The last word. David Edwardson

      I woke up in a George Hotel, one of the best Edinburgh’s hotels and the night trip from London made itself felt despite my cheerfulness and elation. The knocking of the train wheels partly continued being heard in my ears… No, please, get me right, I don’t mind trains at all but train trips are very tiring. A short while lying on a bed and thinking about train I decided to forget about it: I had to get to the meeting.

      The meeting should been held at ten a.m. Looking briefly at the beautiful chandelier hanging above me, I got up and reached my watch, that was lying on the night table next to me. It was ten minutes past eight, though my breakfast should be brought at eight thirty. I went to the window, opened the curtains and saw the picturesque view of moving cars against the backdrop of beautiful buildings. It evoked a sense of interaction between the beautiful past and the breathtaking present.

      Without thinking twice I went to the bathroom and entering it I saw dazzling white walls with perfectly engraved patterns. Designers did really great job to surprise the guests with even such trifles.

      I took a shower, brushed my teeth and barely had time to get dressed, as I heard a knock on the door.

      “Can I enter, sir?” asked the waiter loudly.

      “Come in!” I said distinctly.

      The door opened and a young waiter came into the room. He was about twenty years old with the trolley where my breakfast and coffee were served.

      “I brought your breakfast, sir!” he said with a joy.

      “Thank you,” I said politely.

      “Bon appetit, sir,” the waiter said with a smile, closing the door behind him.

      For breakfast I got cheese and jam scones flavored with cream. It looked very appetizing so I immediately began to eat them. Wiping the scones with fresh coffee, I felt an aroma I did not know before: it was an espresso, but unlike espresso in other countries – it was famous for using more roasted grains and bigger portion than usual.

      After breakfast I went to the mirror to tie a tie. Doing it I was staring into the mirror for a long time in an unfamiliar atmosphere for me. Using a hair gel, I achieved an ideal hairstyle and, finally, had perfumed with scented water and wore a jacket, but when I was going out I thought about the time and almost forgot about my watch lying on the bedside table.

      By the way, it was a Blancpain watch which my uncle Richard gave me as a present. It was his farewell gift at the last meeting… Since that I haven’t seen him in the UK and couldn’t find out where did he go.

      I looked up at my watch and saw it was a quarter to nine. I knew that a red car should come for me at exactly eight fifty a.m., so it was impossible to lose a minute. I closed the door behind myself and went to the ground floor to give the key back. Amazingly beautiful walls and ceilings beckoned me to stay, but my time was up. I came right on time: the receptionist was free and could quickly service me.

      “I’d like to give the key back,” I said.

      The receptionist, a young lady with a pleasant appearance raised her head and looked at me.

      “What’s your name?” she asked softly.

      “Arthur… Arthur Phillips,” – I introduced myself, giving her my passport.

      The receptionist kept looking at me for a long time, then again at the document.

      “It’s just a hairstyle,” I said slowly.

      “I get it. Your room is ninety-nine, right?” she asked smiling.

      “All right,” I responded in a confident tone.

      “It costs two hundred and fifty pounds, Mr. Philips.”

      I opened my purse, took out the money in cash and laid them out in front of her. I spent not more than twelve hours in this hotel but considering the quality of service, I was pleased with the price.

      Recounting the money she nodded and handed me the form:

      “Your payment is accepted, sign here, please.”

      I put the signature in front of my surname.

      “Thank you for choosing our hotel, we’ll be happy to see you again,” she said, giving me my passport back.

      Taking the document and thanking her in return, I moved to the exit.

      When I went out of the hotel, my mouth fell open: a gorgeous red Hudson Hornet, a pure classics straight from the fifties was waiting for me, and it caused an incredible feeling of nostalgia and romance at the same time.

      The classic stylish and streamlined look coupled with red coloring demonstrated an amazing work of the designers of that time.

      As I approached the car, I noticed a waiting driver. Opening the back door, I saw a comfortable white-coloured car interior. I sat on a backseat and closed the door. The driver was sitting ahead the wheel in front of me. His beard and hat prevented seeing face completely, but it looked like he was already older than forty.

      “Good morning,” I said joyfully.

      The driver remained all the same and did not say a word.

      For a moment I thought he was deaf, but I decided to clarify it.

      “We need to go to Dunfermline. Do you know about it?” I asked him loudly.

      The driver turned his head to me and nodded.

      “Let’s go then, we need to be there by ten!” – I haven’t even finished as the car started off and we set off.

      The road to Dunfermline was twenty-one mile long and according to my calculations we had to arrive there in a little over forty minutes with minimal traffic.

      Judging by the movement, the speed of the car haven’t reached even forty miles. We turned towards Queen Street, passing by the beautiful Queen Street Garden park. The car was incredibly quiet, when suddenly the silent driver turned on the radio and at that very moment The Beatles was playing my favorite song “Yesterday”.

      Oh yeah, rarely there is a chance to see the neighborhood of Edinburgh with your favorite song. The Beatles really made a splash: who would have thought that a few Liverpool guys would conquer the world. By the way, I haven’t ever been to Liverpool but I always wanted to visit that town.

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