Chapter Thirteen
Friday, 3 rd November
Friday afternoon, and wow – she’d arrived at the end of her first full week on the new job.
Stacy wheeled her trolley with the last few boxes across the hallway into the small inside section of the terrace bar, and golly, it was more like a junk shop than a bar in here now. The Alpstein Hotel further along the lake bank was taking the large conference table and chairs and some of the other fittings too, but they wouldn’t be collecting it all for another week. Meanwhile, everything that hadn’t already landed in a skip was taking up space here or in the boathouse down at the jetty. Stacy circled her shoulders as she went back to reception. She’d found a shedload of muscles she hadn’t known existed.
Rico’s voice talking Swiss German to the chef drifted through from the restaurant, and she grimaced. You’d think that all the swotting she’d done would help her understand a little of what people were saying, and while it did when people were speaking High German, the Swiss dialect was still incomprehensible. Hopefully the planned sessions with Kim would help with that. It was important to understand Swiss German, even if she did reply in High German.
Stacy pressed the button for the lift and waited. Her vow to use the stairs at all times tended to grow weaker as the day went on, and right now she was heading for a hot shower and another evening in front of the TV. Tomorrow, she was spending the afternoon with Kim, and they were going to speak as much German as possible while they did the shops in St Gallen then went for a pizza and on to the cinema. The film was one Stacy had never heard of, but it was in English with German subtitles, so no problem – she might even learn a few words from the subtitles. She was looking forward to getting away from the dust here, and away from Rico, too. He seemed to spend all his time now gawping at her with what was definitely a soppy, lovesick expression. If he caught her eye, he always looked away again without speaking, so at least he realised she wasn’t up for starting anything. Other times he was so brusque he was – not rude, exactly, but short enough for her to feel he didn’t care two hoots what she was thinking. According to Emily, that was the classic sign of a guy falling in love, but it certainly didn’t feel like that when he grunted at her and dived into his laptop when she made some remark.
And hallelujah, here was the lift at last. Stacy stepped in, pressing the button for the fourth floor and leaning against the wall on the way up. She’d make a big mug of coffee first, then – shit!
The lift juddered to a stop, and Stacy stumbled to the side. She grabbed the rail around the walls seconds before the lights went out and pitch darkness pressed down on her. No, no no. Even the buttons panel was unilluminated; she couldn’t see a thing.
She fumbled in her sweatshirt pocket and hell, no, she’d left her phone charging upstairs at lunchtime. Stacy felt around for the buttons and jabbed one after the other. Nothing happened. Panic surged for a moment, then she fought it back. Rico was here, and the chef and some of the restaurant staff were around too, as the restaurant was open on Friday nights. All she had to do was bang until somebody heard her. Stacy slammed both hands on the lift wall, and yelled as loudly as she could.
‘Rico! Anyone! Help! I’m stuck! Help – Hilfe !’ Brilliant, she was using her German in a real situation. Her yells sounded deafening in the confines of the lift, but when she stopped to listen, all she could hear was silence. She shook her stinging palms then rubbed them on her jeans. Half a moment to recover, girl, then get banging again. Somebody had to hear her; they had to.
***
Rico wandered through the restaurant, which was set up ready for guests tonight. They’d opened up the doors on the other side of the kitchens, so that people didn’t have to walk through the messy hallway to get in here. The menu wasn’t as extensive as usual, but they had bookings for twenty-two, and hopefully some curious locals would come by for a meal, too. He straightened a fork on a snowy-white tablecloth, then took a last look around. Everything was good here, and they didn’t open for another hour – time to grab a bite and change into something more suitable to wander around greeting dinner guests in before he went on to play darts. The lift wasn’t there, so he headed for the stairs and clattered up.
The flat was empty – he could always tell if Stacy’d come in before him, because her perfume would be hanging around in the hallway. Rico went straight into the bathroom for a quick shower, and stood under steaming hot water as it rained down on his back. Further into the renovation they’d have days with no water, and no electricity while everything was installed and prettied up – he wasn’t looking forward to that.
He stepped out of the shower and lifted the hairdryer. What was he going to do about Stacy? He was as tongue-tied as a teenager lusting after his first girl. It wasn’t a good feeling and it couldn’t be a good look, either – she must think he was a complete idiot. Sometimes she would make a little joke or a remark, and instead of chatting away like he would with everyone else on the planet, the words that came out of his mouth were stilted and banal while all the time he was aching to show her how much he cared. But maybe it was as well he couldn’t show her, because she obviously didn’t feel the same way… Rico’s shoulders slumped and for a moment he stood still. Get a move on, Mr Hotel Owner, you don’t have long before you have to go and play at being the gracious host. He stuffed the hairdryer back into its basket and grabbed his electric razor.
***
Why did nobody hear her? Close to tears, Stacy stopped banging for the tenth time at least and stood listening. Nothing. Shit – they’d be banging around in the kitchens too, getting stuff ready, and of course there was the whole area of conference rooms and the restaurant between the lift and the kitchens – but where was Rico? He could be in the kitchens too, of course, or maybe he’d gone to the Alpstein already. Stacy wilted, but doing nothing wasn’t an option here. She attacked the lift wall again. Her hands were raw and every bang juddered up her arms to her shoulders and it was just so bloody dark in here – and it was well past the time she was supposed to stop work. What if nobody missed her for hours?
‘Help! Hilfe! In the lift !’ Lift was lift in German too, and they must have heard that; she was deafening herself in this small space. And another go, kicking and banging and yelling and then – at last – a man’s voice.
‘Hallo?’ The rest of the sentence was unintelligible because it was in German, but thank God, someone had heard her.
Stacy yelled again. ‘I’m in the lift! It’s stuck! Hilfe!’
‘Stacy? Wart schnell!’
It was Luis, one of the waiters, and she’d wait as long as he wanted provided he got her out of here this side of midnight. Stacy sank to the floor and sat leaning against the wall, tears burning in her eyes. A minute or two later Rico’s voice came from a little way above her.
‘Stacy? Shout again so we can find the floor you’re on. You okay?’
Frustration rose anew in Stacy’s head. ‘Of course I’m not okay – I’ve been stuck in here for hours!’
‘We’ll have you out in a sec. You’re just below the third floor. Hang on.’
Brilliant. Suppose the lift hurtled back down with her inside it? Bile rose in Stacy’s gut. She would never use this lift again.
Rico and Luis were both there now, discussing something in Swiss German, then a scraping noise came and the lift doors slid half a centimetre apart. A bright chink flashed into the darkness; oh joy, she had light. Stacy wiped her face with her sleeve. She was going to look a right mess when she got out of here, not to mention a complete numpty.
The crack widened, and a long thin tool of some kind appeared near the top.
Rico’s voice sounded strained. ‘Stand back from the doors, Stacy, while we lever them open.’
The lift moved as Stacy stepped back and the men levered, and she grabbed the rail again. More movement and a creak as the gap widened until she could see their legs, Luis in his waiter’s black shoes and Rico barefoot in black trousers and flip flops. The floor was level with her chin, bummer – they’d have to drag her out.
Rico, still holding the lift door wedged open, said something to Luis, and the other man pulled out his phone. Stacy waited while Luis spouted something into his mobile then said, ‘Ja-ja’ about six times, before taking over the door from Rico, who crouched down.
‘Half a minute more. A couple of the guys are coming up and we’ll have you out of there.’
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, then two waiters Stacy didn’t recognise came into view. A brief consultation took place, then one of them joined Luis and prised the doors further open while Rico and the other man reached down and grasped Stacy’s upstretched arms. To say it was a helpless feeling as she was hauled through the air and onto the floor was an understatement. It was possibly the wrong time to mind feeling so undignified, but she did. Stacy scrambled to her feet and to her horror, Rico immediately grabbed her into a tight hug.
‘Shit, Stacy, I was so scared the lift would crash down with you in it.’
His head was resting on hers; she could hear his heartbeat thudding away under the ear that was pressed against his chest and this was not –
‘ Stop ! Let me go.’ Stacy shoved him away as hard as she could, and pulled her sweatshirt straight. She was streaked with dust and dirt and what her hair and face looked like, she dreaded to think. ‘Thank you, but – I’m fine.’
One glance at Rico’s startled eyes had guilt swimming through her, but a hug like that was way too OTT. She stepped back, trying to dust herself down, and managed to smile at the trio of waiters. ‘Thank you – danke schon.’
They all beamed and thundered back downstairs, slapping each other on the back.
‘Stacy – are you sure you’re okay? What happened? Come upstairs and we’ll get you a brandy or something.’
Stacy shook her head. ‘No – I’m fine. All I want is to get into a hot bath. And you need to do something about that lift right now. It’s a liability.’ She hurried upstairs as fast as her shaking legs would take her.
A solid hour in the bath and a good cry had her feeling more like herself, and Stacy pulled on leggings and a comfy pullover. Now to bung a ready meal into the oven and blob, and a glass of wine wouldn’t go amiss either. She’d earned it, hadn’t she? And what the hell had Rico been thinking, grabbing her like that? You’d think he’d have a little more dignity in front of his employees, and yes, she wanted them to be friends, but that was as far as it went. For her. Definitely. Two romantic disasters in one year was two too many.
Her mobile rang while she was waiting for the oven to heat. Kim – hopefully she wasn’t going to cancel their outing tomorrow. That would be the last straw. Stacy tapped to take the call.
‘Hi, Stacy – a friend has come round with a lovely green silk top she wants me to return to the shop for her tomorrow. She got it home and realised it was the wrong shade. It’s your size and it would look great with your black trousers – would you like to try it?’
She’d talked about wanting a green top on Monday night. Bless Kim for remembering. ‘That would be great, thank you.’
‘Okay. Tobias can drop it off on his way to the gym. He’s leaving in two minutes, so he’ll be with you in five. If you don’t want it, bring it with you tomorrow and we’ll return it in town.’
Stacy ended the call, checked that she looked civilised, if not exactly dressed for a night out, and went down to reception. A buzz of voices was coming from the restaurant, good. They could do with the business. She stood leaning on the desk; help, her legs were still shaking after her ordeal. Two minutes later the front door swung open, but it was Martin who came in, clutching a white plastic bag and a folder.
‘I met Tobias at the gate. I’m here with some accounts stuff for Rico to look at over the weekend. Here’s your bag. Stacy – are you all right? You look…’ He screwed up his face.
Gawd, she must look a real fright if Martin with his excellent English couldn’t think of a word for it. Unexpected tears spilled over, and Stacy scrabbled for a tissue. Martin laid the plastic bag on reception and put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a little shake.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’m fine. I got stuck in the lift an hour ago, that’s all. I guess it shook me up a little.’
He put one arm around her in a quick hug, then stepped back. ‘You poor thing, how awful. Fancy a drink? I can leave this with Rico and take you to a lovely little bar in Rorschach. It would take your mind off it all.’
For a brief moment, Stacy was tempted. But she’d need to get dressed up, and that was way too complicated for tonight.
She smiled at him. ‘Maybe another time. Tonight, I need a quiet evening at home.’ Nothing like making yourself sound like the most un-fascinating person on the planet, was there?
He hugged her again. ‘You’re the boss. But if you need to talk, you have my number.’
Martin went on into the restaurant, and Stacy trailed back to the stairs. She passed the lift, which now had a large ‘Defekt’ sign taped to the door. Good. She’d learned another new word. And a drink with Martin wasn’t such a bad idea, if he didn’t run a mile from a ‘next time’ after her quiet evening remark. But now, she’d have that macaroni cheese and some wine and a good blob.
***
Rico stood frozen to the spot in the office behind reception. Well. Martin was allowed to hug Stacy, and he wasn’t. That showed you how little Stacy wanted any attention from him. He flung himself into a chair. All he wanted was for Stacy to be happy. And safe. And… he rubbed one hand over his cheek. That wasn’t quite true, was it? He wanted Stacy to feel the same about him as he did about her, and it was increasingly clear that she didn’t. As far as she was concerned, he was her employer, end of. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what he’d got.
Rico drummed his fingers on the table. She didn’t dislike him… She joked with him, sometimes, but she must be fed up with him not joking back. She chatted to him, again sometimes, and if only he wasn’t so tongue-tied around her, he’d have a better line in chatting back. But it was clear she didn’t think of him in any way as potential partner material. Rico leaned his head on one hand. What could he do?
It was as if his mother’s voice was in his ear. Give it time, Rico. Be her friend, but don’t push it. How many times had he and Mum mulled over the meaning of life together? Well, he would do it. He would be Stacy’s friend and leave it there. He’d go to the Alpstein now and play darts, and he’d stop mooning around like a love-sick teenager.
And maybe one day, Stacy would change her mind. Maybe.