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“There’s always breakfast in the canteen,” Finn scolded me. “And did Benjamin not have a single thing in his fridge this morning?”
“Too early.” I sniffled and tried to look like I was actually in control when I clearly wasn’t. This was never going to be easy, but every time I looked at Finn, I got the feeling he would rather be anywhere but here.
“Part of me thinks I should sign you off on sick leave for another month,” he said, “but the rest of me knows you’ve got an iron rod up your back and can do this in your sleep. You just need to go out there and face the music. I’ve read everyone the riot act, and nobody—and I mean that—nobodyis allowed to give you any shit.”
“That kind of makes it worse.”
He laughed at that, then grimaced. “I tried to get Mark over here to talk to you, but he told me to clean up my own mess. In a nice way.”
Yeah. I could imagine that. Finn was bad cop, Mark was good cop. And Mark wasn’t taking any of Finn’s bullshit either, which made me smile.
“Benjamin behave then?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee, seemingly in no hurry even though we’d been here an hour, the reception was heaving and his radio kept going off.
“Yeah. He’s very kind, letting me stay.”
“I’m going to tell you something in confidence. And ask you for a favour.”
“Okay?” I wiped my eyes with my uniform sleeve. At least I’d managed to pick up a clean shirt and get changed before I’d had my little breakdown.Finn held out a box of tissues in disgust. I blew my nose. See, I could be a grown-up, all right?
“Benjamin is a complex man. He’s not had the best time lately and been a bit…low.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to sit up straighter. “So now us two depressives can hang out and discuss antidepressants then. Fun.”
He grimaced again at my bad attempt to lighten the mood.
“I’d laugh if it was funny, Hugo. But it’s not. And in a minute, I’m going to kick you out there to deal with the line of people seeking your expertise in last-minute theatre tickets.”
“I heard,” I grunted. The radio was going off again.
“Drink your tea.”
“Thanks for…you know.”
“Iron rod. I told you. Life kicks us in the balls sometimes, but we talked about this. We get up, brush ourselves down, and then we stand tall. We walk out there with our heads held high and we do what we do best. That’s why we’re here. Don’t think for a minute you’re the first person who’s sat in this cesspit of a room crying their eyes out.”
He looked me in the eye in that stern way that was uniquely Finn’s. “Last Christmas…and don’t you dare tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. If you do, I will…end you.”
I had to laugh, because I knew he didn’t mean it, but I could also see behind the fake threat that he was genuinely scared.
“I think you have more on me than I’ll ever have on you,” I assured him. “You know most of my secrets and disastrous decisions. I’ll have to work here until I’m dead now, to stop you chucking all my skeletons out of the closet.”
He shook his head, almost letting a smile slip. “I’ve done some bad stuff. I’ve not always been the better person. And let me tell you, I have skeletons coming out of my ears.”
“Okay?” I drained my cup.
“A while back, at Christmas, I wanted to go throw myself in the Thames and just…just end everything. Because things had got so bad. And they kept getting worse. I sat in this office and bloody sobbed because I’d fucked up everything.”
I opened my mouth to say something sympathetic, but he shushed me.
“Then Mark and me—we finally…finally started to see the light. And he tried. He tried so hard, while I was still kicking up a stink. I was an idiot, but he forgave me, and what I did—well, it wasn’t an easy thing to forgive, so I sat here and cried some more.” He sighed. Took a deep breath.
“It’s taken me a long time to stop crying. To start to forgive myself for my own stupidity. I’m not saying I’m some kind of saint now, but I know my strengths. I also know my weaknesses. I think…that’s what I am trying to say. You’re the best concierge we’ve ever had. I know Oliver is good out there, but fuck me, the drama he brings. You, on the other hand? You’ve been excellent. I mean that.”
“Apart from the crying,” I filled in. “And the drama.”
“Crying is good. It shows you’re human. I’ve never had Oliver in here bawling his eyes out—again, that’s a completely private comment I hope you won’t share.”
I made a zip motion over my mouth.
