Page 16 of The Haunted Hotel

She makes a dramatic series of gestures as Rosie and I watch her, utterly bemused.

“What’s she doing?” Rosie whispers.

“Uh, I don’t think she talks,” I reply as Leona makes a sweeping gesture with her hand, then mimes writing something, followed by a strange, almost militant march, and finally finishes up with a throwing motion.

“It’s like a really messed-up game of charades,” Rosie mutters. “Did you understand any of that?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” I tell Leona in a loud tone as if she can’t hear me.

She scowls at me and stomps her foot in temper before disappearing as quickly as she arrived.

“I cannot believe how weird our lives are right now.” Rosie sulks. “Ignoring the fact that she’s a ghost, which is just crazy to begin with, why can’t she just talk to us like the rest of them do? I mean, what’s with all the hand-waving and over-the-top facial expressions? And by the way, just how thin are her pencilled-on eyebrows?”

“I think it’s a throwback to when she was alive,” I guess. “The gestures I mean, not the eyebrows. She was a silent movie star. Back then, they didn’t have real scripts and had to mime everything.”

Rosie closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly.

“Come on.” I take her hand and tug her towards the door. “Let’s go pack away the Christmas decorations, then we’ll see if we can talk Aggie into making us her toffee cookies.”

“Fine.” Rosie pouts. “But they better be a really big cookies.”

I laugh and reach for the door handle but as I open it, we both jolt in shock to find Bertie and Roger on the other side, crouched over as if they’d been listening at the door.

“For fuck’s sake,” Rosie bursts out, and I look over at my bestie. She doesn’t usually swear, but I can see the change in spectral circumstances really seems to be getting to her. “Do we need to put a bloody bell on all of you? How is it we can go for ten long, peaceful years and then all of a sudden the whole place is crawling with ghosts?”

“We do not crawl,” Bertie scoffs as they both straighten up.

“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.

“We were just–oomph.” Roger wheezes and doubles over as Bertie elbows him in the ribs.

“Nothing.” She gives a brusque huff and looks behind her, as if to check someone wasn’t sneaking up on her. “Just out for a morning constitutional and thought we’d stop by to see if you’ve come up with any ideas to save the hotel yet.”

“Since I saw you an hour ago?” I reply, my brows rising. “Even I don’t work that fast, Bertie. You’re going to have to give me a little more grace than that.”

“Of course, of course,” she says and looks around again in an almost nervous way.

“Are you alright?” I ask. “You seem, I don’t know. Distracted?”

“Oh, no. Fine, fine, it’s all fine.” She looks to Roger.

“Fine.” He nods.

“Uh-huh,” I reply.

“Yes, well, we should be going. Unless you want to tell us what Morgan’s doing back in the old family fold?” Bertie asks.

“You know Morgan?” My stomach jolts a little at the mention of our newest guest’s name.

“Of course I do.” Bertie frowns. “He is my great-great-nephew, after all. Although I haven’t seen the lad since he was a nipper.”

“Is that definitely him though?” Rosie pipes up. “I mean, how do you know for sure?”

“He’s the image of his father, Elliott. A little older maybe. After all, Elliott was only twenty-nine when he died. Morgan must be…” Bertie shrugs. “I don’t know. Forty-ish, maybe? Don’t pay much attention to time these days.”

“He is a dish though, isn’t he?” Roger smirks, staring at me like he’s gauging my reaction. I try not to blush, but I can feel my cheeks warming. “That’s what I thought,” he says smugly. “Can’t say I blame you, darling. If I still had a pulse, I’d be climbing that man quicker than a monkey up a tree.”

“Oh, I…uh.”