Elizabeth dumped her bag on the floor beside her and stepped up to the reception desk of the hotel she had been booked into. The receptionist smiled vacantly at her, and repeated for the third time that there was no booking under her name.
“I’m afraid there has obviously been some mistake,” the woman spoke cheerfully and with a smile on her face but she was obviously not in the mood to be helpful, “you are definitely not booked in here. Are you sure you aren’t booked in down the road?”
A seemingly helpful comment which was actually rather catty; the ‘hotel’ down the road was what could best be described as a shabby run down motel. It was also a ten minute drive, and not ‘down the road’ at all.
“I am definitely booked in here. If it’s not under Sloane it could be under another name. It’s
