The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O'Farrell Page A

nib poised above the book. 'Shouldn't it be her?' she says, through the screen.
    'What?'
    'I said, shouldn't it be her?' Iris points at Esme, who is sitting on a plastic chair by the door, a hand gripping each knee. 'She's the one who's staying – shouldn't it be her signature?'
    The man yawns and shakes his newspaper. 'Same difference.'
    Iris examines the scrawls in the book, and the pen, which is held to the wall by a chain. From out of the corner of her eye, she can see a teenaged girl, slumped on another chair. She is bent in concentration over something, her hair hiding her face. Iris looks more closely. With one hand, the girl holds a biro and on the other arm she is circling every mole, every mark, every bruise in blue ink. Iris looks away. She clears her throat. She is finding it hard to think straight. She knows she needs to ask something, get some kind of clarification, but has no idea where to begin. She has an overpowering urge to call Alex. She would just like to hear
him speak, to say to him, I am here in this hostel and what should I do?
    'Er ... I...' Iris begins. She puts down the pen. She wonders what she is about to say. 'Can we see the room?' is what comes out.
    'What room?'
    'The room,' Iris repeats, gaining conviction now. 'Where she'll be sleeping.'
    The man lets the newspaper drop to his lap. 'The room?' he raps out. 'You want to see the room? Hey!' He is leaning back in his chair, calling to someone, 'Hey! There's a lassie out here wants to see the room before she signs in!'
    There's a gale of laughter and a woman's head appears round the door.
    'What do you think this is?' the man says. 'The Ritz?'
    There is more laughter but then, without warning, he stops laughing, leans forward over the desk and barks: 'You!'
    Iris jumps, startled.
    'You!' He stands up now and raps on the reinforced-glass screen. 'You're banned. Get out.'
    Iris turns to see a woman with a head of heavy, bleached hair and a grimy bomber jacket sidling past the desk, her hands deep in her pockets.
    'You know the rules,' the man is shouting. 'No needles. It says that on the door, plain as day. So get out.'
    The woman eyeballs the man for a long moment, then erupts like a roman candle, gesticulating, shrieking a long and voluble string of curses. The man is unmoved. He sits
down and raises his newspaper. The woman, with no recipient for her anger, turns on the teenager with the biro. 'The fuck are you laughing at?' she shouts.
    The teenager shakes the hair out of her eyes and looks her up and down. 'Nothing,' she says, in a sing-song voice.
    The woman steps forward. 'I asked you,' she says menacingly, 'what the fuck you are laughing at?'
    The girl raises her chin. 'And I said, nothing. Or are you deaf as well as wasted?'
    Iris glances across at Esme. Her face is turned to the wall, her hands over her ears. Iris has to step over the teenager's rucksack to get to her. And when she does, she takes her arm, picks up her bag and guides her out of the door.
    Outside on the pavement, Iris is wondering what she has done, what she's going to do now, when Esme suddenly stops.
    'It's OK.,' Iris begins, 'it's OK, you don't—'
    But she sees a strange expression steal over Esme's face. Esme is looking up at the sky, at the buildings, across the road. Her features are illuminated, rapt. She turns one way, then the other. 'I know where this is,' she exclaims. 'That's...' she turns again and points '...that's the Grassmarket, down there.'
    'Yes.' Iris nods.
    'And that way is the Royal Mile,' she says excitedly, 'and Princes Street. And there,' Esme turns again, 'is Arthur's Seat.'
    'That's right.'
    'I remember,' she murmurs. She has stopped smiling now. Her fingers grip the edges of her coat together. 'It's the same. But different.'
     
    Iris and Esme sit in the car, which is parked at the side of a street. Esme is pushing the seatbelt into the lock, then releasing it, and every time she releases it, she lifts it close to her face, as if examining