Page 93 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Vincent asked me to ask you if you’d like me to walk Dottie.”
“Are you okay?” The major frowned. “You’re a bit pale.”
“I took a nosedive into the hot tub with my clothes on. Banged my head. Managed to accidentally give a guest a nosebleed.”
“Never a dull day for you, young man.” He turned and called, “Dottie! Walk.”
Dottie came running up. The major lifted her lead from a hook next to the door, clipped one end onto Dottie’s collar and handed the other to Jonty. “There are three bags wrapped around the handle, just in case.”
“Thanks.”
“How did you manage to fall into the hot tub?”
“The guest pulled me in, though that’s not what he claims.”
“Ah. Are you in trouble?”
Jonty made himself smile. “I’m always in trouble, but maybe more trouble than usual this time.”
The major smiled. “You remind me of me when I was your age.”
Jonty raised his eyebrows. “As bad as that?”
He laughed, then sighed. “By the way, Jonty… That guest in Wave you had an issue with when he checked in…”
Jonty’s heart did a complicated thumpity-thump-trip-thump. “Yes?”
The major checked up and down the corridor. “You mustn’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you, right? Confidential.” He tapped his nose twice.
“Okay.”
“Hamish is proposing to sell the hotel.”
Jonty sucked in a breath. “To Devan Smith?”
“To the company he works for. I’m going to have to move out. As are all the permanent residents. I think it’s very likely you’ll be out of a job. They want to do extensive renovations. Hamish is going to tell the staff once a price has been agreed, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m very fond of you, Jonty. You’re a kind-hearted young man and you’ve made my days cheery. I thought if you knew a few days in advance, it might give you the chance to find a job in another hotel before the others start looking.”
“Thank you.” He swallowed hard.
Jonty wasn’t sure how he managed to get out of the hotel without breaking down and sobbing. When was Devan planning to tell him? Today, tomorrow, sometime, never? It started to rain and Jonty pulled up his hood over the beanie.
“Okay with the rain, Dottie?”
The dachshund looked up at him and wagged her tail.
As they made their way across the car park, Devan’s noisy Aston Martin drew up and the window slid down.
“So you’re still alive?” Devan said. “I’ve been worried about you. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls or texts?”
Jonty so nearly yelled at him, but managed to rein himself in. “Because my phone has either been swallowed by a sand dune, probably by a giant scary worm, or it’s in your car.”
Devan gaped at him. “What? Let me park and I’ll check.”
Moments later, he got out of the car and handed Jonty the phone. “It had slipped under the front passenger seat.”
“Thank you.” Jonty took it from him.
Ask him what the fuck he’s been playing at.
