The strange goings on in room 143

What happens when a group of 14 writers get together for the weekend… at least one of them goes rogue and writes a totally fictitious account!

Thanks to Ruth Leigh for this stunning photo from her room - which wasn’t 143!

A night away in a hotel is always a treat. There’s a kettle in your room with a nice packet of biscuits if you are lucky. But what got Rita even more excited than the shortbread fingers was the bathtub in the ensuite.

She had not had a bath since early 1976, the summer of the hose pipe ban. That was the year her dad repurposed the tub as a receptacle to grow veg in. They were the only house in the street with a turquoise bath in the front garden sprouting leaks, potatoes and a wigwam of runner bears.

As a student Rita moved into an old house with very dodgy plumbing and an ancient boiler which took hours to heat up even enough water to wash up in. Then as her career took off, she found herself in a modern establishment with only a trendy walk-in shower.

A bath was a luxury not encountered every day and Rita intended to make the most of it. It was too late now after the evening’s shenanigans at the bar with her work colleagues. Who knew Shirley was so partial to a gin and tonic? Or that focusing on owls all day made your head swivel? The revelations were flying about and the laughter was infectious. Rita set her alarm and snuggled under the crisp white sheets with a smile on her face.

The next morning, bleary eyed she staggered to the bathroom, a bathroom with a real bath in it.

“Good morning.” Said Anthony from accounts. He was reclining in a grand armchair reading a collection of Christmas stories. If that wasn’t odd enough on a bright spring morning Rita noticed he was wearing her best pyjamas – the peacock blue silk ones she reserved for special occasions.

Rita looked down at her own attire, thankfully she was fully covered, in a shapeless stripy nightshirt in corporate colours of raspberry and teal. As she raised her eyes she was struck by a soft pompom. There was a matching nightcap on her head.

“That outfit really suits you,” Anthony said. “Thanks so much for lending me you PJs. What luck we had a mock-up of our new range for you.”

“I… I… I was going to have a bath.” Rita stammered as she looked around the unfamiliar layout of the room. It didn’t look like this when she went to bed. This was more like a deluxe suite or maybe a whole house.

“I’m not sure there is enough hot water. Peter got up early and did all the washing up from last night. We really did get though a lot of wine and cheese.”

Cheese – that explains it she thinks this is a cheese dream; she just needs to wake up. She screws her eyes tight but when she opens them again the room is crowded with everyone else, a whole collective of delegates, a derangement of delegates perhaps? Squashed onto sofas or sitting upright on dining chairs. Sally was ensconced in a beanbag. It doesn’t look very professional.

“Rita, how sporting of you to try out our new range. Do you have any feedback?”

“I think it will do well in the nightware competition.”

“Let me take your photo, it needs to go on the socials -  #FancyANightCap.”

“With a winking face.” Someone adds.

There is some tittering, a cacophony of chatter. It is all a bit of a blur. Wake up, wake up! Rita tries to focus.

“Can we stick to the agenda,” admonishes Celia, her tone is friendly but everyone is aware that time is running out and there are trains to catch. “You are minuting this aren’t you, Rita?”

Rita nods, compliantly, noticing a pen in her hand and notepad balanced on her knee.

Celia continues, “We need to discuss arrangements for next years’ away day. I’m not sure this cheaper option of keeping things ‘in house’ is really working. I suggest we go back to that lovely place from last year. It had all the facilities we required and the location was central. Anyone else have anything to add?”

“Was that the place where the rooms all had a bath in the ensuite?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Then count me in!” Said Rita. “And Anthony – next year don’t forget your pyjamas!”