Page 26 of The Haunted Hotel
Beside them is Violet in her customary white high-necked, long-sleeved nightgown. A matching sleep cap is secured under her bony chin and covers the top of her grey hair, which falls over one skinny shoulder in a thick braid. In one of her hands is her ever-present ear trumpet and in the other, her walking cane.
Finally, my eyes fall on Leona. The tiny waif of a woman has all but disappeared in the crush, and her face is smooshed up against my front. She looks up at me in annoyance, managing to just about raise her hands in the tightly confined space and make a couple of small gestures.
“What?” I frown down at her. “Blast it all, woman, why don’t you just speak like everyone else? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“She asked you to breathe in. She said she’s practically being suffocated by your… uh… sweater,” Edwina explains with an embarrassed flush, trying not to look at my ample chest.
“Sorry about that”—I try to back up but merely succeed in stepping on Prometheus’ foot—“I do rather take after my mother,” I continue, ignoring the overly dramatic yowl of paincoming from just behind me. “She nearly smothered my father to death several times. It was his own fault, really. Apparently, he liked to nap with his face in her bosom. It’s a wonder the poor woman got anything done with him permanently attached to her.”
Roger draws my attention back. “I think we’re getting a little off track, Bertie.”
“Yeah.” Skid nods in agreement. “Why don’t you tell us why we’re all crammed into a tiny little cupboard?”
“Because we’re avoiding Stanley Flibblebottom Longfellow,” I reply in a hushed whisper in case he hears us.
“Stanley Fitzgerald Longbottom,” Roger corrects.
“Whatever.” I wave my hand and accidentally slap Prometheus in the side of the head. “Whoops. Sorry, old chap,” I apologise absently, ignoring his glare. “Anyway, the point is, after our marginally overenthusiastic contributions to the murder mystery weekend, it seems we’ve landed ourselves in a bit of hot water. The Bureau of Domestic Hauntings has?—”
“The bureau of what?” Skid’s pierced eyebrow rises.
“Domestic hauntings,” Roger chimes in. “I know, darling, I was as surprised as you. Then again, should we have really been? With the British love of paperwork, why wouldn’t they attempt to bureaucratise the afterlife too?”
“What does he want?” Edwina asks, trying to set her hat straight and huffing in annoyance when it keeps sliding forward into her eyes. “He visited me in the orchard and asked some highly impertinent questions regarding my conduct during the murder mystery weekend. I had to remind him that I am a lady of impeccable breeding and good poise. Myconductis above reproach.”
Skid snorts. “Yeah, well, yourconductwas throwing vases and vandalising the silverware during the murder mystery riot.”
“It was not a riot,” she says primly. “It was an…incident.”
He grins. “Uh-huh.”
“Yes, well.” I wave my hand again and Prometheus ducks. “Putting all that aside, the long and the short of it is that we’re now in a bit of a pickle. I don’t think they’re particularly fussed about the criminal damage, but they really didn’t like that we showed ourselves to the fleshies. They’ve got their knickers in a twist, and now they’re threatening to deport us all to the afterlife and designate the house and grounds a no-haunting zone.”
Everyone starts talking loudly, shouting over each other in a frenzy of indignation.
“Ssush,” I hiss. “He’ll hear us. We’ve got to be very careful now with him sulking around the place, looking for more reasons to report us to the stiffs.”
“What are we going to do, Bertie?” Edwina asks, her eyes large and teary and her bottom lip trembling. “I don’t want to leave. This is my home.”
“It’s home for all of us,” I point out. “Which means we need to work together for our plan to succeed.”
“Oh, capital!” Rear Admiral Hilary pipes up. “Always good to have a plan. What is it?”
“The plan is twofold. Isn’t that right, Bertie?” Roger interjects.
“That’s right.” I nod. “We’re going to divide and conquer. Our two main objectives are, one, stop Stanley Finklefellow Longbutton?—”
“Fitzgerald Longbottom,” Roger corrects again.
“That’s what I said,” I mutter. “Anyway, objective one is to make sure Stanley doesn’t report anything unfavourable back to his superiors. We need to make sure we pass that inspection with flying colours and get him out of the house as quickly as possible.”
Leona makes a series of gestures and I automatically look to Edwina, who seems to be the only one who understands her.
“She said, ‘What’s the second part?’”
Leona hikes a thumb towards Edwina as if to say,What she said.
“The second part is to stop the hotel from closing,” I carry on. “It’s no great secret the hotel has been in decline for some time, but it is now in imminent danger of closing for good.”