Oscar
coughed, then heard a shriek. He opened his eyes. All he could see
was a white cushion. He was sleeping on Delta Foxtrot's sofa. He must
have turned over in the night so that he was now facing the cushions.
Urgent
whispering was coming from a short distance away. Oscar closed his
eyes and pretended to still be a asleep while he strained to hear
what was being said.
“But
how did you get him up here?” someone asked.
“In
the lift,” a sleepy voice replied. It was Delta's.
“But
how did you get past security?”
“We
came in through the shop.”
“You
know about—”
“Everyone
knows the way in through the shop.”
That
must have been the room they'd wound a weaving path through the
previous night, the one that smelt of books and soap. A secret
entrance into... wherever it was they were. Oscar wondered if he
should get up quietly and sneak out. He could leave without anyone
else knowing he'd been here.
“There's
no way he can stay here without anyone finding him,” the unfamiliar
voice said. So that idea was out the window.
“Look,
it'll be fine,” Delta said. There was a rustling sound. Perhaps she
was getting out of bed. “I'll speak to Amelia.”
“That's
Lady Amelia,” the other voice said sternly. She'd forgotten
to whisper: Oscar had heard her loud and clear.
There
was movement nearby. Oscar kept his eyes shut tight and didn't dare
move. He wished he weren't here.
“Oscar?”
Delta said sweetly, suddenly right next to him. Oscar jumped and sat
up, almost falling off the sofa but saving himself just in time.
Fortunately, that gave the impression that he'd just woken up. “Good
morning,” she added.
“Uh,
good morning.” He nodded and remained seated.
“Delta,”
the other person said from behind Oscar. He turned his head to see
her, which gave him the opportunity to see the room he was in. It
reminded him of a hotel suite from a brochure he'd seen on one of his
business trips. He was in a fairly large and sumptuously decorated
sitting room. The carpet, as he had experienced through only his feet
the night before, looked very fluffy. There were two sofas, both
white, both very squishy. In his sweep across the room as he turned
his head, he caught sight of a widescreen TV, an antique bookcase
which covered one wall (full of books, with a ladder for reaching the
higher shelves) and a state-of-the-art coffee maker in one corner.
The person his eyes met when he finally made it all the way round,
twisting in his seat so he could see, was a nervous-looking maid. She
wore a black dress with white collar and white pinny, and comfortable
black shoes. Her hair was pulled severely back from her face and she
was wringing her hands in front of her. Oscar missed most of her
conversation with Delta whilst reacting to the rest of the room. Was
this really where Delta lived? He glanced up at the ceiling: it was
white with patterns around the walls and a beautiful, golden
centre-piece where the light (almost a chandelier) was fitted. When
he thought about it, the widescreen TV seemed out of place in the
stately-home style décor of the rest of the room. Then he realised
that this wasn't the only technology: screens and devices littered
the many surfaces. The coffee machine in the corner sported a colour
touch-screen; two windows showed different weather, so one must be
screen; a tablet PC and an mp3 player resided on the desk by one of
the windows. Oscar wasn't sure what to make of it all. Delta seemed
to be extremely rich. Why, then, were Delta and the maid talking
about whether he was allowed to be here? And who was Lady Amelia? The
way he saw it, Delta owned this place, the maid worked for her and
Delta could do whatever she wanted.
When
Oscar tuned in to the conversation again, the maid said, “What I
really came up here for was because you're late for your debrief.”
Delta
snorted. “But that's not until half past—”
“Half
past nine,” the maid finished her sentence. She still looked very
tense. “I make it...” she checked her watch. “Nine
twenty-nine.”
“What!”
Delta and Oscar both said at the same time. Oscar dived for his phone
as Delta rushed from the room. The maid threw up her hands then left
by another door.
Oscar
grabbed his phone from his coat pocket and speed-dialled the office,
tapping his leg nervously with his free hand. The line went dead.
That was strange. There were three lines in to the office and an
answer phone. It should connect to something. He tried his direct
line in case there was someone near his desk who could pick it up. It
wasn't the first time the phone line into the office had been
interrupted. One time there had been roadworks outside their building
and a workman had cut through the wrong cable. But there weren't any
roadworks going on at the moment. He opened his contacts and thought
about who to call. Marcus would be best: he did almost the same job
as Oscar so he would understand what the meeting was about but not
have the authority to discipline him for being late today.
Oscar
thanked his lucky stars as the phone started to ring.
“Oscar,
what's going on?” Oscar could sense the panic in Marcus's voice.
“I
was hoping you could tell me,” Oscar said. “I haven't been able
to get to work yet and when I rang in the line just went dead. Could
you get a message to—”
“Oscar,
stop talking! The office burnt down.”
“What?”
Oscar leant back on the sofa, sinking into the impossibly-soft
cushions. “So the meeting...” he trailed off.
“Is
off,” Marcus said shortly. “There will be no presentation or
meeting today for sure. We're not sure what happened. All I know is
the building is just a pile of rubble. We're in Costa up the road
waiting for more information. It's crazy, people with laptops and
phones everywhere. Where are you?”
Oscar
didn't answer straight away. How could he say he didn't know where he
was? That would sound stupid. “My flight was delayed,” he said
truthfully.
“Well,
let us know when you're back and we can fill you in.”
“Thanks,
Marcus. Bye.” Oscar put the phone down next to him and didn't move.
Partly because he couldn't – the sofa was so soft it was going to
take some effort to get up. That wasn't his top priority right now,
though. First his home and now his office. What was he going to lose
next?