Wedding Night

us
alone
.”
    “Ah.” At last light dawns on Georgios’s face. “I see. Very good, sir. You call me if you need anything.” He gives another bow, then heads toward the kitchen. Ben hesitates a moment, then follows him to make sure he actually exits.
    “That’s right,” I can hear him say firmly. “You go and put your feet up, Georgios. Don’t worry about us. No, we can pour our own water, thank you. Bye, then. Bye …” His voice recedes as he enters the kitchen.
    A few moments later, he appears at the door of the bedroom and pumps the air. “Gone! At last!”
    “Well done!”
    “Stubborn bastard.”
    “Just doing his job, I suppose.” I shrug. “He’s obviously got a really strong sense of duty.”
    “He didn’t want to leave,” says Ben incredulously. “You’d think he’d leap at the chance for some time off. But he kept telling me we’d need him to pour our mineral water, and I kept telling him, no, we wouldn’t, we’re not total lazy gits. Makes you wonder what kind of people stay here—” Ben breaks off mid-sentence and his jaw drops. As I turn my head, I can feel mine dropping too.
    No.
    That
can’t
be …
    Both of us stare in disbelief as Hermes, the assistant butler, strides into the sitting room.
    “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Parr,” he says cheerfully. He approaches the cocktail bar and starts arranging exactly the same glasses that Georgios was tidying ten seconds ago. “May I offer you a drink? A small snack? May I help you with your entertainment for the day?”
    “What … what …” Ben seems almost incapable of speech. “What the hell are you
doing
here?”
    Hermes looks up, apparently perplexed by the question.
    “I am your assistant butler,” he says at last. “I am on duty while Georgios is resting. I await your command.”
    I feel like I’ve gone mad.
    We’re trapped in butler hell.
    Is this how rich people live? No wonder celebrities look so miserable the whole time. They’re thinking,
If only the butler would let us have some bloody
sex.
    “Please.” Ben looks almost demented. “Please go. Now. Go.” He’s ushering Hermes toward the door.
    “Sir,” says Hermes in alarm. “I do not use the guest entrance, I use the kitchen entrance—”
    “I don’t care which bloody entrance you use!” Ben practically yells. “Just go! Get out! Vamoose! Scram!” He’s batting Hermes toward the door as though he’s a pest, and Hermes is backing away, looking terrified, and I’m watching from the doorway, the duvet wrapped around me, and all three of us jump violently as the doorbell rings. Ben stiffens and looks around as though suspecting a trick.
    “Sir.” Hermes is composing himself. “Please, sir. You permit I answer the door?”
    Ben doesn’t answer. He’s breathing heavily through his nostrils. He glances at me and I give an agonized shrug. The doorbell rings again.
    “Please, sir,” repeats Hermes. “You permit I answer the door?”
    “Go on, then,” says Ben, glowering. “Answer it. But no cleaners. No turndown service, no turnup service, no champagne, no fruit, and no bloody harps.”
    “Very good, sir,” says Hermes, eyeing him anxiously. “You permit me.”
    Hermes edges past Ben, into the lobby, and opens the door. In sweeps Nico, followed by the six workmen from last night.
    “Good morning, Mr. Parr, Mrs. Parr!” he breezes. “I trust you slept well? A thousand apologies for last night. But I have good news! We have come to change your bed.”

13

LOTTIE
    This can’t be happening. We’ve been turfed out of our own honeymoon suite.
    What is
wrong
with them? I’ve never seen such an inept crew in my life. They unscrewed the legs of one bed, shuffled it round, and lifted it up and pronounced it too big, then Nico suggested they screw the legs back on and start again … and all the time Ben was simmering to a boil.
    At last he started yelling so loudly, the workmen gathered protectively around Nico. To his credit, Nico kept his cool, even when Ben started brandishing the hair dryer. Nico asked if we would please leave the suite while the workmen were operational and perhaps we would enjoy a complimentary à la carte breakfast on the veranda?
    That was two hours ago. There’s only so much à la carte breakfast you can eat. We’ve been back to the room to get our beach stuff and there are
still
people in there, all peering at the beds and scratching their heads. The room is full of bed legs and headboards and a