The clock on the dashboard showed 5 minutes to 10 o’clock as A.J. pulled into the car park in front of the Grenadier Hotel. He knew it was a few minutes fast and he had arrived in plenty of time to meet Albert. The car park was empty except for a couple loading suitcases and nylon carriers into the rear of an old-fashioned estate car. He presumed the carriers contained men’s suits or women’s dresses they had not packed in the suitcases. There was no sign of Albert, but he was a few minutes early. He had promised to wait for him outside the hotel so he sat in the car and turned on the radio in readiness for the 10 o’clock news. The main news item was the siege of the Iranian embassy in London, but the ongoing discussions about the air crash in Tenerife was the item that most affected A.J. He had always needed to be in control and the thought of men piloting an aircraft, over which he had no control, or influence, meant he had always been afraid of flying. Reports suggested the accident was due to pilot error, which only reinforced his opinion this was not a safe way to travel. He knew this fear was irrational as he was quite happy to travel by train, bus or taxi, but that is what fears often are, irrational.
The news finished with the weather forecast and the time was now 10 minutes past 10 o’clock. The radio program returned to pop music and A.J. tried to find another station with music more to his taste. Failing he turned off the radio.
He looked at the front of the hotel. All the curtains of the second floor bedrooms were open, which suggested that the guests had already left their rooms. Albert’s bedroom could have been at the rear of the hotel with a view of the gardens and the woodland beyond. As his guest he was sure they would have used one of these rooms for Albert, less noise from the car park with guests arriving late or leaving early. The front door opened but it was only the couple with their final pieces of luggage for the estate car. The car started badly and with some difficulty spluttered away from the hotel towards the main road. “I hope they do not have far to travel,” thought A.J.
Even though the car had a clock on the dashboard, A.J. looked at his wristwatch to confirm the time. It was now 20 minutes past 10 o’clock and no sign of Albert. Although he had promised not to pursue Albert he decided to go into the hotel.
“Good morning Meester Waterson,” greeted the thin faced girl on reception. Meester Hughes? Oh, he was down early for breakfast and checked out about an hour ago. He called for a taxi, but no I do not know where he was headed.”
“Did he leave a message for me,” A.J. enquired sounding sharper than he intended.
“No, there’s nothing here,” she replied looking around rather nervously. “Perhaps he left something in his room, I’ll go and check.”
“No, I’m sure there’s nothing there. I’m sure he’s... “the sentence trailed away as A.J. returned to his car.
The news finished with the weather forecast and the time was now 10 minutes past 10 o’clock. The radio program returned to pop music and A.J. tried to find another station with music more to his taste. Failing he turned off the radio.
He looked at the front of the hotel. All the curtains of the second floor bedrooms were open, which suggested that the guests had already left their rooms. Albert’s bedroom could have been at the rear of the hotel with a view of the gardens and the woodland beyond. As his guest he was sure they would have used one of these rooms for Albert, less noise from the car park with guests arriving late or leaving early. The front door opened but it was only the couple with their final pieces of luggage for the estate car. The car started badly and with some difficulty spluttered away from the hotel towards the main road. “I hope they do not have far to travel,” thought A.J.
Even though the car had a clock on the dashboard, A.J. looked at his wristwatch to confirm the time. It was now 20 minutes past 10 o’clock and no sign of Albert. Although he had promised not to pursue Albert he decided to go into the hotel.
“Good morning Meester Waterson,” greeted the thin faced girl on reception. Meester Hughes? Oh, he was down early for breakfast and checked out about an hour ago. He called for a taxi, but no I do not know where he was headed.”
“Did he leave a message for me,” A.J. enquired sounding sharper than he intended.
“No, there’s nothing here,” she replied looking around rather nervously. “Perhaps he left something in his room, I’ll go and check.”
“No, I’m sure there’s nothing there. I’m sure he’s... “the sentence trailed away as A.J. returned to his car.