Page 5 of The Heartbreak Hotel

Her suitcase caught on a raised wooden slat, slipping out of her hand and off the path. “No!” she shouted, lunging after it and tumbling down the grassy verge headfirst, with Pauline’s suitcase falling after her. Bushes and stones scraped at her skin, poking her ribs and tangling in her hair. When she stopped rolling, landing at the bottom in a heap with Pauline’s mammoth suitcase on top of her, she screamed. She spat sand from her mouth, wiped her tongue on her arm, and spat out even more sand, then screamed again, frustration echoing through the rain and trees. Everything hurt.

She screamed at Maeve, at losing her job, at Winnie and her mother for convincing her to come on this stupid trip. She thrust a fist into the sand next to her, connecting against a rock instead.

“Fuck’s sake!” She nursed her hand between her knees, her chest aching from all the exertion.

She didn’t care anymore. She was just going to lie here in the sand until bears came to eat her. Do they even have bears in Portugal? Knowing her luck, probably not. She’d have a slow and painful exit from Earth listening to Pauline’s whining.

“Golly. Is my suitcase alright?” Pauline asked, appearing over her, mascara dripping down her pale white cheeks. “That was quite a little tumble, Ellie.”

Ella clenched her jaw, gritting more sand beneath her teeth. “I told you, it’s Ella.”

“God, I’m sorry. My mind’s been a sieve ever since the divorce with Albert.”

You don’t say. Ella wanted to cry. This wasn’t worth a lifetime’s supply of Pringles.

“Is everything alright?” a perky voice asked. “I heard screaming.”

Ella looked up to find a woman standing there, cast in shadow. “Do I look alright?” she barked. She couldn’t make out the colour of the woman’s hair in the darkness, but it fell in loose beachy waves far past her shoulders.

The woman carried on, undeterred by the venom in Ella’s tone. “Here, let me help you up.” Warm hands gripped her arms, lifting her easily to her feet. “You both picked a brilliant night to arrive. Let me guess—you’re from England?”

“Yes, we are,” Pauline jumped in.

“Ah, that explains the downpour then.”

Ella couldn’t place the accent. It sounded English but with small energetic inflections hinting at someplace else. She attempted to dust herself off, but it was useless. The water and sand had clumped together, sticking between every crack and crevice.

The woman laughed, and Ella’s head snapped round to the sound. How could this person be laughing? She could make out her profile now, her face lit by the moonlight that had appeared from behind the clouds and was glancing through the canopy.

“We wondered where you’d both gotten to,” the woman said. “Romeo was supposed to meet you at the docks, but I’m guessing something else happened.”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Ella breathed, anger seeping into her chest. “I had the flight from hell, boarded a boat with a madman for a captain, lost my favourite hat, got caught in a torrential downpour, rubbed my feet red raw, then fell down a cliff. What part of this is supposed to be a holiday?”

Her words rang out into the night. The pitter-patter of rain against the wooden slats filled the silence that followed. At least it was slowing now.

“What was wrong with the flight?” Pauline asked.

“And a cliff is a bit of a stretch.” The woman studied Ella’s face, her eyes a dark, stormy sea. “Have you hurt yourself?”

Her feet hurt, her arms stung like she’d lost a fight with a street cat, and her entire body was cold and uncomfortable, with so much sand in her pants, she was gonna have the smoothest shave down there in years, but all she could do was sigh. The last thing she wanted was to spend hours in some wooden cabin being checked over by someone whose first-aid qualification had been purchased online. She needed a drink. A Winnie-strength extra tequila-type drink.

“I’ll survive,” she said. Her focus fell on the name badge pinned to the woman’s vest. Riley.

“There you go. Oh, here.” Riley leaned closer. “You’ve something in your hair.” With a gentle tug, she untangled a twig and discarded it. “Shall we get going? This is amazin’.” She plucked up their suitcases like they were made of candy floss and indicated for the two of them to walk.

Ella assumed she worked here and wasn’t just some nutjob roaming the island about to steal all of her underwear, so she followed her through the trees.

“How is this amazing?” she asked once they were back on the path.

“I’ve never heard of a more obvious selection of signs. Your spirit guide is leading you.”

She snorted. “My spirit guide? You’re kidding, right?”

If Ella had a spirit guide, it must be a dysfunctional drunk living in its parents’ basement, eating Coco Pops out of the box.

“I’m not kidding, Ella. It’s exciting. Discovering your spirit guide is a life-changing experience.”

“Right. Of course. Silly me.” She shook her head. “Wait. How’d you know my name?”