Sophie
364, 364, 364. What was this room and what was I going to find inside? I was nervous about my instructions, mainly because I had been given no information about what was going on. I found the room, on the third floor and in a corridor of rooms which all looked a similar size. I flashed the key card on the door and entered, apprehensively.
There was no-one in there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t empty though. There were a few items on the dressing table laid out as if it were done by someone in the military. There was a piece of paper, a phone and a bank card. The instructions read out that I was to get washed immediately to be ready for my 16:00 pick-up, that the phone was mine to be kept on me at all times and that there was a bank card on the table with £2,000 available to spend.
My confusion had only grown, but following the first instruction I was more than happy to do. I headed off to the shower and it felt nearly as sweet as the one in George’s apartment. I was terrified of losing track of time so I had set-up an alarm on my new phone to make sure I wouldn’t be late. The alarm sounded and I reluctantly shut off the shower. I grabbed a towel to dry myself off and went back into the main room.
As soon as I did, I panicked. My old clothes had been taken off the radiator and were missing.
“Hello?” I said nervously, wondering if anyone had got into my room. As soon as I turned my head I relaxed a little. On the middle of the bed was a pile of perfectly folded new clothes. There was a pair of flat shoes, calf-length boots, two pairs of jeans, two tops, a coat and two pairs of matching underwear. I looked at the sizes and they were all perfect. They were all very plain, but I wasn’t complaining about style right now. It was great just to be able to wear some fresh clothes.
I got dressed, pulled up my new black boots. Put the phone and card in my pockets and left the room with time to spare, ready to get picked up for wherever I was going. I left the building and the same car was waiting with the same woman inside.
“Sorry about the clothes,” she said. “I just needed to get you out of those horrible old ones for the moment before we can get something nicer.”
“I’m fine with these, honest, thank you.” I was more than happy with just these clothes for now—not looking like a tramp for the first time in a couple of weeks was a fresh change. I walked to that car with my back a little straighter, with my shoulders back and a smile on my face, knowing that anyone looking at me wouldn’t instantly turn up their nose in disgust. The woman looked at me with a knowing smile, as if to say I was getting different clothes whether I liked it or not.
We stopped out on a street and entered into a boutique clothes shop, where I was swiftly taken into the back and into a more private room. A woman was there to take my measurements as if I was getting fitted out for a tailored suit.
“What is this all for?” I asked the woman who’d brought me here. And for the first time, as I could tell by her face, came an honest reply.
“I don’t know.”
She genuinely didn’t know, which made it all the more confusing. But right now I was getting made to feel like a princess. I was being chauffeured around London, getting my measurements taken in a high end shop. All my details were taken and we left the shop, and it was late by this point as it was just about to shut. I was guided into a restaurant where we ordered food, we shared some idle chat about the weather and such, before she broke the light-hearted conversation with some final instructions.
“This is where I leave you,” she said. “The address of the hotel is on the back of the key card and I’m told you’ll be receiving further instructions later. The money on the card is to spend however you please and here is my card to call if there is any difficulties with the hotel, card, clothes etc.”
She gave me her card and the only information it had on there was a number. I felt like I was in a spy film. Little information, blacked-out cars, secret messages... it was all very exciting.
“Thank you,” I said to the woman as she left, paying the bill before she did.
“Don’t thank me,” she said, smiling.
“So who should I be thanking?” I thought I’d take one last shot at getting some information about her before she left.
“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” With that, she turned and walked away. I gazed on as she got into the car that had come to pick her up and drove away.
I left the restaurant not knowing what to do with myself. I put my hand in my pocket and picked out the card, and was excited at the prospect at being able to spend money. But then I was immediately annoyed at myself: the PIN was written down on the hotel instructions and I’d forgot what it was. I’d have to feel poor for a little while longer at least. That meant no money for a taxi either. I knew the area, however, and the hotel was only a few miles away. I was happy to walk.
I was happy to be invisible. When you walk down a street, you don’t really notice anyone else, but you notice a homeless person. Walking down the street and not being avoided felt new. I developed an odd habit of smelling my clothes. They didn’t smell of anything nice, they were just clean.
I got back to the hotel and wondered whether I should go back out to use the card that I now had access to, but the bed was too tempting. Just lying in it was heaven. I helped myself to some wine from the minibar and put on one of my TV shows. I was in my own piece of heaven, I felt like I could stay here forever.
Then the phone rang.