Ross Is Not A Rock!

Moving

We had been walking for a while and the skip that I had once had in my step was turning into an unenthusiastic stomp. I could see Ross getting tired to. His feet were dragging and he had turned the colour of an apple all over.




"We're close now Ross! I can feel it." I told him. I squeezed his hand to try to encourage him but he just looked even more solemn.




"Mum look, there's a place." My sister began. She then went on to tell my mum some other things in a hushed voice that wasn't audible to me. I gave Ross a knowing look. He has super sensitive hearing and he always lets me know what secrets my mum and sister keep from me. "Come on then Eloise. We're going here." She told me in her 'do what I say or you'll be sorry' voice.




I skipped along, picking up pace and holding onto Ross's hand tightly so he didn't get lost.




When we got inside the reception of the place, it was dirtier than I had anticipated - and damper too. I took a look around at the peeling grey walls that made up my home for the next few months. It looked like it could have been magnificent in its day.




I imagined a bustling foyer with suitcase here and lost little toddlers there. People all in bonnets and their best clothing for arriving at such a prestigious place on the first day of the summer holidays.




Just outside there would be golden steps, red carpets rolled out and glass doors to show off the beauty of the inside. There would be a little circular patch of grass with a fountain in the centre that spurted out gallons of water each day. Little children would run about playing tag and getting soaked to the bone while their parents ran after them insisting that they act like young ladies and gentlemen. There would be taxi upon taxi with families of five, six, seven, all piling out at once.




"Eloise!" My sister snapped at once bringing me back to reality. The grand hotel for the poshest people in England was no more. Where the grand glass doors would be, there was a broken piece of wood that would only just open if you rammed into it. The fountain had been replaced by a mountain of litter stacking up magnificently high. And in the place of the many posh, well dressed guests, stood mum, my sister, Ross and me.




After precisely an hour and a bit, a worn away man came and gave us a key with a faded number 2285 engraved onto it. We walked up 82 steps, along 12 corridors and passed 5 rooms that weren't ours until we got to the one. Number 2285. Even though this number is very high - and I should know, I tried counting to it on more than a few times and still lack succession - I highly doubt there are this many rooms in the building. I suspect the owners are trying to make the place sound like a bigger, grander hotel than it is.




We walked inside and the strong smell of liquor and cigarette smoke hit my nostrils before I had the chance to prepare myself. Because of the lack in preparation, I started coughing and tearing up from the smell.




"How dare you be so ungrateful?" My sister growled. I was about to answer but then I realised that it must be a rhetorical question so I glued my lips tight shut. She's tricked me with them before and I won't let her get away with it this time. "Your lovely mother finds a great, safe place to stay and all you can do is act like you expected a palace." She put emphasis on the word 'safe'.




I didn't know what she wanted me to do about the situation so I just let out a wimpy "sorry" and we both carried on with the silence we had both enjoyed so much before.