Time passes before the Tannoy bursts into life again. “Gavin to reception.” He jumps up, faces the mirror and straightens himself before leaving. Luke took note. Gavin returned five minutes later, huffing and puffing. “Those cases weighed a tonne!” he said as he sat. “God knows what they had in ’em.” he added as he sat, laid his bag on his lap, removed his vanity mirror and checked his reflection.

Luke watched as Gavin tended his hair, applied a little powder and reapplied his lipstick, before checking his fingernails. He glanced at the large mirror, felt he was being watched and hung his head. His nervous fingers thumbed the bag on his lap before gently sweeping over his smooth hairless lap. For need of something to do to help the time pass more swiftly, Luke dips into his bag, removes the mirror and checks his reflection. Hair, neat. Skin, pale. Lips, bursting with colour. He brushes his tunic and put the mirror away. That filled all of two minutes. He sighed.

Half an hour passed, maybe longer. The Tannoy crackled and Luke is called to reception. “Finally!” Luke huffed before standing. He faced the mirror, straightened his tunic, briefly tended his hair, decided that his lipstick was fine and then exited the waiting room. The porters flanking the door didn’t acknowledge Luke as he passed. The reception area was empty save for the stern receptionist behind the desk. He presumed another test. “The lady in room 327 is checking out.” she tells him.

“Yes.” Luke replied. Then he gulped. “Shall I er…?”

“Shall you what?” the receptionist asked.

“Err…”

“Shall you go to room 327 and escort the lady and her cases back to reception, then escort her to her car?”

“Umm… yes.”

“Yes you shall.” the receptionist impatiently sighed.

“Erm… OK.”

“Well run along boy. We don’t keep our guests waiting!”

Luke trotted on his heels through the door that leads to the lifts and the rooms. He knows the room is on the third floor and frantically pushed the elevator button, but nothing seemed to happen. The receptionist appeared. “Porters use the stairs unless they’re accompanying our guests.” she told him.

“Sorry… no one told me.”

“Do you need instruction on how to climb the stairs too boy?” she spat.

“No.” Luke gulped before pulling open the door. His heels echoed loudly in the stairwell as he trotted up the steps as quickly as he dare. What have I got myself into? he thinks. And why isn’t anyone telling me what to do? he ponders. He feels like he’s being set up to fail as he trots up and up, past the first and second floor doors. By the time he’s on the third floor, he’s panting. He turns left and follows the hallway through an automatic door that opened as he approached. “Room 327.” he repeatedly reminds himself as he passes door after door; 308, 310, 312… he sighed at the end of the hallway, having not found room 327. He walks back, double checking all the door numbers. A room attendant exits one of the rooms pulling a laundry trolley. “Uh, hi… where can I find 327?“ Luke asked the room attendant.

“In the other wing.“ the room attendant replied. He wears a bright bib apron (the same colour as Luke’s tunic) over a pale lilac frock. His boyish hair is adorned with a tiny maid’s style headband; lilac with fuchsia ruffles rather than traditional white. Luke thanks the boy before briskly retracing his steps back toward the elevators. He glances back at the room attendant. His apron is tied with an ornate bow at the back. It’s tails hang almost as far as his knee length frock. It’s odd, Luke thinks… the room attendant didn’t appear to be wearing any make-up.