Free The Carrier by Sophie Hannah Page B

assume and hope this means we at least have an en-suite shower room. I know without looking that if we do, it will be roughly the same size as Lauren’s brain.
    ‘What the fuck is this?’ she says, looking around. ‘Oh, someone’s taking the piss now! There’s only one bed. What are we going to do?’
    ‘We’re going to make the best of it, because we have no choice,’ I tell her. At home, Sean and I sleep in a bed that’s seven feet wide, a super-king. When we were buying it, Sean said he thought a king-size would do. I overruled him.
    I consider telling Lauren she can have the bed and I’ll have the floor, then change my mind. I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep, and I need to; even three or four hours would be something. I have no idea what tomorrow has in store. I need to look after myself so that, whatever happens, I’ll be able to deal with it.
    I am having the thoughts of a disaster survivor, trying to think no further ahead than the next small chunk of time and what actions and decisions it requires.
    ‘I’m not sleeping in a bed with a woman.’ Lauren folds her arms in protest. ‘Or with a man, unless it’s my Jason. He’d go apeshit.’
    ‘Sleep on the floor, then,’ I say, praying she’ll agree.
    ‘Fuck off! Look at the state of that carpet. There’s chewing gum been stamped into it over there. It’s filthy. What about finding another hotel, like you said?’
    ‘That was a good idea two hours ago.’ In the time it took the receptionist to arrange for all the rooms to be made up and to allocate keys, we could have driven back to Dusseldorf airport. Not that there’d have been any point. Somehow, it feels as if there’s no point being here either, in the vicinity of Cologne airport. Getting home, at any time, by any means, feels very unlikely, though logically I know it will happen. ‘I’m too tired now,’ I tell Lauren. ‘I’m not willing to lose any more sleep time. The coach is collecting us at seven.’
Allegedly.
    Lauren’s lower jaw starts to twitch. ‘You can have the duvet and the pillow,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll use my coat as a blanket.’
    ‘No! I’m not having this! They’re bastards, doing this to us.’ She tries to push past me. ‘I’m going down to the lobby to tell that woman . . .’
    ‘She’s not there any more. Once we were all sorted with rooms, she left.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘How do you
not
know?’ I snap. ‘She told us that was what was going to happen . . .’
    ‘I didn’t hear her.’
    ‘. . . and then we saw her leave. Until 6 a.m., this is an unstaffed hotel.’ One of my favourite details of our situation that I intend to include in all future tellings of this horror story is that breakfast is scheduled to start at seven on the dot: exactly the time that our coach will be departing for Cologne airport. The receptionist smiled as she presented us with this news, knowing that it didn’t affect her; she would be able to have breakfast.
    ‘All right, prove it!’ Lauren’s eyes light up suddenly. ‘If there’s no staff here now, let’s smash the place up,’ she says in a rush of excitement. ‘Smash down doors until we find another bed!’
    I cover my face with my hand and rub my forehead hard with my index finger. ‘Lauren, I want you to listen carefully. You have a choice now. I’m going to get into that bed . . .’ – I point to it – ‘. . . and go to sleep. You can either do the same, or you can fuck off and do whatever you want, on your own. What you can’t do is anything that prevents me from sleeping, because if you do that, I promise you, I will make you sorry you ever met me.’ That would have sounded more threatening if I hadn’t yawned while saying it. Oh well.
    I brace myself for the inevitable flood of tears. Instead Lauren says, ‘If we’re going to share a bed, you have to swear you won’t lay a finger on me. And I’m not taking my clothes off.’
    I hold up my hands. ‘I promise to make no