Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
I t feels like another excruciatingly long wait from Saturday night until I can start the most exciting week of my life. I’m restless, like a child waiting for Christmas.
Thankfully, I still have some planning to do, so I distract myself with that on Sunday afternoon.
Armed with my phone and my laptop, I park myself at Cat’s breakfast bar and type out a list of possible stores for my shopping spree. It doesn’t take long, because I quickly realise that I don’t want to end up a sweaty mess from lugging loads of heavy bags around town – it probably wouldn’t even be possible with the amount I’m planning to buy. Really, my only option for this planned experience is a mid-level department store, because the high-end ones would only laugh at any attempt to buy a whole new wardrobe (including makeup) with my reasonably generous but not outrageous budget. I expect some of their handbags alone would cost what I’m planning to spend. Left with only one choice, I mentally tick that item off my to-do list, and move on to looking at cars and car dealerships online.
Two hours later, after a lot of mind-numbing research and several phone calls, I’m more clued up than I was and have four test drives arranged. I’ve also worked out how to weave some surprises for Lottie into my week. Mission completed, there’s just one final thing I need to do.
‘Hi.’ I grin manically as Lottie’s smiling face appears on the screen of my phone.
‘Hello, my love. Golly, you seem in good spirits.’
‘That’s because I am. I’m calling as part of the official run up to my week of creating amazing life-long memories, for which everything is now in place. I’m ready to roll – and I’m so excited.’
‘Brilliant. This is exactly how I want it to be for you. A week that you never forget – not for the money you spend, but for the experiences you have along the way. I’m certainly looking forward to hearing how you get on.’
‘I’ll give you regular updates.’
‘Oh, there’s no need for that,’ she says. ‘Come and tell me all about it at the end.’
‘ No way . You’re the reason I’m doing this. I want you to experience it with me – as much as you can anyway. Bringing you the news … as it breaks .’ I put on an exaggerated journalistic voice.
Lottie laughs again. ‘You really do brighten my life, Emma. What would I do without you?’
I respond with nothing but a beaming smile.
My week of living like a millionaire finally arrives, and it’s a different start to the usual Monday morning. Normally, I’d drag myself out of bed after hitting the ‘snooze’ button five times. Then I’d grump and curse my way around Dave’s apartment, while discovering I’d forgotten to iron my trousers, run out of milk or misplaced my work pass. I was the epitome of disorganised at the start of every single week.
Today is the complete opposite. My eyes ping open at 8.30 a.m., and I lie there feeling blissfully relaxed while listening to the urban gulls mewing outside my window. A huge smile spreads across my face.
Jumping out of bed, I skip to the shower, where I daydream about the week ahead. So many things to look forward to – a real once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Unfortunately, this carefree state doesn’t last long, and by the time I’m massaging the conditioner through my hair, my mind has wandered to not-so-happy thoughts – of Dave. Thoughts that had been so pleasantly absent these last few days: what he’s doing, whether he thinks about me or regrets his decision, whether he’s met someone new. Scowling at this intrusion, I shake these unwelcome questions from my mind. There’s no way I’m letting him ruin this. My life is back on track, better than it ever was.
I force my mind onto a more positive topic: the multitude of WhatsApp messages flying back and forth yesterday, between Cat, Amber and myself – all in anticipation of our trip to paradise. Although we’re still disappointed about Sara not joining us, we agreed not to let that get in the way. I mentally flick though the possible destinations we discussed, all palm trees, white sands and aquamarine waters, and in no time the giddy feeling of delirium comes flooding back, and I’m raring to go again.
I spend the morning and early afternoon packing and making myself suitably presentable for my luxury hotel stay (I want to fit in, not stand out like a sore thumb). Then, shortly before three p.m., I leave Cat’s flat, wheeling the small case I use for minibreaks behind me, and amble along Fountainbridge to Festival Square.
On walking through the automatic doors of the Charrington Grand Hotel, I’m welcomed by a pristine porter, who takes my case and ushers me to the grand reception desk.
‘Good afternoon, madam, how may I help you?’ a friendly male receptionist called Nazim greets me.
‘Hello. I, eh… have a reservation in the name of Blake.’
‘Of course, madam. One moment, please.’
He taps away at his computer, leaving me to take in my surroundings. The elegant marble floor echoes with the footsteps of the hotel guests and staff milling around, while magnificent sparkling chandeliers twinkle invitingly. A few strategically placed white pillars add to the sense of grandeur and appear be holding up this vast chasm of a room. It’s an impressive sight; a playground for only the most privileged in society. I had a few experiences in similar places with Dave when he was still at the stage of trying to impress me (or show off, more likely).
‘OK, here we are…’ Nazim is still tapping. ‘You’re staying with us for four nights… bed and breakfast… in one of our classic suites. Is that correct?’
‘It sure is.’ I go for a casual tone to avoid giving myself away as the overexcited imposter that I am.
‘You also have some bookings in the spa on Wednesday…’ He peers at the screen and his eyebrows lift. ‘All day. Looks like you’ll be having a relaxing time.’
‘I hope so.’ I smile, amused by his reaction.
Nazim completes my check-in and summons a colleague from concierge to take me to my room. I follow the man into the lift, which takes us to the top floor of the hotel. He leads me down a long corridor, before opening the door to what must be my suite with an electronic keycard.
The moment I step inside, I’m completely mesmerised. It’s dripping with style: original art on the walls and a very modern but neutral style of decor. There’s a large, swanky bedroom with a bed so big, I didn’t even know they made them that size. I also notice that my suitcase is already waiting for me on the luggage shelf within the open wardrobe.
The man shows me around the rest of the suite, which has a separate living area hosting a huge flat screen TV, two small sofas, and a couple of stylish sculptures. The bathroom is so beautiful, I could spend all day in it. It has twin marble sinks, a large walk-in shower and a bath. This is the epitome of luxury.
As soon as I’m alone, I unpack my case, grab the remote for the bedroom TV and sink into the enormous bed, relishing the feeling of being in such incredible surroundings. I’m in my element, without a care in the world. That is, until unwanted thoughts of Dave creep back into my mind, along with (who knows why?) an equally unwelcome memory of meeting that arrogant guy, James, in the bank queue last week. I mean, why do even care about him? Maybe it’s because he and Dave seem so similar and they’ve both inflicted mental pain upon me.
While I’m wrestling with my renegade brain, my phone buzzes with a message from Cat.
Hi, honey, are you at the hotel? How’s your suite? Can I can come and see it after we’ve been at the travel agent? Cx
I quickly tap out a response.
I am and it’s more amazing than I even imagined. Yes, please come see it after. We can order room service. See you in a bit. xx
Perfect. Cat’s company is exactly what I need to keep my mind off arsehole men.