Page 8 of Christmas Spirit
It was a good question. Two stories, with a steeply pitched roof, and a couple of big chimneys from which hazy smoke drifted up into the air. Every window was lit with soft and inviting light, and on either side of the arched doorway stood a big, bushy Christmas tree dressed with twinkling fairy lights.
“Do you know it? Because I don’t. It’s like something out of a fairy story. A slightly creepy fairy story,” Georgie said.
Roland huffed, and shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
But he knew what Georgie meant. The place was beyond odd, and being so odd, orindividualas the hotel no doubt marketed itself as, he would — should — have known about it. Then why didn’t he?
“We’ll get some coffee, something to eat and also find out where we are, along with directions so we can set off early tomorrow.”
Roland opened his door and was hit by an icy blast. God, but it was cold. They needed to get into the hotel, and quickly.
From the boot, Roland grabbed a bag, and slammed it shut. Hunched against the buffeting wind, he’d only got a couple of steps before realising Georgie hadn’t followed him. Irritation bubbled through Roland. He was tired, his head still thumped despite the painkillers, and he was pissed off by the way the day had panned out. He turned back, and wrenched the door open.
“Why aren’t you getting out of the car?”
Georgie’s eyes flickered between him, to the hotel, and back to him.
“I don’t have the money for a hotel and this place isn’t going to come cheap. I’m not even sure I could afford to buy coffee here.” Georgie bit his lip as a flush broke out over his face. “Perhaps I can sleep here, in your car? I won’t nick it, I promise.”
Roland sucked in a hard breath. All he wanted was to get into the hotel, and hope there was a half decent dinner to be had, along with a comfortable bed for the night. He hadn’t thought twice about his plans for the evening when he’d pulled up, he didn’t have to because he could afford it. Unlike Georgie.
“You’ll freeze to death if you try and stay overnight in the car. I’m not prepared to have that on my conscience. I’ll book us a room each and you can pay me back in instalments.”
“Instalments? It’d take me the rest of my life to pay you back.”
“Then you’d better make sure you live a long life, hadn’t you? You’re not sleeping in the car.”
“But—”
“There is nobut. Get out of the car. Now.”
Roland stood aside, the door held wide, pushing the door shut with a hard thud as soon as Georgie got out.
The path up to the hotel was covered with only the slightest dusting of snow, as though it had very recently been cleared. As they made their way towards the heavy wooden door, Roland looked for any sign to say what the place was called and where it was. There was nothing.
Is this actually a hotel?Perhaps he had misread the sign and it was really a private residence… No. It had clearly said hotel and Georgie had seen it, too. They hadn’t come off the track because there had been no placetocome off. The first sign of life they’d come to since they’d left Pendleton Manor was here, where everherewas.
Roland pushed open the door and walked into a wall of warmth. On one side of the entrance hall, two huge Christmas trees stood sentinel either side of a deep brick fireplace alive with dancing, flickering flames, filling the air with the scent of pine and sweet apple. Holly and ivy, and sprigs of mistletoe, hung in garlands from the walls. Opposite the fireplace was a dark wood reception desk, with a light above it, but it was switched off, giving the reception a closed down look. The hotel didn’t appear to be very big, so perhaps reception wasn’t always staffed. But he was tired and hungry, so somebody was damn well going to come and book them in for the night.
“Where is everybody?” Georgie said, as he looked around him.
“Hello? Reception?” Roland called as he strode across the entrance hall to the desk.
In any hotel in the country, in the middle of the afternoon, staff and guests would normally be milling around. His call should have brought somebody to the desk, but other than him and Georgie, there was no sign of anybody. Roland supposed the bad weather had forced the guests to their rooms, or into a lounge or bar, if there were those, but there should have been more signs of life. And there most definitely should have been staff on duty.
Roland huffed out an impatient sigh. He wanted to put the day behind him, but until somebody arrived to check them in, the day was just being dragged out. He was about to call out again when an elderly man appeared behind the desk. Roland blinked hard. The man hadn’t been there, just a second or so ago, and then he was. He rubbed his aching head.
I must be more tired than I thought.
“Can I help, gentlemen?” The old man said, the skin around his twinkling blue eyes creasing as his lightly white-bearded face lit up in a smile.
“Good afternoon. I would like to book two rooms please, for one night only.”
The old man reached under the desk and pulled out a large old-fashioned ledger. Roland blinked again. It had been years since he’d been anywhere that used a ledger to book in guests. Where was the computer console for the electronic booking system? Every hotel had them, even Pendleton Manor, which on the surface at least adhered to very strict traditional appearances.
“Would you mind telling me the name of this hotel? I can’t see anything that—”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” the old man said, regret furrowing his brow as his words cut across Roland. “We appear only to have one room free. It’s Christmas, you see. It’s our busiest time of the year. Shall I book you and Mr. Forrester in for the night?”
