The Ghosts of Lakeforth Hotel

by Amy Cross

  “Stop a moment!” he gasps finally, once we're at the start of the jetty. “Have you seen her yet?”

  I look around again, but there's still no sign of the girl.

  “She'll be along shortly,” he continues. “It's cold here. Are you cold, Steven? I'm terribly cold.”

  “It's a bit cold,” I mutter.

  “I'm freezing. Perhaps that's her. Perhaps she means to give me pneumonia.” He sounds agitated now, as he turns and looks around. “Are you sure you don't see her? She must be here, she simply must!”

  Again, I glance all around, but all I see is the bare, pebbly beach stretching in both directions away from the jetty.

  “May the Lord have mercy on my soul,” Mr. Nash continues, shaking so much now that his voice is starting to tremble. “I suspect I know the cause of her reluctance. You must leave me now, boy. Come back in an hour, but go all the way to the hotel first. I imagine the child wants to be alone with me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite. I must negotiate with her alone.”

  I pause for a moment.

  “But... The hotel will still be mine, won't it?” I ask. “Even if I don't stay?”

  “Absolutely. You have done what I asked of you. A deal is a deal, and Jobard Nash does not go back on his word.” He pauses. “I am sure the ghost of Ruth Maywhistle can be reasoned with. I shall present her with an offer she cannot refuse. Even ghosts must have a sense of reason.”

  “But you can't be sure that -”

  “Are you questioning my judgment?” he snaps.

  “No! Of course not!”

  “Then leave! She must be close, but she will only show herself when you are gone. I see no need to delay.”

  I look around one more time, before realizing that the old guy is probably right. If the ghost is truly angry with him, then she probably wants me to go away so she can come and really haunt him. Letting go of the wheelchair, I take a couple of steps back, and then I watch as Mr. Nash reaches down and starts slowly wheeling himself toward the jetty's far end. He looks so lonely and frail as the wheels of his chair squeak in the night air, and I can't help expecting to see the creepy little girl appear at any moment.

  “So you want me to come back in an hour?” I call out to him.

  He doesn't reply. I guess he's focused on the task at hand.

  “I'll come back in an hour,” I stammer, before turning and hurrying back through the forest. I look back a couple of times, but still all I see is the old man in his chair, silhouetted against the glittering lake. Clambering up a steep incline, I can see the lights of the hotel far ahead now, but I look back one more time.

  And I see her.

  The old man is still on the jetty, looking out toward the water. But I can see the silhouette of the girl, too, stepping up behind him.

  My heart is pounding as I watch, but I can't tear myself away. The girl is getting closer and closer to him, and he must know by now that she's there. Maybe she's talking to him, maybe he's begging her for mercy, or maybe -

  Suddenly she's gone again.

  I peer between the trees, but now in the distance all I see is the old man alone once again on the jetty.

  I take a step forward.

  “Leave us!” the girl screams, lunging at me through the darkness and sending me stumbling back until I fall to the ground.

  She's already gone, but now my heart is thudding in my chest. As I scramble to my feet, I see that she's already back down at the jetty, although this time I don't dare stop and watch any longer. Instead, I turn and race between the trees, almost slamming into several in the darkness, before finally I spill out at the edge of the hotel's patio and almost run straight into the swimming pool. I manage to stop myself just in time, however, and I end up staring at the hotel's guests as they sit chattering to one another and drinking wine. The pianist is still playing, and everybody here seems to think that this is just another ordinary evening.

  ***

  “Do you know what your father is?” Mum asks, in-between sips from her latest cocktail. “He's an arse, that's what. Did you know that, Steven? Your father is a grade-one arse. You need to make sure you don't grow up to be like him. The last thing you want is to end up being one of those men who everyone agrees is a total arse. Because everyone does, you know. Back home, I mean. Everyone knows your father is an arse! They all wonder why someone like me is with someone like him.”

  Ignoring her, I look toward the forest and try to imagine what might be happening down at the jetty. It's only half an hour since I left Mr. Nash down there, so it's too early to go back. Besides, the girl seemed to want him alone, and I'm worried that she might not like it if I return. Even though I promised to go back after an hour, I might leave it just a little longer, so that they have time to do whatever needs doing. Maybe the old man has cut a deal with the ghost by now, and everything's fine.

  “What are you sitting like that for?” Mum mutters suddenly.

  Turning to her, I see that she's frowning at me.

  “You look completely stupid,” she continues. “You're sitting all rigid. What's wrong? Aren't you having fun?”

  Looking down, I see that I'm gripping the edges of the seat with my hands.

  “Stop it!” she hisses, slapping me on the shoulder. “Relax, Steven!”

  I lean back in the chair and lay my hands on the arms, and that seems to calm her down for a moment. Besides, she's quickly distracted when Dad wanders over and starts gathering her empty glasses.

  “Don't you think you've had enough, dear?” he asks. “Too many more of these, and you'll be in danger of turning into a shrill bitch again. Or are we already past the point of no return for tonight?”

  “Go screw yourself,” she grumbles.

  “Well no-one else is going to screw me tonight.”

  “Ha-bloody-ha. Why would anybody want to go near you? And I'll drink whatever I bloody well want, thank you very much.”

  She snaps her fingers at a passing waiter.

  “Another!”

  “Are you sure that's wise?” Dad asks her, as the waiter heads back inside.

  “Oh, I've done a lot of unwise things already in my life,” she replies. “Like marrying you.”

  Sighing, Dad turns to walk away, before glancing at me.

  “Steven, don't sit like that!” he snaps. “You look bloody stupid!”

  Realizing that I've been gripping the chair's arms again, I sit up straight. Dad's looking at me with a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

  “Leave the boy alone,” Mum tells him. “If he wants to sit slumped all evening, then let him. It's not like -”

  Suddenly an agonized screams rings out, and everybody turns to look toward the forest. Getting to my feet, I immediately realize where the scream is coming from, and the horrific sound continues for several more seconds, twisting and rising through the night air before cutting short as suddenly as it began.

  “What the hell was that?” Dad asks, as he and a couple of other men hurry past the pool, as if they're going to run into the forest and investigate.

  “Mr. Nash,” I whisper.

  “What did you say?” Mum asks, staring at me. “Steven, why would that be Mr. Nash? Mr. Nash always spends his evenings in his office, he never leaves the -”

  Before she can finish, the cry rings out again, sounding a little choked this time. Whatever's happening down there, he sounds like he's in absolute agony, and already some of the men are hurrying into the forest. I know I should probably go with them, so that maybe I can explain what's happening, but I'm too scared to move so instead I simply sit in my chair and wait as the scream dies down. All my bravery from earlier has slipped away.

  “I wouldn't like to be that poor bugger,” Mum mutters, taking another sip from her cocktail. “Whoever he is.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “Is he dead?”

  The doctor hurries across the lobby, speaking into a mobile phone. Running after him, I try to hear what he's s
aying, but he's talking about drugs and all these medical terms that I don't understand. Even by the time we get to the hotel's main door, I haven't figured out whether Mr. Nash has been saved.

  “Is he dead?” I ask again, stopping at the top of the steps and watching as the doctor heads to his car. “Do I get the hotel now?”

  I know he's not going to answer. To him, I'm just a stupid kid. The hotel is bustling this morning, and everyone wants to know what happened last night. Several men ran down to the jetty, and there are rumors that they found Mr. Nash out of his wheelchair, screaming on the jetty's wooden boards and crying out. Those of us by the pool certainly heard plenty more screams until the old man was finally carried back through the forest, and I caught a glimpse of him as he was taken inside. Since then, he's been up in his office and there have been no more cries, although all the hotel's guests seem very worried.

  The doctor takes something from the boot of his car, before coming back toward the hotel.

  “Is he dead?” I ask, staying in the doorway, hoping to keep him from coming through before he's answered. “Please, I just -”

  “Out of the way,” he mutters, putting a hand on my shoulder and pushing me aside.

  “I just want to know!” I continue, rushing after him.

  “Steven!” Mum calls out from the door to the dining room. “Come here at once!”

  “Not now!” I hiss, still walking after the doctor. “This is important, I just need to -”

  “Steven!”

  Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turn and find Mum standing behind me. She looks hungover, as usual, although hangovers tend to leave her confined to bed. This time she's up and about, and she looks awful. There are bags under her eyes, she's pale, and her hair is a mess. She stares at me for a moment, as if she's worried about something, and then she crouches down in front of me as if she wants to look more carefully into my eyes.

  “What?” I ask, worried that she knows something about last night. “Is Mr. Nash dead?”

  “I don't think so,” she replies, “not yet, but...”

  Her voice trails off.

  “People are wondering how he got all the way down there,” she continues finally. “He was in a wheelchair, so it's hardly likely that he could have made it through the forest all by himself. And I can't help noticing that you weren't around for a while during the evening.” She pauses again. “What did he talk to you about yesterday morning? When he called you to his room, I mean. You never really explained.”

  I swallow hard. “Nothing.”

  “Don't lie to me, Steven. This is important.”

  “You smell bad,” I tell her.

  “I beg your -”

  “You smell of alcohol and sweat,” I continue, taking a step back. “And vomit. You look rough as a dog.”

  Her eyes widen with shock.

  “What I talked to Mr. Nash about,” I add, “is none of your business. It's between me and him. If he'd wanted you to know, he'd have told you. In fact, he specifically told me not to tell anyone else. He said nobody would believe us, and I think he was right. He also said that a good businessman never divulges the terms of a deal to outsiders. So you see, I can't tell you!”

  “Steven...”

  “So why don't you just go and argue with Dad some more? That's what people like you always do when we're on holiday, isn't it?”

  “People like...”

  Her voice trails off, but there are tears in her eyes and I can tell I've upset her. Good. That's what I wanted. She and Dad are always so mean to me, and I'm sick of it.

  “Steven Culshaw?”

  Turning, I see that the pretty receptionist is coming down the stairs.

  “Steven,” she says cautiously, as if she's a little shocked by something, “I need you to come with me. Mr. Nash has asked to see you again.”

  “Why?” Mum asks, getting to her feet.

  “I'm sorry,” she continues, “but I'm not at liberty to say. Mr. Nash simply said that he wishes to speak with Steven alone, and that nobody else is permitted to go into the room with him. Honestly, that's more or less all I know.”

  Turning to Mum, I can see the confusion in her eyes.

  “It's nothing to do with you,” I tell her, feeling a flutter of excitement in my chest. “Go and argue with Dad. Or if you can't find him, have another drink. Those are the two things you do best.”

  ***

  “She came to me,” Mr. Nash groans, barely able to get the words out at all since one side of his face was frozen by the stroke. “I saw her, for the first time in...”

  His voice trails off, and for a moment he seems impossibly breathless.

  “I'll be right outside,” the doctor says, and I can tell he's reluctant to leave at all. “Mr. Nash, if you -”

  “Leave us,” the old man gurgles, his body briefly shuddering on the bed. “Go, man! Go!”

  We sit in silence for a moment as the doctor heads out of the room. I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to say, and for now I'm just horrified by the change in Mr. Nash's appearance. The left side of his face seems so saggy and dead, and the eye is closed. His right side is able to move a little, but not much, and he seems to be struggling just to draw breath.

  “I underestimated her anger,” he continues finally. “She was an ordinary, unremarkable girl when she was alive. I suppose I thought that she'd still be the same now, underneath it all.”

  “Wasn't she?” I ask.

  “I changed her. I suppose it was me, anyway. The manner of her death, and the death of her sister, must have driven her insane. I cannot pretend to understand it all, but I saw the fury in her eyes. I tried to explain the deal, but she wouldn't listen. She was trying desperately to bring her rotten body up from the water. She tried over and over to climb the jetty's wooden legs, but each time she fell back. I fear that she needed her body, in order to do to me the things she feels I deserve.”

  “And she didn't manage it?”

  “I cried out. I'm sure you heard me. In-between her attempts to raise her body, I believe she was trying to drive me out of my mind. She knows everything about what I did. She didn't before, but now she understands. About how she died, about what really happened to her sister... I suppose she learned long ago, from those wretched Desermes people. I tried to offer her a deal, but she was too emotional. Emotions have no place in business, Steven. One must be rational and calm. She should learn that.”

  I sit and wait for him to continue. Honestly, I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to say, and I'm still thinking that maybe this old man is partly out of his mind. I mean, I know the girl is real, but Mr. Nash seems totally nuts. I wonder whether, once I get away from the madness a little, I'll start to think that none of this really happened.

  “How did Ruth Maywhistle die?” I ask finally.

  I wait but he doesn't reply.

  “How did Ruth Maywhistle die?” I ask again. “Why is she haunting the hotel? Did you...”

  My voice trails off.

  “Did you kill her?” I whisper.

  “I did what was necessary.”

  Feeling a shudder pass through my chest, I realize that I'm right. I don't suppose I need to know the details, not really, but it's obvious that Mr. Nash killed the little girl many years ago.

  “And what happened to her sister?” I ask.

  Again, he doesn't reply.

  “You said the sister's name was Mary,” I continue. “How did she die?”

  “Smothered,” he says after a moment. “There was nothing left for her. She was a pointless thing, just a burden on others. I put her out of her misery.”

  “You...”

  I pause, realizing what he means.

  “You killed her too?”

  “I performed an act of kindness,” he replies. “Emotion clouds decisions, Steven. You must remember that, you must...”

  He pauses, and I watch as a single tear runs from his left eye. His mouth is trembling, as if he's on the verge of speaking but can't qu
ite get the words out.

  “It's all too late,” he stammers finally. “She won't leave me alone. She'll come back, she'll come to the hotel eventually, to finish me off!”

  I watch as he tries to get up. His body is wrecked, and he quickly slumps back down against the bed. Struggling to draw breath, he seems to be panicking, and finally he looks over toward the door.

  “Have you seen her here?” he gasps. “This morning, I mean. Has she come up here yet?”

  “I -”

  “I can't see her again! Not after last night! I can't, I just can't! I have to make her stay away!”

  “You said not to be emotional,” I reply. “Aren't you -”

  “I have to destroy this place,” he stammers suddenly, starting to sound more agitated than ever. “The hotel cannot be allowed to remain. As long as the hotel stands, she'll keep coming after me! I have to destroy it, and then I have to get as far away from here as possible!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It's over,” he continues, trying but failing to lift himself from the bed. Letting out another pained gasp, he collapses back down. “You must help me, boy! You must help me get out of here as quickly as possible! And then I shall arrange for the Lakeforth to be utterly destroyed! This cursed place must be torn down, or burned, or otherwise leveled so that nothing remains here but flat, salted land! I was a fool to think that I could ever turn this place into something special. I am still the same common runt that I was all those years ago. My whole miserable life has been a lie! If we...”

  He hesitates, as if some deep thought has suddenly struck him dumb.

  “If we are born in the mud,” he whispers finally, “we can never entirely rinse ourselves clean. I have tried to be something I am not. I am a fool. This hotel... I must have it torn down.”

  “The hotel is mine!” I remind him, trying not to panic. He seems to be completely out of his mind, as if fear has turned him into a total psycho.