She was expected at the Royal Opera House by 3 p.m.I’m in a cab. I’m on my way. There’s nothing else I can do now except relax.For the first time since finding out her flight was delayed hours before, Clara felt some of the building tension leave her body. A great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.
The cars crawled from the airport onto the motorway, from one round-about to another. The landmarks they passed kept her attention as they entered the city limits. Since the taxi ride was being covered by the airline, Clara advised her driver to take the most scenic route possible to the hotel. Clara loved seeing so much history! “I could get used to this,” she told her taxi driver, who grinned and told her to enjoy her London adventure.
“This is Big Ben on your left, as the tourists call it. Its formal name is the Elizabeth Tower. Most Londoners set their watches to Big Ben. I suggest you do the same.” The driver pulled out to the right-hand lane to let Clara soak in the view of London’s most iconic landmarks. The cab passed the adjoining Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, sending chills of excitement up her body. “Would you like to have a go past Buckingham Palace before we reach your hotel?” he asked.
Clara gave him a resounding, “Yes!” as an answer. “Is the Thames River always so mucky?” Looking out the window, a dark brown slush matched the coloring of the Houses of Parliament. It wasn’t anything like she’d imagined.
The cab driver chuckled. “It really depends on the time of year. However, I doubt the Thames has been clean in a century or two. If you go down by the embankment, you may even see some of the Victorian-era rubbish such as tobacco ends.” He slowed the car once more. “I can’t turn in or get too close to it, but up ahead are the gilded gates of Buckingham Palace.”
Clara wasn’t paying much attention to his running commentary. “Wow,” she breathed out softly. The cab driver looked over to the back seat to note she was lost to a world of her own and remained silent. Viewing the gilded gold unicorn and lion on the gates of the formal entrance to the palace sent a jolt of energy up her arms. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “There are so many tourists, I wonder how the royals get in and out?” She took her eyes off the palace and looked over at Clarence House.
Tourists darted in front of the cabbie before the signal changed colors. The area was even more crowded than Heathrow airport. “Only the king and the Princess Royal tend to use the front entrance. The Prince of Wales is typically everywhere. The press love to follow his charades; he loves attention. Prince David is normally weary of the media. In fact, I believe the telly mentioned something about him returning home early. Do you know anything about the royals?” her driver inquired as they took one last turn around St. James’s Palace.
“My best friend Amanda knows a lot about them. I know the king is King Reginald. That’s the extent of my knowledge,” Clara offered. Before she could ask another question about the royal family, they arrived at Clara’s intended destination. The hotel was just five minutes from the palace. “Thank you so much for all of your help! You’ve really set the scene for my stay in London.” Clara waited for the cab to come to a stop.
The taxi pulled up to a beautiful Edwardian home that had been converted into a hotel.
She opened the door and gave him the entire stipend Pacific Skyways gave to her.
“Thank you, miss. It’s been a real pleasure. Enjoy your stay in the U.K. I hope this is the first of many visits for you,” he offered.
With no luggage to worry about, Clara settled her travel purse on her shoulder and walked up the set of four steps into the lobby area.Here we go.Entering the foyer revealed rich, mahogany-colored walls, checkered-pattern floors, and portraits of the family who must have once lived in the home. Off to the right of the lobby, Clara smelled fresh floral arrangements and eyed two comfortable wingback chairs. Crystal chandeliers adorned the ceilings.
“Welcome to the Central London Hotel in Victoria. Can I be of assistance to you?” the doorman inquired, taking Clara’s large purse from her hands.
“Oh thanks! I’m here to check in. Where can I find the front desk?”
“Right over there, miss.” The attendant motioned for her to follow the hallway to the left into the lobby.
The lobby reception area mirrored the foyer. Clara’s eyes went straight to the high-polished black grand piano in the corner.I would love to dance in a room like this with a grand piano. I bet the sound quality beats our rehearsal piano of the L.A. Ballet Theater.NormallyClara would never have imagined staying in a hotel like this, but the sponsors of the Gala were paying for her room and had made the arrangements for her flight.
Now that she was safely to the Central London Hotel, the one thing Clara looked forward to was setting down her bag and lying down for a long nap. It was nearing noon; Clara’s body was severely confused by the time change and ready to let loose.Maybe I’ll even splurge for a nice long soak in the tub before rehearsal and order room service.The thought of pajamas, food, and a nap had Clara skipping to the front desk. All she needed to do was check in.
2
The Meeting
“I’m very sorry, miss, but there appears to be a small mistake. The room reservation was made for Maria Tsukyskia and was formally cancelled as of two days ago. Perhaps you have a different reservation number I can try.”
Clara was about to hit her head against the sleek marble desk on which she rested her hands out of pure frustration. A tension headache was building behind her eyes with a vengeance. “The room was supposed to have been transferred into my name. I’m replacing Maria Tsukyskia in the ‘World Stars of Ballet’ showcase. There should be a block of rooms here with a bunch of the other artists. This was the only information I was given.” Clara frantically swiped through her email. Maybe she was truly living in the twilight zone. Was it possible her room reservation didn’t exist?
“Unfortunately I cannot confirm anything due to privacy restrictions. May I direct you to your group contact? Perhaps he or she may be able to help straighten this matter out.”
“Let me make a call. Excuse me for a moment.” She gathered her purse and stepped to the side of the foyer area to allow the next person to check in. Remembering to input the country code for international calls first, Clara attempted to call Igor Radovsky, the gala planner.Please pick up, Igor, please pick up!
The phone went straight to voicemail. “You have reached the voicemail box of...”
Clara waited for the beep and left a short message. “Hi Igor, this is Clara Little. If you are able to get in touch with me, there is a small mishap that I need your assistance with. If you could please call me back as soon as you receive this. Thanks!” Clara wanted to sink into the highly-polished marble floors. That would not solve any problems, however.
The clock in the lobby chimed noon. Clara took a moment to compose herself and took a deep breath. Placing her hand on her chest, she closed her eyes and imagined all the stress from the day slowly leaving her body. She counted to ten and released her breath. Feeling somewhat more prepared, she made her way over to the front desk. Maybe she could arrange a room on her own for the night and have the gala group reimburse her for the expense.
Clara reentered the lobby. The same clerk was still available and signaled her over to him. She said, “Sorry about that. I left a message with my group contact, Igor, as you recommended. Do you have any available rooms for one night in case he doesn’t get back to me?”
The clerk clicked away on his keyboard and stared at his screen. “I have one of our executive suites available.” He paused. “It appears that it is our only room available for the duration of your stay.” He pulled out a calculator and typed the rate onto the keypad in front of her.
Clara’s eyes bulged; for a girl who had $1000 to her name, that wouldn’t even cover half of one night! Her cheeks turned red. Maybe she could find a youth hostel where she would be able to crash for the night, or maybe she could crash with Amanda for the night. Actually, that was a terrible idea. Knowing Amanda, she planned to spend the night at the airport. As politely as possible, Clara explained to the clerk that she would not need the room after all.
“Do you have a café you could recommend that has Wi-Fi?”