Room Service

Chapter Seven

Dedicated to anybody who's reading this, because you're among the most patient people in the world.

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            Once we’d lugged the Jerry can back to Leon’s car, we had enough petrol to last the rest of the evening. For, at least, whatever he had planned.

            Really, I wasn’t sure he had any sort of intention; I was beginning to suspect that it was all a front, and that our driving round was every bit as aimless as it seemed. I did make some attempts to find out exactly where we were heading, or if Leon even had the faintest clue where we were, but each time he waved me off. Before long, I grew tired of asking.

            We’d been driving for around twenty minutes when something appeared to catch his attention; his foot eased off the accelerator to let us drive by more slowly. Leon may have been navigationally clueless, but I knew we were on the outskirts of Walden: the sparse area a few miles back from the seafront, which most tourists tended not to venture into. The road was deserted, owing to the fact it was nearing ten o’clock, and I frowned as the car slowed to a crawling pace and Leon began winding down the window.

            He was craning his neck to the side, trying to read the sign, but I didn’t need to.

            “What on earth are you doing?”

            But he was too busy squinting to pay me any attention. When we got close enough, the darkened words over the entrance came into view. “Walden Public Pool,” he read aloud.

            Now I was confused. “What about it?”

            A spur-of-the-moment decision had him hitting the indicator, and within seconds we were pulling into the car park outside the pool gates. The place was distantly familiar; I could mostly recall it from hazy childhood memories, which strengthened as more of it came into view. Years ago, it had been the spot for all the local kids to congregate over the summer, especially when our parents fretted over stranger dangers on Walden beach. Since then, its popularity had been dwindling, as the pool grew more run-down and the weather more unpredictable. I hadn’t visited in years.

            “This is an outdoor pool, right?” he was now asking. I couldn’t work out why there was a note of restrained excitement in his voice, but it had me wary all the same.

            “Yes,” I said slowly, not seeing where it was heading, “but that’s irrelevant, anyway. It’s past ten. The pool closed hours ago.”

            He manoeuvred the vehicle into a free space, of which he had the whole car park to choose from. Pulling the handbrake into place, he glanced over to shoot me a grin. The glint in his eyes had my heart fluttering. “Who said that would be a problem?”

            “Leon,” I protested flatly, when he began climbing out of the car. I hastened to unclip my seatbelt, scrambling out of the passenger side when I realised the only way of stopping him was to follow close behind. “Come on. You can’t be serious about this.”

            “Why not?”

            “I can’t believe you’re asking me that question,” I said, close on his tail as he headed for the gates. As expected, a huge metal padlock was looped through the catch, wired mesh stretching well above our heads. “It’s locked. We can’t just break in.”

            By now, he’d approached the entrance, giving the gate a rattle to test it out. “What’s the worst that could happen?”