Chapter 35 #3
Lucy looped arms with Howard and turned to face the audience.
‘Howard is the last person for me to honour here as a vital member of our team, who assisted me with the ritual to restore this hotel. To me, the greatest prize of this journey was acknowledging my feelings for him. For a long time, I was completely devoted to my work and this place. I believed I was the only person capable of intervening if anything happened to my hotel, so I could never completely disconnect on a long vacation. Now I’ve found people who I trust. The people who I have honoured here today are among the few I truly respect.
I know that my hotel will be in good hands with them.
Thank you to everyone who keeps the Purgatory Hotel for Wayward Ghosts running. ’
A chorus of ‘Thank you!’ came from the crowd. They applauded hard enough to make the light fall down. Literally. John had to fetch some duct tape to temporarily fasten it again until it could be repaired.
Delilah met with Lucy and Howard outside the hotel for a private farewell where Lucy could cry as much as she wanted.
Delilah had never thought she’d see this place from the outside again.
Now the bright yellow walls and domed tower had become familiar to her.
Even the fog and the creaky gate gave her nostalgia.
Lucy had an enormous black suitcase next to her, the zip straining under the bulging contents. She held out her arms for another hug. ‘It’s been fun. I’m glad I got to meet you.’
‘Same to you.’ Delilah hugged her back fiercely.
‘We owe our happiness to you,’ Howard said. ‘If your life hadn’t been at stake in Limbo, I don’t think I ever could have brought myself to expose my feelings.’
‘Aww, you give me too much credit, but thank you.’ Delilah winked at him. ‘One more joke for the road?’
He puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve saved a very special joke for you.’
‘Oh, no,’ Lucy groaned. ‘Did you have to encourage him?’
‘Yes,’ Delilah said unrepentantly.
Howard began, ‘An Afghan, an Albanian, an Algerian, an American, an Andorran, an Angolan, an Antiguan, an Argentine, an Armenian, an Australian, an Austrian, an Azerbaijani, a Bahamian, a Bahraini, a Bangladeshi, a Barbadian, a Barbudans, a Botswanan, a Belarusian, a Belgian, a Belizean, a Beninese, a Bhutanese—’
‘This could go on for a while.’ Lucy rummaged around in the outer pocket of her suitcase. ‘Where did I leave it?’
‘A Bolivian, a Bosnian, a Brazilian, a Brit, a Bruneian, a Bulgarian, a Burkinabe, a Burmese, a Burundian, a Cambodian, a Cameroonian, a Canadian, a Cape Verdean, a Central African, a Chadian, a Chilean, a Chinese, a Colombian, a Comoran, a Congolese, a Costa Rican, a Croatian, a Cuban, a Cypriot, a Czech, a Dane, a Djibouti, a Dominican, a Dutchman, an East Timorese, an Ecuadorean, an Egyptian, an Emirian, an Englishman, an Equatorial Guinean, an Eritrean, an Estonian, an Ethiopian, a Fijian, a Filipino, a Finn, a Frenchman—’
‘Found it!’ Lucy pulled out a shimmering white envelope. The surface gleamed like moonlight. There was a name on the front, but in no mortal language. Delilah’s eyes could barely see the golden font. The letters danced in front of her.
‘A Gabonese, a Gambian, a Georgian, a German, a Ghanaian, a Greek, a Grenadian, a Guatemalan, a Guinea-Bissauan, a Guinean, a Guyanese, a Haitian, a Herzegovinian, a Honduran, a Hungarian, an I-Kiribati, an Icelander, an Indian, an Indonesian, an Iranian, an Iraqi, an Irishman, an Israeli, an Italian, an Ivorian, a Jamaican, a Japanese, a Jordanian, a Kazakhstani, a Kenyan, a Kittian and Nevisian, a Kuwaiti, a Kyrgyz, a Laotian, a Latvian, a Lebanese, a Liberian, a Libyan, a Liechtensteiner, a Lithuanian, a Luxembourger, a Macedonian, a Malagasy, a Malawian, a Malaysian, a Maldivan, a Malian, a Maltese, a Marshallese—’
‘Thank you so much for delivering this for me.’ Lucy pressed the envelope into Delilah’s hands. ‘I’m not exactly welcome in Heaven, you see. But there are a few relatives who I want to tell about my elopement.’
‘A Mauritanian, a Mauritian, a Mexican, a Micronesian, a Moldovan, a Monacan, a Mongolian, a Moroccan, a Mosotho, a Motswana, a Mozambican, a Namibian, a Nauruan, a Nepalese, a New Zealander, a Nicaraguan, a Nigerian, a Nigerien—’
‘It’s no trouble at all.’ Delilah took the envelope. ‘I’ve made up my mind about what I want to do. Can I ask for a favour in return? It’s not about me – it’s about Jaime. I think it’s tragic that she’s stuck as a child forever. Isn’t there any way to help her?’
‘A North Korean, a Northern Irishman, a Norwegian, an Omani, a Pakistani, a Palauan, a Palestinian, a Panamanian, a Papua New Guinean, a Paraguayan, a Peruvian, a Pole—’
Lucy winked. ‘You might find that’s no longer the case. Like everyone in Purgatory, Jaime was limited by herself. She never felt safe and secure enough to grow up. Now that she has a family? I think it will be different.’
‘A Portuguese, a Qatari, a Romanian, a Russian, a Rwandan, a Saint Lucian, a Salvadoran, a Samoan, a San Marinese, a Sao Tomean, a Saudi, a Scottish, a Senegalese, a Serbian, a Seychellois, a Sierra Leonean, a Singaporean, a Slovakian, a Slovenian, a Solomon Islander, a Somali, a South African, a South Korean, a Spaniard—’
‘That’s great to hear.’ Delilah smiled brilliantly. ‘Thank you.’
‘A Sri Lankan, a Sudanese, a Surinamer, a Swazi, a Swede, a Swiss, a Syrian, a Tajik, a Tanzanian, a Togolese, a Tongan, a Trinidadian or Tobagonian, a Tunisian, a Turk, a Tuvaluan, a Ugandan, a Ukrainian, a Uruguayan, an Uzbekistani, a Venezuelan, a Vietnamese, a Welshman, a Yemenite, a Zambian and a Zimbabwean—’
Lucy glanced at Howard. ‘Does this joke ever end? We have an endless void of stars to travel.’
Howard took a breath. ‘– all go to a bar. The doorman stops them and says, “Sorry, I can’t let you in without a Thai.”’
Lucy’s eyes widened. ‘A Thai . . . a tie . . . like how you can’t get in without wearing a tie . . . HAHAHAHA!’ She doubled over, laughing.
Howard beamed. ‘I finally got you to laugh at one of my jokes.’ He gazed at Lucy with a deep and tender love.
Mock-seriously, Delilah asked, ‘Who is going to pick up the Czech?’
‘Perhaps they’ll go Dutch.’ Howard winked. They slapped a high-five.
‘Go Dutch . . .’ Lucy laughed even harder, tears streaming down her cheeks. She gripped Howard’s shoulder to remain standing. ‘Fine, I admit it. That was a good one.’
He brushed back her hair. ‘You just wait. I’ll make you laugh for all of eternity.’ He picked up the suitcase. Together, they walked into the fog, holding hands.
Lucy called over her shoulder, ‘We’ll send loads of postcards.’
Delilah waved. ‘Goodbye! How do I get mail in the afterlife?’
‘Oh, it will show up. So will we, one of these days.’ Lucy smiled mysteriously, then they were gone. Only the very, very faint smell of sulphur still lingered in the air.
Whistling under her breath, Delilah returned to the lift.
The chime of the door made her smile. Everything about this place had become special to her.
Here, she’d had the most fun of her life.
She’d won the two most high-stakes poker games she’d ever played.
She’d made true friends. She’d found a family.
She’d met someone very special. She’d come to terms with her past and her mother.
She’d learned to stop caring about if she was a good person based on her mother’s arbitrary rules.
She’d saved the hotel. Now, she believed that she was a good person by her own standards.
She felt content with her choice.
The white button for Heaven lit the entire room in a soft glow. Funny, how long she’d struggled and fought for this moment. In the end, it just looked like an ordinary button. It seemed very undramatic. Delilah pressed the button.