Nothing Left to Hide by HR BEASLEY

Author:HR BEASLEY
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: APS Publications
Published: 2017-04-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

The night was beginning to settle in on what had been a pretty warm day, but a chill had started to blow in off the sea and so when I eventually started my journey to The George Hotel I pulled on my trusted duffle coat. The thought occurred to me as I was doing it up that this was probably the only article of clothing that I had not taken to the laundrette. I still held faith with a pair of denim jeans black tee shirt and Jesus sandals however, despite feeling a slight chill around the foot area. My mind kept asking me the same question. Why was I bothering to go to the hotel at all? Despite a night chill, the air was crisp and clear as I made my way there. The crowds were no longer clogging up parts of the town as they seldom were at that time of the day and I felt a certain kind of freedom settling over the town. All was well with the world.

The brickwork to the George was old but the window frames and doors were new, in keeping with the councils legislations. The main entrance was a large glass affair with just about every agency recommendation plastered on the double fronted doors. As I walked up the three concrete steps the doors opened of their own accord. I stopped, out of pure devilment, to see what would happen next. Nothing did and so I carried on into the reception area. The foyer to the hotel looked as if it had been invaded by a selection of gardeners all trying to stamp their authority on the place. In other areas it appeared to look like the interior belonged in a jungle. Tropical looking plants had been scattered around the room, and a deep red carpet covered most of the floor. In the middle of all the greenery was a miniature fountain with coloured lights that seemed to flash on and off every second or so. Within this tropical fairyland there was a reception desk. It stood to the rear of the room as I had entered it and to all intent and purpose had the appearance of a log cabin that had been built by out of work chimpanzees. Behind all this was a desk and to the rear of the desk a receptionist.

She was doing a crossword puzzle as I approached her and nonchalantly placed it in a draw to the right of her when she saw me.

I could not help but notice that her glasses seemed to be considerably too large for her head and what with her mousey coloured hair that had had a tight perm she looked older than she probably was. Her eyes however said far more about her prissy attitude.

“Can I help you?” She asked in a high pitched tone.

Her look said it all. The George Hotel was a high class establishment that was not best served by allowing people dressed as I

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