Not Dead Yet

stars, politicians and even royalty sometimes. The hotel was bristling with security – and buzzing with excitement – because they had a big celeb here at the moment, Gaia, who had arrived earlier today. Who knew who might be arriving in the back of this taxi?
    He opened the rear door with the same welcoming smile he gave to all visitors to this hotel, and a blonde-haired apparition, caked in far too much make-up, stepped out in a cloud of musky scent. She was dressed in a short black dress that was too tight for her, a silk shawl and dark, wet-look leggings, and stood a little unsteadily on her ludicrously high black suede ankle boots, as if she were having difficulty with them.
    ‘Good evening, madam, welcome to The Grand Hotel!’
    She smiled back and trilled a lipsticky falsetto, ‘Thenk yew.’
    She paid the taxi then tottered across the pavement very slowly, fluttering her arms, as if she were being careful not to slip on ice, a bling handbag hanging from a shoulder chain. Then as she enteredthe revolving doors, she adjusted discreetly, but not that discreetly, the hem of her skirt, pulling it down in an ungainly manner.
    Mutton dressed as lamb, Colin Bourner thought, watching her, trying to figure her out. She was dressed like a tart, but he knew all the regular ones who came in here, and this one was too old and too ugly. Blimey! he thought. Twenty-five years at this hotel, broken by a brief stint at another around the corner, and he’d seen it all. Every day provided him, at some point, with a new and fresh freak show. This was definitely today’s highlight in that department.
    Anna walked through into the cavernous hall, feeling very nervous all of a sudden. She had felt fine at home, preparing herself for this moment, thinking of all the signals her idol had given her on Top Gear . But now she was actually here, passing the front desk, looking at the signs ahead pointing to various functions – BRIGHTON BUSINESS CLUB…CRIMESTOPPERS GOLDEN HANDCUFF CLUB DINNER…BRIGHTON AND HOVE MOTOR CLUB …she was feeling the enormity of this place.
    People everywhere. Hotel staff. Couples milling around, men in tuxedos, women in their evening gowns and finery. She felt almost underdressed.
    Would Gaia approve?
    Should she go home and change?
    She paused and took a deep breath. Her hands were shaking, her throat felt dry, everything seemed suddenly to be in a haze, all in soft focus. She needed a drink, she decided. Dutch courage. Something strong but which wouldn’t leave her breath reeking of alcohol. That would not make a good first impression on Gaia.
    She walked through into the bar, and eased herself, very carefully, up on a stool, then ordered a double vodka with tonic. Moments later she changed it to a treble. There was a bowl of peanuts in front of her on the bar. She reached out a hand to take some, then hesitated and withdrew it. She’d brushed her teeth before leaving home, and Gaia might not like the smell of peanuts on her breath.
    ‘Good decision!’ said a portly, rather drunk-looking American sliding on to the stool beside her. ‘Y’ever see that analysis on bar peanuts?’ His voice was slurred and he reeked of tobacco.
    She gave him a dismissive smile, then focused on the bartender who was mixing her drink.
    ‘Urine and faeces,’ the drunk continued. ‘Yup. Analysis shows the average bowl of free peanuts on a bar top has twelve different traces of urine and three of faeces. People are goddamn disgusting, they don’t wash their hands properly after using the bathroom.’
    ‘Will you be running a tab, madam?’ the bartender asked.
    Anna shook her head and paid with cash. As she took the change, the American asked, ‘You have dinner plans?’
    ‘I do have plans,’ she said very smugly. She reached for her drink and downed some gratefully, waiting for the buzz. It started coming on fast. She drank some more.
    ‘Thirsty lady!’ her new, unwelcome companion said. ‘Let me buy you another.’
    She looked at her large Panerai Luminor wristwatch, an exact copy of Gaia’s. Except Gaia’s was real, costing many thousands, and hers was a fake she’d bought on the internet for fifty pounds. It was coming up to 7.15 p.m. ‘I don’t have time,’ she said.
    ‘Cool watch!’ he said.
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Perhaps we could meet later?’ he persisted, then gave her a wink. ‘Know what I mean? For a nightcap?’
    She grabbed a handful of nuts and shovelled them into her mouth. When she