Chapter 8
8
STEVIE
Wow. The foyer of this hotel was like nothing Stevie had ever seen before. She tried to take in every detail so she could recount it all to Caleb, Keli and Gilda when she got back to Glasgow. Or Ireland. Or wherever she went after this. To be honest, she hadn’t even considered what happened next. The last couple of days had been such a whirlwind, that it was hard to grasp where she was now.
The first thing she’d done after she’d found the letters and discussed them with her friends, was to charge up her mum’s laptop. It was Stevie’s old one from university, because Lisa hated technology and rarely used it for anything except playing music and the very occasional essential email. Even then, Stevie had got used to getting a reply from her mother in 6 – 10 business days, because Lisa never checked it.
‘Who would be emailing me?’ was her familiar objection. ‘Only someone who wants to scam me or sell something to me and I’ve got no interest in either.’ There was no point in pressing the matter. Her mum had always marched to the beat of her own drum and Stevie had long since stopped trying to change her.
Unsurprisingly, the password was still the same one Stevie had used when the laptop belonged to her. As soon as she got into it, she checked her mum’s emails, while Caleb, Keli and Gilda waited with bated breath, transfixed by the whole situation.
‘Holy shit, she was really doing it,’ Stevie blurted. ‘The confirmation email is here. Air Lingus. Tomorrow. Direct flight from Dublin to Hong Kong.’
‘And what about the hotel?’ Caleb had asked.
Stevie had scanned the rest of the inbox. ‘Yep, it’s here too. The Harbour Lights Hotel. Reservation for Lisa Dixon. She never said a word about this to me.’
A whole explosion of emotions was churning up her stomach. The grief was still there. But now there was also confusion. Shock. Dread. Sorrow that her mum had never shared this with her. Astonishment that there was clearly a whole side to her mother that she never knew. And a sickening realisation that it was now too late to ask.
‘I can’t believe she never told me.’
‘I’m sure she was planning to. Look there,’ Caleb said, pointing to the screen. ‘The confirmation emails were sent the day before she died. I’m sure she’d have told you the next time you spoke.’
Perhaps he was right. They had a weekly phone call every Sunday and rarely spoke in between. Stevie had to believe her mum would have shared this little nugget of information before she went tearing off to the other side of the world.
Sitting back in her chair, deflation had been added to the emotional cauldron. ‘I don’t know what to do with this.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Gilda had said softly, as always in tune with Stevie’s feelings. Probably more than she herself was.
Closing her eyes, she’d thought about it for a moment. The others were only going to be there for another day, then they were all heading back to Glasgow. She’d planned to stay here just as long as it took to clear the house, but the reality was that she had plenty of time. And she had loads of holiday days stored up at work because they were always too short staffed for anyone to take a decent break. She could add a week or two to her compassionate leave to give her more time off to… to… She couldn’t believe she was even considering this… to take the trip that her mother had been planning.
She’d decided to leave it up to the universe to make the decision. There was no way she had the funds to jet off to Hong Kong, but her mum had already paid for the flight, so if the airline’s website allowed her to change the name on the booking…
Her fingers had flown across the keyboard as she’d given it a try. She’d used her mother’s usual password – Fleetwood1 – to sign in and yep, that worked. Next, she’d gone into the section to manage the booking, clicked ‘name change’, filled in the required details and then waited as the spinny disc on the screen had told her that the computer was considering her request, despite it being made over a shite Wi-Fi signal.
It had crossed her mind to wonder if what she’d been doing could be considered fraud, but then she’d dismissed the thought. She was her mum’s only living relative, so everything, including airline bookings for sneaky, secret life holidays, must surely now be passed to her? Stevie had never done anything dodgy or illegal in her life, but it was amazing how someone could justify an action when they were desperate.
A message had popped up. Forty Euros to change the booking. Her fingers moved like lightning to click ‘accept’ before the website changed its mind. She knew her credit card number off by heart, so she’d input the details, and then she’d waited. And waited. And waited.
Ping.
Your booking has successfully been changed.
Possibly the most terrifying sentence she’d ever read.
‘Babe, do you want me to come with you for moral support?’ Caleb had asked. ‘I have no holidays left, but I can ask for unpaid leave.’
Stevie had felt a swell of gratitude, but she’d instinctively known the answer. ‘Thank you, hon.’ She’d reached over and hugged him. ‘But you’ve done enough for me over the last three weeks. I think this is something I need to do on my own.’
Was she really doing it? Yes, she was. It was insane. Rash. Spontaneous. Her poor mum had only died three weeks ago. Her funeral had been less than twenty-four hours ago. And now Stevie had just hijacked a holiday booking to a place she hadn’t even known was in her mother’s past.
It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever done and it had all led to this moment, walking into a hotel so flash, someone at the NHS was probably checking that she wasn’t selling paper towels and toilet rolls out the back door of the hospital to pay for it. Which would be just as outlandish as the fact that her mum, the woman who rarely splurged on anything more than a new tube of Nivea from ASDA, had booked and paid for a hotel as swanky as this one. Thankfully, the name change on the accommodation reservation had been as straightforward as the flight, which was just as well, because it was non-refundable, so her mum’s money would have been wasted.
However, she was still sweating slightly when she got to reception.
‘Hi, I have a room booked. The name is Dixon. Stevie Dixon.’
The very smiley receptionist, a stunning girl with a sheath of glossy black hair tied back in a low ponytail, asked for her passport, then got to work on her computer. Stevie had seen scenes like this in movies. The receptionist was stalling her, so she could alert the authorities that a fraud was taking place. She could see the headlines. ‘Nurse takes dead mother’s holiday.’ She’d never be able to show her face at the hospital again.
‘There we go, Ms Dixon,’ the smiley receptionist said, handing her passport back, together with a room keycard, before giving her directions to the lift. ‘Do you have luggage?’
Stevie nodded, relief oozing from her pores. ‘The gentleman at the door took it.’
‘No problem. I’ll let them know and have it sent straight up to your room.’
‘Thank you.’ Stevie put her passport and the room keycard into her bag. ‘One more thing. Can I leave a message for another guest, please? A lady called Moira Chiles. I believe she’s staying here.’
‘Certainly.’ Stevie noticed the receptionist didn’t confirm or deny that someone of that name was in residence. Probably a security thing. Or maybe… Maybe the plans had changed. Perhaps this other woman wasn’t even going to be here, and Stevie had come all this way for nothing. At least a dozen times between deciding to come and getting on the flight, she’d contemplated how she could have just stayed at home and written to the woman and asked her to meet when she got back to Scotland. Yes, that would have been a far more sensible thing to do. But somehow, it didn’t feel like it was enough. Stevie wanted to see this past life of her mum’s with her own eyes. Wanted to share the experience. Right now, it felt like the only connection she had left.
‘Excuse me…’
Stevie vaguely registered the voice behind her, but she ignored it, fully aware that it couldn’t be directed at her. She knew no one here and no one knew her.
‘Excuse me!’ Louder, more urgent this time. Instinctively, Stevie turned around to see if she could help. There were two women standing a couple of metres away, both of them wearing really strange expressions, their eyes trained on her. Bugger. Maybe the receptionist had called the authorities after all. Although, these women didn’t exactly scream Fraud Squad. Or Interpol. Or whatever the police agency was here. One of them was carrying a Chanel bag.
‘Yes?’ she asked, heart beginning to thud.
The one without the Chanel bag spoke first. ‘I think I just heard you asking for Moira Chiles?’
The Glaswegian accent seemed out of place so far from home. ‘Yes, that’s right.’ The thudding inside her chest was getting louder now.
‘I’m Moira.’
‘Oh.’ Stevie wasn’t sure what to say next. In hindsight, she should have thought this through, come up with a plan to break the news gently to these ladies, who’d apparently been her mum’s friends at some point.
‘Hello, Moira, my name is Stevie?—’
‘Lisa’s girl. You couldn’t be anyone else.’ Moira’s face broke into the widest of grins and the strained face of the woman next to her beamed too. This. Was. Crazy. How did these ladies know who she was? And why had her mum hidden all of this? It was just bonkers.
She nodded, trying to return their smiles. ‘I am.’
‘Oh my word, this is wonderful. When I didn’t hear back from your mum, I assumed she’d cancelled on us. Wouldn’t be the first time. But… you’re here! So lovely of you to come all this way with her.’
Stevie felt dread rising as she caught up with their assumption, but Moira was going full steam ahead and Stevie didn’t know how to stop the train.
‘Where is she?’ Moira asked, looking around. ‘Or did she get a different flight?’
There was nothing else for this, she was just going to have to blurt it out, say it straight. She saw that a cluster of four chairs around a mahogany coffee table was free right behind them. ‘Erm, no. I’m afraid Mum isn’t here. I wonder if we could take a seat so that I can explain,’ she began weakly, and then watched as the women went from elated to confused to suspicious that something was wrong. Still, they did as she asked, and only when they were all seated did they both eye her expectantly. Shit. She had to do this. Had to say it out loud. With a sinking heart, she realised this was the first time she’d had to tell someone from her mum’s life. Or at least, from a past life.
‘I wanted to come and meet you here today because I read the letter you wrote to Mum. She actually wrote a reply to say that she was coming.’
‘I didn’t get it,’ Moira said. ‘Honestly, the post round our way can be a bit hit or miss.’
‘No, she didn’t get to post it. I’m so sorry to tell you this, but before she could send it—’ The next words got stuck in her throat and she had to force them out. ‘Mum was in an accident. She was knocked down while crossing a road.’
‘Nooooo!’ That came from the other woman. ‘Oh, you poor thing, that must have been awful for you both. Is she okay? Is she hurt?’
Stevie was still forcing out the words. ‘I’m so sorry – she’s not okay. She was killed instantly.’
Both of them gasped at exactly the same time, but handled the news very differently. Moira was still staring at her, disbelieving, as if she expected a punchline, or to be told that it was all a big joke or a mistake. The other lady’s hand was over her mouth, two tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again.
‘Lisa is dead?’ Moira whispered, as if checking what she’d just heard.
‘Yes. She passed away at the scene.’
Stevie had spent almost fifteen years in the health service, she’d seen many tragic things and desperately sad situations and she’d been trained to manage her emotions, to put them to one side and focus on the situation. And right now, seeing the devastation on these ladies’ faces, that training was the only thing stopping her from crumbling into a heap.
After a pause that felt like forever, Moira found her words first, her voice cracking as she said, ‘My heart is broken for you, pet. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am and I’m so grateful that you came all this way to tell us.’
Stevie nodded, getting ready to share an uncomfortable truth. ‘The thing is, I wanted you to know, but I need to confess to having an ulterior motive too. You see, my mum never mentioned ever being in Hong Kong.’
‘Never?’ Moira was incredulous.
‘No. And please don’t be offended, but she never mentioned either of you either.’
The two stricken women turned to each other, locked tear-filled eyes, both clearly bewildered by this revelation.
‘So while I wanted to tell you what had happened, I also wanted to ask you some questions. So many questions, actually.’
Moira nodded solemnly. ‘In that case, we were just about to move upstairs to my room, so that we could chat in private. If you’d like to come with us, we’ll tell you everything you want to know.’
For a second, Stevie hesitated. Did she really want to do this? Her mum must have kept it all a secret for a reason. Maybe the truth would be difficult, or uncomfortable, or heartbreaking. Maybe she should stop, think about it, make sure she was ready to hear things that were never meant for her ears.
Or…
She stood up and pulled her bag onto her shoulder. ‘Thank you. I’m ready when you are.’