Page 44 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

“Ellis.” Morgan stops me before I can head in the direction of the library. “Why don’t I show them where to store their gear and you organise getting their car up to the hotel in case it starts to snow harder?”

“Well, it looks like you guys have got everything under control,” Warren interrupts. “I’m going to go and have a brandy with Pops.”

“It’s too early for–” Morgan breaks off and sighs when Warren disappears through the bar door.

“Is he always like that?” Thad asks, staring at the door.

“Like what?”

Thad turns his attention back to Morgan. “Scowly and sarcastic.”

“No, actually,” Morgan mutters, his eyes now fixed on where his brother made his escape. “He’s usually completely the opposite. He normally annoys the hell out of me with his perpetually optimistic outlook and his ridiculous sense of humour. I don’t know what’s got into him today. This isn’t like him at all.”

Thad’s mouth curves slowly. “Is that so?”

11

“Okay, chaps, excellent showing with the fleshies.” I ruffle Artie’s hair as he stands beside me.

He grins. “That was fun!”

“It certainly was.” I nod and turn back towards the others. Now that we’re no longer crammed into the cupboard in the library, I can see everyone clearly.

Pale daylight filters in through several larger dormer windows. It’s probably freezing up here in the attics, but since we don’t feel the cold, it’s not really a problem. Professor Plume stands looking forlornly at the snow falling outside.

“I knew I should have stayed in London,” he mutters in disgust. “It’s done nothing but snow since the day I died.”

“Could’ve been worse.” Skid smirks from where he sits on top of an old packing crate. “You could’ve died in Scotland. I think they have collectively about twenty-four hours of summertime each year. The rest of the time, it’s snowing or raining.”

“I really don’t think it’s that bad.” Roger hovers by my side. “I went to Scotland once, back in my days as a ball boy, before I became a tennis coach.”

“I’d have thought you were an expert at handling balls.” Skid chuckles.

“I am, darling,” Roger says primly. “Just say the word and I’d be happy to give you a demonstration.”

He barks out a laugh. “I bet you would.”

“Would you both stay on the original subject, please?” I say in exasperation.

“Mr Skid is right,” Edwina says to Plume. She is hovering by an empty ornamental birdcage partially draped with a tasselled velvet cloth in an ugly mustard colour. “It’s really not as bad as you think, Professor. You’ve only been dead a little over a month. The grounds of Ashton House are quite pretty in the spring and summer, especially the orchard.”

“I didn’t mean that original subject.” I huff. “I mean the reason I called this meeting.”

“It wasn’t for a good old pat on the back, then?” Rear Admiral Hilary says gruffly. “I thought we did a splendid job ruffling the feathers of the newbies.”

I nod again. “We did, but we need to keep up the momentum. Now that that Deuce ghost hunter chap is here, we’ve been provided with the perfect opportunity to prove how haunted our little hotel is. Once word gets out over the interweb–”

“Internet,” Plume corrects with a tut and an eye roll.

“Whatever. Once word gets out, this place will be flooded with bookings.” I rub my hands together eagerly. “His team films all over the hotel trying to catch some spirit activity, and that’s exactly what they’re going to get. I want all of you to get in as much of the footage as possible—flickering lights, footsteps, doors slamming, moving objects, all the classics.”

I look across to Leona, who has flipped open a small metallic compact and is studying her reflection as she adds rouge to her cheeks. At least, I think it’s rouge—it’s a darker shade of grey than her skin. I really don’t understand why the confounding woman keeps refusing to step into the world of glorious Technicolour. Instead, she insists on this silent-movie-era monochrome aesthetic. Not to mention the no-speaking aspect, which has been a tad frustrating at times over the years.

“Will we show up on camera?” Plume perks up a little. “I mean, obviously as an actor myself, I feel this could be a moment for me to shine in the role of a terrifying spectre.”

“You can’t outright show yourself. That would get us into awful hot water with the stiffs at the Bureau, even if it would give us a nice little boost in room occupancy. But I don’t see why a reflection here, a shadowy figure there, couldn’t be allowed.”

“Achoo.” Edwina sneezes loudly, then rubs the end of her nose daintily with her gloved hand. “Why couldn’t you have chosen one of the vacant guest rooms to meet in? Why did it have to be the attics? It’s so dusty up here.”