Belle - Lesley Pearse [167]
She tried to act as if she frequented such places all the time, but before her was a long, wide corridor of white marble with the thickest, most sumptuous cobalt-blue carpet running down it she’d ever seen. There were marble statues, more huge displays of spectacular flowers, glittering chandeliers, and all the wood doors gleamed like looking-glasses. It made her think that this was how the Palace of Versailles must have looked back in the day of Louis XIV.
Fortunately there were dozens of people around, which made her feel a little less uneasy. Some were checking in at the desk, others just leaving or arriving for dinner. The women were all very elegantly dressed, dripping with jewels, and many sporting the kind of fur coats Belle guessed cost hundreds of pounds. She saw porters wheeling trolleys piled high with leather luggage, a poignant reminder of how she’d left her cardboard suitcase in Marseille. The richness of it dazzled her, and she felt profound envy for people who lived this way and knew no other. Yet looking at the women objectively, she saw that none were that beautiful, and some were even very plain.
Two men in early middle age were standing together talking. Out of the corner of her eye she saw them interrupt their conversation to look at her, and she turned slightly, keeping her head down, then lifted it and smiled mischievously at them before dropping her eyes again.
She knew that it would be impossible to solicit directly here in the foyer of the hotel, but that wasn’t her plan. She had been told that all hotel concierges had girls they could supply to residents for a large fee, and she believed the concierge here would be no different, except that he would be more discerning than those in less grand hotels.
Belle positioned herself by an ornate gilded demi-lune table and stood there looking around as if waiting to meet someone. She caught the eye of another man and smiled, then dropped her eyes. Even with her eyes cast down she could feel he was studying her, and she sensed that he liked what he saw.
She was taken back momentarily to Martha’s. She had always felt powerful when men came in and gave her that look which said they wanted her. She felt it again now and it stopped her being afraid. She felt good.
‘Est-ce que je peux vous aider?’
Belle was startled by the question. She hadn’t seen or heard the man approach her. He was around fifty, slim, with greying hair and a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee beard. His eyes were small and very dark and he wore a plain black suit. She couldn’t tell from his clothes if he worked for the hotel or not, but she sensed that he did.
‘I don’t speak French,’ she said, though she was fairly certain he’d asked if he could help her.
‘I speak English,’ he said, almost as if he was English himself. ‘I am Monsieur Pascal, the concierge. I asked if I could help you. Are you waiting for someone?’
‘Yes, maybe it’s you,’ she said flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes at him.
He almost smiled, but checked it. Belle guessed he had come over because he was suspicious of her, but he couldn’t be sure whether she was a whore looking for business, or someone genuinely waiting for a friend or family member. She thought it was good he couldn’t tell. From what she’d been told, the average concierge could always sniff whores out, so her clothes and demeanour must be pretty convincing.
‘Are you waiting for someone who is a guest here?’ he asked.
Belle knew she had to take a chance. It was a case of heads she would win, tails she would lose. He might have her ejected forcibly, but on the other hand he might see her as a little extra income.
‘I could be,’ she said, looking right into his eyes. ‘I think that might depend on you.’
She saw his Adam’s apple leap up and down. Gulping was usually a sign of uncertainty, and she guessed he was pausing while he considered what she’d said. She continued to look him in the eye, a confident half-smile on her lips.
‘I think we should continue this conversation somewhere less public,’ he said eventually, his voice dropping.