Chapter Fourteen
ALICE
Unfortunately, Alice knew her current career was very much position filled the exact moment River suggested a role in the bar. It made sense, it was money coming in, and it would get her out of the ‘boutique’ hotel room that was now driving her crazy – funny how one soon got used to the banality of one’s new trying-to-be-original-like-everybody-else IKEA furnished surroundings, conveniently forgetting the hideous tie-dye clad room one had come from. Plus she didn’t want to sound ungrateful in retrospect, or to hurt River’s feelings, not when her own emotions seemed to be increasingly dependent on them.
But it was an undeniable risk. For by spending more time with the man who, try as she might, she could not wash out of her hair, she would have to face the harsh reality that was Georgina, see the whole hideousness of her flirtation play out in the bar, night after night after night; followed of course, by the inevitable music making, echoing down the corridor at her, the screams of his name torturing her till dawn.
It was a chance she had little option but to take. Not only for the money but because the growing fear ebbed and flowed at her like the tide: Georgina was a scavenging, backstabbing opportunist. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if this missing envelope and whatever it contained within was the exclusive work of his mistress. She hadn’t even come face to face with River’s Alluring Charmer yet, but the other thing about growing up on the ley lines, is you never question your intuition. That was an insight Heather had passed on to her all those years ago when she’d inspired her vegetarian shape shift, and she’d strangely reiterated it days ago too, as she’d packed her bags for her Goddess convention tour, bound for Stonehenge.
“It’s a feeling you just can’t shrug off, Alice. When something is right, your gut will let you know, it takes its communication from the solar plexus.” She’d let her hand hover over her own stomach by means of a demo. “It’s no coincidence that particular chakra lies so close to your belly. And vice versa of course too… when something feels off, or out of kilter, your stomach will give you a sign. Always listen to that signal, even over and above your head.”
Shame River wasn’t taking note. Then again, Alice supposed it was all too easy to get caught up in somebody’s web of deceit when they were buttering you up this way and that, hell, she’d fallen for it enough times over the years when it came to men.
But not only was this an opportunity to save up some money, with which to chase her own dreams, getting any further with her parents would require a degree in Anthropology, and so it was that she accepted the premise: a little hard graft and sacrifice in return for a future paddock.
Alice gingerly opened the hotel door; the sudden and inexplicable commotion downstairs luring her to the staircase, where she peered down at the ever-decreasing snail’s shell of spirals trying to make head or tail of the noise which had invaded her thoughts.
“In slightly the wrong position to play whizzing down the banister now, boy,” a familiar voice laughed sadistically, echoing higher and higher. “We’re going to stay here until we sort this out.”
Shit, Lennie!
How did he know River would be here? How could they have been so gullible as to think he’d never return? The cushioning of rural life had lulled them both into a pathetically naïve sense of security. Here in Somerset it was ten times easier to track someone down than in the mazes and labyrinths of London, L.A., or New York.
“Has he paid you or something?”
That was River, and there was no doubt he was directing his question at the receptionist, whose silence spoke louder than words, a facsimile of Alice’s previous thoughts as to her loyalty.
But there was no time to run down to his defence. The sound of a very distinctive pair of footsteps on the stairs, heading ever closer and upwards, told her all she needed to know. Georgina was in residence.
As Alice hot footed it as quietly as possible back to her room, and sank to the floor behind the safety of the door, the questions flapped and flew at her just like the pigeons had done in St Mark’s Square when they’d kicked off with their very first Italian show in Venice. Why had Georgina said nothing? How could she pretend to be a random guest, leaving River there to fend for himself, after all he’d evidently done for her? How could the receptionist sell her soul so easily even if Alice had second-guessed she would? What if River caved in… told Lennie she was hiding upstairs? What if Lennie already knew that and was just going to hang about until Alice turned herself in, or died of starvation?
One thing was for sure: staying at The Guinevere was clearly no longer an option.