Page 83 of The White Octopus Hotel
“One last toast to old friends before we have to go?” Max had joined her, two coupes of champagne in his hands. Then he blinked. “Where did you get that leaf?” he asked.
“There’s someone still here, I think,” Eve said, slipping the leaf into her pocket. “The guest in Room Seven.”
“You know, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on anymore,” Max said. He set the champagne on a nearby table before following her out the door and into the corridor.
When they got to the lobby, it was deserted. There was no one to prevent Eve from examining the guest book on the front desk. She didn’t even need to riffle through the pages. The last entry contained the check-in details for Room 7. According to the book, the guest had checked in just two hours ago. And there was the name printed in the final column:Eve Shaw.
“But you’re in Room Twenty-seven,” Max said, peering over her shoulder.
“It’s a different me,” Eve replied.
Her mind raced. It must be a future version of herself, since she didn’t remember ever being inside Room 7. She wondered how much older she would be and how she had managed to find her way back to the hotel….
“I need to talk to her.”
When they reached the first floor and stood before the door toRoom 7, Eve raised her fist, but she didn’t hammer the door this time. Instead, she knocked gently.
“Please,” she said quietly. “I know you’re in there. Please let me in.”
There was a brief silence. Then they heard the key turn in the lock and the door swung open.
Chapter 51
They stepped into a guest room that was just like the others. A single occupant sat on the bed, dressed all in black. Black dress, black shoes, black hairband. Eve recognised herself at once, but she wasn’t a woman as she’d been expecting. The jolt of shock made the clutch bag fall from her hand, the contents scattering upon the floor. She was looking at herself as she’d been at four years old. She knew exactly how old she was and what day this was because she recognised the outfit. The one she’d worn to Bella’s funeral. The second-worst day of her life. The little girl watched them as they walked into the room and closed the door.
“I’m not going back,” the girl snapped. “You can’t make me.” Then her different-coloured eyes fell on Max and she said, “Oh! You’re the magician.” Her face lit up as she scrambled from the bed and came over to them. “Will you do another magic trick for me?”
How did she remember that? Could it be because she was back in the hotel? But, no, adult Eve had remembered this even before she’d returned to the White Octopus. She’d remembered the magician and the fountain and the peppermint creams. How was that possible if guests lost their memories upon checking out? How was any of this possible?
“How did you get here?” Max asked.
“I drew a door,” the girl replied. “And I stared at it until it turned real.”
Eve recalled only blurred, horrid fragments of that day. Alone in her bedroom with her crayons, scribbling and scribbling, refusing to come downstairs and put her best shoes on. Wishing with all her soul that she could be anywhere other than home and anyone other than herself. Wishing for a door that could take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go.
“Then I used my key.” She held it up and Eve saw the loops of brass tentacles curling around the number seven.
Room Seven’s key was recently lost, I’m afraid….
Mrs. Roth’s words echoed in her mind. “Where did you get that?” she demanded.
“Nan gave it to me,” young Eve said, a little defensively. “She said it belonged to me.”
Eve remembered the day of the afternoon tea and how she’d seen Nan drop something onto her younger self’s lap. She’d thought it was a peppermint cream but perhaps, after all, it had been this key….
Max glanced around. “Is your mother with you?”
The girl’s face shut down again and she shook her head. “She’s going to the church. Everyone’s going. To say goodbye. To Bella.”
Eve swallowed hard. “You’ve got to go too,” she said. “Your mum is…She’s waiting for you to go downstairs and put your shoes on. It’ll upset her if you don’t. It’ll make things even worse.”
The little girl clenched her jaw. “I won’t.”
Eve gritted her teeth. She wanted to shake her younger self in that moment. To shake her, and shake her, and shake her.
“You’ve got to.”
“I WON’T!” the girl screamed—a screech so loud that it seemed to pierce Eve’s eardrums.
