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‘Is madam quite sure?’ Which translated to: ‘Is madam quite sane?’
She ignored the implication. ‘I’m fine. Really. Just a dizzy spell, too long in the sauna.’
‘Then may I suggest one of our relaxation rooms. I can recommend the Sensory Room, a tranquil place to recover. Do you need me to escort you there?’
‘No, I can make my own way.’ She moved away, fearful he was about to call for an assessment of her state of mind. ‘Thank you again for your help.’
‘Not at all. Have a very pleasant day.’
Connie rubbed her sore scalp, checking that the coast was clear before moving away from the pillar. She darted across to the next pillar and hid behind it, checking her surroundings. Satisfied she was safe, she moved to the next pillar. Kenneth and Tiffany were nowhere to be seen, but she couldn’t be too careful.
Then she realised the member of staff was still watching her. His hand was resting on his walkie-talkie, as though he was about to call for backup.
Forcing a smile, she moved away nonchalantly and, more significantly, trying her hardest to appear sane. This was what Kenneth had done to her. She was losing her marbles.
She was also torn. Part of her wanted to run, flee to the changing rooms, pack up her things and escape. A smaller part of her wanted to say ‘to hell with them’ and continue with her visit, devour a nice lunch and take a long nap in the oxygen bubble. But the biggest part of her wanted more info. Why were they here? Was it a day trip? A one-off visit? Or had Kenneth taken out membership for Tiffany?
This last thought stung like no other.
It was bad enough that she’d been replaced in his bed, but taking away her spa membership was another crime entirely. A much bigger sin.
Connie went into the changing rooms and secured a towel around her head. She dug out her large dark sunglasses and put them on. Along with her generic robe and slippers, her disguise was complete, and she could carry out surveillance undetected.
Checking the corridor was empty, she exited the changing rooms and headed for the outdoor pool. She felt like an MI5 agent searching for Russian traitors as she scanned the area, her back to the wall, looking for potential assailants.
No sign of them.
She searched the hot tubs and jacuzzis. Nothing.
The Tepidarium next. Empty.
The spa had twenty-three individual treatment rooms. If they were inside one of those, she’d never track them down. But that wasn’t enough to deter her – sauna and steam room next. No Kenneth or Tiffany. Where were they? Had they left?
And then she heard that giggle again.
Connie slid over to the door of the nail bar and peeked in. Tiffany was having a manicure. Her dyed dark red hair was bouncy and shiny, and her terracotta fake tan made her glow. She was heavily made-up and wearing a Lycra red dress that hugged every curve.
‘Everything okay, madam?’
Jesus! She wished people would stop creeping up on her.
The member of staff she’d encountered earlier was looking at her, his expression no less critical.
She rubbed her chest, her heart racing. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Are you planning to have a manicure?’
‘I am,’ she said, even though she’d already had one that morning.
She realised he was waiting for her to go inside the salon.
Lifting the collar of her fluffy robe and lowering her chin, she snuck inside and almost ran to the workstation behind where Tiffany was sitting.
With her back to the woman, she could overhear her conversation and might glean some vital information that could prove useful in her mission. Not that she knew what her mission was. But still. Information was power.
One of the nail technicians approached. ‘Hello, my name’s Lucy.’ She sat down opposite. ‘What can I do for you today?’
Connie adopted a deep voice and whispered, ‘Manicure.’
