One Summer Night At the Ritz Read Free Page A

look too bad.
    ‘Ms Williams,’ the man from reception’s voice interrupted her posing.
    ‘Oh sorry.’ Jane looked back, blushing again, mortified, keeping her eyes firmly away from the reflection and focused on all the stuff he was telling her.
    Another man came over and picked up her case.
    ‘Oh that’s my bag—’ Jane said, trying to reach forward and take the case back from his gold trolley.
    ‘It’s fine, madam,’ the bellboy replied.
    ‘No really, that’s my bag—’
    ‘And I’ll take it to your room, ma’am. That’s my job.’ The bellboy smiled but hardly paused, moving on in order to pick up the bouffant woman’s bags, who made no quibble about the service.
    Jane swallowed, feeling foolish. No one had ever carried anything of hers before.
    The desk clerk went on as if that conversation hadn’t happened and gave her the details of her room, directions to the bar and the times for breakfast.
    Jane nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else in case she embarrassed herself again. Instead she walked to the elevator, past huge vases of white flowers, Louis XV chairs, mirrored doors and over maroon patterned carpet. As she stepped in the lift she leant against the painted panels on the wall and watched as the doors closed in front of her.
    And then she allowed herself to slump into an exhale, blow her new too-long side-fringe out of her eyes and remind herself that this was it. She was at The Ritz.
    She thought of the passage in the diary, that she’d read over and over, where Enid thought about meeting corporal James Blackwell:
    ‘This is what his note says:
If you want to join me for dinner, I’ll be staying at The Ritz
.
    The Ritz! I’ve never been to The Ritz. Can you imagine if the only time I went was with a war on? What would I wear? I can’t believe I’m thinking about what I would wear rather than whether I should meet a stranger for dinner.
    Of course I’m going to meet him. If we can’t make beautiful memories at the moment, what can we do?’
    As she walked out the lift and down the corridor towards her room, Jane thought about how carefree and brave the words sounded, and reminded herself that this was why she was here, too. To make beautiful memories. There had been so many shit ones, over the last couple of years especially, that it was time for the good.
    And when she got to her room it took her breath away.
    It must have been the size of her whole boat. With its own sitting room. She was sure she hadn’t booked a room with a sitting room. She looked for the bellboy to tell him that there had been a mistake, but her bag was already there, unzipped on the suitcase stand with no sign of him. She went through the door and into the giant bedroom, huge swathes of yellow curtains hung over the window, matching yellow chairs and a tiny table with a vase of giant peach roses stood in front of it. The bed was bigger than any bed she’d ever seen, the width of the length of her sofa back home. She wanted to throw herself on it in delight but, certain she was in the wrong room, went back into the living room and phoned Reception.
    As she dialled, she saw a bottle of champagne on the table and a note which she opened as the man answered the phone. The card and champagne were from Emily and Annie. Wishing her luck, telling her to enjoy herself and a final PS:
    ‘
We thought you can’t go to The Ritz without an upgrade! Enjoy xx’
    The man from Reception asked again if Jane was OK.
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes I’m fine, I just thought…’ She looked around the massive room. ‘I just thought there had been a mix-up, that’s all.’
    ‘No mix-up, madam,’ the man said and she wondered if she could hear a slight twinge of humour in his voice.
    Jane put the phone down. Paused for a second to absorb the awesomeness of the suite, and then ran through to the bedroom and threw herself down on the bed.
    She never wanted to leave.
    Outside the window she could look down and see the