Bathers
Michael stood in a pool of water at the reception desk, staring at the screen of his phone. An old model, far from waterproof, he tried not to look at the thing while walking, which meant that Natasha’s message might have been sitting there all day.
‘Sir?’
He looked up.
‘Your key.’
‘All right, yes, thank you, great.’
It was the first he’d heard from his wife in months, and he felt irrationally embarrassed about his appearance, soaked, exhausted, hair pasted down, dripping on to the carpet of a mid-range conference hotel. He should get to his room, get warm and dry, read the message there.
‘You made it!’ It was Marnie, tugging on the belt of her dressing-gown, slapping towards him in disposable slippers. ‘You look like an amphibian, making its first tentative steps …’
‘How’s your consumption?’
‘It’s all right. I had a tincture for my palsy. I still carry a great hatred for you in my heart but, no, all good.’
‘And do you have a sense of achievement?’
She patted the pockets of the dressing-gown. ‘Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all, though I did want to apologise to you for all the shouting.’
‘That’s fine. I was shouting too.’
‘But not at me.’
‘No, it was grim. I’m not just saying this, but you can really swear.’
‘Ah, thank you. Still, I’m sorry for being rude about Alfred Wainwright.’
‘Well, he’s not around, so,’ he glanced towards his phone, ‘no harm done.’
‘I’ll leave you. We’re going for a swim, if you want to get wet again.’
‘Ah, no, thank you.’
‘There’s a hot tub, though that’s not necessarily an incentive.’
‘I don’t have my bathers.’
‘The bathers that were crocheted by your Edwardian governess?’
‘“Trunks”?’
‘No, that’s worse.’ She turned to the receptionist. ‘What would you call them?’
‘Men’s? Swimming? Costume?’
But he had a text message, from Natasha.‘I’m sorry, I have to … I’ll see you in the bar? For a drink?’
‘Sure,’ she said, and to his back, ‘Oh, Conrad ran off by the way. He said goodbye, sorry to miss you. Then he ran off.’
He turned. ‘Okay. That’s a shame. But we’re still hanging on, Marnie!’ he said, opening his wife’s message as he went. ‘We’re still here!’