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Chapter Thirteen

The Aldershoff Hotel

Mr Stirling waited for Tanya Roseby and her assistant, Lara, in the hotel lobby.

He glanced at the door to the Walter-Wyatt drawing room and hoped that behind it, Pixie was getting rid of the ghost. He certainly didn’t want her to come out in the middle of his meeting and declare that she’d failed – he didn’t want Tanya to know anything about Lester Ravenglass.

It was busy this morning. People were arriving, others checking out, and guests were setting off to spend the day sightseeing and shopping or hanging out in the restaurant drinking coffee.

The hotel wasn’t full, but the level of reservations was respectable.

He really needed Tanya to agree to represent them in order to encourage more visitors from the UK.

Her public-relations company was the best in the business and was certain to boost bookings.

And bookings really needed to be boosted; competition in New York was fierce.

Mrs Aldershoff had been and gone, which was a blessing.

He didn’t want the old lady to scare Tanya off with her talk of ghosts and that dreaded Ouija board she carried with her all the time.

He knew she would be back because she’d want to know whether Pixie had succeeded.

And this building having been her family home gave her a sense of entitlement that she milked.

He just hoped she wouldn’t reappear before he’d finished his meeting.

Goodness, there were many Pooh traps to be avoided today, he thought.

The elevator doors opened and Tanya and Lara stepped out.

Tanya always managed to look sumptuous. In her usual pale cashmere with a camel-hair coat hooked casually over her shoulders and gold earrings shining from beneath her glossy blonde bob, she radiated stylishness.

Her assistant looked businesslike in a grey herringbone trouser suit and cream silk blouse.

They both carried expensive tote bags and an air of success.

Mr Stirling, who appreciated glamour, watched them approach with a swell of admiration.

He wanted them to represent the Aldershoff more than anything, not only because Manson & Roseby was the best, but because Tanya and Lara were absolutely the right image for the hotel, and image mattered very much to Mr Stirling.

‘Good morning, ladies,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘I trust you slept well.’

‘We did,’ Tanya replied, smiling back. ‘The bed was like a cloud!’

‘It’s hard getting out of a cloud,’ Lara added with a laugh.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Mr Stirling replied, relieved that Lester Ravenglass had not made an appearance. ‘I thought it would be nice to have the meeting in the bar over a cup of coffee.’

‘Marvellous,’ said Tanya, following him across the lobby. ‘What a beautiful room,’ she exclaimed when they entered. ‘So flamboyant. I love the murals.’

Mr Stirling showed them to a discreet table in the corner. ‘I was determined to restore the mansion to its former glory. As you know, it’s had various incarnations. Fortunately, the bones of the place were never destroyed.’

Tanya put down her tote bag, slipped the coat off her shoulders and settled onto the banquette with a satisfied sigh. ‘It must have been stunning as a private house. Can you imagine!’

‘Alma Aldershoff, who grew up here, is a regular visitor,’ said Mr Stirling, pulling out a chair for Lara and then sitting down beside her. ‘Her mother sold it when she was fifteen. I don’t think Mrs Aldershoff has ever got over it.’

‘Hard to see your home as a hotel,’ said Lara, crinkling her pretty nose. ‘Strangers wandering about rooms that were once yours. Weird.’

‘You know it’s haunted,’ Tanya said to Mr Stirling.

The air stilled around him suddenly. He stared at her in horror.

Completely wrongfooted, he did not know how to respond, except to deny it, most ardently.

‘Oh no,’ he replied, feigning nonchalance.

Disappointment hit the bottom of his stomach like a stone fallen from a great height.

‘There are no ghosts in the Aldershoff.’

‘Oh, there are,’ Tanya insisted. ‘I saw one last night. Quite exciting. I love a ghost.’

‘You do?’

‘Oh, yes. Don’t you, Lara?’

‘Not really,’ Lara replied with a shrug. ‘I don’t believe in them.’

‘Well, I do. There most certainly was a ghost in my bedroom last night. It didn’t hang around for long, sadly. It was like a hand in the wall. Strange.’

Mr Stirling rubbed the back of his neck, which was prickling with anxiety.

‘Creepy!’ Lara exclaimed.

‘Not at all,’ said Tanya. ‘It didn’t scare me in the least or surprise me. I’d expect a ghost or two in a house this old. In fact,’ she added with a grin, ‘I’d be disappointed if there wasn’t one.’

‘It’s not old by English standards,’ said Mr Stirling, waving over the waiter to order the coffee. ‘It was built in eighteen seventy-two. Modern by European standards.’

‘Long enough for the odd ghost to get trapped and stick around.’ Tanya looked at Mr Stirling with a pensive gaze. ‘You know, I think we can use this. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who book hotels just because they’re haunted.’

Mr Stirling was alarmed. ‘You don’t think it would put people off?’

‘Not if it’s done carefully.’ She knitted her fingers beneath her chin and narrowed her eyes ponderingly. ‘No, if it’s done right, it could be just the thing to set you apart from everyone else!’

Mr Stirling hadn’t thought of that. His spirits spluttered back to life with cautious optimism. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I’m interested to hear how you see it.’

He wondered, just for a moment, whether he should rush into the Walter-Wyatt drawing room and stop Pixie sending the ghost away.

Alma stood by the grave of her great-grandson, Joshua.

He was buried in a quiet spot in the shade of a maple tree.

Being early autumn, the leaves were already turning a vibrant cerise colour and falling like tears onto the grass below.

Joshua’s headstone was a simple one, with the inscription bearing his name and dates, and the words: Most beloved, we held you in our arms for a little while, but we’ll hold you in our hearts forever.

On reading those words again, Alma’s eyes filled with sorrow and spilled onto her cheeks, leaving glistening rivulets in her face powder.

Leona, who had been parking the car, came up and stood beside her mother.

For a while she said nothing. Joshua had been her grandchild and his death had hurt her as much as it had hurt Alma.

But it hadn’t changed her so radically, for Leona had never been afraid of feeling and had always openly displayed emotion without shame.

Her mother’s reaction had surprised her.

For as long as she could remember, she had never seen Alma cry.

In fact, Alma had sniffed derisively at anyone who did.

She was scathing of the ‘touchy-feely’ modern world where reality television shows demanded that their contestants pour out their hearts without any restraint.

But now Alma was pouring out hers and Leona was finding it a little alarming.

‘He’s with Jesus now,’ she said at length, hoping to comfort her mother. She would have put an arm around her if she’d been anyone else, but Alma was not a demonstrative woman. Indeed, public – or private – displays of affection were anathema to her.

Therefore, Leona was surprised when her mother took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

The other hand gripped the silver dog’s head of her walking stick.

Leona was astonished. The hand felt cold and strange in hers.

But on some deep level, a forgotten part of her warmed. ‘You all right, Mom?’ she asked.

Alma nodded. ‘I haven’t been a good mother to you, have I?’ she said suddenly.

‘Oh, Mom. That’s not fair.’ But Leona knew it was true.

Alma’s social life had always come first. She’d never shown much interest in Leona when she was growing up.

Alma certainly hadn’t been there when she’d needed her.

Being a mother herself, and, for five brief years, a grandmother, Leona knew that love was shown in the small things: the moments of intense listening, the stroking of fevered brows, of bruised knees, the application of plasters, sun cream, antiseptic.

The many tiny but vital demonstrations of caring that make a child feel valued.

Alma hadn’t been present for any of them.

But Alma knew. In her heart, she knew. ‘You don’t need to pretend. I know I wasn’t. I’ve taken a long hard look at myself lately and I’m not very happy with what I see.’

‘I think you’re taking Joshua’s death very hard,’ Leona said. ‘You need to let him go now.’

‘On the contrary. Joshua has done me a favour. He’s given my life a point. It never had a point before.’ She sighed heavily. ‘It’s only a pity that I’ve realised now when I’m about to leave the world.’

‘Don’t say that, Mom.’

‘I’m nearly a hundred, Leona. How long do you think I’ve got!’ Her tone was sharper than she’d intended it to be. ‘We all have to go sometime,’ she added, more gently.

‘Very well. Then don’t waste the time you have left in mourning.’

‘Now that’s sensible and I agree with you.’ She turned her eyes onto Leona and looked at her with an unwavering, penetrating gaze. ‘I want you to promise me something.’

Leona nodded warily. She wasn’t comfortable talking about death.

‘If this woman, Pixie, doesn’t find out what’s happened to it, I want you to look for the Potemkin Diamond.’

‘Mom, it’s never going to be found.’

‘Not true. It’s in the hotel somewhere, I know it. I don’t want you to give up.’

Leona smiled indulgently. ‘I probably won’t use a Ouija board to look for it.’