At Reception

Galahad Porter

Description

A tale of self-discovery and transformation. Sally finds herself in a lonely world of her own making. Suffering psychological stress, unsupported and mistreated, she chooses to live alone, with only stuffed toy pets for company. Unable to change her situation, she is locked in a cycle that's impossible to escape and crippling her life. Lost in her own world, the arrival of a guest at the hotel where Sally works begins the challenging process of her opening up to the idea of a human relationship. Every day is a series of short interactions with guests and staff and each provide the basis of a series of short stories, which intertwine over the three days that the book is set. Sally's interactions with the guests increasingly challenge her long-held opinions and self-image. Will John's charm help her across the stepping stones of life and find herself willing to go on a serious date with him?At Reception is a heartfelt debut novel from Galahad Porter that draws on the issues of loneliness and stress to encourage self-discovery.

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 août 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781788030014
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

At Reception
A Short Stay in Sally’s World
Galahad Porter
Copyright © 2017 Galahad Porter

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


Matador
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ISBN: 9781788030014

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
To Laena and all guest service agents, my thoughts are with you.
Author’s Note
At Reception is a tale of self-discovery and transformation. It’s the story of Sally, a hotel receptionist. Set at the desk in a hotel lobby, the novel follows Sally over three days at work.
When Sally arrives at work at 7am she sees a young girl, Lily, standing alone in the middle of the lobby floor. This sets off a flood of memories and thoughts that will change her single life forever.
As a receptionist Sally has to be nice to everyone and accept orders from management, whatever her thoughts and needs. In seeking to deal with her personal issues, Sally finds herself in a lonely world of her own making. Suffering psychological stress, unsupported and untreated, she chooses to live alone, with only stuffed toy ‘pets’ for company. Unable to change her situation, she is locked in a cycle that’s impossible to escape and cripples her life.
Unable to express herself at work, she uses her hair ribbon to communicate externally what she feels emotionally and sexually. With no close friends, Sally discusses her issues with the flowers in the vase on her desk. On the wall opposite her desk is a large lobby mirror, making her self-conscious all day long. Her interactions with guests are punctuated with conversations with both the flowers and herself in the mirror.
Every day is a series of short interactions with guests and staff. The guests provide the basis of a series of short stories which intertwine through the book over the three days. The guests range from young to old and represent many different lifestyles, from very single to happily married. Characters include an old-fashioned gangster, a cookbook writer, a fading sports star, a cruise ship charmer and the ‘resident’ prostitute.
Sensitised by Lily, Sally’s interactions with the guests increasingly challenge her long-held opinions and self-image.
One of the joys of writing is the ability to describe what a character is thinking and feels. In At Reception I have taken this to an extreme, using the first person, where everything is from the perspective of the main character. The reader gets to see the world of hotel reception exclusively from Sally’s perspective, and experience what she really thinks in parallel with the conversations she has with guests at the desk.
At the end of the book I have reproduced my blog posts from my website, chronicling the tortuous process of writing At Reception . The evolution of the writer is as important as the novel itself!
A special thanks is owed to Laena Blauw for introducing me to the world of hotel reception.
Galahad Porter, January 2017.

www.galahadporter.com
Twitter: @galahadporter
Facebook: www.facebook.com/GalahadPorter or @GalahadPorter
Email: [e-mail]
Contents
Every Working Morning at 6.55am
1. Good Morning!
2. How Was Your Stay?
3. Lunchtime!
4. Good Afternoon!
5. Checking In?
6. Time To Go Home!
7. Good Morning!
8. How Was Your Stay?
9. Lunchtime!
10. Good Afternoon!
11. Checking In?
12. Time To Go Home!
13. Good Morning!
14. How Was Your Stay?
15. Lunchtime!
16. Good Afternoon!
17. Checking In?
18. Time To Go Home!
Wednesday, About 3.05pm
At Reception: The Journey
The Blog
Every Working Morning at 6.55am
It’s a red-and-black checked ribbon day. Like every working day, at five minutes to 7am, Sally looks in the hotel staffroom mirror. She draws her hair up into a ponytail, then carefully folds and ties the ribbon into a perfect bow. Glancing over her make-up and earrings, she touches up her lipstick, and finally checks there’s nothing left from breakfast on her teeth. She holds her red-painted nails out against the cover of her mobile phone, then a glance again in the mirror, and with a little pout the nails are checked with the lipstick, all three a perfect match. Adjustments are made to her black jacket and white shirt – they’ve got to look just right, the shirt buttons in a perfect line. Twisting her black knee-length skirt, she twirls a little to make sure the zip is in line with the middle of her back. A further turn and she scans her tights for runs and tugs and, finally, looks down at her plain black, flat, comfy shoes for scuff-marks. Happy everything is as perfect as possible, she opens the staffroom door and walks down the short corridor towards the lobby door.
Monday
Chapter 1
Good Morning!
At exactly 7am, five days a week, Sally opens a concealed door into the hotel’s marble-and-mirror lobby. Feeling nervous, like a gladiator entering the ring at the Colosseum, unsure of what she will face, she checks herself one more time in the large wall mirror across the lobby from her desk.
‘Good morning, mirror!’
Yes, it’s definitely a red-and-black checked ribbon day! Red nail polish, black panties and black tights. Not a spotty or stripy day. Just a normal old day for me to get through. Done it many times, so no worries today.
‘Good morning, flowers!’
Good, Matt’s still at the reception desk after his night shift. But why is there a young girl standing alone in the middle of the lobby at 7am?
‘Hi, Matt, what’s that girl doing in the lobby at this time?’
‘Oh, really? I’m not sure, I never noticed, I was busy cashing up.’
‘She’s coming over here.’
I wonder what she wants, she doesn’t look upset. Where are her parents?
‘Good morning, how can I help you?’
‘I saw you talking to the flowers. Why do you talk to them? They don’t have ears so they cannot hear you!’
What do I say? Why do I talk to the flowers? It’s been a long time since I confided in a human. I always found them unreliable and two-faced. I would tell school friends secrets, and the next thing, everyone was laughing at me. I found over time that human relationships were usually painful. Flowers never cause me anguish, except when others hurt them. The mirror never lies to me. It never says, ‘You look great, go out in that dress’ and then I get ridiculed by everyone when I’m out with so-called friends. The flowers and mirror are all I need.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Lily.’
Ah, what a sweet name.
‘Lily, I am Sally. The flowers can hear. Just because you don’t have ears doesn’t mean you cannot hear! When I talk to them they feel the vibration, and hear that way. Obviously they cannot talk back, but that’s OK, I think I know what they would say.’
‘How?’
‘Because they are my friends. You always know what your friends are thinking, don’t you?’
‘My mummy says she can read my mind!’
‘I am sure she can. Some people hug trees. I am sure it makes the trees feel better, and helps the people too, I am told.’
‘Mummy says I mustn’t go near strange people who want to hug.’
Oh my. There goes innocence. But I know all about scary hugging in childhood. I still suffer the consequences.
‘That’s quite right.’
‘There’s Mummy, she’s finished in the toilet, so we can go to breakfast now.’
From an early age, all the way through my younger teenage years, my parents sent me to religious summer holiday camps, mainly to get me out of their hair. I hated it. Nobody understood my ideas, they didn’t even want to listen. When I first went they listened patiently and explained their views, but later, no. They told me I was wrong. I couldn’t work out how they could say that, what they said did not make any sense to me. The moral principles sounded good on the surface, but the explanations behind them seemed just plain crazy to my mind. Everyone is free to have their own religion, their own beliefs. I wonder if all religious groups are like the one I had to suffer. Probably not – maybe I just hadn’t found the right one. I felt like I was ignored in favour of those who agreed with what they were told. Then there was the physical contact. All that hugging after a service made me uncomfortable. Old men touching me, squeezing up to my breasts. I hated my parents for making me go through that. I wonder, why are the little girl and her mother up so early? Why was her mother in the loo, having just left the room? Presumably she went for a pee there, just before coming down. I am sure she would have made sure her daughter did!
‘Thanks for hanging around, Matt, how was last night?’
I know he wasn’t waiting for me, he normally rushes off. Guess he was ju