Page 40 of Too Busy for Love

‘Come in,’ Gus’s voice calls when I tap on the door. I’m surprised to see that he’s alone; the techies seem to pretty much live in here, so I was expecting to see them hunched over their desks as usual.

‘Have a seat.’ He indicates the chair that Chris usually occupies, while settling himself in Tim’s chair.

‘What’s up?’

‘Tell me about your previous job.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You said in the interview that you were looking for a new challenge, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? It’s come to my attention that you left out some fairly pertinent information. Why?’

I sigh. I should have known this was going to catch up with me. Even thousands of miles away, Hotel Dufour is still managing to poison my life.

‘Look, I didn’t know what was going on, I promise. The police investigated and cleared me of everything. When is this ever going to bloody end?’

‘I sympathise. However, it creates a problem for us because someone has recognised you on social media and there’s a bit of a feeding frenzy going on. You know what it’s like when the trolls think they’ve got hold of a juicy titbit.’

‘I don’t. What do you mean by feeding frenzy?’ I pull out my phone and launch X, entering the name of the show in the search box.

‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ Gus asks. ‘Some of it is vicious.’

‘I need to know what people are saying.’ I regret my words almost as soon as the screen loads and I see what he’s talking about. Someone has posted the picture of me and Jock outside the hotel, with a screengrab of me serving dinner last night next to it. The caption underneath reads:

Look where the brothel girl is! If the contestants on Too Busy for Love don’t fancy getting it on with each other, I’m sure she’ll help out.

That’s bad enough, but the comments underneath are ten times worse. I can feel the blood draining from my face as I read. How can people write such disgusting things about someone they’ve never met and know nothing about? There are a number that explicitly detail various depraved acts they would either like to carry out on me, or have me carry out on them. It’s too much and I’m aware that tears are pouring down my face.

‘Are you all right?’ Gus asks gently. ‘Do you want some water or something?’

‘Please.’

‘Stay there. Don’t move and don’t look at your phone any more.’ He gingerly removes my phone from my grasp, placing it on the table before leaving the room. I stare at it while he’s gone; the screen is dark now, but I’m very aware of the torrentof abuse it’s just served up to me. I’m shivering violently when Gus returns a few moments later with a bottle of water, which he hands to me. I just about manage to grip it, but my hands are shaking so much that undoing the lid proves impossible.

‘Give it to me,’ he suggests, gently prising it out of my grip and loosening the top for me, before holding it to my lips. I suck down the cool, soothing liquid greedily.

‘Gently,’ he chides. ‘You’ve had a shock, and there’s a risk it will all come straight back up if you overdo it.’

When the bottle is half empty, he takes it away and screws the lid back on. ‘You can have some more in a minute,’ he tells me. ‘Let’s just see how that settles first, shall we?’

There’s a knock on the door and Rosa appears. As soon as she spots me, her expression changes completely; she rushes over and wraps her arms around me.

‘Beatrice, what on earth is the matter?’ she fusses in rapid Spanish. ‘Are you unwell? Do you want me to get Pedro to take you to the doctor?’

‘I’m not unwell,’ I tell her shakily. ‘I’ve just had some shocking news.’

‘Why don’t I take you to your room for a lie-down. You’re in no fit state to work.’

‘Thank you, Rosa, but I need to talk to Gus. I’ll be OK.’

‘If you need anything, anything at all…’

‘Thank you, Rosa.’

‘I won’t pretend to have understood a word of that,’ Gus observes once Rosa has left the room, ‘but she clearly has a lot of affection for you. How are you feeling now?’

‘A little better, I think.’

‘Good. There are some really important things I need you to hear. Are you listening to me?’

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