Room 4 of the Atlantis Hotel was occupied by Ms Finnian, who could not remember what she was about to do. It was raining, and she had on two pairs of trousers but her legs were still cold. She said:
“I’m wearing two pairs of trousers, why are my legs still cold?”
“Perhaps you have a circulatory problem,” came a voice from behind her.
Ms Finnian gave a little shriek, which was not unusual for her, when startled. She turned around to look at the voice, and saw a woman in a green jumper, stirring a cup of tea.
“I thought I was the only one in here,” she said apologetically, embarrassed by her shriek. “But this is my room, isn’t it? How did you get in here?” she asked. She only paused briefly, before continuing: “It is my room, isn’t it?” She looked around. “Who are you?”
The other woman calmly considered the string of questions posed to her, answering:
“This is your room, and I don’t know how I got here, I’m Myrtle Fielding.” They shook hands. “And you are?”
“I’m, um, I’m…”
“Don’t you remember your name?” asked Myrtle, smiling.
“No, I do, it’s Celia Finnian,” said Ms Finnian, smiling. “I was distracted by your name, you see, I’m reading this book,” she held up a paperback, “which has a character called Myrtle Fielding in it.”
“Oh,” said Myrtle Fielding. “That’s probably where I came from then.” She sipped her tea, and sat down in a comfortable chair. “If your legs are cold, you should get under the duvet.”
“I, well, thank you,” said Celia, “You say you probably came out of my book?”
“Yes, and I must say it’s refreshing to get out and do something else for a change!” Myrtle exclaimed, beaming, and wiggling from side to side in her chair. She sipped her tea.
“I’m sure it is,” said Celia Finnian, wondering if she was asleep, or just insane.
“Do you have any plans for today?” asked Myrtle, smiling.
Celia considered the situation. If she was dreaming, then she could do what ever she liked, and if she was insane, it was probably a good idea to go out in public, where someone would notice and call an ambulance. If that’s what you do when someone is noticeably talking to a character from a book.
“I don’t have any plans,” said Celia.
“Excellent! Let’s go for a walk when we’ve finished our tea. That will be good for your circulation.”
Celia put on her hat, scarf and coat, and Myrtle borrowed Celia’s spare hat, scarf and coat, and they went out in the snow.
They walked past the florist, and the chemist, and the shoe shop. When they went past the craft shop, Myrtle was delighted by all the ornaments in the window, created by the artisans.
“Wow! Look at that tea cosy!” she exclaimed.
Celia thought it was rather nice, it was knitted to look like a fox in a waistcoat, arms spread out, as if he was excited to see you. She said,
“Yes, that’s beautiful. I’d buy it but it’s thirty pounds. That’s expensive, especially since I don’t have a teapot.”
Myrtle nodded.
“I see. Well I suppose if you -” she said, vanishing into thin air.
“Huh,” said Celia. “That was weird. I suppose that means I am insane.” she said to herself.
She decided to go back to the hotel and see if her spare hat and coat and scarf were still there. And then she remembered: “I haven’t got a spare hat, coat and scarf.”
“That’s the end of the story,” thought Edna, putting the lid back on her pen, and blinking. “I like writing short stories, because they don’t need to go anywhere, and they can end whenever I like.”
Edna brushed her teeth and put on her shoes and left the house. She said “hello” to her neighbours who were walking their dogs on the common, and they said “hello” to her too.
She arrived at work a few minutes early, which she always did on days she wasn’t a few minutes late. She was greeted by her supervisor, who told her to restock the homewares department.
Edna carefully placed the candles on the shelf, two at a time. It was a tense operation, she would be glad to finally get through them all, and move on to restocking the cushions and blankets, unbreakable items.
“It does smell nice though, doesn’t it?” a voice behind Edna said, as though reading her mind.
“Yes it does, I love the smell of the … candles,” Edna replied, as she turned around to look at the woman who was speaking. Just before she said “candles,” she recognised the woman: it was Celia!
“Celia! What are you doing here?”
“Smelling the candles,” she replied, amused by the question.
“Yes but you shouldn’t be, you’re imaginary. Now go back to -” she stopped in mid sentence. She had been planning to say “my room,” since that was where she had left her, but really, she needed to go back into Edna’s imagination. And how would you go about something like that?
“Ooo, this one smells gorgeous, how do they get them to smell so nice?” cried Celia.
“Sh, someone might hear you,” whispered Edna.
“Are you ashamed of me?” asked Celia, raising her eyebrows. “Do you suppose that you really are insane, since I’m here after all?” she asked, sniffing a candy-floss scented candle.
“No, I don’t. I’m not. You are an anomoly, and I don’t know, but I’m not insane.”
“Neither am I. I don’t like being written off like that, just “the end.””
“It’s just the end of the story, it’s not the end of you.”
“Well, obviously,” said Celia, pointing to herself.
“And you’re not insane in the story either, that’s just a verbal way of saying that you’re shrugging that whole incident off.”
“When we get home, can we watch Columbo?” asked Celia.
“You’re staying with me?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you stay at your hotel?” said Edna.
“The Atlantis? I assumed you made it up.”
“No,” said Edna, “It’s a real hotel, I could take you to it.”
Celia picked up a pumpkin spice candle and breathed in the fragrance with her eyes closed.
“No,” she replied dreamily. “I want to say with you.”
Edna wondered if the real Atlantis hotel would have a reservation for Celia. Was her imagination coming true? That was the only explanation. Unless of course, she was some sort of psychic. Though that wouldn’t explain Celia’s visiting her like this. Unless Celia was psychic too, and they were connected through a spiritual realm, connected yet discombobulated.
She watched Celia, dreamily enjoying the candles. She supposed it wouldn’t do any harm if she came to stay, really. Something crashed behind Edna, and she jumped and turned around to see Myrtle cringing apologetically, next to smashed ceramics.
“Sorry,” she said, “I just like breaking things.”
“You mean that wasn’t an accident?” asked Edna.
Myrtle took a deep breath in through her nose, before saying:
“No, … I did it on purpose,” she gazed calmly at the shards of vases on the floor.
Edna went to get a dustpan and brush. While she walked she considered what was happening. Celia was smelling the candles, which was something Edna loved to do, and Myrtle had broken all the pottery, which was something Edna daydreamed about doing, sometimes, as she walked down the aisles, it seemed like such a satisfying prospect, to just lean down and sweep everything off the shelf onto the floor.
“So you think we’re manifestations of your impulses,” concluded Celia thoughtfully.
“Oh my gosh!” shrieked Edna, who had no idea Celia was right beside her. It was unsettling to discover that Celia could really read her thoughts.
“Unless,” said Celia, “it is just a coincidence.”
“Exactly,” said Edna, who was preoccupied with the confusion of her imagination, at the same time as worrying that she would get the blame for the smashed items. She didn’t break anything, but she was nearby when it happened, and the real assailant was a figment of her imagination. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face with her hands. She wondered if anyone else could see Celia and Myrtle. If they could, then it was just a customer, and the customer was always right. So that was fine. If not, then it would have to be put down to a faulty shelf, just tipping its contents away.
Luckily Edna did not get blamed for anything, nobody else seemed to notice anything Celia and Myrtle did. Nobody talked to them, and they talked to no one but each other and Edna. They squabbled and giggled and played in the shop, and only broke a few more things, while Edna got on with her work. She began to relax and enjoy their company after a while.
On the way home from work they walked up the street single file, following Edna like ducklings. Edna silently pondered the reason for Celia and Myrtle’s arrival, eventually she developed a theory that perhaps they were here simply because they were unhappy with the way she finished their story, and if she wrote them another ending, they would go away in peace.
When they arrived at the flat, Celia and Myrtle made some tea, put the television on and watched Columbo, which made it easy for Edna to quietly get on with rewriting the story. She wrote that Celia visited all the shops in town, bought tangerines, grapes and bananas, and began to miss Myrtle very much. She wrote that when Celia arrived back at her hotel room, she found Myrtle there, in the comfortable chair, watching Columbo. “There you are,” they said to one another cheerfully. Celia sat down in the chair next to Myrtle’s. “Would you like a banana?” she asked.
“Perfect,” whispered Edna. “The end.”
She looked around and saw that Celia and Myrtle were gone from the living room, the television playing for empty seats.
“It worked!” she exclaimed. “They’re gone!”
She felt very pleased with the success of her plan, if a little bit sad not to have had time to say goodbye. They really were good company, she was going to miss them. She brushed her teeth, and went into her room to find Celia and Myrtle asleep in her bed.
“Would you like a banana?” Celia murmured in her sleep.
Room four of the Atlantis Hotel belongs to Violet’s Vegan Comics © 2024
This story was written by Miranda Lemon. 🙂
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