Page 33

Story: Silver Lining

“Very well, thank you,” I said, slurping saliva back into my mouth.

“How do you take your coffee, sir? And can I offer you a morning paper while you wait? Should you require any other breakfast items, we have a small buffet offering on the side. Please just ask if there is anything else I can do for you. The staff will come for you when you are required.”

“Thank you.”

This was more like a fine hotel than a driver’s lounge. Impressed wasn’t even the start of it.

“Finally,” Anoushka said with another glittering smile, “can I just take a name for our records?”

“Stewart,” I started, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice behind me.

“Stewart Schiller,” Mabel mused. “Thank you, Anoushka. Can you arrange for whatever Mr Schiller has requested to be served in my office?”

“Absolutely,” she said, as I stood up and found myself face-to-face with Mabel Donovan, former head waiter at my former place of employment. I’d known them for years. Seen them rise and fall, through ups and downs, always with a smile on their pretty face.

Mabel Donovan.

Or perhaps they went by another name these days, but Mabel was still Mabel and looked as glamorous as ever. Also apparently the manager here. A little older, a little less pale, the make-up perhaps toned down to more subtle shades, but the glint in their eyes? Mischief galore.

“Give us a hug,” they demanded, sweeping me up in gentle perfume and swishy fabrics. Silk. Fingernails against my wrists. “Come. I need all the gossip.”

“Not much gossip to give, to be honest,” I admitted a while later, sat in a plush seat in Mabel’s office, having downed two excellent coffees and stuffed my face with crisp French pastries while Mabel laughed at my antics.

“Says the man who lives with two very interesting men.”

“And even more interesting grandchildren. I’m old and mostly unemployed, Mabel.”

“You also drive celebrities around, and now you’re in some kind of cahoots with Gun Larsen.”

“Slight exaggeration there,” I scolded them. “Just driving.”

“When Gun Larsen tells me to look after a special guest, I doubt it’s because of his excellent driving skills. Anyways,you’re Stewart, and you will always be a VIP to me. All you old Clouds people are. Did you know that I managed to get Hugo on board to deal with our events? Took me a while to track him down, but he’s starting next week.”

“Hugo?” My brain swirled, trying to put itself back in time, adding faces to names. Oh. Hugo. Of course.

“I’m picking off my favourites, one by one. The good ones. The Clouds will just be hot air by next year, run by children and money-hungry idiots.”

They still made me laugh, and more than that, I was thrilled to be sitting here watching them in an environment that clearly agreed with them.

“You look good,” I said, wiping the corner of my mouth and trying to remove the crumbs from my tie. I was covered in them, having temporarily forgotten my manners. “Sorry, didn’t get the chance to have breakfast.”

“I rarely do. I’m usually here from five in the morning if we have certain members in residence. And our patisserie chef is excellent, if I do say so myself.”

“Theyareexcellent,” I agreed. “But gossip. How are you?”

“Married?” They laughed, flashing an obscenely large rock in my face. “Also very happy. Life is a world awayfrom what it was a few years back. I don’t know how I lasted so long in that place down by the river.”

“It was a bit of a mess, but only at the end. I haven’t been back. Still a bit raw. And yes, I agree about the hot air bit. The destruction was horrific.”

“Can’t escape it—I still live next door—but I know what you mean. I walk past and look for a friendly face, and these days, there’s none. There’s security outside at night, but that’s about it. And the restaurant is a chain chicken set-up, with a Costa in the lobby. Can you imagine? Mr Klutz, rest his soul, would have had a fit, had he known.”

“He ran a tight ship,” I agreed, revisiting the memories. “I was happy there. It’s taken a long time for me to settle down with the fact that my career is over.”

“Never too late to start fresh,” they said quietly. “Just look at me. But have you started over?”

“I…” I was blushing, stuttering out syllables with no idea what I was trying to say.

Starting over? Had I? Not really. I was just trying to survive day by day and getting more and more confused with every single second ticking by.