The Ghosts of Lakeforth Hotel

by Amy Cross

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  “Don't play the fool. I'm offering you the hotel, boy. I'm offering you all I have left.”

  “The...”

  I pause for a moment. My heart is racing, but I'm still worried that I might be misunderstanding what he's saying.

  “The hotel?” I ask finally.

  He nods. “Would you like it? Upon my death, of course. Not before.”

  “Well, I...”

  Again, my voice trails off.

  “I have no children of my own, you see,” he continues. “I only married once, and that was a brief, unsuccessful arrangement. I never thought I'd need to sire offspring, but now I'm getting old and I don't have much time left. Somebody must continue my legacy, such as it is. I propose to give you the hotel, and in return you only need do one thing for me. One thing for us.”

  Reaching out, he places a hand on the side of my arm, although I can't help noticing that he's trembling severely.

  “Tell her I want to end this,” he explains. “Tell her I've had long enough to think about it now, and I want to make amends. I'll have divers go into the lake and recover her body. I'll have her brought to the surface and given a proper Christian burial. She'll be interred alongside her sister, whose body I'll have brought down here so that they can rest side-by-side in the churchyard at Gilham, a few miles away. Tell her that all she has to do in return is leave this hotel alone.”

  Swallowing hard, I wait for him to continue. There are tears in his eyes, and he seems like a pretty cool old guy, but I honestly don't understand all this talk of crimes and forgiveness.

  “So you...”

  I hesitate for a moment.

  “So you think she's real?” I manage to ask finally. “The ghost? The girl on the jetty?”

  “Oh, I know she's real. Absolutely, without any doubt whatsoever.”

  “You've seen her?”

  “Tell her this is the only deal I am willing to offer. The hotel is going to be my legacy, and I cannot leave it haunted by the spirit of some wretched child. I'm getting old, Steven, and I have to tidy up the loose ends of my life. I have to offer her some kind of truce. For the sake of the -”

  Suddenly he breaks into a coughing fit, one that makes his whole body shudder as he leans forward and puts a hand to his mouth. The coughing doesn't stop, and I actually start wondering whether he's going to die. Finally, figuring that I should just get out of here, I take a couple of steps back.

  “Wait!” he splutters, still coughing. “I'm not finished with you!”

  “I have to go...”

  “Wait!”

  He reaches toward me, but I slip away from his hand and hurry to the door.

  “I have to go!” I stammer, turning the handle but finding that it appears to be locked. I try again, before banging my fists against the panel. “Mum!” I call out. “Dad! I need to come out now!”

  “I had them escorted downstairs,” Mr. Nash explains as his coughing fit starts to subside. “I feared you might overreact, but I'm certain I can change your mind. Steven, I am an old man, and -”

  “Let me out!” I yell, battering my fists against the door now as I feel tears welling in my eyes. “Please! Somebody help!”

  “Try to contain yourself,” he continues, as I hear him wheeling himself closer. “You're letting emotion guide you, Steven, when you should be more logical. I'm disappointed by your reaction, but I believe I can make you come around to my way of thinking. You've spoken to little Ruth once, so you should be able to do it again. And I need you to deliver a message to her on the jetty.”

  Still pulling on the door, I suddenly feel the old man's hand on my shoulder. I immediately spin around, terrified that he might hurt me, and I find that he has begun to rise from the wheelchair, leaning heavily on a walking stick.

  “The hotel will be yours in return,” he stammers. “You can become a rich man! You can achieve the kind of success that I never managed! The world will be your oyster!”

  I shake my head.

  “You can have it all!” he hisses.

  “I don't -”

  Suddenly he smacks the walking stick against my face, hitting me so hard that I fall to the floor. Clutching my cheek, I'm shocked to feel a sliver of blood, and I look up just in time to see Mr. Nash sinking back down into his chair. I want to get up and scream for someone to come and help me, but I'm too scared to move, even as the old man wheels his chair back a little.

  “Get up,” he mutters finally. “You look pathetic down there.”

  I freeze, still too scared to move.

  “Get up!” he roars.

  Stumbling to my feet, I watch as he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and holds it out to me.

  “Clean that mess,” he says darkly.

  Taking the handkerchief, I hold it against the cut on my cheek.

  “You should not have angered me like that,” he continues. “You are only reminding me, so far, why I despise children. But you have potential, Steven, and I want to give you a chance to meet that potential head-on. Do you know what will become of you, if you turn down my offer and walk away?” He pauses. “You'll live a dull, unremarkable life. Forgettable. Insignificant. At most, the very best you can hope for is that you'll find a dour, moderately attractive woman who sours with age and becomes a foul creature. Perhaps you will have some screaming children, perhaps not. You will get old, and you will die, and you will be forgotten.”

  I want to tell him that he's wrong, but I'm scared he might hit me again. Why did Mum and Dad let me come up here?

  “Or you can take my offer,” he adds. “You can become, in time, the owner of this hotel. You will have a chance for greatness. I have struggled all my life to make the Lakeforth a marvel of the world. I have achieved much, but for a long time I have felt that I am falling short. Now I realize that I must pass the hotel on to somebody who can finish the job for me. That person can be you, Steven. You are like me. I see it in your eyes. I have observed you through the cameras that are positioned around the hotel. I have seen how much you despise your own parents. I despised my parents when I was your age, too. And I chose to do something about that fact, rather than letting them drag me down. Your parents are worthless, pathetic scraps of humanity. Do you want to be the same, or do you want to amount to something worthwhile in this life?”

  Swallowing hard, I realize that he might be right. About Mum and Dad, at least. And then, slowly, another idea forms in the back of my mind. I hesitate for a moment, watching the old man's eyes, as I start to realize just how much I might gain if I inherit this place.

  “I could get a girlfriend,” I whisper.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Girls like rich men, don't they?”

  He furrows his brow. “Well -”

  “I wouldn't have to end up like you. All alone, spending my time here in one room. I could have lots of girlfriends. They'd love me because of the money.”

  “Is that what appeals to you?”

  I pause, before nodding. I can't help smiling, and in my mind's eye I can already see myself turning this place into a big casino with lots of pretty girls at every table. I'd be the most popular guy in the whole world, and all those stupid bullies at school would be begging to get through the front door. I wouldn't let them in, though, because I'd be too busy hanging out with my rich, famous friends and my gorgeous supermodel girlfriends. I wouldn't even let Mum and Dad into the hotel. I'd be the greatest man alive.

  “Steven?” Mr. Nash continues. “Are you finally seeing this the correct way? Are you finally coming around to my way of thinking?”

  Staring at the crazy old man, I realize that he's serious. My gut tells me to turn him down, of course, and I'm terrified by the thought of ever seeing that little girl again. Then again, if I actually know what's happening this time, I suppose there's no real reason to be scared.

  “She can't actually hurt me, can she?” I ask cautiously. “Right?”

  “Of cours
e not,” he replies, as a faint smile grows across his lips. “All you have to do is take me down there. You're the only one I can trust, Steven, because you're the only one who can possibly understand.” He hesitates, before reaching past me and slipping a key into the lock. “There,” he adds, turning the key. “The door is unlocked. If you can find the bravery within your heart, be ready at 8pm tonight. I believe in you, Steven. You can rise to this request.”

  I stare at him for a moment, before muttering something about thinking about it. Turning, I hurry out the door and make my way along the corridor.

  I don't look back.

  I can't.

  That little girl was so creepy on the jetty last night. There's no way I can ever go back down there.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “No, I'm working all evening. No, Roger, I can't. Because I'm working, that's why. You'll just have to be a patient man, won't you?”

  Standing near the stairs, I watch as the receptionist giggles. She's at her desk near the door, laughing as she talks to some guy on the phone. Whoever he is, he's clearly good at making her smile, and she's been keeping her voice low so that none of the guests overhear. Fortunately, she hasn't noticed me edging closer, so I'm able to hear every word.

  “I can't talk about that right now,” she continues, as she starts blushing. “I'm at work, Roger.”

  She glances around, and I step behind a pillar so she won't see me.

  “I'll be all yours tomorrow night,” she says after a moment. “Yes, Roger, I'll be wearing the little black dress you like so much. And you can slip it off me as soon as we get back to your flat from dinner.”

  She pauses, and then she giggles again.

  “Well, that's just dirty,” she adds. “Listen, I should get going. Some old bag'll be along soon to complain about something.”

  Again, she pauses, and I can just about hear a faint tinny sound coming from the phone as this Roger guy continues to talk.

  “I'm going to get off the phone now,” she tells him. “You don't have to worry about me meeting someone else at the hotel, Roger. Who else could I possibly meet? You're the only big, strong man in my life. And I'll see you tomorrow, so you can remind me of those muscly arms!”

  Laughing once more, she sets the phone down. A moment later, I hear her dialing another number.

  “Hey sweetie,” she says as soon as someone answers on the other end of the line. “It's me. Listen, I'm gonna have to cancel tomorrow night, I've got to work.”

  I hear a tinny voice replying.

  “But I'm free the night after,” she continues. “How about then? Don't make me feel bad, Todd. But the night after tomorrow, you've got me all to yourself at your flat. I guess that gives you a little longer to figure out what you're going to do with me, huh?”

  She pauses, and then she bursts out laughing.

  “I can't talk now,” she adds. “But don't beg, sweetie. It's not exactly attractive. I like my guys tough and confident and brave, so try to remember that. And I'll see you the night after tomorrow. Okay?”

  With that, she puts the phone down, just as an elderly lady shuffles toward the desk and starts complaining about the temperature in her room.

  Still standing behind the pillar, I find myself lost in thought for a moment. I know the receptionist is too old for me, but she's exactly the kind of girl I want to date one day. If I'm going to do that, however, I need to make sure I'm really impressive and attractive. Maybe I need to change a little. Maybe I need to be brave after all.

  ***

  Mum and Dad are arguing again.

  Every time we come on holiday, they have one huge argument. Just one. I always know it's coming, I always sense the needling little comments that serve as build-up, and I always hate when it finally explodes into all this shouting and storming about. Even now, they're in the bathroom getting ready for dinner, and I think they actually don't realize that I can hear them. They don't seem very aware of the world around them.

  Sitting on the end of the bed, I try to ignore every word they're saying, and I focus instead on what Mr. Nash asked me to do tonight. It's almost 5pm, and we're going to dinner soon. That means I have three hours before I decide whether or not to help Mr. Nash.

  “She's just a ghost,” I whisper, trying to find some way to give myself a little extra courage. “Ghosts can't hurt you. There's no reason to be scared.”

  When I left Mr. Nash's room earlier, I was certain that I'd never, ever go back to the jetty with him. As the day has worn on, however, I've found myself thinking more and more about his proposition, almost as if some hidden voice in the back of my head is trying to persuade my conscious mind. I can't help fantasizing about what it'd be like if I was brave, and if Mr. Nash gave me the hotel in return. I'm still scared of seeing that little girl again, and of feeling her hand grabbing me, but finally I lift my leg up and take a look at my ankle.

  The scratches aren't that deep.

  They're nothing, really.

  It wouldn't be so scary a second time, not if I knew to keep away from the end of the jetty. Plus, Mr. Nash told me a bit about the girl, which makes it easier to push my fears aside. I know it's Mr. Nash she's really angry with, and she'll basically ignore me if he's also on the jetty. If push comes to shove, I can just abandon him there and run back to the hotel. The ghost will be too busy with him, she won't chase after me. All I have to do is be brave tonight, and my life will change forever.

  “Go to hell!” Mum shouts suddenly, storming out of the bathroom and hurrying to her suitcase on the dresser. As she pulls the suitcase open, she glances at me. “Do you know what I'm going to do when we get home, Steven?” she snaps. “I'm going to divorce your lousy, no-good, rotten stupid father! And I'm going to take him for every penny he has!”

  I swallow hard. She's said things like this before, and she's never gone through with them. Besides, I'm not scared of her anymore, or of him. I'm going to inherit this hotel, which means I'll be rich and popular. Once the Lakeforth is mine, I won't even need parents anymore. I might be scared of going to the jetty, but I'm more scared of ending up like Mum and Dad.

  ***

  “You'll be pleased to know, young man,” Mr. Nash continues as I push his wheelchair through the dark forest, “that I telephoned my solicitor earlier this evening. The wheels are already in motion for the hotel to be left in your name after I am gone. How does that make you feel?”

  “Thank you,” I reply, although at the same time I can't help but grin. All through dinner, I was fantasizing about the grand parties I'll be able to hold, and about all the pretty girls who'll want to be with me. I won't have to go to university or anything like that. I can just move here to the hotel as soon as I'm sixteen, and every part of my life will be perfect. I'll never have to worry about Mum and Dad again.

  “I shall give you some lessons, of course,” he mutters. “Running this hotel is a full-time job, young man, and you'll need to learn a thing or two. About how to deal with people, and how to be tough with them. You'll have to do things that other men might consider beyond the pale, but that doesn't matter. Men such as myself, we do what is necessary, regardless of society's expectations. That's how you must come to see the world, too. When I -”

  He pauses for a moment.

  “Stop!”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Stop!” He sounds panicked suddenly. “Stop at once!”

  Bringing the wheelchair to a halt, I stare ahead and see moonlight glittering on the distant lake. There's something strangely serene about this place, and I feel almost as if I'd be wrong to make a noise.

  “I haven't been down here in many, many years,” Mr. Nash continues finally. “Tell me, boy, have you happened upon the ruins of an old house near the shore of the lake?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “It's there somewhere. Once I had ownership of the Maywhistle land, I allowed myself to become distracted. Owning the land was enough, I suppose. The Maywhistle man was a
wretched, pathetic fool. He didn't know a good deal when one was thrust before him. I gave him what he deserved in the end. When you take charge of the hotel, Steven, you must find the ruins of that little house and have then wrenched from the ground. Do you hear me? Wipe away all trace of that house.”

  “Okay,” I reply, not really understanding what he means. I wait for him to continue, but now he seems lost in thought. “Should I carry on?” I ask finally.

  He doesn't reply straight away. Instead, he seems completely transfixed by the sight of the water.

  “This ghost has been holding my hotel back for years,” he says suddenly. “No matter what I did, her spirit cast a pall over the place. It took a long, long time before I was able to recognize that fact. Perhaps I was stubborn.”

  “But she's...”

  My voice trails off.

  “Just a ghost?” he adds. “Is that what you were going to say?”

  “Well. Kind of.”

  “People have always seemed to feel uneasy at the Lakeforth, Steven. I believe Ruth Maywhistle is the reason. A grand hotel on the shore of a beautiful lake... This place should have been so popular. Yet something lingered, something that gave people pause. If I am to complete my legacy and have the hotel reach its potential before I die, I must get rid of the ghost. And to do that, I must give her what she wants.”

  I swallow hard, still watching the moonlit lake for any hint of the girl.

  “But she might not appear, right?” I stammer finally. “She might not be real.”

  “Take me to the shore.”

  “But -”

  “Do it, boy. I want to get this over with.”

  I wheel him onward, bumping his chair between the trees, until finally we reach the edge of the pebbly lake-shore. I automatically take him toward the jetty, and I can't help looking all around, just in case the little girl is already here. I keep telling myself not to be scared, but after a moment I notice that Mr. Nash seems to be trembling more than ever, as if pure fear is starting to take over his body. He's clearly terrified, but I'm surprised he lets it show. I thought he was better than that.