The Accidental Proposal (38 page)

11.31 a.m.

As Dan and I walk up to the Grand Hotel’s front desk, the bored-looking receptionist glances up from her computer screen.

‘Hello, gentlemen,’ she says, in an Eastern European accent. ‘Can I help you?’

I nudge Dan. ‘Recognize her?’ I whisper.

‘Nope. You?’

‘Dan, if I could remember anyone from that fateful evening, we wouldn’t be here now.’

‘Not to worry.’ Dan beams at her, as if turning on a switch. ‘Well, hello, Lenka,’ he says, his eyes lingering longer than necessary on where her name badge is pinned to her ample chest. ‘How are you today?’

Lenka eyes him suspiciously. ‘Fine.’

‘Lenka,’ he says. ‘That’s a pretty name. Where are you from?’

‘Krakow,’ says Lenka, curtly.

Dan raises one eyebrow. ‘Crack off?’ he says, repeating Lenka’s Polish pronunciation. ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say. Although I wouldn’t mind cracking one o—’

‘Dan! Behave. She’s from
Poland
.’

Lenka looks at the two of us levelly, then glances up at the security camera on the wall above her head for reassurance. ‘Do you want a room?’

‘That’s very forward of you, Lenka,’ says Dan. ‘I mean, we’ve only just met.’

I shush him. ‘No, thank you. Just some information,’ I say, sounding like someone from a bad cops and robbers movie. ‘Do you recognize us?’

Lenka peers at each of us in turn, then points at Dan. ‘Yes. You do look familiar.’

‘Yes, well, a lot of people say that. You might have seen me on TV.’

‘No,’ says Lenka, shaking her head to emphasise her point. ‘I do not have a TV.’

Dan looks aghast, as if Lenka’s just admitted to being a devil-worshipper. ‘If you did, Lenka, you’d know that I’m famous.’

Lenka peers at him again. ‘What is your name?’

‘Dan. Dan Davis.’

Lenka shrugs. ‘Well, Dandan Davis, I have never heard of you.’

Dan forces a smile. ‘And does that say more about me or you, do you think?’

I hold a hand up to interrupt the two of them. ‘Lenka. Please. Were you working here last weekend?’

Lenka nods. ‘Yes. I do all the weekends. The late shifts. From midnight till midday. Why?’

My heart starts to beat a little faster. Half an hour later, and we’d have missed her. Finally, I seem to be getting some luck.

‘And do you recognize me?’

‘He’s not on TV like me,’ clarifies Dan, as Lenka peers across the counter at me. ‘He stayed here last Friday. We both did.’

‘I am sorry,’ says Lenka, after a moment or two. ‘But no.’

‘Are you sure?’

She shrugs again. ‘We have a lot of guests.’

I stare back at her in disbelief, willing her to remember something,
anything
, that’ll help me out, but she just gazes blankly at me, and I’m just about to give up, when Dan has an idea.

‘Do your drunk face.’

‘What?’

‘Do your drunk face.’

‘I don’t have a drunk face.’

‘Go on.’ He nudges me. ‘Make that face you make when you’ve had too many drinks. You know, with the lolling tongue. And the dopey expression. And . . .’ He dashes across to the sofa in the corner and grabs one of the cushions. ‘Stick this up your jumper.’

‘What? Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Do you want to get to the bottom of this or not? She’s only going to recognize you if you actually look like you did that night. Which was drunk. And fat.’

I start to laugh at the ridiculousness of what Dan’s just suggested, but then think I’m desperate enough to try just about anything. Wordlessly I snatch the cushion from him and stuff it underneath my jumper, then turn back to Lenka, relax my features, then push my tongue out slightly. But as Dan tries hard to stifle a grin, Lenka suddenly smiles.

‘I do remember,’ she says. ‘You stayed here last Saturday.’

‘Told you!’ says Dan.

‘You also told her. A few moments ago.’

‘Ah. Sorry.’

‘Did you see me coming in that evening, Lenka? After midnight, I mean?’

Lenka nods solemnly. ‘Yes. You were very drunk.’

I swallow hard as I pull the cushion out from my
jumper. ‘And was I, you know, with someone? When I came back in, I mean.’

‘With someone?’

‘Yes. You know. A girl.’

Dan clears his throat. ‘Or a bloke. Got to cover all the bases after all.’

‘I think so,’ says Lenka. ‘Yes, it was a girl, I believe.’

My legs suddenly feel wobbly, and I lean heavily against the counter. This is great. And isn’t, at the same time.

‘What did she look like? Do you remember what she looked like?’

Lenka thinks for a moment. ‘It is hard to say. I think it was pretty
. . .’

‘There you go,’ says Dan, proudly. ‘Couldn’t have been Jane, then. And good on you.’

I look at him incredulously. ‘What do you mean, “good on you”? It’s not something to congratulate me about, you know.’

Dan does his usual trick of opening his mouth as if to say something then deciding against it. ‘You’re right, Ed. Do go on, Lenka.’

She smiles back at him. ‘As I was saying, it was pretty hard to see her face.’

‘Why was that?’ I say.

Lenka shrugs. ‘Because, how do you say, your face was stuck to it.’

‘I’m sorry?’

Lenka smiles. ‘You kept trying to kiss her. And she was trying to get you into the lift.’

I get a sudden sinking feeling as any chance that it might just have been a good Samaritan helping me back to my room start to disappear.

‘And would you recognize this girl if you saw her again? I need to find out if she was a . . . Friend.’

Lenka shakes her head. ‘I do not know. There are lots of girls who come back here at night with our guests. And they are not all friends of the guests. You understand?’

As Dan starts to snigger, I get a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Surely it can’t have been worse than I’d thought, and I’d brought a prostitute back? But no. I certainly wasn’t missing any money the following morning, and surely if I was paying for it, then, well, I’d have paid for it – unless I
was
too drunk to perform. But then again, as far as I know, prostitutes are paid by the hour, and not on a ‘no in, no fee’ basis. So it can’t have been. Even completely paralytic, it’s not the kind of thing I’d do. Unless . . . Unless I didn’t do it. I glower across at Dan, who seems to be trying blatantly to stare down Lenka’s blouse.

‘A word, mate.’

Dan breaks away reluctantly, and follows me over to the sofa by the fireplace. ‘What?’

‘I’m going to ask you a question, and I’m only going to ask it once, and I want a straight answer. Not one of your jokes, or trying to avoid the issue.’

‘Okay.’ He looks a little alarmed. ‘Fire away.’

‘Is there any chance that you might have paid for a woman to have sex with me that night?’

Dan stares at me, and when he doesn’t answer immediately, I start to feel even more worried.

‘Well?’

‘I’m thinking. I mean, I was very drunk too, don’t forget.’

‘I’m waiting.’

After a few seconds, Dan shakes his head. ‘It’s hardly likely, is it? I mean, prostitutes are expensive, aren’t they?’

‘Are they?’

Dan blushes. ‘Allegedly.’

I scowl at him, realizing it
is
pretty unlikely that a man who hasn’t bought me a drink for as long as I can remember would have put his hand in his pocket for something like this.

‘You’re sure?’

‘As I can be.’

‘Well, that’s it, then,’ I say, staring miserably down at my shoes. ‘Game over.’

Dan puts a consoling arm round my shoulder, and gives me a squeeze. ‘Come on,’ he says, escorting me past a bemused Lenka and out of the reception area. ‘You’ve done your best. Now it’s time to get ready.’

But as I follow him through the hotel door, I don’t know what I’m going back to get ready for.

1.01 p.m.

I’m sitting back in Dan’s flat, wearing my new Boss suit, but despite the fact that it
isn’t
black, I’m still feeling as though I’m off to a funeral instead of a wedding.

‘Cheer up, mate.’ Dan finishes adjusting his tie in the mirror above his pebble flame-effect fireplace. ‘Remember, it’s supposed to be bride and
groom
, not gloom.’

‘Very funny, Dan.’ I slump back on the sofa. ‘I just wish there was something more I could do.’

He sighs. ‘Ed, no one could have tried harder. Really. And the amount of remorse you’ve shown when you still don’t actually know you’ve done anything to be ashamed of. . .’ He smiles, and turns back to the mirror. ‘Anyway. Just put a brave face on it, and give me a hand, will you?’

‘With what?’

Dan walks over towards his huge flat-screen TV, and opens the cupboard underneath it. ‘I need to erase these.’

‘What are they?’

‘They’re my video collection. Of me and my exes. After all, the only video I want Polly to see is the wedding one. And speaking of which, I know it’s normal for me to stand on your right, but I’m worried the photographer won’t get my best side, so . . .’

As Dan drones on, I stare at the collection of alphabetically ordered discs, then a flashbulb goes off above my head. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said I want the camera to capture my—’

‘Camera.’ I jump out of my seat excitedly. ‘Exactly.’

‘What?’

‘There’ll be a
video
,’ I say, as if it’s the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

‘I know,’ he says, turning back to the mirror. ‘Why do you think I’m spending so much time trying to get this bloody tie right?’

‘No. At the hotel.’

‘The hotel?’

‘Yes. There’ll be a security video. Of that night. And so all we have to do is get hold of it and—’ I stop talking, as judging by the look on Dan’s face, for once, he’s ahead of me. I peer anxiously at my watch; sadly there’s not enough time to let him savour the moment. ‘Come on. We’ve still got three hours before we need to be at the registry office. That should be long enough.’

Dan picks his keys up and follows me towards the door. ‘So how do we, you know, get it?’

I shrug. ‘We could try just going in and asking.’

Dan shakes his head. ‘Nah. There are rules about that kind of thing.’

‘How would you know?’

He lowers his voice, despite the fact that no one’s
within earshot. ‘You remember that exposé in the
Daily Mail
last year? Me and that pole dancer? The one I sued them over.’

‘What about it?’ A picture of a naked Dan had appeared under a headline which read ‘Soap Star Gives Pole Dance of His Own’. He was quite proud of it, actually. Though more because the pixellation of his private parts had made him look particularly well-endowed.

‘I found out a few things after the court case. The good news is that they’re required by law to keep the recordings for thirty days now. Trouble is, they’re also required by law not to show them to anyone.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘We’re just going to have to steal it, aren’t we?’ he says, putting on his best Sean Connery accent.

I look at him in disbelief. ‘I don’t think we’ve actually got enough time to get arrested and out on bail.’

‘Don’t worry,’ says Dan. ‘I’ve got a plan.’

1.17 p.m.

When we walk back into the hotel, Lenka is nowhere to be seen, which Dan is more than a little relieved about, given what he’s planning. He strides confidently up to the front desk and clears his throat, and when Lenka’s replacement looks up, she does a double take.

‘Can I help you?’ says the girl, whose name badge identifies her as Lucy.

‘You can. Although it’s rather sensitive, actually.’

Dazzled by the full Dan Davis smile, Lucy starts to blush. ‘You’re him, aren’t you? From the telly?’

Dan looks round to see if anyone else has heard her, and by the look on his face, is disappointed that no one has. ‘Well, yes.’

‘So what can I do for you, Mr Davis?’

‘
Dan
, please.’

‘Sorry. Dan.’ Lucy giggles, then shakes the hand he’s offering her. ‘I’m Lucy. Although my friends call me Luce.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ Dan winks at me, and looks like he wants to respond in his normal fashion, but a sharp nudge in the back from me prevents that. ‘Listen,’ he says. ‘I’ll be here for the Middleton wedding reception this afternoon, where incidentally, I’m the best man – although I probably don’t need to tell you that. So I just wanted to check on how we’re going to keep the paparazzi out. Is it possible to speak with your head of security?’