Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (31 page)

Charlotte moved into the reception and struck the little
gong when she could see no one to help her.  Appearing from another room
behind the desk, two extremely smart receptionists smiled widely at her.

“Good afternoon, madam,” they chorused.

“You must be Miss Price.”  The taller lady, with a high
bun in her hair, outstretched her hand to Charlotte.  “We’ve been
expecting you.”

Willow and Madge, the receptionists, booked Charlotte in
quickly and efficiently.  They explained everything that the hotel
offered, gave her the meal times and handed over a complimentary pamphlet all
about Canterbury.  Finally, Peter the Porter appeared, whisking her case
away to her room, with Charlotte following close behind.

Once she was alone in her room Charlotte was fairly relieved
that Paul was paying; it was extremely large and very expensive looking. 
Charlotte thought that it would have probably cost her a month’s salary to stay
for just a few short days.  Even the complimentary bathroom products were
more extravagant than those she had at home, and Charlotte didn’t skimp on
things like that.

Once she had unpacked her case Charlotte decided to take a
long soak before dinner.  She lay in the bath, sipping from a glass of
wine from the fridge, trying to imagine all her worries floating away into the
soapsuds.  After a while, she started to resemble a walnut and decided
that although she had enjoyed the quiet time, the worries were still
there.  Niall was constantly in her head.

Once Charlotte had made a couple of calls home, and
beautified herself, it was time for dinner.  She examined herself in the
mirror. She wanted to look good even though she were dining alone; the man of
her dreams could be down there.  The Karen Millen top and trousers with
the Faith shoes looked good, and she felt good, ready to face her fellow
diners.

Charlotte entered the dining room with some trepidation,
Willow had told her that there was a conference going on in the City, and some
of the delegates were staying in the hotel.  Charlotte shuddered with the
thought of a room full of sales men wearing shiny, creased suits with their
mobiles clipped to the waistband.  She was quietly impressed as she
approached the headwaiter, looking around she could see that they were actually
very smart, mostly bespectacled, middle-aged ladies and gentlemen.

“Ello Mees Price, ‘ow hare you thees hevenin,” greeted Luca,
the headwaiter, in his strange cockney/Italian accent.

Charlotte looked astonished that he knew her name. 
“Oh, err, hello.”

“Ees hokay, Mr Giles tell me to hexpect you.  Phleese,
follow me.”

Charlotte followed behind, fascinated by the way Luca’s
bottom bounced up and down in his tight black trousers, all the time straining
against his jacket as he walked.  He sat her down at a table near to the
patio windows, not so out of the way that she felt like a leper, but not
conspicuously on view either.

She enjoyed a beautiful meal of avocado salad to start,
followed by an extremely delicious piece of chicken stuffed with seafood and
then a caramel basket of fresh fruit and cream.  Charlotte declined the
cheese and biscuits due to the strain on her waistband, and decided to retire
to the bar for one drink before bedtime.

As she walked into the bar Charlotte noticed that the only
other people in there were a distinguished looking couple sitting at a small
table.  She smiled at them, looking for a friendly face; she was a
confident person but sitting alone in a bar wasn’t something she did a lot
of.  The man smiled warmly, but his bejewelled wife simply stared straight
ahead.  Somewhat put out, Charlotte walked past them towards the smiling
barman.  She ordered her drink, a large brandy, and unnecessarily looked
around for somewhere to sit; the room was empty except for the couple.

“Please dear, come and join us.”

Charlotte looked around; unexpectedly, the bejeweled lady
was smiling at her and beckoning her over.  Charlotte walked across as the
man stood up and held out a seat for her.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at them both.

“We noticed that you were alone at dinner, and you can’t
drink alone as well. It's just not right is it Margaret?”  The man sat
down and patted his wife’s hand that was resting against her knee.  “I’m
Frank, by the way, and this is Margaret.”  He held his hand out.

Charlotte took it and shook it.  “I’m Charlotte and
thank you for inviting me.”

“I should tell you that Margaret is blind,” explained Frank
as he guided Margaret’s hand to Charlottes.

“Oh,” said Charlotte, not really sure what else to
say. 

She’d always assumed that sightless people wore dark glasses
and used a stick; never in a million years would she have imagined this very
refined, statuesque, jewelled lady would be blind.

“Hmm, I may be blind Francis, but I see a lot.  Don’t
let him flirt with you Charlotte; he tends to do that with beautiful young
ladies.  So,” she said, shifting in her seat, “tell me all about this
person that you are trying to escape from.”

“Margaret!” Frank blasted. “Don’t be so nosy.”

Charlotte blushed profusely but somehow didn’t mind being
asked.  “Well there isn’t much to tell really.”

“See I knew there was a story to be told.”  Margaret
patted the chignon on the back of her head.

“In the olden days she would have been burnt her as a
witch.”  Frank smiled at his wife and leaned across to kiss her powdery
cheek.

“So Charlotte, do you want to impart what there is to tell
then?”

Charlotte smiled and taking a large sip of brandy, realised
that it was no use. She would not get away without letting everything out.

An hour later, and Charlotte was ready for her bed, the long
journey and three large brandies catching up with her.

“Well thanks for listening,” she said, standing up.

“No problem, I’m sure everything will work out for
you.  Goodnight my dear.”  Frank also stood up, and pecked Charlotte
on the cheek.

“Yes Frank is right. Everything will go your way. I'm
sure.  Goodnight dear and I hope we bump into each other again before you
go home.”

“I’m sure we will, goodnight.”

Leaving them chatting Charlotte left the bar and walked to
the lift.  As she approached it, she saw someone disappearing inside,
about to pull the gate across on the old-fashioned lift door.

“Hang on,” she called as she ran the last few steps and
slipped inside.  “Thanks for that.”  She turned to thank the person
who had waited for her.

As the old lift shuddered on its way Charlotte nearly lost
her dinner, because standing in front of her, in all his beautiful glory, was
Niall Devine.

Since her conversation with Mrs Llewellyn, the previous day,
Kerry was feeling much more positive about going home.  Mrs Llewellyn was
right; she could forgive Kelvin and hoped that he could forgive her. 
Tomorrow she would go home, home to sort out everything that had gone wrong in
the last few weeks. If it weren’t for Esme having a poorly tummy she would have
gone today.

Kerry needed to talk to Charlotte and Bets and she wanted
Kelvin so badly that it hurt, so as soon as it was light tomorrow, Esme being
well enough, she was off, putting Owen and the farm behind her.

Bets had received a call to say that Alfred would be able to
come home tomorrow, and she was absolutely overjoyed.  She missed him
bouncing around all over the place.  She decided to ring Tom and let him
know; it was the least she could do after all that he’d done on that horrible
night.

She picked up the salon phone and flicked through the list
of numbers that Charlotte had left to try to contact Tom on.  There was
quite a list, including two pubs, a gym, three girls numbers, five of his
friends, his shop number, their mum and dad's, Amanda and Dave’s, his mobile
and for some strange reason, a flower arranging class; Bets made a mental note
to ask Tom about that one.  She plumped for the shop number and punched
the buttons to dial.

“Hello, Men’s Room, Tom speaking.”

“Good morning Thomas, this is your friendly reminder call to
feed Petula,” said Bets, gaily.

“Oh hi Bets, don’t worry I’ve done it.  She is fed and
watered, and I even let her sleep with me last night.” 

Bets smiled, knowing that Petula was probably being as
spoilt as if Charlotte were at home.

“Good, anyway I also called to tell you that Alfred is
coming home tomorrow.”

“Brilliant,” Tom shouted at the other end.  “I can’t
tell you how relieved I am about that.”

Bets shuddered as she realised what might have happened had
it not been for Tom’s quick thinking.

“Listen, by way of a reward for all you did would you like
to come over for something to eat tomorrow night?”  Bets asked.

Tom sighed heavily on the other end.  “Oh I don’t know.
I've got a ready meal for one to look forward to.”

“Sausage and mash, followed by apple pie and custard,”
cajoled Bets.

“If I must, seeing as you asked so nicely.”

“Eight o’clock then.  Oh and by the way, why are you
going to flower arranging classes?”  Bets started to giggle, wondering how
on earth Tom was going to get out of this one.

“I’ll kill her the bloody grass.  Charlotte is one big
mouth.  If you must know I take Mum, she wanted to go and didn’t have
anyone else to go with, so I volunteered.  Promise me that you won’t tell
any of my mates, please Bets,” he pleaded.

Bets was enjoying hearing him squirm. This was definitely
ammunition for a later date if necessary. 

“I’ll think about it. It depends on whether you ask me to do
any more stupid favours for you.”

“I won’t I promise, and I’ll make you a table decoration,
how does ivy, roses and carnations sound?”

“Vile, okay I promise for the time being.  Look I’ve
got to go, so I’ll see you tomorrow, bye.”

Bets put down the receiver, content in the knowledge that
she had something to pay Tom back, for the Dastardly Des situation.

Charlotte was not having such fun in Kent; she had slept
fitfully after her liaison with Niall in the lift.  Whey they had both
finally picked their jaws up off the floor Niall had been the first to speak.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked, running a hand
across his head.

Charlotte stared at him, realising how tired he
looked.  Underneath his eyes were big dark circles, and his complexion was
pale.  He was dressed in the same charcoal grey suit he had worn during
the day that they’d argued.   The trousers were creased; his
shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his jacket was flung over the briefcase in his
hand.  Definite signs of a horrendous journey at the end of a long
day.  Fighting the urge to stroke his tired face, Charlotte answered his
question.

“I’m here for a few days holiday,
to get away from
everything
.” Charlotte emphasised the last part of the statement, wanting
Niall to know that he had spoiled her plans.

Niall shrugged his shoulders.  “Oh, not that it is any
of your business, but I’m here for a law conference in the City.”  He
narrowed his eyes to ease the pain in his head.

“And you just happened to be staying here,” Charlotte
snapped back at him.  “How coincidental is that?”

“I could say the same to you,” cried Niall, thrusting a hand
to his hip.  “I’ve had this booked for weeks, ask Paul.”

Charlotte frowned, rather unattractively.  “Paul, why
should I ask Paul, what has he got to do with it?”

“He recommended the place, told me to ask for…”

“Giles,” chorused Charlotte.  “Now I know what Paul has
to do with it.  The little prat has set us up. I'll kill him!”

Niall didn’t smile, but he didn’t look angry either; simply
weary.  “Look,'” he sighed “I won’t be around much in the day, and I’m
sure that we can avoid each other in the evening, what’s past is past. 
Anyway this is my floor, so well have a good holiday.”  He moved toward
the gate, as the lift lurched to a standstill.

Charlotte moved with him.  “Mine too.”

They both turned left down the corridor, walking in silence,
until Charlotte stopped outside her door.

“Good night then.  I hope the conference goes well, and
no offence, but I hope I don’t see you around.”  She gave an empty laugh,
amazed that Paul could do this to her.

As she turned the key in the lock, Charlotte sneaked one
last look at Niall as he walked down the corridor; however, he wasn’t walking;
he was opening the door to the room next to hers.

Obviously feeling a pair of eyes staring at him, Niall
turned back too.

“Ah well,” he shrugged, “I suppose that we should at least
try to be civil to one another, seeing as we are neighbours.”

With that he disappeared inside, leaving an open-mouthed
Charlotte alone in the corridor.

Now here Charlotte was, walking down to breakfast, after
what seemed like only a few minutes sleep.  On getting out of the shower
she had contemplated asking for breakfast in her room, but then decided against
it.  She was as entitled as Niall Devine to enjoy the hotel, and he was
not going to force her into becoming a hermit at meal times.

As she walked into the dining room, Charlotte heard a
familiar voice behind her; it was Frank, leading Margaret to breakfast.

“Good morning dear and how are you today?”  He smiled
gently, as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh not too bad thank you.  How are you both?” 
Charlotte tried to sound jolly, but it wasn’t really happening.

“Very well my dear, although you sound a little tired. 
Is something troubling you?”  Margaret asked, as she reached out for
Charlotte’s hand.

Charlotte guided her hand towards Margaret’s.  “No, I’m
fine thank you Margaret; I think that I just need some fresh air to liven me up
a little.”

Margaret turned to Frank, still holding tightly onto Charlotte’s
hand.  “Francis weren’t you going along the road for a little walk before
breakfast?”  She now turned back to Charlotte.  “He likes to walk
briskly, and he can’t when I’m with him.  Would you sit with me for
breakfast while he goes?”

Margaret ran a diamond-laden finger on the edge of her
Jacques Vert jacket, as though checking that Frank had dressed her
suitably.  Satisfied that he had, she then patted her chignon, checking
that it too was perfect.

“Of course I can,” answered Charlotte.  “That would be
lovely.”  Not totally sure that she could cope with the questioning that
she knew she was going to get.

As Frank went off for his walk, and according to Margaret, a
crafty smoke and greasy café fry up, Charlotte led the way to their
table. 

Charlotte ate a wonderful cooked breakfast, and Margaret
muesli and fresh fruit – hence Frank’s amenability to go out for breakfast, all
the while chatting about their family and friends.  When they had finished
eating Margaret started her inquisition, her opening gambit was not subtle, but
straight to the point.

“So, Charlotte what is it that’s troubling you today?” 
She edged her fingers across the table, until she found her coffee cup and
gently lifted it up to drink the steaming liquid.

Charlotte found the words tumbling out, just as they had the
previous evening; what was it about this lady?  She made her babble on
about her innermost thoughts?

“Oh dear,” said Margaret, finally.  “But don’t you
think that it’s probably fate that has brought him here?”

“No,” replied Charlotte.  “I think that it’s more like
some stupid prat of a boss of mine that has brought him here.”

“But he obviously has your best interests at heart.  He
realises how awful it is for you to have found someone you love, only to have
him snatched away because of the bitterness of an ex-boyfriend,” Margaret
sighed.

“I don’t know whether I do love him though, I hardly know
him.  Anyway, I told you about his wedding, so how I feel doesn’t come
into it.”  Charlotte was saying the words, but really she knew, deep down,
that she did love Niall.  If she didn't why did it feel so bad?

“Of course you love him.”  Margaret echoed Charlotte’s
thoughts.  “I can tell because of the way that you describe him, and those
beautiful eyes of his.  I’m blind Charlotte, but I have a good picture up
here of what he looks like.”  She tapped the side of her head with a long,
bony finger. I think you can only give a description that detailed when you
truly love someone.”

Charlotte looked forlornly at Margaret, if only things were
different, and she was enjoying a happy life with Niall; but it wasn’t going to
happen.

“You know Charlotte, the length of time that you’ve known
someone doesn’t really have any bearing on whether you love them or not.” 
Margaret smiled so widely that it lit up the whole of her face.  “You must
not let time fool you.  I knew Frank for two weeks before we got
married.  I was on holiday in Torquay with my parents, and on the first
day Mother took me to the hairdresser.  Frank was there working as a
trainee, and he cut my hair for me; his first cut on a client.  We were
both smitten and couldn’t stand the thought of being separated when I went home
to Birmingham.  I was only sixteen, and we ran off to Gretna Green after
five days of knowing each other.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened.  “Really?”

“Oh yes and that was sixty years ago.  We’ve now got
three wonderful sons and ten marvellous grandchildren and two
great-grandchildren; so don’t tell me that you can’t possibly love someone whom
you haven’t known for long, because I won’t agree with you.”

Charlotte felt warm inside. It was a wonderful story and
Margaret, and Frank evidently shared something special; however, that didn’t
mean that she, and Niall should be together.

“Well whatever, he’s spoiled my bloody holiday by turning up
here,” Charlotte grumbled, pushing her tea- cup away.  “I’m going to kill
Paul when I get back.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Charlotte suddenly spotted
Frank, hovering near the doorway.  She smiled and beckoned him over.

“I see that you’ve emptied the place with your gossiping
then,” Frank remarked, looking around at the now empty dining room.

“Oh dear, are they waiting for us to leave?” Margaret asked,
pushing herself up from her chair.  “Now remember Charlotte think about what
I’ve said, and take every opportunity that comes your way.”

Charlotte smiled, and standing up hugged Margaret to
her.  “I will.”

Suddenly, behind them, there was a clattering of glass, as
someone crashed into one of the tables that had already been laid for
lunch.  Charlotte and Frank turned to see who the perpetrator was.

“Niall,” gasped Charlotte, her legs suddenly shaking and her
heart thumping.

A casually dressed Niall was bending down to pick up the
knives and forks from the floor.  “Blast it, I’ve missed breakfast
then?”  He looked up sheepishly, aiming his question at Charlotte.

Charlotte’s face shone like a beacon; what if Niall had
caught her talking about him?  He looked very handsome in his frayed jeans
and thick sweater; how could he keep doing this to her blood pressure?

“Y-y-yes,” she stammered.  “It was over about half an
hour ago. I think that they’ve just been waiting for us to leave.  Anyway,
I would have expected you to be long gone." Charlotte tried to scold him,
but he seemed so disappointed at missing his breakfast, that she flashed him a
huge smile.

“No, not today.  The part of the conference that I need
to attend doesn’t start until tomorrow.  I was in London yesterday, so
didn’t see the point in going home to have to come back again.”  He seemed
nervous as he pulled the arms of his jumpers down over his hands.

Charlotte had to fight the urge to run over and hold him
tightly.  She so wanted to tell everyone that this was her man, and that
he loved her.

Margaret interrupted her reverie.  “Are you going to
introduce us Charlotte?”  The smile upon her face showed that she already
knew who the noisy stranger was.

“Oh yes sorry.  Margaret and Frank, this is Niall
Devine a business associate of mine.  Niall these are Margaret and Frank,
who I met yesterday. I'm so sorry I don’t even know your surname.”

Frank stuck out his hand in Niall’s direction. 
“Blackstock, pleased to meet you Mr Devine.”

Niall took his hand and pumped it furiously.

“Pleased to meet you too Mr Blackstock, and you Mrs Blackstock.” 
Niall shook Margaret’s hand, a little more gently. “And may I say how lovely
you look.”