She rushed along the hall, shivering.
She had slipped a coat on over her nightie. It wasn’t the cold, it was her jangling nerves that had her shaking. That nice old man at the front desk will sort this out, she thought. She ran into the reception area. It was dimly lit. She hadn’t stopped to look at the time, she only knew that it was late evening. There was no one around, so she went to the counter looking for a bell. The place was eerily quiet and she felt a touch of panic creeping in. No bell in sight. She called out a couple of times and got no response. She went behind and looked underneath for it; nothing. She straightened up and checked the counter top again. She moved some magazines and found the button. She gave it a good press and waited.
She noticed a small red light was flashing under the counter that wasn’t there before. She went to one of the armchairs and slumped into it. Calming down a little, she was disappointed and thought about how the guesthouse had been personally recommended by a friend.
After several minutes the man appeared in his dressing gown. Trying hard to smile through a sleepy face. He went to the counter and pointed to the button.
“I take it you pressed this, yes?”
“Yes…” she began.
“Oh! Well, can’t be helped,” he muttered, looking up at the clock.
She pushed herself up out of the chair. “What do you mean?”
“You weren’t to know, I suppose. We’ve had a bit of trouble. That’s the duress button!”
Her eyes widened.
“It goes straight to the local police station,” he said, looking at the clock again. “Should be here any minute.”
She was trying to take everything in and went to speak.
He quickly asked, “Anyway, how can I help you?”
“There’s a spider on my bedroom ceiling.”
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