Free Simon's Choice by Charlotte Castle

dominated the entrance, negating the need for shuttle buses or long walks. In the early dusk, lights sparkled from the roof, giving it the appearance of a lit up wedding cake. Its profile was somehow reminiscent of a great Indian palace.
    Sarah scooted over onto her father’s knee and pressed her face against the car window. Simon kissed the back of her scarf-wrapped head, inhaling deeply, enjoying the little girl smell of Sailor Matey bubble bath and dressing-up box musk.
    The Mercedes pulled up to the grand porticoed entrance of the hotel and an American-styled busboy immediately appeared, greeting the driver as he climbed out of the car. “Mademoiselle.” The chauffeur opened the door next to Sarah and, as he did so, made a little bow, an indulgent smile flicking across his face.
    “Wow.” Sarah stared wide-eyed at the chauffeur. “Oh, wow!”
    Simon tipped the driver who signaled to two other busboys. There was a rapid exchange of French leading the young men to look at Sarah quizzically. Simon bristled, his protective instincts rearing up irrationally. Sarah, resplendent in her pale blue satin dress, her tiara only slightly off kilter; stared up rapturously at the neon palace. One of the busboys retreated back into the hotel as the other loaded the luggage onto a brass-domed trolley, the type seen in Hollywood movies.
    Everything about the moment was, in fact, like stepping into a film. As the bellboys scurried to and fro, their burgundy livery immaculate, the hotel gleamed before them, its windows glowing with welcome. The giant illuminated clock on the façade suggested somehow that here in this magical place, time could be distorted.
    A gasp of pleasure from Sarah alerted Simon’s attention and he groaned inwardly as a giant Minnie Mouse, with ears the size of dinner plates, appeared in the door of the hotel, greeting guests returning from a day’s fun-making. The costumed actors were a key part of the experience and an aspect the shy and serious Simon had been dreading.
    “ Monsieur, celui-ci est pour la petite.” Simon turned toward the quiet voice.
    The busboy addressing him pushed a wheelchair, the footrests cumbersome and mechanical, a high head support and drip stand attached to the backrest. It was, Simon realized, a wheelchair used more commonly for those requiring neck support. A leather strap hung down from one side.
    “No, Daddy.” Sarah looked aghast, Minnie Mouse forgotten as she backed instinctively behind her father’s legs. “I don’t want it.”
    A large family in German football tops, making their way into the hotel, paused. Their sticky, junk food fuelled children stared unabashedly at Sarah over the top of their Augustus Gloop style lollypops.
    “Daddy. They’re looking at me.”
    Simon eyed the clinical contraption, its ugliness exaggerated by the shiny, cinematic backdrop of the hotel. He put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, drawing her in close, no words available to him. Melissa moved forward seamlessly, crouching to Sarah’s height and taking her hand. She grinned at her daughter and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “They are looking, Sarah, because you look so beautiful in that dress. Shall we go in?” She pulled her child towards the door, steadfastly ignoring the gawping group of guests and the ten-foot mouse. “Chin up, Sarah. Princesses always keep their chins up.”
    Simon watched with relief and fierce pride as his wife, more regal than any Disney royal creation, led Sarah up the steps and into the hotel. A bellboy approached him, gesturing at the chair, irritation belying his pretence of servitude.
    “My daughter,” Simon said, speaking clearly but quietly, “is not ill.”

Chapter 10

    When Simon was eight, his pet terrapin, George, died. An inhabitant of 31 Primrose Close for only months, George had succumbed (despite Simon’s care and attention) to a respiratory infection. No amount of tank cleaning or freshly dug earth worms could save the little