Page 9 of One Last Thing
I fix a smile. ‘So lovely to be here again.’
He waggles a finger at me as he reaches under the counter with his other hand to fish out a key for me. ‘You shouldn’t have left it so long. This is the perfect place for a writer.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s quiet, peaceful, great food, great wine, beautiful views.’
‘I’m already staying here, Nico, no need to sell it to me. And, please,quiet? The Saint Vincent festival is coming up in a few days, so I imagine it won’t be too quiet around here.’
‘We have some events,’ he admits with a knowing smile. ‘But it could be busier, especially in high season. I’m trying to improve the promotion of the hotel. I think my aunt and uncle relied a lot on returning guests.’
‘Ah. I’m sure.’
He slides the key across the counter. ‘Room Seventeen. The best view there is.’
I stare down at the old clunky key as though it’s offended me. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so.’ I laugh the suggestion off. ‘Thank you, but I’d rather a room that looked over the pool and lawns. Not the vineyard.’
‘I’m so sorry, I’m afraid you’re booked into Room Seventeen,’ he says as though he knew we’d be having this exchange. ‘I was given instructions.’
‘Didhetell you to put me in Room Seventeen, Nico?’ I ask in a low voice.
‘Yes.’ He grimaces. ‘Sorry.’
Ofcoursehe’s done this. What a conniving little prick.
‘This is why you should never holiday with an ex, darling,’ I mutter, before swiping the key up from the counter, satisfied to be the cause of Nico’s dazzling smile once again.
***
It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper hangover. I won’t say I don’t drink often, because I do, but I’ve been trying to cut back the last year or so and I certainly don’t often drink as much as I drankyesterday. Yesterday, I drank a lot.
I blame it on Room Seventeen.
The moment I stepped into this godforsaken room, I had to turn round to Nico, who’d gallantly carried up my suitcase, and ask for a bottle of wine to be brought up immediately.
‘Would you like to choose one from the menu?’ he’d asked, hands behind his back, all charming and responsible and grown up now, which continues to astound me.
‘I would like one that has alcohol in it.’
He’d hesitated. ‘White, red or rosé?’
‘Yes.’
Then he’d had the sense to swiftly leave, so I could live this moment as dramatically as I wished to. That involved me glancing at the four-poster bed before turning away from it in despair and marching over to the balcony doors. I swungthem open and strode out to the edge, placing the palms of my hands on the rail and gazing out over the vines that lined the side of the hill. Beyond the vineyard, the blue sea stretched for miles, the late afternoon sun glittering across it. It truly was a stunning view.
‘You smug bastard,’ I said into the gentle breeze.
Not long afterwards, there was a knock on the door. Nico had delivered and I was pleased with his choice of bottles. It had been a good idea to get a later flight, because I could stay in and get reaccustomed to the room. I drank on the balcony, thinking over the various failures in my life, and then went to bed once I’d slathered myself in expensive creams that claim to slow the aging process.
It all seemed like such a good idea.
Give yourself a break, I thought as I topped up my glass.Your publisher dropped you, your future’s uncertain and now you’re here. If ever there was a time to drink . . .
I regret it now, of course.
My head is throbbing; my limbs are aching even more so than usual. I need several hours’ more sleep, but I can’t –I’m too hot and restless –so I might as well get up, groaning as I stumble to the bathroom, searching for paracetamol in my washbag. I wince when I look in the mirror, my eye mask propped across my forehead.
‘I see those face creams have done bugger all,’ I say bitterly to my reflection.
