Part 89 (1/2)
Tomorrow I go home with memories of exactly why I work from home and the London office, and why I never want to repeat time on the road with Ruby Riot for a third time.
I'm late checking out as I tidy up loose ends with the local tour staff and a.s.sign them tasks they're capable of doing so I can leave as soon as possible.
The last two days have cemented the fact I don't want anything to do with Ruby Riot's PR. I'm moving onto a project with Ch.e.l.le Belle, a vapid reality TV star set to make money from hosting a c.r.a.ppy talent show. How she can be the judge when her talent is not wearing many clothes and causing scandal, I don't know. I'll avoid dealing with her one on one; but unfortunately, these days, reality TV stars are clients worth catching for the big bucks.
I sit in the gleaming lobby, on a leather lounge, waiting for the porter to bring my bag. Through the double gla.s.s doors, the English winter awaits. There's no snow but the streets and sky are grey. A holiday is long overdue, and I drift into daydreams of where I could go. I'd take Mum with me, and Josh. Somewhere hot. All inclusive.
A toddler approaches me from across the lobby. Dressed in a short, pink dress and matching cardigan, she's unsteady, almost tripping over her s.h.i.+ny black shoes. The curly-haired girl grips a small black and white toy dog by one ear as she studies me.
I smile. ”h.e.l.lo.”
Not replying, she pulls herself onto the sofa next to me and holds out her toy. ”Doggy.”
”Does he have a name?”
She studies me with her wide brown eyes. ”Doggy.”
”h.e.l.lo, Doggy,” I say to the toy.
The girl's smile grows and my heart tears a little as I think of Josh. Hardly any time at all seems to have pa.s.sed since he was this age, now he's five and at school. I missed a lot of time with him as a baby and toddler, as I worked hard to hold down my job and forge myself a career. My determination and success in getting where I am today means I can work from home more and choose not to travel longer than a couple of nights.
But I missed too much. Mum saw Josh's first steps and heard his first word. I lost a part of his life I'll never see and this is my biggest regret. I tell myself I did this for us, but I should've slowed down instead of pretending I was like any other career girl out there.
”Quinn!” Ruby strides across the lobby and scoops the girl into her arms. ”I told you to wait with Daddy.”
”She's beautiful,” I say.
Ruby smiles, the smile of a mother whose daughter is the most precious and beautiful child in her eyes, but this little girl truly is. Ruby pushes Quinn's brown curls from her face and kisses her cheek. The contrast between the two is huge, Ruby in her black clothes and Quinn in pink; Ruby's scarlet red hair against her daughter's natural brown curls. I imagined Ruby and Jem would dress their daughter to match their casual-bordering-on-grunge style, but she's an image of cute, little girl perfection.
Jem approaches and gets a severe frown from Ruby. ”What?” he asks. Quinn holds her arms out and Jem takes hold of his daughter. She whacks the toy dog against his face a couple of times and I bite back a laugh.
”I asked you to watch her.”
”She's fine. Riley was watching her.” Jem raises both brows at me.
”I was. She's fine. I didn't expect to see you. I thought everybody would've left by now.”
”We're flying out to New York for a couple of weeks. Waiting for the car to pick us up.”
”Nice.”
”Some downtime after the tour,” says Ruby. ”I need it.”
”Me too. Too much babysitting.” He nudges Ruby who responds with a kiss.
I look away. That's the other thing I didn't have for Josh. A father. I know who he is, but I don't want anything to do with the man. I doubt he knows about his son and I don't want him to.
A middle-aged man smartly dressed in the gold and black hotel uniform appears with my large travel bag on a trolley. He pulls the bag to the floor.
”Can I help you with this?”
”I'm okay. My car is parked in the carpark across the street. I can manage to carry my bag that far.”
”Are you sure?” he asks.
”Absolutely.”
”Drive safely,” he says. ”The weather's forecast to get worse.”
I smile. ”I checked. Motorways are clear and most of the snow is forecast for the North. I'll be halfway home by then.”
”Still, take care.”
”Thank you.”
I pull my bag onto my shoulder and say my goodbyes to the strangely perfect family with their perfect daughter. The cold wind a.s.saults me, the chill smarting my ears. Thankful for my warm coat, I pull it tighter and cross to the multi-storey car park.
Before I left my car here a couple of days ago, I made a mental note. Third floor, next to a concrete pillar and close to the elevator. Did the ha.s.sle of the tour mess with my memory? The s.p.a.ce I thought I parked the car in is taken by a blue sedan and not my red hatchback.
Disconcerted, I doubt myself. No, definitely parked here. Maybe? I walk along the row of cars but the only red hatchback on this level is a Ford and not my Audi.
Stolen? No.
Blood drains from my face as my heart sinks. Please, no. Not today. What other explanation is there? I stare at the s.p.a.ce with the blue car as if mine would magically reappear if I looked for long enough. Then in a numb daze, I walk back to the hotel. Jem and Ruby left, n.o.body from the tour is around to help so I approach reception.
The girl behind the desk looks up.
”Can I help you?”
”I think my car's been stolen,” I blurt.
”I'm sorry to hear that. Are you a guest here?”
”I was. With the band. Just checked out.”
The girl nods. ”Should I call the police for you?”
I blink at the officious tone from the perfectly groomed, perfectly poised staff member.
”I said my car has been stolen.”
”I'm sorry. Have you called the police? Would you like me to call them?”
A strange part of me expected her to produce my car and tell me I was wrong, but her nonchalance indicates this isn't an uncommon task for her.
s.h.i.+t.
”I need to get to London. Today.” Aware of my rising tone, and the curious glance from the couple next to me, I step to one side.