Desolate Places by Kate Charles

Author:Kate Charles [Charles, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781641971706
Publisher: NYLA

Lilith had spent the morning familiarising herself with the neighbourhood in the vicinity of the Regent Hotel. Though Sussex Gardens was a fairly quiet street, it was just round the corner from the bustle that was Praed Street: Paddington Station, St Mary’s Hospital, fast-food restaurants, ethnic grocery shops, red buses and tourists galore. She walked the short distance from the railway station to Sussex Gardens, dodging the rolling suitcases which rumbled along every pavement, dragged by people of various hues who spoke to each other in languages she didn’t comprehend. Then she strolled down the length of Sussex Gardens, with its dozens of tacky tourist hotels inhabiting what had once been posh town-houses, and turned into the Edgware Road. There the predominant flavour was Middle Eastern, many of the restaurants and shops adorned with signs in Arabic script. If someone were dropped down here in the Edgware Road, Lilith reflected sourly, there would be nothing to tell them that they were in London rather than Beirut or Damascus. Apart from the red buses, of course.

She ventured tentatively into one of the grocery shops. It was redolent with unfamiliar smells, its shelves crammed with products she didn’t recognise and wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with. ‘Can I help you?’ asked a man with a fierce black moustache, heading in her direction.

‘No, thank you.’ Beating a hasty retreat, she returned to Sussex Gardens and stood in front of the Regent Hotel for a few minutes. This was the time of day – late morning – when people tended to be checking out or checking in to hotels, but she observed no activity at the Regent. Lilith hadn’t quite decided on her strategy, and decided to play it by ear, mounting the steps to the entrance and pushing open the glass door.

The man at the desk looked up at her approach. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked, his thin lips stretched into a smile.

She made a guess that this was Ronald Wicker. ‘Mr Wicker?’ she said, matching his professional smile with one of her own.

His face altered, brows drawing together as the smile disappeared. ‘Who wants to know?’

‘I wonder if I might ask you a few questions with regards to—’

He didn’t even let her finish. ‘If you’re Press, I’m asking you to leave the premises. Immediately.’ He stabbed his finger in the direction of the door through which she’d so recently arrived.

‘But …’

‘Go.’

Just then, though, the door swung open and a young woman entered, dragging a large suitcase behind her. Suddenly the man behind the counter resumed his perfunctory smile as he re-focused his attention. ‘Can I help you?’

Lilith made a tactical withdrawal and hovered near the door while the manager went through the procedure of checking the woman in and handing her a key. ‘It’s on the third floor,’ he told her with an apologetic shrug. ‘No lift, I’m afraid.’

The woman flexed her shoulders and sighed. ’Can someone help me with my case?’

‘Yes, of course.’ He sounded reluctant, but

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