Fast Fiction: In A Small Hotel
…Of course I did hurry and almost tripped over her husband. He was sprawled on the landing, drunkenly but not loudly singing….
Richard Mallinson tells of carryings-on in the Bluesea hotel.
'Have you had a pleasant day out in London, Mr Selsey?' asked Mrs Olga Anstey, joint proprietor with her husband, Arthur, of Bluesea, a small hotel on the coast.
'An excellent day, thank you, Mrs Anstey,' I replied. 'I even found time to visit the National Gall -'
'You are just in time for your sherry before dinner,' she broke in, making me wonder if something had gone wrong.
Smiling at her, I said that first I must go up to my room to wash and change, adding politely, 'Is there time, I wonder?'
'Well, yes, perhaps there is if you hurry.' She had a musical voice.
Of course I did hurry and almost tripped over her husband. He was sprawled on the landing, drunkenly but not loudly singing.
I stepped round him and went to my room. On the way back I noticed that he'd stopped singing and was now in a stupor. I hurried down.
Mrs Anstey was waiting for me. She said rather too quickly, 'Miss Impey is staying in her room after her fright and Mr and Mrs Jones will be -'
'Fright!' I said. 'What fright?'
'I will tell you about it later,' she whispered, squeezing my hand, 'but I do think that Miss Impey is making rather too much of it... I am sure that Arthur didn't mean to ... I mean he wouldn't, would he?'
Oh, yes, he bloody well would, I thought, whatever it was that he'd done, or tried to do, this time . . .
Perhaps the look on my face showed what I was thinking because Mrs Anstey flinched and moved away.
I went to the bar and was greeted by three of the residents, all blazered, shaved and after-shaved.
'Hullo Bill, you old devil, what chores?' one of them said.
'Sherry ripe, if you please,' I said, thinking of Miss Impey.
