“Are you sure about this?” I say, nervously.
“It looks awesome,” Farah replies.
“You’re used to this kind of place, I suppose.”
“Oh, yes, Mummy is a platinum member, obviously.”
Even though I know there will be nobody in this version of the hotel, it’s hard to break the taboo of walking into somewhere so fancy. I know Farah doesn’t really frequent this kind of place, but I bet she’s stayed in a hotel before. I don’t think I have. Mum and I usually take our holidays in a caravan in Rhyl and we haven’t done that for years because being away from home makes us both too anxious.
As we approach, the building seems to get taller and even less welcoming. Our feet crunch on gravel and our steps turn hollow as we realize with a surprise that we’re on a small drawbridge that crosses a moat.
We huddle together instinctively as we go through the grand reception doors. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re going to get kicked out of here any second now.
Slate floors. Dark wood. Stone vaulting. The lights are out as we’ve come to expect, but there’s a warm, comfortable glow that leaks through from the ordinary world. It’s different from the hospital and even my house. Warmer. Softer. Perhaps people are happier here in the ordinary world; they feel safer and so the light that reaches us is better.
“This place is insane,” Farah enthuses. “Did you see the moat?”
Chiu pauses to inspect a suit of armour in the corner, shining with the light from spotlights reflected from the ordinary world. Farah examines the signs on the walls like she’s exploring priceless works of art in a gallery.
“Oh, yes!” she breathes.
Suddenly she darts off, vanishing down a spiral staircase. Chiu and I exchange a perplexed look.
“Farah, wait!” I call, giving chase.
Chiu and I hammer down the stone steps as fast as we can. Farah is ahead of us, yelling for us to hurry up. My heart thuds, confused, unsure whether we’re in danger or if something else is going on. We enter a long corridor with white walls, part of a modern extension. It has a slick, upscale feel.
Then we burst into another space and I stop, aghast to find that we’ve blundered across the most incredible swimming pool I’ve ever seen. An expanse of crystal water, stone pillars, multi-coloured tiles, recliners and crisp white towels. There’s a main pool and smaller plunge pools and Jacuzzis connected to it. It looks the way I imagine the grand imperial thermae might have looked in ancient Rome.
Farah has already shed her jeans and I catch a glimpse of her long, brown legs as she hurls herself into the pool with a “Whoop”.
The splash resonates around the stone ceiling and Chiu immediately starts working on his own jeans. I go to the edge of the pool and watch as Farah surfaces, smiling, sweeping her black hair away from her face. I see her bare legs flash beneath the water. Her face appears more angular with her hair wet and slicked back: pretty, but strong and defiant. Her neck is one long curve that I can’t take my eyes off. My breath catches in my throat.
She grins at me. Knowing, challenging.
“Stop staring and get in,” she shouts.
“I wasn’t—” I protest.
Farah laughs. “Come on! It’s gorgeous!”
She shines in light that doesn’t come from this world and I can see the darkness of her skin through the T-shirt that clings to the solid line of her collarbone.
“I don’t swim,” I say. “Epilepsy.”
“It’s not deep. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“You don’t swim either, remember?” I say, smiling.
“Different rules here, remember?” she answers.
I start to object, but I hardly get past my first apologetic syllable before I feel something heavy hit me from behind and I’m pitched forward, my arms pinwheeling wildly as I plunge into the water. I surface, choking and gasping, just as the tight ball of Chiu’s body flashes overhead and splashes down directly in front of me, swamping me.
I swallow another mouthful of water and sink briefly below the surface before I realize that I’m actually well inside my depth.
“Are you OK?” Farah says.
I nod vigorously, too winded to actually say anything. I gulp and cough one more time before I’m confident enough to shout, “Chiu! You little shit!”
I lurch after him and sweep up as much water as I can and swamp him in payback. He laughs and swings round to swim away from me. I give chase, half walking, half paddling.
We fall into a wild game that has no rules or structure, in which it is as much fun to get splashed as it is to splash. Chiu gets out and hurls himself back into the water again and again, using his body like a depth charge to douse us as thoroughly as he can. At one point, I grab hold of Farah’s ankle. She twists in the water, grinning, kicking with her free leg in an effort to swim away. I haul her closer, until the warm curve of her calf grazes my side and I let go sharpish.
When we’re tired, we step over a low separating wall and plunge into a small spa pool. I wonder at the heat of the water, how it’s possible for us to feel it. But then I realize that it makes sense: the water in the ordinary world is always hot and so the idea of heat has seeped across like everything else.
Farah leans her head back against the edge of the pool and closes her eyes. Chiu copies. I gaze around at the dancing patterns on the ceiling from the water and at the recliners that border the pool.
One of them is occupied. A small woman bundled up in a dressing gown. For a moment, I feel ice forming in my chest. I imagine her dying here, the hotel discreetly dealing with her body so as not to alarm the other guests. But then I see that she’s not dying. Just relaxing, her thoughts spaced out and leaking into our world like the man in the hospital library.
Farah notices me staring and turns. “You see one of them?”
“Don’t you?”
Farah squints. “Kind of. Now you mention it.”
“I think she’s just dozing,” I say. “Maybe dreaming a little bit.”
“Do you think she sees us?” Chiu asks.
