Chapter Twelve: Looking for Lola

At the hotel, once again, I stroll up to Mrs Williamson and lay my cards on the table.

‘Listen, I know I’m annoying you, but I’m looking for a guest called Lola and I’d really like to find her without having to sling any more dirty words your way, so could you please just check and the sooner I find her the sooner we can leave, and I promise to never come back,’ I babble.

Mrs Williamson doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t show a speck of emotion, she simply taps a few buttons on the keyboard.

‘No one by that name staying at the hotel presently,’ she says, as if that’s an end to that.

‘I take a lot of time off work,’ I tell her. ‘I could come back here for my holidays.’

Mrs Williamson gasps with horror.

‘Well, there’s no need for that!’ she exclaims.

‘Excuse me,’ Roger the concierge interrupts us. ‘Mrs Williamson, I’ll take it from here.’

Roger ushers us away from the front desk before we make too much of a scene.

‘You looking for Lola?’ he whispers

‘Yes!’ I cry with relief. ‘Do you know what room she’s in?’

‘I just took champagne up there, room 398.’

‘Thank you, Roger,’ I squeal, kissing him on the cheek.

‘By the way,’ Roger starts, but Troy doesn’t let him finish.

‘We’ve got to hurry,’ Troy insists. ‘We’ll tip you when we come back down.’

We race off towards the lift and, as the doors are closing, I’m sure Roger shouts something to us, but I don’t hear it. All I know is that if Dylan was just in room 398 and ordering champagne, there’s no way he’ll have left yet.