This has to be a nightmare. Any second now I’ll wake up and laugh hysterically. I have arrived at the hotel all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and bubbling with nervous excitement and flipped open the boot of my car with a flourish so that the bellboy can carry my cases.
I do it with a flourish because I am excited about there being an actual bellboy. This is the first time I’ve stayed in a hotel that is posh enough to actually have a bellboy.
Mistake.
I wave him away as the most awful smell ever hits me. ‘Back, back.’ I splutter. One hand over my face, I try not to gag as I lift my suitcase out, then resort to holding my nose as I reach for the box with my shoes in.
Oh, my, it just got worse. It’s not just a little eugh smell, this is a total stink that catches at the back of my throat and makes me want to heave.
And it is strangely familiar.
And it is the box that smells, not my car boot.
I drop it, the lid pings off and a shoe rolls out onto the gravel.
‘Oh, shit.’
Luckily, Rachel is not with me. Rachel’s dad has already dropped off her and her mum, and I’ve followed in my car. So, it’s there for me in the morning. It’s mid-morning and we are all assembling at Startford Castle to get ready. We have a make-up lady, hairdresser and who knows what else lined up to pamper us.
Unluckily, my mother has appeared out of the blue to ‘help’. And I have stinky shoes.
‘Language, darling. You’ll never keep a nice man if you—’
How could I not have noticed until now? I put those shoes in my car, they travelled all the way up the motorway with me.
They stayed in the confined space overnight, so that I wouldn’t forget them, and the smell built up.
I have to admit it. This day has not got off to a brilliant start.
‘No mum. I’m not swearing – look!’ I kneel down, tentatively lift up the shoe by the tip of the heel and hold it at arm’s length to double check. I have no idea why I think I need to double check. I drop it like it’s on fire. There is no mistake, it is definitely liberally coated in …
‘Cat poo!’ Declares the bellboy loudly, then drops his voice. ‘Sorry, but it is, isn’t it? My gran used to have six cats and, cor, they could stink. If they weren’t peeing, they were spraying, and if they weren’t doing either of those, it was that.’
Well, at least Louie did leave something behind for me to remember him by. He has poo’d on my satin shoes! Bugger!
Bugger, bugger, bugger. I toss it back in the box, trying to use my fingernails and not my fingers, and slam the lid down.
My shoes. The shoes I am supposed to be wearing for the wedding!
What the hell do I do now?
I’m supposed to be colour co-ordinated.
‘Oh, Jane, how could you?’
‘I cannot believe you just said that, Mother! It’s not my fault!’
‘Could Housekeeping help?’ I glance up, I’d completely forgotten the bellboy. He’s trying to keep a straight face. They must train them well at this place.
‘Unlikely.’
He pulls a funny face, but gamely takes a step nearer. ‘We can try though, Madam.’
It takes industrial strength cleaner to get rid of the smell, I know it does. ‘I’ve only got ten minutes, they’ll all be waiting for me!’
‘You could leave them with me?’
‘No way.’ Smelly shoes have to be better than no shoes. Maybe.
‘I’ll tell the girls, dear.’ Mum is flapping her hand in front of her nose and keeping as far away as she can. ‘You go with this man, and I’ll distract Rachel!’
‘Don’t you dare tell her what’s happened, make something up!’
‘I’ll say it’s woman problems, shall I? Had to pop home for emergency knickers?’
‘Mum!’
‘Well, come on then, hurry up.’ He stops being a formal bellboy and turns into a normal bloke. A bloke who bravely grabs the foul-smelling footwear in one hand, and me in the other and whisks us both over to Housekeeping.
We gather quite a crowd of helpful staff, and many bottles of detergent, bleach, furniture polish, carpet spray and ‘I’m not quite sure what it is but it worked on that nasty stain on the carpet in Room 403’.
The head of Housekeeping dabs carefully at the shoe.
‘Sorry, sorry. We need to be quicker.’ I can’t wait any longer, I grab it from her.
‘But the colour might …’
Too late, I’ve sprayed bottle number 3 on it, switched the tap full on and started to scrub.
The jet of water is slightly stronger than I expected, it hits the heel and sprays straight back at me. ‘Yikes.’ I’m dripping.
‘Here love, give me that T-shirt and we’ll dry it in a jiffy.’ One of the girls has a towel in one hand and is practically stripping my top off with the other. We have a bit of a tousle, which she wins. Leaving me semi-naked in a room of strangers. But there’s no time to worry about nudity. I look back at my shoe.
Silence falls as the water turns the colour of the shoe.
‘Bugger.’
‘It might not be colour fast.’ Finishes the housekeeper.
‘Yes. Fine.’ The damp patch spreads, the whole shoe is changing colour before our eyes. And it still stinks. And even more dye comes out as I frantically pat it with a kitchen towel.
‘See,’ says one of the staff, pointing to a tiny label she found in the shoe box. ‘Protect from damp it says here.’
Crying is not an option. I need an option though, anything. Running round in my bra clutching a stinky shoe is not helping.
Stop. Think. I pat my hair dry with the towel.
‘I know!’
‘You know?’ They all chorus.
‘My car.’ It’s the only option. I reclaim my T-shirt, grab my soggy shoes and dive out of Housekeeping, back out of the hotel and slide to a gravel stop next to my car. Which, luckily, hasn’t been parked somewhere else yet.
I fling open the boot.
‘Thank God for that!’ They are still there.
The limited-edition Doc Martens that Coral had sent over, and had expected me to Photoshop into an ‘authentic’ Brighton photo long after I’d returned home. Pah, she really needs to look up the meaning of ‘authentic’.
Weirdly they are almost the same colour as the shoes I’ve just trashed, give or take a shade or two. Well, they are limited edition, they do happen to be in my size, ultra-comfy, and nobody will seem them under the dress.
Phew, it is such a good job that Rachel ignored Sal’s suggestion of what she thought were the sexier short dresses. Give me a good cover-it-all length any day of the week,
Sally just wanted to show off her endless pins, we all knew that.
What the hell, I’ve no real choice.
Nobody will notice if I slip them on quietly, they’ll all be busy getting ready.
‘Everything okay?’
‘It will be.’ I shove the shoes into a carrier bag, nod at the bellboy, throw my shoulders back and paste on a smile.
And check my phone. Still no message from Freddie, still no update from Rob – who is probably chasing seals or untangling seagulls or something.
I gulp as I look up the big stone steps towards the very posh entrance hall. I am hot and sweaty, have dripping hair and a soggy top. I truly hope no other guests are going to spot me as I head up to the room.
‘You’re fine.’ Bellboy winks at me. ‘It’s quiet at this time. Come on.’