Other People's Bodies

by Amy Cross

  Laura

  Today

  It happened again. Just as I feared. Just as I dreaded...

  Having spent the evening in my room, reading and going online while anxiously watching the clock, I eventually went to sleep just after midnight. I was terrified that there'd be more noises in the night, and I even briefly considered asking for a different room before forcing myself to face the fact that ghosts don't exist, and that my previous night's experience was just some kind of bizarre waking dream. I've been under a lot of stress lately, so I was able to convince myself that tonight would be different.

  After a patchy and disturbed couple of hours' sleep, however, I'm woken by a distant, persistent knocking sound, as if someone is banging on a door in another part of the building. Realizing that it's just the sound of hotel guests being their usual noisy selves, I roll over in bed and decide to get back to sleep. The last thing I need is to have my mind start spinning once again, and I'm determined to have a peaceful night.

  As I'm getting back to sleep, however, I hear the brief sound of a distant bell, and I know immediately that someone has just stepped out of the elevator at the far end of the corridor. Remembering that all the other rooms in this part of the building are empty, I sit up in the dark room and listen to the sound of a pair of footsteps coming closer and closer. My heart is pounding in my chest as I hear the footsteps stop just outside my door.

  Silence.

  "Hello?" I call out cautiously.

  Silence.

  "Is someone there?" I ask.

  Silence.

  "If you -"

  Suddenly I realize there is a sound coming from the other side of the door. It's as if someone is very quietly, very carefully rubbing the frame. After a moment, I hear the footsteps starting to move away, and eventually the elevator doors close and I'm left sitting in silence.

  Reaching over and switching on the lamp, I try to decide what to do next. I don't want to acknowledge the possibility that there actually was someone outside her room, but at the same time I'm certain that I wasn't having some kind of waking dream. Against my better judgment, I slowly get out of bed and walk over to the door. I'm convinced that I'll hear another noise at any moment, but eventually I reach out and grab the handle. My heart is racing and I'm was desperate to go back to bed, but finally I force myself to open the door.

  There's a note pinned to the frame.

  Carefully peeling the note away, I open it up and took a look inside. All I find is a single sentence, written with a red pen:

  Summerhouse. Midnight tomorrow. Don't be late.

  Glancing along the corridor, I see that there's no sign of my mystery visitor. Standing alone outside my room, with the note in my hand, I try to work out who could possibly have left such a strange message on my door, and although I don't want to rush to any conclusions, it seems someone has finally noticed that I've been asking questions about Elizabeth Bannister's disappearance. Maybe I'm finally going to get some answers.

  Part Four

  Soldiers

  Laura

  Today

  "Last night," Edward says, standing by his desk as he addresses the assembled staff, "I received a telephone call from a member of my brother Luke's regiment out in Afghanistan. The purpose of the call was to inform me that Luke's unit had been involved in a firefight with enemy combatants, and that following this firefight, Luke and two other members of that unit have been declared missing".

  The room falls silent.

  "They were in a particularly dangerous part of the country," Edward adds, "which means that reconnaissance missions to locate them are somewhat hampered. There's still hope, but obviously as time goes by, the chances of finding them alive are going to dwindle. However, I've been assured that all possible attempts are being made to locate Luke and his comrades and extract them from their current situation, so we must all focus on the positives and remember that sometimes these dark moments pass and God delivers us from the shadow of tragedy".

  Standing near the back of the crowd, I take a deep breath. I'd suspected that something was wrong when Edward seemed so distracted during our early morning meeting, but it had never occurred to me that something so serious might have happened. Glancing over Victor Bannister, I see that the old man has his head in his hands, while his nurse is trying to comfort him. Victor isn't the only person in the room who seems emotionally overcome by the news, either: several other members of staff have tears in their eyes, and despite having only met Luke briefly the other day, I'm still shocked at the thought that he might have been killed in action out in Afghanistan. In fact, the only person in the entire room who seems calm and collected is Edward himself.

  "I appreciate that some of you must be disturbed by this news," Edward continues, "but I'm sure you'll understand that we can't let ourselves fall apart. For one thing, Luke wouldn't want us to let our guests down. He'd want us to keep going, to remain strong, and to hope for the best. As I'm sure you'll appreciate, there's still a chance that he'll be found alive, so I hope you'll all be able to get on with your work and help to keep the hotel running smoothly. I don't want to see anyone shedding any tears, is that understood? In fact, let me be blunt. The first person I see crying will be fired immediately. As far as our guests are concerned, this is just a normal day".

  Everyone stands in stunned silence for a moment.

  "There's nothing else to say," Edward adds eventually, "so I'll invite you now to return to your positions. I shall, of course, issue a further statement as and when there's any news, but in the meantime I don't see that there's much point in any of us engaging in idle chatter or speculation. Those energies would be far better directed toward the hotel. Good morning".

  As the crowd begins to disperse, I find myself loitering at the back of the room. I make brief eye contact with Rachel, who's obediently filing out with the rest of the staff, and finally I'm left alone with Edward, Victor and the nurse. There's an awkward silence, and although I feel that perhaps I should have left with the others, I'm also wondering whether I should say something.

  "I'm sorry about your brother," I offer eventually, my voice sounding small and insignificant in the large, silent office. Feeling awkward, I turn to Victor. "I'm sorry about your son. I hope -"

  "He's not dead yet," Edward says firmly.

  "Of course not!" I reply.

  "Then again, perhaps we'd better hope that they find his body soon". Walking back around his desk, Edward sits down. "If he's alive, it means he's probably been captured by insurgents, in which case... I hate to think of the kind of things they'd do to him. The last thing we need is a protracted, drawn out situation with Luke being tortured. Given the circumstances, it might be better if he died quickly. For his sake, and for ours".

  Over by the window, Victor Bannister is still being comforted by his nurse. The old man seems to be taking the news particularly badly, as his hands constantly clutch at a handful of paper tissues.

  "Father, please..." Edward mutters, clearly embarrassed.

  "He's upset," the nurse replies.

  "You'll have to get used to it," Edward continues, as if he wants to turn the screws a little tighter. "Crying won't bring him back home. The brutal truth is that we might never get closure on this particular matter. Out there in the wilds of Afghanistan, Luke's body might never be found". He pauses, before glancing over at his father, who's staring at him darkly. "I'm sorry, but it's true. Life isn't neat and tidy. We have to face reality, and the world must keep turning. In particular, the hotel guests mustn't be aware of any of this". He turns to me. "Laura, that's something I need you to do. See to it that the staff perform to their fullest, and if you see anyone crying, fire them on the spot".

  "Maybe -"

  "Fire them on the spot," he says again, with a hint of anger in his voice. "That's an order. I'm not going to allow this hotel to fall apart just because something bad might or might not have happened to my brother".

  "Of course," I reply, figuring that t
his isn't the right time for an argument. "If there's anything else you need -"

  "There won't be," Edward says firmly. "I'm fine. Please, get to work. I need to speak to my father in private. There are certain arrangements that we need to consider in case we receive any more news".

  Smiling politely, I hurry out of the room and finally take a moment to regather my composure outside in the corridor. I've never, in all my life, been in such a tense and highly-strung room, and I can't help thinking that Edward's attempt to speak to the staff was a complete failure. He needed to reassure them, and instead he set them on edge. I figure the best thing would be to wait a while, and then organize a small service to commemorate Luke once it's certain he won't be coming back. Edward might be very good at his job, but he clearly doesn't know how to handle this situation. I can't tell whether he's very good at hiding his true feelings, or whether those feelings are simply absent. Either way, Luke now joins Elizabeth on the roster of Bannister family members who have vanished.

  Elizabeth

  Five years ago

  "Victor!" I call out, hurrying along the corridor. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

  "Perfect timing," Victor replies, smiling as he turns to me. There's a young, strikingly pretty girl standing next to him, with a look of nervous, wide-eyed innocence on her face. "Elizabeth Bannister," Victor continues, "I'd like you to meet the newest member of our team. Rachel Carter's going to start working on the desk in reception".

  "Hi," I say, shaking the girl's hand.

  "Elizabeth is my daughter-in-law," Victor continues with evident pride. "She hasn't been part of the family for long, but she already feels like part of the furniture. In a good way, of course. In fact, I think the pair of you could end up getting along rather well. After all, you've both been plunged into our mad little world, and I imagine you're both finding it rather difficult to stay afloat".

  Smiling meekly, Rachel doesn't seem to have much to say for herself.

  "It's about the summerhouse," I continue. "I was hoping to speak to you about a project I've been working on".

  "The summerhouse?" Victor pauses. "I don't think we have a summerhouse".

  "The old one, out by the point," I remind him. "I've been checking the records and there was a fire in the seventies, but the foundations are still there. I went out this morning and took a look. You can still make out the basic outline, and there are a few beams still standing".

  "Of course," Victor replies. "I remember that old place. Calling it a summerhouse is a little over the top, though. It wasn't much more than a glorified greenhouse -"

  "I think you should rebuild it," I continue, interrupting him. Opening a folder I've prepared, I pull out a series of sketches. "I'd like to present these to you properly some time," I add, passing the sketches to him, "but you can see what I've been thinking. At the moment, the hotel's gardens are kind of unfocused and uneventful. There's nothing to really draw people outside, apart from the view, but this is the kind of project that could really inject some energy into the place. I've costed it out and I don't think it'd need too much money, and it could be a really good focal point for activities over in that part of the garden".

  "You do, huh?" Victor replies, looking at the sketches. "Have you run this past Luke or Edward?"

  "No".

  "So this is all your own work?"

  "It is, but -"

  "You're a talented artist," he adds, passing the sketches to Rachel. "What do you think, my dear? Does that look like a good idea?"

  "They're nice pictures," Rachel says quietly, blushing as she looks at the drawings. She seems like a very timid girl, eager to please and wary of saying the wrong thing.

  "I think they can be more than that," I say, determined to push ahead now that I've got some momentum. "This isn't just a random idea. I've got it all worked out. Costings, practicalities, everything. I've got quotes from local builders and commitments ready to go. I've come up with case studies of similar projects across the country, and my findings support the idea that a summerhouse could be a real asset. If we start construction during the off-season, we can have it ready for the following summer".

  "Every season's an off-season around here," Victor mutters, taking the sketches back from Rachel. "It's a lovely idea, and I appreciate your interest in improving the hotel -"

  "So you'll let me present the plans to you properly?"

  "I'm not sure -"

  "Please?"

  "It's just..." Victor pauses for a moment, clearly trying to think of a way to let me down gently.

  "It looks pretty good," Rachel says suddenly.

  "You were talking the other day about wanting to improve the grounds," I continue. "You said yourself that the hotel's been allowed to fester. People come for the views, but there's no reason for them to be particularly excited about the hotel itself. The summerhouse could play host to a spa, massage sessions, things like that. There's no end to the different types of activities you could put on. In terms of cost to benefit ratio, I think this could be a winner. You can stage proper events out there, and you can even charge people for a ticket. Music, theater..."

  "Sounds expensive," Victor mutters.

  "You must have seen how well the Minack does," I add. "It's a real boost to tourism. It's one of the high-points of the whole South-West. I went to see a play there once and it was a wonderful experience. If we can do something similar right here in the hotel's grounds -"

  Sighing, Victor hands the sketches back to me. "Come to my office this afternoon," he says, with a defeated tone to his voice. "I really don't want to lead you on, Elizabeth. There's not much money for this kind of thing, even if it seems like a good idea. However, I'll listen to your proposal. I believe in giving people a proper hearing, and it's obvious that you've put a lot of time and effort into all of this".

  "I'll see you at two," I reply, "but instead of meeting in your office, maybe we can meet out at the site?"

  "You're really determined to go ahead with this, aren't you?" Victor says with a smile.

  "I think it could work".

  "Fine. I'll see you out at the point at two. Damn it, I thought it'd be a good idea to surround myself with people who've got youthful ideas, but all it seems to have brought me is trouble". Putting a hand on Rachel's shoulder, he steers her toward the main office. "Don't get your hopes up, Elizabeth. Getting me to fund a new project is like getting blood out of a stone".

  "I promise you'll like what I have to say," I reply.

  "What do you think?" Victor asks, turning to Rachel. "Do you think I should agree to spend a chunk of my money on some cockamamie scheme?"

  "I don't know," Rachel says timidly. "I mean, I guess. Maybe". She pauses. "Or maybe not".

  "We'll see," Victor replies. "I suppose stranger things have happened".

  Standing and watching as the old man walks slowly away with Rachel at his side, I can't help but smile. I know Victor's going to be a tough customer, and I fully expected him to knock her back. However, I'm also convinced that I can change his mind. Having arrived at the Heights as a stranger, I'm determined to make my mark, and I'm certain that a properly reconstructed summerhouse would be a hit. All I need now is to knock the presentation out of the ballpark.

  Laura

  Today

  As I approach the admin office, I see to my surprise that Rachel is sitting at the desk, frantically rifling through a stack of papers. Pausing in the doorway, I watch as Rachel's increasingly panicked search continues. It's as if she's lost something vitally important, and the more she looks for it, the more she seems to realize that it's never going to turn up. Finally, muttering something under her breath, Rachel turns toward the door, at which point she lets out a startled cry of shock as she finds that she's being watched.

  "Didn't mean to make you jump," I say with a smile, enjoying her discomfort.

  "Maybe you should try not sneaking up on people," Rachel replies, her feathers clearly ruffled, "or you could try saying hello. I was j
ust looking for some old documents".

  "Anything I can help you with?" I ask. "I've been reorganizing".

  "It's really nothing to do with you," Rachel says firmly. "It's from before your time here". Forcing a strained smile, she slips past me. "I'm done anyway. It wasn't anything important. The office is all yours".

  "Do you know anything about the summerhouse?" I say, turning to watch as she begins to walk away.

  "There isn't a summerhouse," Rachel replies, stopping and looking back at me.

  "Actually," I continue, "that's what I thought when I looked at the maps, but still... Someone mentioned the summerhouse to me, and I'm kind of curious to know where it is. I've been asking around, and so far everyone just kind of stares at me and acts like I'm totally losing my mind. I found one mention of it in some old papers, but apart from that it's almost as if the damn thing has completely vanished".

  "It doesn't exist," Rachel says. "I think there used to be one over toward the cliffs, but it's not there now".

  "What happened to it?"

  "How should I know? It's been gone for years. I think there was some kind of accident, like a fire or something". She pauses for a moment. "Why?"

  I open my mouth to reply, but at the last second I start to wonder whether it's wise to tell Rachel the whole story. "I was just supposed to meet someone there," I say eventually. "That's all. I guess I can't meet them if it doesn't exist, though".

  "I think there are some ruins," Rachel replies cautiously. "I think maybe some of the foundations are still there". She pauses again. "As far as I know, though, it's totally overgrown. No-one's been out there since Elizabeth tried to get the place rebuilt".

  I raise an eyebrow.