Room Service

Chapter Eleven

            Rosemarie and I remained in silence for ten minutes before Collette made a reappearance.

            All of this time I’d spent on the floor, my back against the wall while I resisted the urge to put my head in my hands. My sister, on the contrary, took to pacing, and doing everything in her power to avoid meeting my gaze. The tension between us was swelling with each minute, growing so fragile that it seemed at risk of shattering with any sudden movement.

            When Collette finally did stumble into the room, looking more flustered than I’d assumed her capable of, it came as an undeniable relief to be faced with company other than my pissed-off sister.

            Her face was flushed with a pink tinge, that usually neat bob ruffled as though she’d been running her fingers through it. Once inside, with the door safely closed behind her, she surveyed the room until our gazes met.

            I didn’t really know what to say, so I figured it was best to let her do the talking.

            “Well,” she said, after a moment’s pause, “glad that’s over.”

            “It doesn’t sound over,” I pointed out gingerly. It didn’t exactly seem like the commotion of the adjacent room had died down; the furious sound of clicking and raised voices remained very much audible, and I imagined the photographers were as ruthless as ever. They hadn’t seemed like the type to back down easily.

            “They’re on their way out,” Collette said, with what I assumed was an attempt to calm her voice into a less flustered tone. “I’ve got connections of my own, so security should be able to establish some boundaries soon enough. With any luck, they’ll be kept out of the way of the hotel.”

            “My mum and dad are going to go mental when they see all this.”

            “Yeah, well…” Collette trailed off, looking slightly lost for words, as if she couldn’t disagree. “Put it this way: I think we need to talk, Coraline.”

            “That sounds like a good idea,” I said. “I’ve got some time after my shift this evening if you wanted to—”

            “Not later,” she interjected, already shaking her head. “No, this is urgent. It has to be now.”

            “Now?” I echoed. “I’m supposed to be on the front desk, I don’t think I can…”

            “Can’t your sister cover for a little while?” Collette suggested, shooting a hopeful look in Rosemarie’s direction. She hadn’t moved from her spot in the corner, playing witness to our conversation with a look of unrestrained awe. The sound of her name appeared to startle her.

            “Rosemarie?” I dared to ask, well aware of the way my voice was edging into dangerous territory.

            There was a moment of silence, swathed in tension, in which my sister completely avoided eye contact. Just as the window of response stretched too wide, and I became convinced she was going to shoot me down, her small voice cut across the empty space.

            “Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

            “Thank you so much!” I gushed, a little too enthusiastically. I was injecting all the gratitude I could into my tone, but still Rosemarie refused to look at me. “I owe you one.”

            Remaining quiet, she made for the back exit of the room; she was looping round the other corridor in order to avoid walking straight into the thick of things. Collette’s promise had started to ring true; the noise on the other side of the wall was now significantly dimmed, as if the number of occupants of the room had halved.