she thought of her own mother. They barely spoke or saw each other now. They simply didn’t know each other at all. Before she could reply, a soft, warm creature brushed against her foot, and she winced as a rabbit hopped out from beneath their table. She watched as it bounced its way across the veranda and right up to Anna, who’d appeared in the doorway. She quickly bent to scoop it up and then disappeared inside, but not before Eve noticed that there were tears in her eyes.
“It’s almost time to go in, I think,” Mrs. Roth said, glancing up at the terrace clock.
“Would you mind answering one last question for me first?” Eve asked. “I haven’t been able to find the Sugar Room anywhere. Could you tell me where it is?”
If she could do that, then at least the last hour wouldn’t have been entirely wasted.
“No,” the older woman said instantly. “It would do no good even if I tried to give you directions. The Sugar Room only appears at certain times for certain reasons to certain people. Some say it only appears for soulmates.”
Eve pulled a face. “Soulmates?”
