Dead Gorgeous

by Malorie Blackman

  ‘Every penny we had.’ Dad hoped the truth sounded more nonchalant than desperate. H e allowed himself a faint satisfied smile. ‘But it was worth it.’

  ‘Did you have the place completely rebuilt?’

  ‘No, the structure was still sound. But we had it gutted and completely refurbished. We moved rooms around, split some rooms in two, knocked some together, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Any hidden staircases or secret passages?’ Mr Jackman joked.

  ‘Not a one,’ Dad laughed.

  ‘Shame!’ said Mr Jackman, his smile fading. ‘Secret passages conjure up so many images, don’t they? Like memory mazes. Turn the next corner and catch the long forgotten scent of a dark-time dream or a daytime nightmare.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Dad said doubtfully. ‘Are you into that sort of thing then?’

  Mr Jackman shrugged. ‘So how long did it take to renovate this place?’

  ‘Over a year.’

  ‘It used to be called Manor Hotel, didn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right. We changed the name to Phoenix Manor – kind of like a new hotel rising out of the ashes of the old one. My wife thought of the name actually. But when she suggested it, I said, “Karmah, the name’s a good ’un.” And I was right. The name suits the place.’

  ‘Yes,’ Mr Jackman said, looking around slowly. ‘Yes, it does. Well, I’d best be getting on.’ Mr Jackman turned and headed for the stairs.

  Dad studied him, unsure what to make of what had just happened. Maybe the man was finally mellowing out. And not before time either. ‘Oh, just a minute,’ he called after Mr Jackman. ‘Talking of secret passages, there was one – well, sort of one – that was found soon after building work had begun.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Mr Jackman was back at the reception desk in a flash. ‘Where was that?’

  ‘Down in the cellar, but it wasn’t much of a passage. It stopped dead after about fifty or so metres and there was solid rock and earth after that.’

  ‘Did you try to dig through it?’

  Dad raised his eyebrows. ‘Now why on earth would we do that? I wanted to rebuild the hotel, not tunnel under it like a mole.’

  ‘Where’s the entrance to this passage?’ asked Mr Jackman. ‘Is it still in the cellar? Can I see it?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. It’s kept permanently locked. We have a state-of-the-art wine cellar and storage facility down there, with some excellent vintages . . .’

  But Dad was talking to Mr Jackman’s back. Mr Jackman ran up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. Well, so much for thinking the man was getting better. He was just as rude as ever. Dad turned back to his computer screen, then sighed deeply as he remembered what he’d been doing.

  Money! How could the hotel make more money?

  25. Nova

  Nova just couldn’t get comfortable. She tried her back, her front, then both sides – but nothing doing. She switched on her bedside light and tilted her alarm clock. It was past two in the morning. So much for sleep then. Maybe a glass of milk would help? Yeah, a glass of warm milk instead of something acidic or fizzy. And milk tasted absolutely foul when it came up again, so she’d be more likely to try and keep it down. And then Liam couldn’t accuse her of not even trying to get better. So milk it was.

  Wondering why she cared so much about Liam’s opinion, Nova swung out of bed, pushing her feet into her fluffy purple slippers. She grabbed her matching dressing gown from the bottom of the bed before heading out of her room. The hotel would certainly be locked up for the night and the last thing she wanted to do was wake anyone up. Th e low-level lighting on the stairs and landing was more than enough to see by, but it was still strange walking through the hotel when it was this tranquil. During the day Nova sometimes had to fight to hear herself think but this was so different, it was unnerving. Pulling her dressing gown tighter around her against the cool night air, she carried on down the stairs.

  She was on the top step just past the first-floor landing when she heard strange sounds coming from below. Peering over the banister, she strained to see who – or what – was making the noise. Then she tiptoed down the stairs, feeling strangely nervous, and leaned over the banister. The thuds were coming from the direction of the kitchen. It was probably just Mum or Dad or the twins up to one of their silly tricks – or Liam. It certainly wouldn’t be anything for her to be afraid of. Liam was a ghost, for heaven’s sake! And if he didn’t freak her out, then nothing could.

  Nova crept towards the slightly ajar kitchen door. A strange yellow light bounced on and off around the door. First it was there, then it wasn’t – like a torch being shone around, or swung around. And then the light was gone. She waited for a few moments but the light didn’t come on again. She pushed open the door. ‘Dad, is that you?’ she whispered.

  Nothing.

  No way was she going to go stumbling around in the dark. She switched on the light. The door leading down to the cellar was open and Mum always made sure she locked it at night before she went to bed. Nova walked across to the door and hesitated at the top of the stairs. The bad thing about the cellar was you had to go down the stairs to switch on the light. It was one of those things Dad was going to fix if he ever got round to it.

  ‘Mum? Dad? Are you down there?’

  Silence. But someone was definitely down there. The hairs standing up on the back of her neck told her that much.

  ‘Liam . . .’ Nova whispered.

  But it couldn’t be Liam. He didn’t need to open doors to get through them.

  ‘If you don’t come out now, I’m going to get my mum and dad,’ Nova challenged with far more courage than she was feeling.

  A torch flicked on immediately. With all the light from it spilling forward, it was hard to tell who was holding it.

  ‘The light switch is on the wall at the foot of the stairs,’ Nova called out.

  Still shrouded in shadow, the person moved towards the switch and moments later the cellar was flooded with light.

  ‘Mr Jackman!’ Nova frowned.

  Nova and Mr Jackman regarded each other, neither of them moving, neither of them even blinking.

  ‘What’re you doing down there?’ asked Nova, noting the torch in his hand.

  ‘I was looking for something.’

  ‘What?’

  Mr Jackman didn’t answer.

  ‘Did you find it?’ asked Nova.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Maybe I can help you look for it?’ Nova and Mr Jackman still didn’t take their eyes off each other. It was as if they were saying one thing and talking about something entirely different – and they both knew it.

  ‘I think you’ve found it. . . or should I say him, already.’

  ‘You were looking for Liam in the cellar?’ Nova wasn’t quite sure she understood.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Mr Jackman.

  ‘I’m not with you.’

  Mr Jackman scrutinized Nova before speaking. ‘I’m looking for an entrance to the tunnels your dad was telling me about earlier.’

  ‘The tunnels? Dad had the entrance padlocked ages ago,’ said Nova. ‘And there was just one tunnel, not tunnels plural.’

  ‘I was talking to Miss Eve earlier and she said there’s supposed to be a whole network of tunnels running under this hotel and the grounds,’ said Mr Jackman. ‘If your dad and the builders only found one, then I think there must’ve been some kind of collapse or cave-in which blocked off access to the rest. And I need to find them.’

  ‘Did you find the entrance in the cellar then?’

  ‘Not yet. It’s a big cellar and I’d only just started looking when you arrived.’

  ‘But why? What’s so special about the tunnels?’

  ‘It’s the only place Liam can be,’ Mr Jackman said after a long pause.

  ‘What’re you talking about? Liam’s all over the place. Believe me, I know. Nothing happens in this hotel without him knowing about it.’

  ‘I’m talking about his . . . body.’
/>   An ice-cold shiver shot up through Nova’s body. Horrified, she stared at Mr Jackman. She’d never once thought about that. She’d never even considered the possibility that Liam’s body was still somewhere in or around the hotel.

  ‘I think that’s why he’s still at this hotel, why he can’t leave,’ said Mr Jackman.

  ‘Who told you he couldn’t leave?’ asked Nova.

  ‘Oh, come on. It’s obvious. Why would he hang around this hotel otherwise?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Nova bristled.

  ‘I’m not insulting your hotel. But if you had the choice, would you spend eternity in this place?’ asked Mr Jackman.

  Nova didn’t answer. It was only now that the full impact of what was going on between Mr Jackman and Liam hit Nova. Mr Jackman was obviously Liam’s dad. It explained so much. But wait a second . . . he couldn’t be Liam’s dad, could he? Liam was at least fifteen or sixteen and Mr Jackman didn’t look like he was even thirty yet – not that Nova was any good at guessing adults’ ages. Maybe Mr Jackman was really old but looked very good for his age?

  ‘How did you know he’d be here in the first place?’ asked Nova.

  ‘I didn’t. But this used to be one of his favourite places before your family took it over. I knew he wouldn’t just disappear for all these years without ever trying to get in touch with me. So that meant only one thing.’

  ‘That he’d died?’ Nova whispered.

  Mr Jackman nodded, his expression grim. ‘That he’d died. So I’ve spent the last few years trying to find out what happened to him. If I could just find him and make sure he has a decent burial, then he might be able to rest in peace.’

  ‘Dad’s not going to let you go digging up his cellar and his gardens,’ said Nova.

  ‘Then you’ll have to get Liam to tell me exactly where his body is,’ argued Mr Jackman.

  ‘I’ll ask him. That doesn’t mean he’ll tell me,’ Nova pointed out. ‘I know . . . I know you’re his dad but Liam really wants you to leave.’

  Mr Jackman’s mouth fell open. ‘I’m not Liam’s dad.’

  ‘His uncle then.’

  ‘I’m not his uncle either,’ said Mr Jackman. ‘My name is Joshua Jackman.’ At Nova’s blank look, he added quietly, ‘Liam’s not my son or my nephew. He’s my brother.’

  26. Nova

  ‘Your brother . . .? But he can’t be.’ Nova couldn’t take it in. ‘Liam said he had a younger brother called Josh.’

  ‘I’m his younger brother.’

  ‘But he’s sixteen at most.’ Nova shook her head. ‘You’re way up there!’

  Mr Jackman smiled dryly. ‘I’m twenty-four in a couple of months.’

  ‘Like I said!’ Nova said, her point proven.

  ‘Liam died over ten years ago,’ said Mr Jackman. ‘When he appeared to me he looked exactly the same as the last time I saw him . . . alive. Ghosts obviously don’t grow older. But I do.’

  ‘But. . . but . . .’ Nova blinked like a dazzled owl as she struggled to grasp what Mr Jackman was saying. ‘That’s . . . that’s . . . horrible. Poor Liam!’

  Nova could hardly imagine what it must be like for Liam. How must he feel, seeing Mr Jackman and knowing who he was. Mr Jackman was Liam’s younger brother, but now older and alive, while Liam was stuck. Stuck in the hotel. Stuck in time. Stuck like a fly in a spider’s web. No wonder Mr Jackman was so desperate to free Liam – one way or another. Nova had assumed Liam had only been at the hotel for a few months, a year or two at most. And she’d never dreamt that he’d actually died so close to her home. Maybe even in her home if Mr Jackman was wrong about the tunnels. But to be here for over ten years. Even now, Nova still had trouble wrapping her mind around the idea.

  ‘Will you help me, Nova?’ asked Mr Jackman. ‘Please?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘What in the name of ruddy hell is going on here?’ Dad’s incredulous voice boomed out behind them, making Nova jump.

  ‘Ah, Mr Clibbens,’ began Mr Jackman as he headed up the stairs to the kitchen. ‘I was just talking to your daughter about the history of this hotel.’

  ‘At two o’clock in the morning? Have you lost your mind?’ Dad said angrily. ‘Nova, what’s going on?’

  ‘I just came downstairs to get myself a glass of milk,’ Nova explained. ‘And I saw Mr Jackman down here and we just got chatting.’

  ‘At two o’clock in the morning?’ Dad repeated.

  ‘I’m sorry. It was all my fault,’ said Mr Jackman. ‘I should’ve insisted that Nova go straight back to bed.’

  ‘And just what’re you doing down in my wine cellar?’ asked Dad.

  ‘I must admit, I became intrigued with the idea of the tunnels you were talking about earlier, so I thought I’d have a look and see if maybe there was another entrance to them somewhere down there . . . somewhere.’

  Dad’s expression was dropping in temperature with every passing second. ‘At two o’clock in the morning?’

  ‘I’m afraid, when I get an idea in my head, I like to go with it.’ Mr Jackman smiled apologetically.

  ‘At two o’clock in the morning?’

  Mr Jackman shrugged.

  ‘And how did you get into the cellar in the first place? My wife always locks up last thing at night,’ said Dad.

  ‘I’m afraid I picked the lock,’ said Mr Jackman. ‘You know, you should open up the tunnels as a genuine historical attraction. I’m sure loads of people would love to explore the route smugglers took centuries ago – and you do own the land around the hotel, don’t you?’

  ‘I am not going to stand here discussing real estate at two o’clock in the morning,’ said Dad, his tone hard as stone. ‘Nova, go to bed. I want to have a word in private with Mr Jackman.’

  ‘But, Dad, we can explain . . .’

  Dad turned to look at Nova and the look alone was enough to quell everything else she wanted to say. For once, she didn’t argue. She’d never seen her Dad quite so steamingly irate before, not even when the twins had smuggled a live snake into the hotel as their new pet and it’d got lost in one of the occupied guest bedrooms.

  Nova headed out of the kitchen. At the door, she turned to see her dad standing in front of Mr Jackman. ‘Dad . . .?’ she began.

  ‘Go to bed, Nova,’ Dad repeated softly.

  Nova did as she was told and headed back to her room. She could only hope that Dad would give Mr Jackman a chance to explain. But somehow, she doubted it.

  27. Miss Dawn and Miss Eve

  The early morning sunshine streamed through the hotel lounge windows, dancing on the table where Miss Dawn and Miss Eve sat playing gin rummy. Not for money, of course. Miss Dawn didn’t hold with such things.

  ‘Things aren’t going too well for the Jackman family, are they?’ smiled Miss Eve.

  Miss Dawn studied her companion, before she leaned forward to pick up a card from the deck. ‘How sad to only find happiness in the misfortunes of others.’

  ‘I just meant that neither brother is distinguishing himself at the moment.’

  ‘They’ll be all right.’ Miss Dawn carefully placed a card onto the discard pile.

  ‘Oh, Miss Dawn, wake up. Liam may be ten years older but he’s not ten years wiser. He’s still full of rage and resentment, anger and animosity, hatred and hostility.’

  ‘Spare me the alliteration, please.’ Miss Dawn was distinctly unimpressed.

  Miss Eve sat back. Miss Dawn rearranged every card in her hand at least once, deliberately not looking at Miss Eve.

  ‘Don’t pin your hopes on Liam,’ Miss Eve said softly, picking up another card. ‘He’s lonely. And his loneliness is clouding his judgement.’

  ‘When the time comes, he’ll do the right thing,’ Miss Dawn said confidently.

  ‘Not a chance. He’s going to mess up. I can see all the signs,’ said Miss Eve.

  ‘Signs can be misleading.’

  ‘Signs can show you exactly which way the wind is blowing. And by the way – gin!’ Miss Eve said smugly, l
aying her cards on the table.

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Miss Dawn, laying her cards face down. ‘We’ll see!’

  Miss Eve asked irritably, ‘Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?’

  28. The Eavesdropper

  ‘To be honest, I didn’t think you’d remember,’ said Andrew.

  ‘Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this all morning,’ smiled Raye. ‘I even had my breakfast extra early so we could have a longer walk – but don’t let it go to your head!’

  Andrew laughed. ‘I won’t.’

  He and Raye exchanged a genuinely friendly smile. They’d been walking and talking together for almost an hour, although the time had flown by. They’d walked around the hotel grounds and through part of the copse. Now they stood a couple of metres away from the cliff edge, looking out over the bay. Andrew tilted his head to one side as he studied Raye’s profile. She really was quite a stunner. If only Kieran and Raoul and some of his other friends could see her. And, more importantly, see him with her. Funny, but when Andrew first saw her, he hadn’t thought she was anything much. But the closer he got and the longer he looked, the better she appeared!

  After a few moments she turned. ‘Do I have something nasty hanging off my nose?’

  Andrew laughed, but it quickly faded. ‘Raye, you’re not . . . you’re not what I expected,’ he admitted.

  ‘Oh please!’ Liam said from beside them. ‘How long have you been practising that line with that sincere look?’

  ‘What were you expecting?’ asked Raye, oblivious to the eavesdropper who’d been with them since they’d left the hotel.

  ‘A bimbo airhead,’ Liam provided.

  ‘Someone who wasn’t as witty and pretty and fun,’ said Andrew.

  ‘Pass me a bucket someone.’ Liam stuck two fingers down his throat, as he glared at Andrew. What a shame neither Andrew nor Raye could see him. How he would’ve loved to scare the living daylights out of Mister Fake over there. And those lines he was coming out with, they were straight out of Cheesy Chat-up Lines –Volume One!