Chapter 32
‘You?’ Sabrina says, looking at her assistant as if she can’t quite remember who she is. ‘What do you mean, it’s you?’
‘I’m the mystery guest,’ replies Luna miserably.
‘From WanderNest. They contacted me a few weeks ago and asked me if I’d be interested in a one-off job for them.
I guess they must have somehow found out I’d be coming here anyway with you, so they figured it would be an easy way for them to get some feedback on the hotel.
It, um, seemed like a good idea at the time? ’
Now it’s Sabrina’s turn to explode, which she does in typical Sabrina fashion: by turning very pale and twitching slightly.
‘So you’ve been working for someone else while you’re supposed to be working for me?’ she says, her face a mask of tightly controlled emotion. ‘And you didn’t think that might be just the tiniest conflict of interest?’
‘Not . . . not working for them exactly,’ replies Luna, blushing. ‘They just asked me to take some notes while I’m here; and photos, of course. Then, once we leave, I’ll have to fill out a questionnaire, I think. It hasn’t interfered with my work for you, Sabrina. I promise.’
She widens her eyes appealingly, but it’s no use; if Sabrina had a better nature that could be appealed to, I’m sure we’d have seen some sign of it by now.
‘Right. Well, you’re fired, obviously,’ she says briskly, closing her laptop with a snap. ‘And you can forget about getting a reference, too. This is intolerable behaviour. I’ve never felt so betrayed.’
It’s hard to imagine Sabrina feeling anything at all, really, but, then again, it’s not nice knowing someone you thought you could trust has been lying to you, or going behind your back – trust me, I would know – so I can’t help but feel the tiniest twinge of empathy with her.
I’m starting to wonder if anyone in this hotel is who they say they are?
‘You, of all people,’ Sabrina goes on, sniffing. ‘You knew how important this was to the business, Luna. How important it was to me. And you’ve gone and ruined it.’
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was about to cry again; and Luna almost definitely is.
‘Hang on,’ Zara interrupts. ‘You can’t just fire her like that. It depends what her contract says. You don’t have a copy of it with you, Luna, do you? I’ll take a look at it, if you like.’
‘What are you, a lawyer?’ says Sabrina, raising her eyebrows as high as she can, given the lack of movement in her face.
‘Well, not yet,’ Zara replies, shrugging. ‘I will be once I’ve finished my training, though. I’m not going to be an influencer all my life, am I? I’m going to do something that’s actually worthwhile.’
And now Zara turns out to have a secret of sorts, too.
Millie’s eyes widen in admiration. ‘Wow, that’s amazing. Will you have to wear one of those little wigs, Zara? Could you get me one, d’you think?’
‘I’m serious,’ Zara insists, going to stand next to Luna, who looks at her the same way I’ve seen Stevie the dog looking at the treats Hunter keeps in his pocket for him.
‘I can’t promise anything, because it’s .
. . well, it’s a bit of an unusual situation, really, but if you come and find me later, Luna, I’ll go over the contract with you.
You never know, you might still be able to keep your job. ’
Luna takes a deep breath, as if she’s trying to summon her courage.
‘Actually,’ she says, pushing her hair out of her eyes, ‘I don’t think I want to keep my job.
I . . . I hate it. I’ve hated it since I started.
I hate you, Sabrina,’ she adds, her cheeks turning even redder as the words burst out of her, as if she’s been saving them up for a long time and can’t hold them in any longer.
‘Well, I mean, I don’t hate you. I just hate the way you treat me.
You’re a horrible, horrible boss, Sabrina.
Just . . . the very worst. And your reaction just now proves that. So you don’t have to fire me – I quit.’
Luna raises her chin defiantly as she finishes, but her cheeks are bright red, and she keeps blinking as if she’s trying to hold back tears. I somehow get the feeling this is the first time she’s ever stood up to anyone in her life, and I have a sudden urge to applaud her for it.
A log falls in the fireplace, making everyone jump.
Sabrina’s mouth opens and closes uselessly, like a toy that’s lost its squeak.
Then the Laird starts clapping loudly. One by one, we all join in; even Dante, who claps louder than anyone, even though he, of all people, should probably be on Sabrina’s side on this one.
‘Bravo,’ the Laird says loudly, as the applause dies down. ‘Well said, young spy. I’m going to have to ask you to leave, though, I’m afraid; I can’t have any more of this undercover nonsense on the premises. It’s not on. Hunter, kick this one out, would you? The other one can stay.’
Hunter doesn’t move. Instead, Bex stands up, revealing another large ketchup stain on the seat of her cream-coloured jeans.
It really is unfortunate for her that she’s such a big fan of neutrals; if this had happened to Yasmin, say, whose entire wardrobe consists of black, no one would even notice the difference.
‘Are we done with the Cluedo stuff?’ Bex asks plaintively.
‘Because I don’t really care who’s spying on who, or who wears a funny wig to work, or whatever else is going on here; I just want to get on with the contest so we can go home.
That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it? To win . . . I mean to work?’
Everyone looks at Sabrina, who appears to be wrestling with her emotions.
‘OK,’ she says at last, making a visible effort to regain her composure. ‘The contest. Sure. Let’s get back to business, shall we? That’s the theme for the day, isn’t it? Yes. The theme. For the day.’
She sits abruptly back down at the table and starts rifling through some papers that are lying there, apparently without really seeing them. From where I’m sitting, I can see her shoulders shaking under her impeccably tailored jacket.
‘Here, let me,’ says Dante, going over and plucking a piece of paper from her hands.
‘Today’s agenda involves a tour of the local attractions,’ he reads.
‘Well, that’s definitely not going to be happening with the road still blocked.
And then there’s the launch party tonight, which will only be going ahead if we can get all of these bloody villagers out of the hotel first. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get on with that, and if anyone wants to come and give me a hand, you’re more than welcome. ’
He turns on his heel and marches off, and, after a few seconds in which he tries to catch my eye and I determinedly ignore him, Hunter follows.
‘Sabrina?’ prompts Bex, as the door closes behind them. ‘What do you want us to do now that the bus tour’s off? It’s just, I was really hoping to get some more photos before we leave tomorrow.’
Sabrina drums her fingernails on the laptop thoughtfully.
‘You know what?’ she says, looking up at us with suspiciously damp eyes. ‘You can do what you like. I’m going back to bed.’
Then she picks up her laptop, slings her handbag over her shoulder, and goes marching off, to the accompaniment of surprised stares from everyone in the room (with the exception of the Laird, who appears to have fallen asleep).
‘Does that mean we should all go back to bed, too?’ says Millie, after a short pause. ‘Like, do we have to?’
I look out of the window. The rain has stopped at last and, as I watch, a ray of sun appears from a gap in the clouds. Somehow, it reminds me of my plan.
‘We should go out there and help clear the road,’ I say, turning back to the rest of the group. ‘And we should get the people who stayed last night to help, too. If we all work together, we can have that tree moved in no time.’
And hopefully get Hunter and the villagers talking in the process.
‘Help?’ says Millie, as if she’s trying to speak a foreign language. ‘But . . . what can we do to help? I don’t think I’d be much use with an axe.’
‘I think I would be,’ puts in Yasmin, thoughtfully. ‘Count me in, Rosie.’
‘I was just thinking we could spend the morning in the spa, actually, if Sabrina isn’t going to give us some direction here,’ puts in Bex. ‘There’s nothing else to do, and I wasn’t really happy with the photos you got the last time we were there, Daniel. I’d like to get some more before we leave.’
‘Bex,’ I say patiently. ‘We can’t spend the day in a spa while everyone downstairs is stranded here. We have to help them try to get home.’
Bex looks like she’s about to argue with this, but a glance from Daniel silences her.
‘Rosie’s right,’ says Zara, coming to join me at the window. ‘And the fact is, none of us will be leaving here tomorrow if we don’t get the road cleared. You don’t want to end up stuck here for days, do you, Bex?’
‘No.’ Yasmin nods. ‘We don’t want that. Because if the hotel runs out of food, we’d have to eat each other. They must be running low already, after last night.’
She takes a long look around the room, as if she’s trying to decide which one of us would be the tastiest, and that’s all it takes to spur Millie and Bex into action.
Daniel follows them out of the room, still looking a little green around the gills, and I pause in the doorway to quickly check my Instagram account, where @cosmicsprinkles1995 has commented on my last selfie to ask what’s wrong with my face, and Jim from Canterbury has sent me a photo of his flaccid penis, which reminds me of one of the chipolata sausages my sister served last Christmas.
One thing’s for sure: my stay at the Chrysalis might not have changed my life, but it has, at least, proved beyond doubt that I’m not cut out to be an influencer.
And, honestly? I don’t think I want to be one anymore.
I don’t want to have to spend the entire day snapping endless photos of myself in a selection of unrealistic outfits that I can’t really afford, and don’t even like.
I don’t want to spend my evenings editing content when I could be out dancing with friends.
I don’t want to have to eat all of my meals cold because I have to spend so much time photographing them first. And I definitely don’t want to have to spend my life pretending to be something I’m not – which, as far as I can see, is all anyone’s doing in this place.
Actually, I think I want to go and chop up a tree.