‘I’ve been wanting to ask you about this stuff for so long. I mean, you’re a Harper. Your aunt—’
‘I don’t want to talk about my family.’
‘But it’s so cool,’ Anna said. ‘And Max was saying that he met Gwen the other day. I mean, you took him to End House, so I assumed—’
‘No,’ Katie said.
Anna looked devastated and defiant in equal parts. ‘I thought we were friends. I thought you’d open up eventually but I guess I was wrong on both counts.’ Anna got up.
Katie wasn’t sure if she was mock-offended or really offended, but she knew she didn’t want to lose her. She took a deep breath. ‘There are certain abilities in my family, yes.’
Anna let out an excited little squeak and sat back down. ‘See!’ She turned to Max. ‘They can do this stuff for real. I heard that Gwen can find lost things and then there’s all that stuff that grows in her garden—’
Max was looking at her with an amused but faintly disgusted expression.
‘Can you read my cards?’ Anna was practically bouncing on the chair. ‘I’ve wanted to ask ever since we met but then we became friends and I didn’t want you to think I was using you or anything—’
‘But you’re fine with it, now?’
‘Please,’ Anna said. ‘Everything’s a bit rubbish at the moment.’ She tried to calm down, look serious, but she was too hyper to pull it off. ‘I think it would really help.’
‘Fine,’ Katie said. She didn’t dare look at Max.
She fetched her tarot cards from the bookshelves and opened the box. ‘I’m not really good at this, but I can do a little bit. My gran has the fortune-telling gift. She’s scary good.’ Katie fixed Max with what she hoped was a compelling gaze. ‘And I do mean scary.’
‘Me first, me first,’ Anna said, even though Max hadn’t shown the slightest inclination to want to join in.
‘Okay. Can you sit opposite me?’
Katie moved the cups and mugs to the side of the coffee table and put a bowl of popcorn on the floor. She opened the wooden box and unwrapped the black silk from around the cards.
Max’s expression was stony, but she ignored him and put the stack face down in the middle of the table. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll do the tree of life but I warn you now, if I don’t think you’ll benefit from knowing something, I won’t tell you it.’ Katie had had enough lectures from Gwen on the importance of responsibility. Apparently her gran had a different policy — you asked, you got answers. Even if it meant you left her house in tiny little bits.
‘Fine,’ Anna said, sitting forward.
Katie put a hand over the pack and held it there, waiting for the tingling sensation that had always come before. Nothing. She picked the pack up and shuffled it. Put it back on the table and held her hand over it again.
Anna said, ‘Do I ask a question or something?’
‘No.’ Katie shook her head. ‘I can’t do it. Sorry.’
‘Why not?’ Anna looked disappointed.
The familiar sense of failure settled across Katie, making her feel tired and a little bit weepy. ‘There’s nothing there.’ She gestured to the pack of cards. ‘I don’t know why. Maybe I’m tired.’
‘Some other time,’ Max said. He looked at his watch. ‘Don’t we have more filmage? Unless you want to go to the pub, instead?’
‘No.’ Anna stretched and stood up. ‘I’m knackered. I’m going to head home.’ She picked up the empty muffin plate and took it to the kitchen.
Katie followed. ‘Don’t you dare.’
‘I’m tired.’ Anna didn’t meet her eye. ‘Early shift tomorrow.’
Katie’s stomach swooped. ‘Are you angry with me? I’m sorry about the cards—’
‘It’s okay,’ Anna said, but she still didn’t look up. She eased past Katie and back into the living room. Katie heard her saying goodbye to Max and then she was gone. Katie willed her heart to stop hammering. She was okay. He was a stranger but he wasn’t dangerous. He was just a guy. And Anna was right: she was never going to meet anybody new if she didn’t take little risks now and then.
Max was standing in the middle of the room, looking at the art prints and postcards on the walls.
‘Do you want more wine?’ Katie said.
‘Aren’t you having any?’
‘No.’ Katie shook her head. ‘I’m not a big drinker. Especially with people who think I’m insane.’
‘Sensible,’ Max said. His calculating expression was back again.
‘What?’
‘Why didn’t you read the cards for Anna?’
‘You know why,’ Katie said. ‘I couldn’t do it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but—’
‘But you know her — you’d hardly have to cold read her. You could’ve just made some stuff up, made a few vague statements.’
Katie put a hand on one hip and regarded him coolly. ‘I don’t do that. I’m not pretending. The women in my family have unusual abilities. For real.’
‘I think you really believe that,’ Max said slowly. Then he smiled. ‘Luckily, I have a high tolerance for weirdness.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ Katie said. His expression made her bold, made her want to shock him. ‘I can talk to ghosts. There’s one at the hotel and her name is Violet. I was talking to her the other day. And I’ve been dreaming about Mr Cole. He keeps asking me to look for his watch. That’s why I want to find it.’
Max waited a beat, as if expecting her to smile and say she was joking.
‘You were brought up with conning. I was brought up with this,’ Katie said. ‘I don’t expect you to believe me, but I think it was a ghost that dropped the vase the other day.’
‘It’s a theory,’ Max said.
‘I’m only telling you for your own safety. If you get cold all of a sudden, look out for flying ceramics.’
‘Okay, this is just your thing,’ Max said. ‘Like a hobby. And it’s not that weird. To be fair, lots of people believe in ghosts. Not so many claim to chat to them, but—’
‘Just because you can’t see the giant rabbit, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.’
‘You’re seeing rabbits, now?’
‘No,’ Katie said. ‘Like in Harvey. Jimmy Stewart could see this rabbit but no one else in the film can.’
‘Like in Donnie Darko? There’s a rabbit in that, isn’t there?’
‘No,’ Katie said severely. ‘Like in Harvey. It’s not a scary rabbit. It’s life-affirming.’
Max shrugged. ‘Sorry. I haven’t seen it.’
‘I’m going to have to educate you.’
‘You and I have very different ideas about education.’
‘We have very different ideas about a lot of things. It’s one of the many reasons I’m not going to drink with you.’
‘You will eventually.’
‘Now you sound dodgy and arrogant again.’
‘Sorry,’ Max said. ‘Occupational hazard.’
‘How’s that new leaf going, anyway? Are you liking an honest day’s work?’
‘The bar?’ Max said. ‘It’s fun. For now.’ He moved closer to her. ‘Not as much fun as this, though. I just wish you weren’t frightened of me.’
‘I’m not frightened,’ Katie said. ‘I’m being sensible. You’re only here because you think I’ve got your watch.’
‘Not any more. You’re not stupid so if you were trying to con me, you’d be making a better job of it than this.’
‘Thanks,’ Katie said. ‘I think.’
‘Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody less suited to grifting. I mean, you were embarrassed tonight. When you couldn’t do that card trick, but you didn’t gloss over it or pretend.’
‘Tarot isn’t a card trick.’
‘Not always, apparently,’ Max said. ‘I still think Barton is faking, though.’
Katie frowned. ‘Don’t put me in the same category as him. A true psychic would never get up on stage and dish out information. It’s morally corrupt, unethical, wr
ong. And it’s not even the way it works.’
‘You’re not a fan, then,’ Max said, looking a little bemused. ‘I’d have thought—’
‘Well, you thought wrong.’
‘Do you want to come and see the show? See if we can catch him out together? I’ve got a plus one on my ticket.’
Katie felt a rush that started from her toes and went straight to the top of her head. He wanted to see her again. She was crap at kissing and had told him she could see ghosts and he still wanted to see her again.
He dipped his head. ‘Katie?’
Katie realised she was clutching her necklace and she made herself let go of it. Safety-wise, it was one of the best dates she could accept. She would be in the hotel, surrounded by people. On the other hand, it would involve sitting next to Max for an hour or two. A prospect that made her heart rate kick up and her palms go all sweaty.
He gave her a quick smile. ‘No problem if you’ve got other plans or would rather jump off a bridge. I can take a hint.’
‘No,’ Katie said.
‘It’s cool.’ Max held up his hands.
‘No. I mean, I don’t have plans. Yes. I’ll watch the show with you.’
‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’ Max kissed her quickly on the cheek, then got up from the sofa and made for the door. ‘Until tomorrow.’
Katie sank back onto the sofa and stared at the glasses on the coffee table. She was going on a date with a con man. Ex-con-man, whatever. She couldn’t stop picturing Max and every time she conjured his face, her own split into a wide grin. This wasn’t good. The last time she’d felt this excited she’d been fourteen and madly in love with Luke Taylor. That hadn’t ended well, but, no matter how much she tried to frighten herself with bad memories, she couldn’t ignore the fizzing in her veins. It was as if her blood had been replaced with lemonade and her vital organs filled with helium. Katie pictured Max’s face as he’d asked her out, replayed the sound of his voice when he’d said ‘until tomorrow’ and then had to cover her mouth to stop an excited squeaking sound escaping. Tragic. She was glad that Shari wasn’t around to witness her giggling and gurning like a fool. One thing was clear, though: she had a crush on the con man.
‘Not, sensible, honeybunch,’ she said out loud, trying to channel Gwen and regain some semblance of sanity.
Unfortunately, Gwen’s voice echoed back saying, ‘Women like sex, too,’ which wasn’t at all helpful. She got up and cleared away the glasses and took them into the kitchen, before heading to bed.
For once, she was glad when the Oliver Cole dream began its nightly rerun. At least I’m not dreaming about jumping Max, she thought, before the dream took over and she was back in The Yellow Room watching Oliver Cole die.
*
The next day, Katie went to find Mrs Cole. She’d been distracted from Mr Cole’s watch but it seemed pretty clear that the bad dreams weren’t going to stop until she found it. She used the hotel database to find the address and drove to the Cole residence in a cul-de-sac in Chippenham.
The houses in the street were all detached new-builds with conservatories and at least two cars to fill their double garages. The woman who answered the door was wearing stretchy workout clothes and a purple sweat top. She must’ve been in her late fifties but had incredibly shapely legs. Katie dragged her gaze upwards. ‘Mrs Cole?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m very sorry to bother you,’ Katie said. ‘This is a bit awkward, but it concerns your late husband. May I come in?’
Mrs Cole narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you one of his?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You’re a bit young, even for him.’ Mrs Cole gave her an exaggerated look up and down.
‘No,’ Katie said. Ew. ‘I work at The Grange.’
‘Oh.’ Mrs Cole looked confused. ‘Is there a problem with the bill?’
‘No, nothing like that. I’m really sorry to bring this up, but had your husband lost a watch? Before he passed away?’
‘I knew it, you’re of them—’
Mrs Cole went to shut the door and Katie stepped forward to stop her. ‘I didn’t know your husband. I’m just trying to recover some property. Did he give you a watch? It belongs to a friend of mine.’
‘That ugly thing? Pass on my condolences to your friend.’
‘So, you did see a watch?’
‘It was in his wash bag. In a gift box all ready to give to one of his whores.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You think I didn’t know?’ Mrs Cole said. ‘I knew. I knew all about his extra-curricular activities.’
‘The thing is, the watch belongs to my friend.’ Katie didn’t think gambling would seem worse than infidelity, but it still didn’t feel right to out Mr Cole. ‘I don’t want to speak ill of the dead—’
‘Oh, go ahead. It’s what the bastard deserves.’
‘Right. Well. He was supposed to give the watch to my friend and he didn’t. I’m sure he was going to, but, well—’
‘He popped his clogs.’ Mrs Cole was looking at Katie in an appraising way. ‘You’re not one of his girls, are you? You don’t seem the type.’
‘No,’ Katie said. ‘I swear.’
‘Then I’m sorry. I gave your friend’s watch to the Red Cross shop, along with all his clothes and CDs and the fucking ugly coffee table he made me live with for the past ten years.’
‘Oh,’ Katie said, taking a step back. Mrs Cole took advantage of the moment and swung the door closed.
‘Which Red Cross shop?’ Katie said, but the door banged shut. Fabulous. Katie looked at the door for a few moments before returning to her car. On one hand it was good that Mrs Cole wasn’t sentimentally attached to the watch, but Katie was still none the wiser as to what Mr Cole wanted her to do about it. And the more Katie found out about Mr Cole, the less inclined she was to help him. When she’d thought about helping others, she’d always pictured nice people like Fred Byres. She hadn’t planned on being an errand girl for a lying, cheating scumbag like Oliver Cole.
Chapter 10
The hotel car park was full long before Barton’s show was due to start. There were vehicles parked along the driveway and in front of the main house. Patrick watched the audience enjoying pre-show drinks in the bar with evident delight. Katie was surprised he wasn’t actually rubbing his hands together. ‘Have you seen this crowd?’ he said to Katie. ‘Unbelievable. I had no idea the show would be this popular.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste,’ Katie said.
‘Are you working?’ Patrick said, his eyes still on the crowd.
‘Excuse me.’ One of the temp staff appeared. ‘Mr Allen? There’s a couple here who want to sleep in the haunted room. I wasn’t sure—’
‘What?’ Katie whipped around, but Patrick was already hurrying towards Reception. Then she got distracted by the sight of Max walking in through the French doors, which were open to the terrace.
‘Hey, Nancy Drew,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Ready for our hot date?’
‘We’re going to watch a man we both abhor. Really sexy.’
‘And you dressed for the occasion.’ He looked at her work uniform.
‘I’ve just finished my shift.’
‘I love a woman in uniform.’ Max gave her an appreciative look that she felt down to the tips of her toes.
‘Bloody hell, does this approach actually work for you?’
‘Usually,’ Max said. He offered her his arm. ‘M’lady.’
‘Idiot,’ Katie said, but she reached out anyway and let him tuck her hand around his upper arm.
The tables in the function room had been stacked in the breakfast room, and every available chair in the building pressed into service. The rows of seats faced a makeshift stage at the front of the room with a spotlight trained onto two modern armchairs with a low table between them. It looked like the set for a business seminar. A young woman dressed in black trousers and T-shirt placed a bottle of mineral water and a glass onto the table
and then fiddled with a microphone stand, angling it towards one of the chairs.
The people filling the room were chatting quietly and there was an air of intense anticipation. ‘We should’ve got here earlier,’ Max said, suddenly sounding tense. ‘We’re too far back.’
Katie looked around at the crowded space. She knew that Gwen had a steady stream of people coming to the back door at End House, asking for remedies and advice, but that was different. That actually helped. She shook her head. ‘There must be a hundred MOPs in here. Patrick will be delighted.’
Max didn’t reply. He was leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees in claws.
‘Are you okay?’
Max shrugged quickly. ‘Not exactly. I really don’t like this man.’
‘You mentioned that once or twice.’ Katie nudged him, trying to lighten the mood.
‘But I kind of want him to be the real thing, too. I want him to, I don’t know, give me a message—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Katie said, hit by his sudden vulnerability, the spark of hope in his voice. ‘I don’t think that’s likely.’
Katie took his hand and squeezed it. The final stragglers were coming into the room; some had bottles of water and some were clutching personal items like talismans. One man had a gold carriage clock. He hesitated, scanning the rows for a spare seat and then took the final one. Katie tried not to think about all the sad, grieving, frightened people, in the room. It was too awful.
Someone put the lights off in the room and the chatter stopped almost instantly. The spotlit chairs seemed to grow in size with the weight of expectation in the room. A door opened and the female assistant appeared. She was carrying a couple of wireless microphones and she passed one to a Grange staff member and they crossed to the other side of the room, waiting. Then, a short man in a sharp suit came through the open doorway and stepped quickly up onto the stage. Greg Barton smiled with dazzling teeth and welcomed them all to his ‘house of spirits’. He had odd, puffy hair that rose in a stiff bouffant above his rather jowly face. His skin had an unreal orange tinge and Katie wondered whether he was addicted to sun beds or had overdone the stage make-up.
‘Thank y’all for inviting me here,’ he said in a strange transatlantic accent that seemed to span Yorkshire and America by way of the deep south. ‘Before we begin, I need you to switch off mobile phones and to remind you that strictly no filming or recording of this event is allowed. It annoys the spirits.’ He smiled, cocking an eyebrow at someone in the front row.
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