Page 21 of Christmas Spirit
Georgie blinked hard to accustom his eyes, when a flash of bright light made him flinch. Nicholas had struck a match, lighting a thick, squat candle in a storm lantern, transforming the room into a kaleidoscope of shadow.
“We’re well stocked with candles, so I can set some out for you.”
“No, thank you, that won’t be necessary,” Roland said. “Or not for me. Mr. Forrester may wish to stay up.”
Georgie shook his head when Roland looked over to him. There was no way he was going to sit up alone in a pool of flickering candlelight as the edges of the room faded into shadowy gloom. His gaze found the plaster Santa, and an involuntary shiver tumbled down his backbone.
It did smile, it did move its arm…
Don’t be so fucking stupid, it’s a bloody piece of painted plaster…
It did. And it looks just like Nicholas…
“No, I’ll go up too,” Georgie squeaked.
“We intend to leave early tomorrow. Perhaps I can settle the bill with you now?”
The bill. Georgie’s stomach shrank at the thought of how much it would be.
“We can sort it out tomorrow, Mr. Fletcher Jones. Now, let me light you to your room.”
“Are you sure you don’t have another room? I mean, I’ve not seen any other guests,” Georgie burst out, stopping Nicholas in mid-turn.
A big four poster he wouldn’t be sleeping in, the only option the hard, cold, stone flagged floor. Or maybe he could kip down—no, he wasn’t going to be sleeping down here on his own.
“I’ll take a broom cupboard if there’s one spare.”
“The situation with the room, it’s not acceptable. You must have a foldaway bed,” Roland said. “I’ve worked in hotels for years, and they always have some set aside.”
“I’m terribly sorry, but I regret I am unable to accommodate your request.”
Nicholas gave a regretful shrug as he turned, and led them out into the hallway.
Georgie glanced at Roland. He didn’t look happy, far from it, but then he was used to getting his way. He’d been thwarted by an old geezer who looked like he could get a good supply of seasonal work playing Santa in a shopping mall. Georgie suppressed the sudden urge to laugh, but it soon fizzled away when he realised no foldaway bed really did mean he’d be sleeping on the floor.
It would be a story to tell if there was anybody he could tell it to. The only person he could think of was his friend, Ned, who was somewhere in Southeast Asia, and he could hardly tell Julia about this whole strange experience, and about him and Roland sharing a room.
“Let me give you this, sir.” Nicholas handed a spare lantern over to Roland. “There’s enough light for you to see by. I’m very sorry for this inconvenience. Everything should be sorted by tomorrow. Goodnight, gentlemen.”
Nicholas inclined his head, and retreated into the room behind the reception desk, shutting the door behind him.
Should be…What would be sorted? The roads? The power? Georgie sighed. He’d believe it when he saw it, but whatever the morning brought, he and Roland would be heading out and making for town.
“If they have trouble with the power, you think they’d have a backup generator. Come on, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough for one day.”
Roland strode towards the staircase, and Georgie scuttled behind him, making sure he was within the pool of yellow candlelight.
Will I be sorry to leave?
Georgie looked at Roland, a couple of steps in front. The man had surprised him, letting slip a more relaxed, and a decidedly less rusty-spike-stuck-up-his-arse side to him. And as for calling him Roland? Georgie had almost passed out from shock.
It’s the booze, and the weird situation…That was all it was, and he needed to remember that.
They made their way upstairs, the wood creaking under each and every step.
“Itislike something out of a fairy tale. Or an old horror film,” Georgie muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Roland stopped and looked at him from over his shoulder.
