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“I’m not doing a very good job of living with anything right now,” I admitted. “He’s going home for three days over the weekend. Three whole days, and now we have all this to deal with—”
“And you’re duty manager this weekend. Horseracing Association. The Thames Water conference. Elton John’s on at the O2. You won’t be sitting down until Sunday night, and you can forget about sleeping. You’ll be too rushed off your feet to miss Hugo. Seth Greene is running the front of house, and Tabitha and Bernie will be here. And it’s Claire’s weekend off.”
“Bernie?” I whinged. He nodded. Bernie hated everyone, and we hated him right back. No particular reason. Just a bit of a personality clash—with the entire world it seemed.
“Also…”
“What?” I asked cagily, wondering how much worse it could get.
“Hugo needs to go home. See his family. Go for his appointments. Discuss things with people who are not part of this place. Loosen those work-apron strings a little and realise there’s a whole world out there. I go home and stay with my mum, and I sit there on her sofa and never ever want to come back here again. It’s…cleansing. Makes you see things from a different perspective.
“I should go see my mum too.”
Mark nodded. “And you should take Hugo. Get some sea air in his lungs. Get shat on by some seagulls.”
“Bloody seagulls.”
“Sandy beaches, open spaces. Who needs shit like that?”
“Nobody,” I agreed. “Fucking nobody.”
He grinned. “Say hi to Mum. In fact, scratch that. I’ll text her now and invite myself along if you don’t mind. We can all sleep in your bed. It will be so much fun.”
He was kidding. I tried to slap him over the head, only to miss, barely ruffling his hair.
“That was uncalled for!” He was still grinning. I wasn’t. I was wringing my hands, worrying about what Hugo was up to.
“Go check on him,” Mark said, nodding towards the door, like he could read every thought in my head. “Then get changed and get in that kitchen before Mabs has a heart attack. We’re overbooked and oversold, and Paul has dreamed up some new special to cope with demand. I think you may have to go supervise before we have a disaster on our hands.”
“Paul’s good,” I argued.
“He is. But you’re better. Now go!”
I did, taking the corner a little too fast and getting evils from the team of waiters, who I then almost ran over trying to get across the restaurant floor in record time. I was dressed in my normal joggers and a hoodie, definitely not suitable for greeting paying guests, but I still shook hands with someone I couldn’t remember the name of when they said hello to me and patted someone else on the back as they complimented the excellence of the spiced lamb.
It seemed to take forever to reach the lobby, but at last, I made it, and there was Hugo, standing behind his counter, the place where he felt at home. His place. He was nodding while talking into the phone, gripping it to the point that his knuckles were white.
“Hu,” I said softly, warning him I was there. I stepped in behind him and rested my hand on his back.
“Thank you, and yes. Yes. Goodbye.”
He didn’t turn around. Just stood there and breathed.
“Hugo!” Reuben shouted, bounding over to the concierge desk.
Just go away!
“You were awesome! Stewart just filled me in. Four hundred pounds under a sofa is madness, man—you need to rein that shit in. I have a mate who’ll exchange anything with no fees and at a decent rate, and then pay it into one of those Post Office VISA cards. Really handy.”
“Reuben—” Hugo warned, but Reuben continued, oblivious.
“Seriously, I use mine to pay my car payments. And the insurance. You shouldn’t be stashing shit under any sofas and admitting to it in public. Anyway, Dieter asked for you again. What the hell is going on with that guy?”
“I make good cups of tea, apparently,” Hugo said flatly. “There are too many people in the doorway, and get security to move those fans with the big placards. It’s…”
“Unsightly,” Reuben finished, moving away from the desk. “They’re nice girls, though. Makes my day a little more fun, chatting to them. I’ll text you the name of the guy with the exchange thing. Use him. Much safer.”
“And probably highly illegal,” Hugo threw back at him.
