Half the World Away - страница 35

‘Welcome to Chengdu,’ the receptionist says. She pronounces it Chungdu. She is Chinese and wears a badge that reads Melanie; her English name. I remember Lori’s blog, how her Chinese friends all had English names.

‘May I take your names?’ Melanie says.

‘Maddox,’ Tom says.

‘And if I could take a copy of a credit card, please.’

Tom gives her his Visa card. He’s paid for the rooms – we used some of Nick’s redundancy money to cover my flights. I close my eyes. My legs feel wobbly, my head light. It’s a quarter to seven in the morning back home, a quarter to two in the afternoon here. She’s telling us about breakfast in the restaurants.

Melanie hands Tom a room key. ‘Room 608. On the sixth floor,’ she says.

‘Two rooms,’ I say.

‘Excuse me?’

‘We booked two rooms.’

Tom is grinning. As though there is something amusing about the situation.

Melanie checks on the computer, then asks us to wait a minute and goes through to the offices behind.

‘We should get out and walk around,’ Tom says. ‘Daylight and exercise, for the jet-lag.’

We are meeting Peter Dunne from the consulate here at the hotel tomorrow and he will take us to the police officer in charge of the search for Lori.

Melanie comes back again, with an older man who wears the same uniform of black jacket, peach silk shirt and cream trousers. ‘Mr and Mrs Maddox, I’m sorry for any confusion. You wish to book two separate rooms?’

‘We did book two separate rooms,’ I say.

‘Very well.’ He smiles and speaks to Melanie in Chinese, then leaves her to it.

‘Please,’ she says, ‘the card key?’

We wait another few minutes while she cancels, then re-enters our details and Tom’s credit card number, and sorts out two rooms for us.

‘Very sorry for the mix-up,’ she says. ‘You are on the seventh floor, rooms 704 and 715. Enjoy your stay. Lifts are over there.’ She gestures to her right.

Outside the lift a TV screen plays an advert for some sort of liquor. Inside, the walls are burnished mirrors and there is another smaller screen above the door – the advert changes to coverage of some film awards, I can’t tell what. I recognize some of the stars but the commentary is in Chinese.

We find our rooms, mine on the main corridor, Tom’s round the corner.

‘Meet up in an hour?’ Tom says. ‘Get some air.’

‘OK.’

‘And don’t fall asleep,’ he warns. ‘Worst thing you can do.’

I yawn. ‘I know.’

Apart from the fact that the signs in the room are in English and Chinese, and for the water cooler in a corner, I could be in any hotel on any continent on the planet. The same packaged toiletries in the bathroom, fluffy white towels, the cupboard with iron and trouser press, the easy chair and the king-size bed with far too many pillows.

The windows look out over the back of the hotel to high buildings opposite, their details muted in the mist. Between us is a derelict site, a few long huts, their roofs full of holes. And nearby there are three enormous piles, one of bricks, one of timber, the third of tangled metal. Along the nearest edge of the plot are rows of scooters. Perhaps they’re for hire. Chain-link fencing rings the area.

I slide open the double glazing and noise fills the room – the roar of traffic, the shriek and blare of car horns, the clank and rumble of a bulldozer and a truck at work in the lot below. I can hear music, too, and snatches of birdsong, cries, whistles and squeaks in the midst of the thundering sound.

The bed looks so tempting, but instead I unpack my suitcase and have a shower. The body-wash smells of jasmine. I put on light clothes, three-quarter length linen pants and a loose blouse. Find my sunglasses. I text Nick. Arrived OK. Hot and sticky. Then I delete the last bit, it seems irrelevant. Add xxx.

Studying the map I printed off from Google, I can see that to the east and south of the hotel, in a couple of blocks, there’s a park by the river.

When Tom raps on my door, twenty minutes after the ‘hour’ is up, I suggest it to him.

Outside the heat is fierce, despite the cloud. There’s a chemical, metallic taste in the air and my tongue feels gritty. I haven’t put sun cream on and wonder whether to go back but can’t make a decision, so stop trying.