Chapter 9
‘Oh, wow! It looks even better than it did in the brochure,’ Amy squeals delightedly as the minibus finally pulls up outside the Elixir Spa Hotel.
It’s been a tense journey. Robert and I haven’t really spoken since our brief conversation on the plane, understandably, and Stuart’s gushing love-talk at the airport has also clearly worn off, as Amy is being definitely cool towards me.
For my part, I’d like to have nothing more to do with all three of them.
As soon as we’ve checked in, I’m finding the bar and ordering myself the largest glass of wine available.
No sooner has the driver slid open the door than a slender-framed woman, dressed in a light brown shirt over dark brown trousers, appears to greet us.
‘You’re all most welcome to the Elixir,’ she says in a broad Jamaican accent. ‘I’m Cherry, one of the reception managers, and my team is inside, waiting to sort out your rooms so you can get on to the serious business of relaxing. How was your journey?’
‘Good, thanks,’ Dan tells her as porters appear and start unloading our bags onto trolleys.
‘And you’re joining us from London, I understand,’ Cherry continues as she leads us into the lobby. ‘I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s an amazing city.’
The reception area is nothing like the kind of hotels I’ve stayed in before.
For starters, it’s open to the elements.
There is a roof, from which a series of lazily circling fans are suspended, but no walls.
I can see straight through the gardens to the sea, and the gentle breeze is warm on my skin.
I can already feel some of my tension starting to drain away as I breathe in deeply.
Although there is a counter with someone behind it, Cherry leads us away to a seating area, where another member of staff is waiting with a tray of glasses.
‘Water infused with cucumber and mint,’ Cherry tells us as we take our seats and the attendant places a glass in front of each of us. ‘Very refreshing.’
‘Shame it’s not vodka,’ Robert mutters, making Stuart smile.
‘Now, we’ve got three rooms all ready for you,’ Cherry continues serenely, ignoring Robert’s remark. ‘All we need to know is who is going in each one, then there’s a tiny bit of paperwork to do and you’ll be all ready to start your holiday.’
‘About that,’ I say quickly. ‘There’s been a bit of a mix-up with our party, I’m afraid, so we might need to tweak the room allocations slightly. Is that possible?’
‘What kind of mix-up, honey?’
‘I was, umm, expecting to share with a friend, only she wasn’t able to come at the last minute, and her place has been taken by someone else that I’m, ahh, less comfortable about sharing a room with. How much would it cost to have an extra room?’
‘Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry to hear that,’ Cherry says. ‘Unfortunately we don’t have any spare rooms at the moment, but we can certainly put an extra bed in your room if that helps?’
I glance across at Robert, who looks as unhappy with the situation as I am.
There aren’t words to describe how much I don’t want to share a room with him, but it looks like I have no choice unless I really do sleep on the beach.
Great. Today just keeps on giving. That glass of wine can’t come soon enough.
‘If we get a cancellation, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know,’ Cherry says soothingly, evidently sensing my discomfort. ‘Shall I order that extra bed for you now, though?’
I sigh in defeat. ‘Yes, please.’
Typically, the supposedly ‘tiny bit’ of paperwork actually consists of several long forms. As well as the usual ones requiring all of our personal details, there is a lengthy medical form that Cherry explains is needed by the spa therapists.
Once that’s done, Cherry takes us through the opening hours of the restaurants and bars in the resort.
As well as the main buffet, there is a sushi bar by the pool that opens for lunch, and a seafood restaurant that we have to pre-book and pay a supplement for.
I’m amused to hear that both the pool bar and main bar open at nine in the morning; even holiday me isn’t up for alcohol that early, although I might be after spending the night with Throbbert, I suppose.
‘Right,’ she says eventually, getting to her feet.
‘All that’s left for me to do is wish you a relaxing stay with us.
The porters will show you to your rooms. If you need anything, anything at all, you be sure to come and find us at reception, or you can simply dial zero from the phone in your room. ’
‘Thank God for that,’ Robert mutters grumpily as we follow the porter with our bags across the garden. ‘I thought she was never going to shut up.’
‘She was just trying to be helpful,’ I explain. ‘Tell me something. Are you going to spend the whole ten days in a filthy mood, or is there a chance you might lighten the hell up at some point?’
‘Oh, I’ll be just fine, don’t you worry. A cold beer without you in my face and I’ll be happy as Larry.’
‘I’ll do my best to oblige.’
We fall back into silence as the porter leads us to a building and takes us up a flight of stairs.
‘This is your room,’ he says, holding the door open for us to go in ahead of him.
For a moment, I forget all about Throbbert and our situation.
This room is stunning. If anything, it’s even larger in real life than it looked in the brochure and the bed is so big that the two sides could be in separate time zones.
The porter places our bags on the side, wishes us a happy stay and disappears.
‘Do you think we should have tipped him?’ I ask.
‘Why?’ Robert’s tone makes it clear that even the room hasn’t cheered him up. ‘Isn’t the whole point of all-inclusives that everything is included? Surely that means tips as well.’
‘Sharing a room with you really is going to be a joy, isn’t it?’ I remark sarcastically.
‘Hey, I’m no more pleased about it than you are. At least I have this rather nice bed though.’ To reinforce his point, he plonks himself down at the end and lies back, spreading his arms.
‘And they said chivalry was dead,’ I observe caustically.
‘Like I said, this was my room before it was yours. It’s not my fault Fliss sold you a lie.’
‘I’m sorry, how on earth is this Fliss’s fault?’
‘She should have talked to me before doing her dodgy side-deal with you. I’d have put her straight and that would have been the end of it.’
‘And who would you have brought to share with?’ He’s such a miserable bastard that I can’t imagine he’d have any friends besides Amy and Stuart, who are already here, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what they see in him.
‘Why would I need to bring anyone?’
‘Because the whole point is that you need six people to get the group discount. If you’d have come on your own, the cost would have shot up.’
‘What? Fliss never mentioned that. Odd, because she had plenty to say otherwise.’ The way he says this makes me think that the implosion of the relationship may have come about because she got so sick of him that she decided to tell him a few home truths.
I don’t blame her; I’ve never met someone so objectionable.
Leaving him sprawled on the bed, I slide open the doors and step out onto the balcony.
It really is beautiful here. The balcony looks out over the beach, just like the brochure, and I’m delighted to see that there are a number of vacant sun loungers, even though the hotel is evidently fully booked.
The sea beyond is calm, with just a hint of a swell, and there are quite a few people swimming or paddling.
There are sailing boats, kayaks and windsurf boards lined up on the sand next to a hut that advertises itself as the watersports centre.
I don’t think I’ll be bothering them, although the idea of mowing Throbbert down with a kayak is oddly appealing.
As I allow that thought to develop, I realise that a jet-ski would be even better.
I wonder if you can hire one of those? For a moment, I allow the scene to play out in my mind.
I’m slightly ashamed to admit that I’m smiling as I imagine the satisfying thwack of his head hitting the hull before his lifeless body drifts out to sea.
When I step back into the room, I find he’s emptied his bag all over the bed and is half-undressed.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask in horror as he starts to undo his belt.
‘I’m going to have a shower. Wash the grime of the journey off.’
‘You are not getting changed in here,’ I tell him firmly.
‘Why not?’
‘Because, Throbbert, I don’t want to see your naked body and, before you get any ideas, you sure as hell aren’t going to see mine. If you want to get changed, do it in the bathroom.’
‘Stop calling me that.’
‘I will, when you stop acting like a dick.’
He stares at me for a long time, evidently trying to find a snappy comeback. ‘Fine,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll get changed in the bathroom.’
‘Good. We probably ought to have some rules, and the first one is this. No nudity in the bedroom. Agreed?’
‘Agreed.’
‘Right,’ I tell him, grabbing one of the key cards the porter left us. ‘I’ll leave you to it. If I don’t get something cold and alcoholic inside me soon, something’s going to burst and it won’t be pretty.’
‘Don’t hurry back,’ he replies caustically as I open the door.
Although I’m desperate to fulfil my dream of sitting at a swim-up bar, I’m not dressed for that so I head for the bar in the main building instead.
I’m not sure who to be more furious with: Robert for being a total arse, or me for letting myself be duped into signing up for this bloody holiday in the first place.
I need to hear a friendly voice, I realise as I check my watch.
Jamaica is five hours behind London in the winter so it’s approaching ten o’clock there.
I’ll grab a glass of wine and see if Rosie or Priya are around.
The bar is almost deserted when I get there.
Apart from the woman behind the counter, the only other people in here are a couple sitting at a table in one corner, completely absorbed in their phones, and the man playing the enormous grand piano.
I stop for a moment to listen, but I can’t identify the piece he’s playing.
It’s beautiful though, and I notice he has his eyes closed, presumably lost in the music.
The melody is haunting, and his hands are almost caressing the keys as they run up and down the notes.
He has nice hands, I notice, with neatly trimmed nails that any manicurist would be proud of at the ends of his long fingers.
As my eyes travel back up to his face, I’m struck by the radiance of his skin.
Maybe he has treatments here in exchange for playing the piano.
As I’m watching, the song comes to a gentle end, and he opens his eyes.
‘That was lovely,’ I tell him. ‘What was it?’
‘I’m glad you liked it,’ he says, surprising me with his accent. ‘It was Chopin, one of my favourite composers. His Nocturne number twenty in C sharp minor.’
‘You’re English?’
He smiles, revealing teeth so even and white I instantly start wondering if they’re veneers. ‘It’s complicated. I’m Gabriel, by the way.’
‘Tori.’ I’d love to ask more about his accent, but the way he’s moved the conversation on makes me feel that he perhaps doesn’t want to talk about it.
‘That’s an interesting name.’ This is the second time someone’s remarked on it today, but Gabriel’s tone is curious as opposed to critical.
‘It’s short for Victoria,’ I tell him.
Another smile. ‘Of course. Well, Tori, do you have any requests?’
God, he’s beautiful. I can think of a few highly inappropriate requests, but try to push them out of my mind as I can feel the heat already spreading across my cheeks.
‘Umm, nothing that I can think of right now,’ I say. ‘Are you here every day?’
‘Most days, so if you do think of anything, feel free to come and find me.’
‘Thanks. It was nice to meet you, Gabriel.’
‘You too, Tori.’
‘What can I get you, honey?’ the woman behind the bar asks as I approach.
‘A large glass of white wine, please,’ I tell her. ‘In fact, never mind the glass, I’ll have a bucket.’
She smiles. ‘That’s good. What would you really like?’
‘I’d really like a large glass of white wine,’ I repeat.
Her face falls. ‘Honey, you do know this is an alcohol-free resort, don’t you?’
Oh, for fuck’s sake.