Chapter Seven
Chapter Six
‘Want me to come too?’ he asked. ‘In case there’s trouble?’
‘No. It’s minor. Someone has had too much to drink, knocked into a table and spilled food over the floor.
Typical Matt, he never wants to take direct responsibility for anything.
I bet this is another time waster,’ she said, draining the last of her Merlot, and slipping from the bar stool. ‘I’ll be back in ten.’
When she entered the function suite it looked as if Matt had already dealt with the problem. People were dancing and for a moment she couldn’t see anything was wrong.
Catching sight of her, Matt waved her over towards the bar.
‘I hope I’m not down here on a fool’s errand, Matt,’ she said as she reached him. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘Debbie Hanson was dancing, collided with another couple and crashed into one of the tables. Luckily there wasn’t a lot of food left but it’s still made a bit of a mess. I got onto housekeeping straight away.’
‘So why am I here?’
‘Well, she’s very drunk.’
‘And?’
‘Someone needs to get her home.’
‘Not our problem. It’s down to whoever she came with. They should be taking responsibility for her. Any idea who that is?’
‘Yes, Luke Carrack. He’s over there talking to Kieran Maddern.’
‘Luke and Debbie? Together? Are you serious?’
‘Yes, it was definitely him.’
Cat stood for a moment, unable to process the fact that Luke Carrack had brought Debbie Hanson to Tonya and Martyn’s evening party.
That had to be the joke of the year, didn’t it?
Or, maybe simply, another example of the soft-hearted knight in shining armour doing one of his good deeds, she thought with a snort of sarcasm.
She closed her eyes and wondered why, no matter how she tried to avoid him, he always seemed to turn up in the most unexpected places.
‘Don’t worry, Matt, I’ll sort it,’ she said, moving away from the bar.
As she approached, both men saw her. Kieran said something to Luke and left.
Luke stood his ground, watching her approach, a reassuring hand on Debbie’s shoulder.
Slumped uncomfortably in the chair, her body twisted to one side, she looked an absolute mess.
Cat knew she lived with her parents on the outskirts of Wadebridge, a thirty-minute drive away.
Someone would need to take her home and that task, as far as she was concerned, fell fairly and squarely on Luke Carrack’s shoulders.
Ignoring him, she bent down to talk to the woman. ‘Debbie,’ she said, ‘how are you feeling?’
‘Horrible,’ Debbie mumbled and shook her head. ‘Really horrible.’ She raised her head to look at Cat with watery eyes, a miserable expression on her face.
‘Someone needs to take you home,’ she said softly, switching her gaze to Luke.
‘Me?’ He frowned. ‘Oh no, I don’t think so.’
‘I’m told she came with you.’ Cat straightened up and fixed him with a hard stare. ‘That makes her your responsibility.’ Damn the man, he wasn’t going to wriggle out of this if she could help it.
‘Sorry, she didn’t,’ Luke argued. ‘She latched onto me in the bar and she … well, had already had a few; I could smell it on her breath.’
‘Prosecco,’ Cat heard Debbie slur, ‘he bought me a glass of Prosecco.’ She looked down to see Debbie smiling through her curtain of matted hair. ‘He likes me.’ She gave a lopsided smile. ‘I like him too.’
‘Why did you give her more alcohol?’ Cat’s accusing gaze settled on Luke. ‘You’re saying you were aware she’d already had a few, as you put it. Why make the situation worse?’
‘I bought her one glass, that’s all.’ He shrugged as if he wasn’t part of the problem.
‘When we arrived here in the function suite we went our separate ways. I’ve been with Kieran and the others all evening.
You can ask him if you like,’ he said, indicating the corner table where Kieran sat chatting with the other service technicians.
‘She’s been with Sam and Lauren. If you’re blaming me for buying one drink, you should look at their table, it’s littered with bottles. ’
Cat looked across to where the two girls were just back from the dance floor, Sam busy refilling their glasses. Sure enough, the table was cluttered with bottles and a collection of empty glasses.
‘Well?’ She detected an edge to his voice. He clearly didn’t like being challenged. Too bad, Cat thought, enjoying his discomfort. A groan took her attention away from him as Debbie pushed herself upright and cupped a hand over her face.
‘Debbie,’ she leaned over her, ‘you don’t look at all well. I think we’d better find you somewhere quiet where you can lie down for a while.’ Debbie nodded silently, swallowed hard, and made an unsuccessful attempt to get to her feet.
‘No, wait.’ Cat pushed her back into the seat. ‘Let Luke and Fergus help you. Come on then, boys.’ She nodded towards Debbie. ‘Give me a hand. We need to get her out of here.’
Luke shot her an annoyed look, muttering something about bossy women, before stepping forward and taking hold of Debbie’s arm.
Fergus took the other and between them they slowly raised her to her feet.
Party guests moved out of their way as they carefully manoeuvred her across the floor and out into the corridor where Cat indicated one of the long leather couches.
‘She’s not staying here all night, surely?’ Luke asked, his worried gaze fixed on Debbie whose head had now flopped onto her chest.
‘No, there are five staff bedrooms behind the reception area. They’re used if anyone is working late and wants to crash out here instead of going home. We’ll take her there. Keep an eye on her; I’ll just go and get a key card.’
By the time Cat returned, Debbie appeared to have passed out. Luke shook his head, concerned. ‘I don’t like the look of her,’ he said, ‘she’s gone a funny colour.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Cat said, patting Debbie’s cheek and being rewarded with a few jumbled words, ‘she’ll be fine once we get her settled.’
Despite groans of protest, Luke and Fergus managed to get Debbie on her feet once more and moved her slowly into a dimly lit corridor. Outside a door marked ‘Five’, they propped her against the wall.
‘We’ll be fine now, Fergus. Thanks for your help,’ Cat said, as she inserted the key card and opened the door into a small clean room with a single bed and an en suite shower room.
As Fergus disappeared back to the party, Cat and Luke manoeuvred Debbie gently through the door and down onto the bed.
‘I think she’s coming round,’ she heard Luke warn as Debbie groaned and muttered something unintelligible ending in drink.
‘I think she’s asking for water,’ Cat said, checking the small bedside fridge and finding it empty. ‘Drat. Housekeeping must have forgotten to leave any when the room was last cleaned,’ she grumbled. ‘I’ll have to go and ask reception for the key to the store. Won’t be long.’
Luke sat on the end of the bed watching Debbie as she slowly regained consciousness.
‘Where am I?’ she mumbled, brushing her hair from her eyes as she struggled to ease herself upright.
‘In one of Cat’s staff bedrooms,’ he answered softly, keen to keep her as calm as possible. ‘She thought it might be best if you stay here overnight. She’s just gone to get you some water.’
‘I can’t stay here,’ Debbie protested, wincing painfully as she pushed herself up onto one elbow. ‘I have to go home. Mum and Dad are away … the dog …’
‘Shh.’ He moved up the bed to sit with her. ‘Don’t upset yourself. Someone will run you home first thing in the morning. I’m sure the dog will be fine for a few more hours.’
‘I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?’ She looked at him as she fell back against the pillows, her mascara-rimmed eyes welling up. ‘I always do.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Can’t help myself.’
‘It’s not a hanging offence, Debbie. We all do crazy things sometimes.’
‘Even you?’
‘Especially me,’ he admitted with a grin. ‘You need to rest here for now. Sleep it off and go home in the morning. You’ll feel much better then.’
‘But my car …’ she protested. ‘No, I can’t possibly stay.’
‘Yes you can,’ Luke replied. ‘Be sensible, you couldn’t drive home in your condition anyway, could you?’
‘No,’ she acknowledged with a sob. ‘I guess I couldn’t.’
She gave a sigh and stared at the ceiling, pressing her lips together tightly, trying hard not to cry.
This had been a dismal evening for her; all self-inflicted, of course.
He reached over to pat her hand, keen to reassure her that everything would be fine.
But as he did, her hand went to her throat, her body pitching forward as the contents of her stomach exploded all over the front of him.
‘What the hell?’ He pulled himself off the bed quickly as warm wetness soaked through his shirt, finding his skin.
Examining the material he discovered a huge wet patch liberally splattered with bits of partially digested food.
By the time he had the presence of mind to check to see if Debbie was okay he heard her sigh and watched as she curled herself into a ball.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled as her eyes closed.
A few moments later her breathing became steady and even.
‘Typical,’ he grunted, and was about to head for the bathroom to see whether he could sponge out the damage when Cat returned.
‘Oh my lord, what’s happened to you?’ she said, setting a glass and small bottle of water on the bedside cabinet and walking over to where he stood.
‘A prime example of projectile vomiting, I’m afraid, but at least she’ll sleep now.’
‘Come with me, I’ll get you cleaned up.’
‘No need, I can sponge myself off in the bathroom,’ he insisted, annoyed with Cat for once more trying to take charge.
‘I think you’ll need a bit more than a sponge off.’
Did he detect a smirk? His irritation shot up a notch. Annoying woman.
‘What?’
‘Take a look. It’s not only your shirt that’s taken the hit.’ Her eyes travelled downwards. ‘Your trousers have too.’