Chapter 7
Can we please finally cancel the Darlingtons? #EatTheRich #BoycottTheDarlington #FuckCapitalism
Online comment from Cloudspirit
Ethan
My eyes followed Grace as she stormed off down the corridor.
She was running away from me; there was no other way to look at it.
She was probably still embarrassed about having broken down in front of me, though she had no reason to be.
Sure, it wasn’t our usual dynamic. But she had been through something traumatic.
No one expected her to bounce right back. Not even I was that heartless.
Besides, there were far worse things than holding Grace in my arms.
I pushed away the memory of how she had pressed herself against me as I continued on my way to Henry’s office.
When I passed Rakesh, mug in hand, I frowned.
Hadn’t he just been in his office with Grace?
She’d claimed he’d asked her to photocopy something for him.
But . . . hold on! There were photocopiers in every office.
Or was I mistaken? No, I was pretty sure.
I stopped short. “Rakesh?”
He paused, forcing a stiff smile. The hotel manager and I had a strained relationship. My return to The Darlington had caused him some serious headaches, and the past few weeks of good behaviour clearly hadn’t made up for that yet. “Yes?”
“Do you sometimes ask Grace to do errands for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sending messages. Photocopying. That kind of thing.”
“No. Why?”
“No reason,” I said evasively. “Have a nice day.”
“Thanks. You too,” Rakesh replied, clearly baffled by our exchange.
Instead of answering the questions written all over his face, I walked on, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
What had Grace been doing in Rakesh’s office?
Why had she lied to me? And what was the deal with the list she’d had on her?
I’d only caught a fleeting glimpse before she’d snatched it from me as if her life depended on it—or at the very least, as if her job did.
Interesting.
I reached Henry’s office and knocked on the door.
There was no response at first, then a delayed “Come in!” I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the office that had once belonged to our grandfather.
It had barely changed—solid wooden bookcases still lined the walls, an old sofa stood in the corner, and right in the middle of the room was an imposing desk, behind which Henry sat talking on the phone.
“How many times do I have to tell you? We didn’t cancel the contract.”
He motioned for me to sit. I dropped into one of the two armchairs facing his desk and picked up a twisted Rubik’s cube lying among the piles of files and folders.
“Who’s the letter from?” Henry asked into the receiver.
He listened to the reply with a frown.
“I most certainly did not authorise any cancellation.”
I strained to make out the voice on the other end, without success.
Henry massaged his temples with his free hand.
“Listen, Donald. I apologise for the confusion, but The Darlington has no intention of terminating its contract with your laundry service. I have no idea how this misunderstanding came about. These past few months have been extremely trying, as you can perhaps imagine. Please, tear up the cancellation notice and arrange for the earliest possible collection. With an express surcharge if need be.”
Henry listened as Donald spoke.
“Thank you for your understanding. I hope you have a nice weekend.” He ended the call and then gave a heavy sigh, shaking his head in defeat.
“Is everything OK?” I asked, twisting the sides of the Rubik’s cube in my hands.
Henry put down his phone and looked at me. Even though I’d visited him a couple of times over the past few weeks, he still seemed a little incredulous to see me in his office. Once we’d even gone for lunch together, and I’d finally met Kate properly—as his girlfriend, not as a chambermaid.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he replied. “This withdrawal is killing me, that’s all.
I thought my brain was finally starting to function properly again, but it looks like I accidentally terminated our contract with the laundry company that handles the hotel linen.
Nothing has been collected for three days.
But Donald’s taking care of it. I’m all over the place. ”
I scrutinised Henry. He was wearing his tailored suit but had taken off his tie and left the top buttons of his shirt open, as if they would otherwise suffocate him.
He had dark circles under his eyes, although they were less pronounced than they had been a couple of weeks ago.
I admired him for his dedication and unrelenting determination.
It had been about six months since I’d told him we were all screwed, but instead of giving up, he had kept fighting, even at the expense of his own health.
I wasn’t sure if the struggle was worth it—things were still looking bad for The Darlington—but the fact that Henry still hadn’t given up trying to save it showed what he was made of.
“It sounds like you need a break,” I suggested.
“I’m already taking as many breaks as I can,” Henry said. He reached for his coffee mug only to find it empty, and put it back down, disappointed. “What are you doing here? Is everything OK?”
“Yes, I just came by to check on you.”
“Oh, thanks. But I have everything under control.”
“Sure?”
“Sure,” Henry assured.
I nodded. “OK. But if there’s any way I can help you out with the hotel . . .”
Henry’s eyebrows shot up so fast they would have flown off his face had he been a cartoon character. “Wait. Wait. Wait! Did you really just offer to help me with the hotel? Voluntarily?”
I could hardly believe it myself. This wasn’t the first time I had offered to support Henry, but it was the first time I had said I would help him out with the hotel.
Unlike Henry, I didn’t care about The Darlington.
I didn’t even particularly like the place.
It wasn’t a safe space for me, or a home.
If it were to burn down, I wouldn’t shed a tear.
Still, I nodded, because I was trying to be a better brother to Henry.
Last year, I had relied entirely on him to sort things out instead of getting involved myself.
Henry pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do right now, but thanks for the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on it when we start planning the next Pearl Gala. If you helped organise it, maybe it would be less ‘boring.’”
It had been my word, not his. I laughed. “Sure, just say the word. You know where to find me.” I’d become fairly predictable recently. If I wasn’t in my penthouse, I was either at the gym or in the library. “Has Mum talked to you?”
“No, she’s still avoiding me.”
“She asked about you at afternoon tea a few days ago. I told her to ask you herself, but it looks like she still needs time to swallow her pride.”
“Maybe,” Henry murmured. He didn’t seem angry, just a little disappointed.
Our mum was only making her own life difficult by not accepting Kate.
I didn’t know if she couldn’t see it or just didn’t want to, but Kate and Henry were serious, and I’d bet money that Kate would have a ring on her finger within two years.
At least if Henry had anything to do with it.
“But enough about me. What’s going on with you? ”
“Not much, mainly uni,” I said, twisting the last sides of the Rubik’s cube into place. “And James is in town this week. We went for dinner on Tuesday, and I had to listen to him go on for half an hour about how hot his new lecturer is. Do you want to see a photo?”
“Of the food or the lecturer?”
“The lecturer, obviously.”
“No, thanks.”
I shrugged. “Anyway, he invited me to go out with him and the lads tonight. There’s a new club opening. I wanted to ask if you fancy joining.”
“Sorry, I can’t. I already have plans with Logan.”
My stomach twisted at the mention of Logan.
Part of me would have liked to go with Henry so I could get to know Logan better—he was practically a stranger to me.
Another part was relieved that I already had plans, so Henry couldn’t ask if I wanted to come along.
Whenever I thought about Logan, I mostly felt nervous.
I hadn’t seen him for so long. Did he even want anything to do with me?
“Shame,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. Not just because of Logan, but because I would really have liked Henry to come along tonight. “I’ll let you get back to your work.” I stood, placing the solved Rubik’s cube back on his desk.
Henry widened his eyes as he snatched it up, turning it over in his hands to look at it from all angles. “How the hell did you do that? I’ve been trying to solve this thing for months.”
“You twist it until every side is the same colour.”
He snorted. “Smart-arse.”
I grinned, and was already halfway out of the door when I paused, my hand on the doorknob.
I turned back to Henry, who was still examining the Rubik’s cube.
“Can I ask you something? Who’s Aliza Malik?
” Her name had been on Grace’s list, the only one I’d been able to read before she’d snatched it away.
Henry looked up. “A food blogger. She also works for Irresistible Future, an organisation that helps people with migrant backgrounds build a future for themselves.”
“Does she have anything to do with The Darlington?”
“No, but she was at the Pearl Gala. Why?”
“No reason,” I shrugged. “Someone asked me about her, that’s all.” I made my exit before Henry could ask more questions. Perhaps I should have told him that Grace had been snooping around Rakesh’s office without permission, but something held me back.
Why did she have the guest list for the Pearl Gala?
And what was she planning to do with it?
I had no idea—but I intended to find out.