Page 41 of The Haunted Hotel
“We’re getting a bit off topic.” Roger rolls his eyes. “We were on the subject of you and Morgan.”
“There is no me and Morgan.” I sigh. Not that I wouldn’t have been tempted. “He’s not staying and he’s Mr Ashton-Drake’s grandson. It’s too messy even if he were interested.”
I’m totally lying. If he showed even the slightest bit of interest, I’d be climbing that man like a jungle gym. What can I say? It’s been a really…reallylong dry spell. “Why do you both care anyway? Don’t you have more important otherworldly stuff to concentrate on?”
“Why, what have you heard?” Bertie says, shooting a look at Roger, who gives her a shrug and awhat? Don’t look at me, I haven’t said anythinglook.
“Okay, what’s going on?” I ask as I finally reach the top staircase and make my way down the corridor.
“Nothing?” Bertie replies, avoiding my gaze. “Absolutely nothing at all. Everything’s tip-top and nothing out of the ordinary is going on at all.”
I glance over at Roger.
“Nothing,” he adds, echoing Bertie.
“Okay.” I shrug and stop in front of Mr Ashton-Drake’s door. “Now shoo, you two. Mr Ashton-Drake has had a trying day, and I don’t want him any more stressed than he is. Given your penchant for eavesdropping, I’m assuming you know that the doctor said it’s not good for his heart.”
Bertie’s eyes soften as she looks at me almost affectionately. “You’re a good lad, Ellis. I couldn’t have asked for someone better to look after Cedric.”
Before I can open my mouth to say anything, both of them flicker out, and I’m once again alone in the silence of the corridor.
I’m not sure I’ll ever understand those two.
I carefully balance the tray on one hand and raise my other fist to knock.
“Come,” a gravelly voice calls from the other side.
Opening the door, I step inside and close it behind me with a quiet click. Looking up, I see Mr Ashton-Drake in his striped blue-and-white pyjamas and tartan dressing gown, brown leather carpet slippers on his feet.
“I’ve brought you a hot chocolate and a couple of Aggie’s cookies. She baked them fresh this evening just for you.”
He settles down into his armchair beside the crackling fireplace and harrumphs. “I suppose you’ll be mashing it all up and feeding it to me with a straw soon.”
“Only if you ask nicely.” I grin and set the tray on the table beside him, then reach up to grab his favourite blanket that I crocheted for him and tuck it over his legs. “There’s a chill in the air tonight.” I hand him the mug. “They’re forecasting heavy snow again.”
He huffs. “That’s nothing. When I was a kid, the snow got so deep around here it used to fall over the tops of my wellies. Clifford and I would drag out sleds up to the big hill by the old oak.”
“I know it.” I smile when he takes a sip and glances up at me.
“We’d spend hours playing out there in the woods …” He trails off, lost in memory.
“Do you miss him? Your brother? He’s been gone a long time, hasn’t he?”
“I miss them all. I’m the last one,” he says quietly.
“You’re not the last one. You still have Morgan.”
He stiffens, and I remind myself to tread carefully. “Sit down, Ellis,” he snaps. “You’re making my neck ache.”
I slip onto the armchair opposite him on the other side of the fireplace.
“You didn’t bring a cup for yourself?” he says after a moment, wrapping his bony fingers around his mug and most likely enjoying the relief the warm brings his arthritic hands.
“I had a late dinner,” I reply. “I’m still full.”
“The stew was good.” He takes another sip before picking up a cookie. “I sent my plates down in the dumbwaiter.” He nods towards the small square wooden shutter set into the wall.
On the other side is a small lift on a bell and pulley system which is just large enough to place trays and plate in. It’s over a hundred years old, but it still works, and although I always make sure I bring his meals up in person, it does help having him send his empties down. I’m used to the profusion of staircases in this place, but there are times when I wish we had a lift to all the floors. I sigh quietly; this place really could use some modernising.