Other People's Bodies

by Amy Cross

  "Elizabeth Bannister thought it'd be a good project," Rachel continues with a sigh. "It was when she first came to the Heights. I guess she wanted to make her mark, so she decided she was gonna do the summerhouse up and have it rebuilt, all that crap. I think she got as far as having plans drawn up, but she couldn't persuade Edward to release the money. I guess he had a point. It's not like the place is swimming in cash, so there wasn't really anything to spend on rebuilding a glorified fucking greenhouse. I mean, the budget was like a quarter of a million pounds, so it was totally ridiculous".

  "Okay," I say, deciding not to push Rachel any further but emboldened by the realization that the summerhouse definitely seems to be linked in some way to Elizabeth, "I guess -"

  "This isn't part of your obsession, is it?" Rachel asks suddenly. "I've been watching you. I know you're into Elizabeth's disappearance and all that stuff. The last thing anyone needs is some fucking amateur sleuth trying to work out what happened. She's gone. Nothing else really matters".

  "I just -"

  "Leave it alone," Rachel continues, clearly getting a little agitated. "There's no reason to go out there. It's just a bunch of ruins". Glancing over her shoulder, she seems to be making sure that no-one is listening in to our conversation. "The summerhouse is a sore subject," she adds eventually, turning back to me. "It was the first time Elizabeth really tried to get anything done around here, but it all kind of went wrong. I guess it was a sign of things to come. She was starting to realize that she didn't have total freedom. Just don't go digging all that crap up again, okay?"

  "Sure," I reply, figuring I should just try to avoid drawing too much attention to myself.

  Once Rachel has left, I head over to the desk and start sorting through the morning's documents. There's plenty of work to do, but after a moment I notice that Rachel has left some of her own notes. I grab the pieces of paper, ready to put them to one side, but suddenly I notice something unusual about Rachel's handwriting. At first, I try to tell myself that I'm imagining things, even though the evidence is right in front of me. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the note that was left on my door during the night, and sure enough I see that the handwriting on both pieces of paper is identical. But why would Rachel be the one who wants to meet me out at the summerhouse?

  Elizabeth

  Five years ago

  All that's left of the summerhouse is a set of foundations, from which a couple of old metal supports still protrude. As I walk across the dry and barren ground, my head is full of grand ideas. I'm already imagining music concerts and stage plays taking place out here, and spa services during the day. Located high up on the point that overlooks the nearby beach, the summerhouse could be a beautiful attraction, and I simply needed to persuade Victor Bannister to fork out the necessary money. It won't be easy, but I'm feeling confident. The Bannisters have the necessary resources. They just need the will.

  I can do this.

  Spotting movement nearby, I turn and see to my surprise that Edward is making his way along the narrow path that winds its way up to the point from the hotel, and he has Rachel in tow.

  "Hi," I call out to them, feeling a little flustered. "Isn't Victor with you?"

  "My father felt I should be the one to come out and hear about your plans," Edward replies as he reaches me. "He's finally letting me have more responsibility, so it seems only fitting that I should be the one who makes the final decision. I hope you're not disappointed".

  "No," I reply, determined not to let it show that I'm bothered by Victor's failure to appear. I can't help but fear that I'm not being taken seriously. "Everything's in these files, basically," I continue, handing a set of documents to Edward, "but the basic idea is to rebuild the old summerhouse in a larger, more modern style and use it as the base for various entertainment events".

  "I see," Edward mutters, looking through the documents. "You've certainly done your homework. What's the total overall cost?"

  "A quarter of a million pounds".

  Edward pauses. "That's a lot of money for a summerhouse".

  "This isn't the kind of project where cutting corners would work," I continue. "It needs to be a structure that's instantly impressive. Think about how it would look, though, as the sun goes down over the horizon, and people would gather out here to watch whatever kind of show we put on. At the moment, most people just sit around in the hotel during the evenings, looking bored. They're hardly likely to recommend the place to their friends if their main memory of the Heights is that they had nothing to do".

  "Still," Edward replies, "a quarter of a million is..." His voice trails off as he continues to look through the documents. "What do you think, Rachel?"

  "Me?" the girl asks, looking shocked that her presence has even been acknowledged.

  "Rachel's going to be joining the team on the reception desk," Edward continues. "I've taken her under my wing, though, because I feel she has potential. One day, she could be in a management position".

  Standing nearby, Rachel blushes as she looks down at her feet.

  "So come on," Edward says, turning back to her. "What do you think about all this, Rachel? If you were in charge, would you give the go-ahead for a quarter of a million pounds to be spent on a summerhouse?"

  "Well..." Rachel pauses for a moment. "I mean, that's how much it'd cost to build the summerhouse, right?"

  I nod, sensing that Rachel isn't particularly enthusiastic.

  "But then there are other costs," Rachel continues. "You'd need an entertainment license, and staff to work out here, and then there's the cost of bringing in acts and performers. I'm not saying it's a bad idea, but I think you need to look at the whole cost of running the summerhouse for the first couple of years, and then you need to work out whether you'd make all that money back".

  "Exactly," Edward continues. "I'm afraid you've raised some very valid points. The up-front costs are just a small part of the matter. There's a danger that a summerhouse out here on the point would become a kind of white elephant. I'm not sure we have the necessary resources to really get behind a project like this, at least not at the moment. It might be better to focus on improving the main building, rather than getting carried away with side projects".

  "But if -" I start to say.

  "I think Rachel's right," Edward says firmly. "I think that in theory, a summerhouse out here would be a great idea, but it's just not possible at the moment, given the economic situation. We need to be shoring up our core business, not expanding into public entertainment".

  Realizing that I'm losing the argument, I'm starting to feel as if I've been treated as an annoyance. Having spent days working on the proposal for the summerhouse, I'm being swatted aside based on little more than a few critical points from a new receptionist.

  "I'd still like to talk to Victor," I say eventually.

  "My father gave me full authority to make a decision on this matter," Edward replies. "I'm afraid Rachel's comments cut to the heart of the matter. You shouldn't feel too bad, though. The most important thing is to learn from everything you do, and I'm sure you'll eventually come up with a project that's got legs. In the meantime, why not sit back and relax? You've only been here for a few weeks. There's no need to dive head-first into everything. You're Luke's wife, not an employee, so -"

  "Sure," I say, feeling as if I'm being put in my place. "Whatever. I guess you're right".

  "They're really nice drawings," Rachel says tentatively.

  "It was just an idea," I reply, taking a deep breath. "It didn't take long, really. I can totally see that the money might be better spent on something else". I pause. "I don't think I need to take up any more of your time, Edward. You've obviously got more important things to be doing, and I should go and find Luke. Like you said, I'm not an employee here. I'm just..." I pause again as I realize I don't know what I am. Sure, I'm Luke's wife, but beyond that I don't know what role I'm supposed to play. I feel as if I've simply been left to wander around the grounds all day.
>
  Once Edward and Rachel have made their way back to the hotel, I find myself still standing out on the point among the ruins of the old summerhouse. I look down at the plans I drew up, and suddenly everything seems completely amateurish, as if I've completely embarrassed myself. Scrunching the plans into a ball, I walk over to the edge of the cliffs and stare down at the distant shore, before dropping the paper down the side of the cliff. Finally, I turn and start the walk back to the hotel, where I figure I'll find Luke and try to work out what I'm supposed to be doing with my time. Clearly, my input into the hotel's future isn't desired.

  Laura

  Today

  The path to the old summerhouse is shrouded in darkness, and I have to use the light from my cellphone to pick my way to the top of the point. A set of beacons mark the edge of the cliff, but otherwise the entire scene is pitch black, with the lights of the hotel shining in the distance. Still using my cellphone to light the way, I eventually find the few old timbers that still reach up from the ground, marking all that's left of the building. It's an eerie sight, and as I rub my arms in an attempt to stay warm, I can't shake the feeling that this whole trip is a waste of time. Checking my phone, I see that it's three minutes to midnight. I'm sure as hell not in the mood to wait out in the cold for long.

  Hearing the sound of waves in the distance, I step over to one of the small beacons. A few meters away, the edge of the cliff gives way to a daunting precipice, with the beach several hundred feet below. Having been thrown head-first into my job at the Heights, I still haven't had a spare moment to explore the surrounding area, and although I'm not exactly a lover of the great outdoors, I still want to experience the peace and quiet of this wild part of the English coastline. I feel as if I'm a million miles from the bustle of London, and this in turn makes me feel safe from the elements of my old life that she was determined to keep hidden. After all, who could find me all the way out here?

  After a moment, aware that there's another sound nearby, I turn and look back toward the hotel. I'm convinced that I heard footsteps, but the darkness is too dense and complete to allow me to see anything much. Stepping away from the beacon, I make my way back over to the ruins of the summerhouse. I have no idea why Rachel would want to meet me out here, and I'm curious to hear what she has to say.

  "Hello?" I call out after a moment.

  Silence.

  Turning and looking back toward the edge of the cliff, I can't shake the feeling that someone is watching me from the darkness.

  "Hey!" I call out, checking my phone and seeing that it's a little after midnight. "I'm here, so..." I wait for a reply. "If there's someone here, there's no point -"

  Before I can finish, something small comes flying out of the darkness and hits my left shoulder, before dropping to the ground with a light thud. Startled, I step back and wait for my mystery assailant to say or do something, but after a few seconds I realize I can hear the sound of someone hurrying away. Once again using my cellphone as a light source, I crouch down and grab the small item that hit me, discovering that it seems to be a football-sized object wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string.

  "Is this it?" I call out, although I'm no longer expecting an answer.

  Figuring that my midnight assignation is now at an end, I begin the slow, careful walk through the darkness back to the hotel. As soon as I reach the reception area, which is manned during the night by a solitary, bored woman who looks like she wouldn't even notice the apocalypse, I head to the bar, hoping to run things past Cole. To my surprise, however, I see that there's someone else working tonight's shift, so I merely order a drink and take a seat in the corner before starting to unwrap the package. Eventually, to my surprise, I find that the brown paper is wrapped around a dark blue dress and a pair of matching heels.

  "Great," I mutter, trying to work out why Rachel of all people would lure me out to the middle of nowhere just so she could throw a bundle of clothes at me. "And it's not even my birthday".

  Elizabeth

  Five years ago

  "You look like a woman who's had a bad day," says Cole as soon as he sees me enter the bar. "Would a drink help?"

  "Just a glass of wine," I reply as I reach the stool next to the cash register. These mid-afternoon trips to the bar are becoming a habit, and I know I should probably find something better to do with my time. Still, I've got no idea where to find Luke, and after spending almost an hour in my room trying to work out what to do, I figure I have no options other than to come down and start getting drunk. This is definitely not how I imagined married life would turn out. It's almost as if I've stepped back in time, with Luke treating me like I'm a lady of leisure.

  "I heard about your summerhouse plan," Cole says as he pours me a glass. "I also heard that Edward turned it down flat. I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I think this place really needs a kick up the ass. It'd be great to have an outside bar and some entertainment, but the Bannisters are never gonna go for it". He places the glass of wine on the counter. "If you think you can change the way they run this place, you're wrong. Victor's stuck in his ways, and Edward's no better. They think they're making all the right decisions".

  "It was a crazy idea," I reply, taking a sip of wine. "I guess I was just feeling my way around and trying to work out what to do. I feel like I need to contribute somehow, but so far I'm just left to sit around and twiddle my thumbs. It's like all the days are just stretching out one after another, and I don't have anything to do. Literally. I wake up in the mornings and I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do with my time".

  "So you're bored?"

  I nod.

  "Well, you can always come and work in the bar," he suggests. "The old manager's retiring next month, and so far I think Edward's assuming I can work all the shifts. We're gonna have to hire someone, though, 'cause there's no way I can cover the place all day every day. Nine in the morning until midnight, seven days a week, is a bit too much".

  "Me?" I pause. The idea seems so crazy, I want to dismiss it instantly. At the same time, it kind of makes sense. After all, I've been looking for a role to play in the running of the hotel, and suddenly an opening has appeared, as if by magic. "I don't have any experience," I continue, reluctant to let Cole see that I'm taking the idea seriously. "I've never worked in a bar. I've never worked in service at all. I've barely even had a proper job".

  "Who needs experience?" he replies. "I didn't have any experience when I started, and I'm doing okay. The main thing is that you've gotta be good with people, and you definitely seem good with people. Don't take this the wrong way, but you've got the kind of smile that can make a man buy a few more drinks".

  "I'll take that as a compliment," I reply. "I don't think I can work in the bar, though. Luke wouldn't like it". I shudder as she realize how old-fashioned I sound. "Then again," I add, "maybe it's what I need. I feel like I'm going crazy, rattling around in this old place".

  "Well, the offer's open," Cole continues. "I don't know how Luke would react, but I'd certainly be glad to have some help around the place. Of course, it wouldn't be very glamorous, and the pay's not very good -"

  "I'll work for free," I reply, feeling more and more as if the idea actually makes sense. Having never previously been interested in working in a bar, I'm suddenly fantasizing about the idea of waiting on tables and pouring drinks. "I mean, I'm in here half the time anyway," I point out, "so I might as well help. It'd be healthier than drinking wine all afternoon".

  "You've convinced me," Cole says, "but I guess I'm not the one who gets to make the decision, am I?"

  "I'll talk to Luke tonight," I continue. "He can't exactly stop me, can he? I mean, if you need to hire someone, I can apply like anyone else. I can even come to an interview!"

  "Whatever floats your boat," Cole says with a smile.

  "I'll be back," I tell him, getting up and hurrying over to the door. "I'm going to find Luke and ask him..." I pause for a moment and look back at Cole. "No, I'm going to te
ll him that I want this job. It's not like he can stop me".

  "What about your drink?" Cole asks.

  "Save it," I reply. "I'll be back". With that, I head out into the reception area, determined to find Luke and tell him the news. For the first time since I arrived at the Heights, I actually feel as if I have something to do. My days, which previously seemed to be stretching out as vast expanses of dullness, suddenly seem full of promise. Finally, life at the Heights might be about to perk up.

  Laura

  Today

  "Okay," I say, stepping into Edward's office early the following morning, "I've got a -"

  I stop dead in my tracks as she see that Edward has company. Two police officers are standing by the desk, writing details in a small notebook, and it's immediately clear that the mood is somber. My first thought is that there must be some bad news about Luke from Afghanistan, and I feel as if I'm intruding upon a moment of private grief.

  "I can come back later," I mutter, turning to leave.

  "No," Edward replies, "come in. They'll need to talk to you anyway. We might as well..." His voice trails off, and I can't help but notice that he seems very subdued. For perhaps the first time since I met him, Edward appears to be betraying genuine emotion.

  "Is it about Luke?" I ask, bracing myself for the worst as I walk over to the desk.

  Edward shakes his head. "I'm afraid it's much more..." Again, his voice trails off. "It's much closer to home. I don't quite know how we're going to handle this, but it seems that Rachel Carter committed suicide last night".

  I stare at him, unable to quite process the words I just heard.

  "Rachel," he continues. "I'm sure you met her. She was one of the receptionists".

  "I know who you mean," I reply, my mind having become almost completely blank. "But..." I turn to the police officers. "What happened? I don't get it. When..."