This is an excerpt from my novel, 'The Old Hall Hotel.' I say 'novel'... it has been a 'work in progress novel' for a fair few years now [you know the drill, fellow writers..] The Old Hall Hotel is a collection of stories based around the residents of the Old Hall Hotel- a hotel seemingly trapped in time. This is a draft from a chapter entitled, 'Guilt of the Watchman.' Alex, the night watchman, is an omnipresent character- kind, hardworking and now living on borrowed time. He looks after Daisy, a troubled thirty-something who is struggling with life. Alex once dated her father, secretly a gay man, which ultimately broke up her family, and tragedy occurring. Stanley is Alex's oldest friend and now his partner. I hope you enjoy! .................................... ‘A lie can be a precious gift… but it takes a precious person to give it- and equally one to receive it.’ His father had told him that. It had surprised Alexander that his deeply religious father could even fathom a lie let alone justify one. * * * Stanley wished, for once, that they could meet somewhere else. Neutral ground. He wondered if Alexander was capable of leaving the village. He had once joked that Alex was like the titular character in The Truman Show, where everything outside a certain area was fake and green screen and any attempt to go beyond would be stopped by some inexplicable emergency. There were patches of the old tiles still visible underneath the new wooden floor. It made Stanley aware of his age. The old floor he remembered and it suddenly felt very important. This unnerved him as he checked his watch again. The Clubhouse had, at least, avoided the temptation of becoming a café or a Wetherspoons- but how long it could continue the façade of a pub Stanley daren’t imagine. It angered him the people who had failed the place. The people who had once spent hours in a lock-in. Playing cards, singing every song on the jukebox and persuading Allie, the bartender, to open the bottles from the not-so secret supply. Daisy would be working behind the bar, sipping nothing stronger than the occasional half pint of cider, her father giving her a playful raised eyebrow warning as she giggled and danced to the music. Not a care then. From any of them. Where had those people gone? Under the floorboards, not even emerging at Christmas to toast the good old times. The door opened and Alex tumbled in, battling the wind as he shut the door. Alexander was a stickler for people being on time and he wasn’t late for anybody. Stanley supposed he should feel special. That Alex knew him enough to be comfortable in letting him down. “Hello, darling. Many apologies, regrets, etc, etc.” Alex kissed him lightly on the lips and began to remove his oversized grey jacket. His lanyard caught on the chair in his rush to sit down. “It won’t happen again.” “Daisy?” Stanley asked simply. “Actually, no. Although I shall say you enquired. Tolkien, as a matter of fact.” “That flirt. He always knows how to steal you away from me. You need to get yourself a new book.” “I have many new books. This is my comfort read.” “And why do you need comforting?” Alex helped himself to the pot of tea. “It’s January. You know I always feel edgy in January.” Stanley sipped at the now tepid tea and waited for the inevitable. He could always tell. An untroubled Alex would discuss what film they would be watching that night, what takeaway they would order. “Speaking of Daisy…” “My favourite start to a conversation.” Alex looked at him over his mug. “Would it help your mood if I buy you a glass of wine before I finish this sentence?” “If it ends in 'Daisy' or 'I can’t come over tonight', I’ll need the bottle.” *** Today Alex didn’t want to see anyone. This selfishness would manifest every now and again and he would battle it, as was his nature. Oh, these people. These poor people. They broke his heart over and over and there wasn’t enough time in the world for him to fix it, or them. Yet he never had time to miss them. He never had time to sit with his coffee and wish that people were there to join him. Perhaps if he missed them, he would appreciate them more. Even his darling Stanley failed to understand his need for solitude. People usually looked towards the quietness of the night. The stillness and freedom of their own thoughts. He never got that. And now everything had been put on fast forward. He hated himself for the wasted months, weeks, days, minutes… the times he looked out of the window and didn’t venture. Time was always of the essence. He had never noticed before. He had got a single word text from Miranda. ‘Daisy.’ He closed his eyes. No other name made him feel so tired. He began to ask why and decided it would be quicker to go straight to the source. Allowing himself ten seconds with his eyes closed, he got up from his chair. Miranda met him outside her office, looking close to tears. Angry tears. ‘I can’t handle her anymore, Alex.’ ‘I know, I know…’ ‘No you DON’T. She is stopping guests from returning. I’ve had people in tears because of her noise and tantrums all night. People aren’t sleeping.’ ‘I’ll talk to her…’ ‘All you DO is talk to her. Cut her off. This hotel is her drug along with whatever else she takes.’ ‘She doesn’t do drugs.’ ‘Oh wake up, Alexander!’ ‘She doesn’t. She hardly needs to, does she?’ This wasn’t strictly true. He often suspected that Daisy had returned to the habit and prayed after his encounters with her that he was over thinking. She drank too much, that was known- but yet, didn’t they all? He could hardly blame the poor lass for that. A few drinks to take away the cruel tinge of the day? Understandable. A scream and a cry? They’d all probably be healthier if they did the same. Yet he was running out of ways to defend her to other people. He wished they really knew her. She was such a beautiful soul. She really was. Taking a breath and reminding himself of this fact, he walked up the staircase to the second floor. Daisy’s room was at the end of a long, curving corridor but he could hear her wailing from the end. He quickened his pace as he heard the all telling high pitched wine at the end of her last sentence. ‘Daisy!’ Daisy was outside her room, sitting with her legs pulled up to her chest. ‘Alex!’ she leapt up and was in his arms in a matter of seconds. He held her. She reached just below his chin, which he always put on top of her head. It always calmed her. ‘Shh poppet. I told you. It’s just one night. You’ll be back in your room tomorrow.’ ‘No, no, no. It’s a trick, Al. You just don’t see- they want us out Alex, they want us out!’ ‘Shhhh- come on, let’s go to my office, hey? Talk it all out.’ She stayed buried in his jacket. He felt her shoulders stop heaving and he gently unpeeled her from him. ‘Talk and sort?’ She nodded. ‘Talk and sort.’ *** “Be right back.” “Alex!” Alex paused and gave him that woeful look. “I’m sorry.” “I know you are. It doesn’t change anything.” “Let me get that bottle.” “It’s not necessary.” “Please. I won’t be a second.” He watched Alex, his face downcast, break into a smile as soon as he approached the bar. He kissed Laurie on the cheek as she took his money. He brought such a natural happiness and calm that there was no wonder there was a queue. He knew Alex loved him. He never failed to let him know. The way he held his face in his hands whenever they had been apart for longer than a day... But Alex loved everyone. He wanted to make sure everyone in his life was as happy, content and nearing to perfection that they could be, before he focused on himself. Stanley loved and resented it of him. When he was feeling particularly fed up of his constant ‘niceness’ he was sometimes tempted to tell exaggerated stories of Alex’s moodiness or laziness but he knew nobody would believe them. He had thought, at least, he had him for the night. The whole night and not in the hotel. Stanley had stopped staying there after too many interruptions throughout the night. ‘Never off duty’, Alex would say with a wry smile. He loathed Alex checking his watch, tapping his hand, his face growing more lined by the minute, his phone buzzing constantly were he even five minutes over his allotted time. Guilt was fierce, he decided. He wasn’t sure how Alex’s never-ending guilt ended and his unconditional, father-like love for Daisy began. **** There was a man who sometimes preached in the street... He spoke only of Hell and Sin. He had an old fashioned megaphone and would stand on one of the stone blocks in the city centre. He sounded, she decided, terrified. Perhaps he worked on commission? The broken, ugly souls adding up, securing his place in Heaven. Maybe every soul he saved took away one of his sins? Sometimes, Daisy would sit on the stone pillars and listen for a while, allowing herself to be scared. Other times she would listen and laugh so hard that tears would fall down her cheeks, mixed with her sadness until she couldn’t decide what she felt anymore. You have to be a good person to feel guilt, she decided.. Or at least have a little bit of good in you. Otherwise you wouldn’t care. **** Stanley sat back in the chair. “Daisy is not your responsibility.” “I know that.” “I don’t believe you do, Alex. I love her too. You know I do. But when is the time ever going to be okay with her? When are you going to accept that whatever happens to her is not your fault? Nobody tells Daisy what to do… least of all, you.” Alex began to pick at the edges of the beer mat. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Stan.’ “Is it purely guilt?” “Who ever said it was guilt?” “You did.” “I never did.” Stan laughed harshly. “You didn’t have to say it… haven’t you served your time on this one?” “Taking a man from his family is wrong. Taking him from his little girl is wrong. It’s soul destroying.” “She wasn’t little…fourteen? ” “She was thirteen. It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been five, fourteen, goddamn sixty. I broke her. I broke her belief system. The one consistent we are supposed to have. It didn’t matter to her that it was me. It could have been anyone. It mattered that it was him.” “He didn’t stop loving her.” “She barely saw him. She couldn’t even look at him. Then just when they started to bond, just when things started to be okay, God had to...” Alex’s voice caught at the end. Stanley reached across the table and took his hand. “You were the only one who could make her laugh during that time.” Stan’s voice had softened. “Laurel and Hardy made her laugh. Sometimes Morecambe and Wise. Not me.. She wanted to go and see these people live. ‘Why can’t Eric and Ernie come here, Al?” I didn't want to tell her they all long dead... it made her forget for a while. Me too.” Stan removed his hand from Alex’s. ‘I needed to hear that for the tenth time this month.’ Alex wiped a hand over his face. ‘God, I’m sorry. ‘ ‘Look...sometimes I just wonder...Do you have any guilt left over for me?” Alex winced. “That’s not fair.” “You loved him. You loved her. You still do. I know you do. But when the poor flower finally wilts- and she will, my darling- it won’t be your doing.” His hand trembling, he stood up, the glass of wine still full. “Stanley. I know.. I do know… I never put myself first. Not ever.” “I never had that pleasure either.” “Don’t.” Stanley shook his head. “Sometimes I wish you had hurt me, Alex. Really hurt me. Cheated on me. Hit me. said something unforgivable. Felt guilty enough to treat me right. Because my God, does guilt make you a good person.”
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