Chapter 23
The people still staying at The Darlington are part of the problem! #BoycottTheDarlington
Kate
Henry led me around the entire hotel, showing me nooks that weren’t on Grace’s tour.
This included the cigar room, the only place in The Darlington where smoking was allowed, and the game room, with its cupboards full of board and card games, some of them decades old.
We went out onto the roof terrace with the bar Grace had raved about, and now I could see why.
The view was breathtaking. All of London sprawled out below, and lights glinted everywhere, almost as though the city created its own starry sky.
Despite the cold, the bar was busy—part of it was in a heated dome, and the chairs and tables outside were warmed by heating units.
As we had a drink, Henry told me more stories about the hotel and him and Logan, and explained what the deal was with the uniformity of his DVD collection.
Later, we took the lift from the roof down to the basement, which was anything but musty and damp.
It had been converted into a wellness area with several saunas—Henry explained the difference between a Finnish sauna and a steam room—and a heated indoor pool modelled on a grotto, with turquoise water and a small waterfall.
The plants dotted throughout the wellness area gave it a tropical atmosphere.
According to Henry, he’d had many water fights there with Logan, all of which Henry had won.
“Ready for the last stop of the tour?” Henry asked.
No. I didn’t want the evening to be over.
I liked spending time with Henry and wanted to hear more stories about the hotel.
I hadn’t had a proper home in a long time.
I’d never felt comfortable in Randell’s rundown place, and even the flat where my mum and I had lived before hadn’t really felt homey.
Hearing Henry talk about The Darlington, though, made me feel at home.
He loved the hotel, and I hated that it took so much of his strength for him to save what he loved.
“Yes,” I replied after a brief hesitation.
“This was my grandfather’s favourite room,” said Henry as we stopped in front of a massive door on the first floor, not far from my room. The door was adorned with intricate carvings that made it look like a bookcase.
As it happened, there really was a room full of books concealed behind the door. A library.
Inside, it smelled of paper, glue, and the dust that had collected between book pages.
The walls were lined floor to ceiling with built-in shelves made of dark, solid wood.
The books on the upper shelves could only be reached with sliding ladders attached to cabinets.
In the middle of the room were several cosy winged armchairs next to tables with cast-iron reading lamps on them.
“I think this will be my favourite room too,” I said, and ran a finger over an old leather binding.
Judging by the spines, there was also a large collection of modern literature.
I spotted novels by Stephen King, Jojo Moyes, and Nora Roberts, and it looked like there were books in languages other than English.
Henry closed the door behind us. “Do you like reading?”
I nodded, even though it was a hobby I’d neglected in recent years.
My mum hadn’t been able to afford to buy me books, so I’d made good use of the school library.
But after I’d dropped out of school, I hadn’t been able to go anymore, and I’d been too busy trying to make money to find time to register at the public library.
“What’s your favourite book?” Henry asked. His voice was low even though we were alone—the room exuded a kind of serenity.
I had my back turned to him as I browsed the books, but I could still feel his eyes on me. My skin prickled. “The Brave Cloud Princess.”
“Isn’t that a children’s book?”
“Yes, by Evelyn Fairchild,” I answered, thinking about the tattered copy I had in my rucksack.
The cover was stained, the paper water-damaged, and some of the ink had run in the rain, but I wouldn’t exchange it for a new copy even if I could afford it.
“My mum used to read it to me, and it was also the first book I read by myself. Although I was cheating a bit, because I knew almost the whole story off by heart.”
“Perhaps I should read it too.”
I turned to him, and our eyes met. The warmth in my stomach returned. “You definitely should. It’s great. Do you have a favourite book?”
“Not really.”
“That’s a shame.”
Henry sat on an armchair and looked around the room.
“My granddad always tried to get me excited about books. He hosted a lot of readings here, and he was a real fanboy when it came to his favourite writers. He had told us at least thirty times about the time J. R. R. Tolkien stayed at the hotel and read from The Hobbit. But for some reason, his passion for books never rubbed off on me. I think I read my last book when I was at Oxford.”
I wandered over to Henry and sat in the armchair next to his.
I sank deep into the upholstery. “Your granddad and I probably would have got on well. I’ve not read very much in the last few years, but I love reading.
It used to be my biggest wish to be a children’s book writer, because I wanted to be like Evelyn Fairchild. ”
“You don’t want that anymore?”
“No, it was just a brief phase.”
“What would you like to do instead?”
“No idea,” I answered honestly. I really didn’t know and hadn’t thought about it for a long time.
Manifesting self-fulfilment was a luxury I hadn’t been able to afford until now.
“When I was a teenager, I wanted to do some kind of social work and help people living in precarious situations, but instead, I became one of those people.”
“I’m sorry,” Henry said, and for a brief moment it seemed as though he wanted to reach out his hand to comfort me. I wished he would. Instead, he picked a bit of lint from his hoodie.
“What about you?” I asked, making an effort not to let my disappointment show. The part of my face Henry had touched with his thumb earlier was still tingling pleasurably.
“What about me?”
“Have you always wanted to run The Darlington?”
“Yes, only I imagined the job being pretty different. And it would have been nice to get into it under different circumstances. I guess you can’t always choose how things pan out.”
“No, you can’t,” I agreed. If I’d had any agency when it came to my life, I’d definitely have opted for a different version. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Pumpkin.”
I grimaced. “Nope.”
Henry knit his brow. “Why not? It’s cute.”
“I don’t want to be a vegetable.”
“So Sweet Potato is also a no-go?”
“Totally.”
“Shame,” Henry said. I heard his phone vibrate in his hoodie pocket. He retrieved it and sneaked a glance at his display, before returning it. It was by no means the first message of the evening. “So, what did you want to ask me?”
“Who was that?” It wasn’t the question I’d wanted to ask.
“No one important. Just a business contact.”
I raised my eyebrows. “At this time?”
“Yes. I’m usually still at the office now.”
“Doesn’t it annoy you?” The constant notifications had stressed me out in the short time I’d had his phone, and they hadn’t even been intended for me.
He shrugged. “Yes, but that’s part of it. It’s why I try to leave my phone in the kitchen at night, rather than taking it into the bedroom with me. It doesn’t always work.”
“I can steal it again if you want, and then you’ll have your peace. And I’ll finally have a phone again,” I joked. And it was a joke: I’d never steal from Henry again, or from anyone else if I had the choice. I wanted to take the opportunity The Darlington was offering me.
Henry tilted his head. “You said yours was broken?”
“Yes, but it was never not broken. It was ancient. I bought it years ago for a few pounds. So it was only a matter of time before it fell apart,” I answered.
In the past months, I’d hardly needed it.
There hadn’t been anyone in my life who I wanted to call or message.
But now that I had Henry and Grace, it might be nice to have a phone again.
“I have an old phone somewhere,” Henry said.
I snorted. “Show-off.”
He rolled his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re welcome to have it if you want it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Sure. I don’t need it anymore.”
I raised my eyebrows sceptically. Henry had already given me so much without getting anything in return. Apart from my service of cleaning rooms, which I’d more or less forced him to arrange for me. I still didn’t get it. “Are you telling the truth?”
He laughed. “I am. I have a contract, and I get a new phone every year. I gave Rakesh the one I had last year for his cousin. But I should still have the one from the year before. It’s yours, if you want it.”
I bit my lower lip and saw Henry notice, his eyes lingering on my mouth. Warmth flooded my belly. “I’ll take it. But only if you really don’t need it. And if you want it back, just say.”
“That won’t happen, but fine.”
“Thank you,” I said, just as Henry’s phone vibrated again. We locked eyes and started laughing. This time, Henry didn’t check to see who had messaged. His gaze remained fixed on me, only fuelling the heat in my stomach.
“But you actually wanted to ask me something else, right?”
It had already completely slipped my mind. I cleared my throat, sensing that my voice might betray me and reveal what was happening to my body. “Yes, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Henry’s mouth twitched into a quick smile. “Ask away.”
“Where does your money come from? Your family’s, I mean. I don’t know anything about it besides that The Darlington is pretty expensive to stay at. But do you really make so much money from it? I mean, you’re not just rich, you’re really rich.”
“The hotel is pretty lucrative,” Henry admitted, seeming keen to satisfy my curiosity.
“The most expensive suite costs over ten thousand pounds a night, and it adds up to quite a lot. And when you make a lot of money, it’s easy to make even more.
My grandparents invested wisely in shares and other companies, and they also bought land and property.
When they died, half of their assets went to my parents, and the rest was divided between Ethan, Logan and me. ”
“So you earn your money by having money?” I summarised.
Henry nodded. “So to speak.”
“I’m envious,” I confessed, which made him smile. “I have one more question, and then I’m done. I promise.” He looked at me expectantly. “You’ve told me a lot about Logan, but what about Ethan?”
“What about him?”
“Do you get on?”
Henry distractedly ran his hands over the armrests of his chair.
“It’s hard to say. We don’t have much to do with each other.
He was a little kid when I left for boarding school, and by the time he was sent there himself I’d already started at Oxford.
We’ve been ships in the night for most of our lives.
So yes, we get on, but we don’t spend more time than necessary together.
Not that Ethan would want to. I sometimes worry about him. ”
“Why?” I asked, thinking about the smell of weed in his kitchen. Did Henry know that his brother smoked? Perhaps he was just as worried about Ethan’s drug habit as I had been about my mum’s.
“He parties a lot. Too much. He’s constantly skipping seminars at university, and he hangs around with the wrong sort of people. Ethan has a lot of potential. He’s more intelligent than he makes out, and incredibly talented. But he’s lost his way. I hope he finds it, before it’s too late.”
“I’m sure he will,” I assured him with a smile.
Perhaps I’d mention the weed to him sometime, but not today.
We’d had enough deep talk for one night, and I didn’t want him to ask uncomfortable questions about my past. I got up and continued examining the library, even though I knew it would take me days to look at every single book.
I pulled an old fairy tale from a shelf and leafed through it carefully.
The pages were yellowed and the font was ornate, as was often the case in very old, very valuable books.
It was hard to decipher, so I put it back to look at some of the newer ones.
“You can borrow something, if you want.”
I turned, only now realising that Henry had also stood. He was right behind me. Damn, I really abandoned all caution when it came to him.
“Really?”
“Sure. That’s what they’re there for. As long as you promise not to steal them.”
I grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”