The Guesthouse. Abbie Frost
She was about to turn back to the drawing room, when Chloe shouted down from above. ‘Come on, Hannah.’ And when she ran up to join them, Chloe grabbed her hand and pulled her along with her.
It didn’t take long to explore the top floor. Their five occupied rooms made up the west wing: Hannah’s number one at the far end of the corridor, Sandeep next to her, then Mo. Lucy’s room, and the family room, were near the top of the stairs.
The east wing had five doors, then a narrow one right at the end: another storage room, the twin of the one next to Hannah’s room, she guessed. A matching window overlooked the front of the house from this side too. When they got to it, Chloe stood for a moment looking down, her fingers pressed to the glass.
All the large rooms had brass door numbers and keypads. Hannah pointed out the beautifully carved wooden rails and cornices, the two ceiling roses in the corridors, each with a sparkling crystal chandelier, and talked about their design.
Mo headed towards the stairs. ‘There must be a cellar down here somewhere.’
‘I’m not sure I can face looking at any more chandeliers,’ said Lucy with a glance at Chloe. ‘Anyone up for trying to find a board game downstairs?’
But Chloe stopped and stared across the hall, through one of the tall windows, her expression dark. ‘It’s Dad.’
Hannah moved to her side and saw Liam trudging up the gravel drive out of the mist, a scowl on his face, no shopping bags in his hands. He couldn’t have been to the village and back already. Hannah bit back her disappointment.
The front door opened and he came in, pushing off the hood of his anorak and shaking rain across the floor. Chloe ran downstairs to him and he bent to give her a hug and a stiff smile.
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, no luck. I made it about halfway. Slow going, I can tell you, bloody treacherous. I met a local idiot on the path, too, and guess what: the village shop is closed for the week because of some stupid annual holiday.’
With Chloe clinging to his arm he went into the kitchen. Hannah felt herself lean against the wall for support.
Mo let out a sigh. ‘Well, that’s that then.’ He turned to Hannah and then his face changed. He frowned and stepped towards her. ‘Are you all right?’
Lucy touched her shoulder and Hannah tried to smile. Her legs felt weak and her brow prickled with sweat, but she was going to be all right. There would be a pub in the village that would sell her a bottle of wine tomorrow.
‘I’m fine, just a bit tired.’ She brushed them away with a weak smile. ‘Didn’t sleep well last night, probably all the excitement. I’ll just go for a lie-down.’ Mo and Lucy watched her as she walked carefully back up the stairs, her trembling hands stuffed into her pockets.
In her room, she sat on the bed and told herself to be calm. It was nothing to worry about, just the stress of everything she’d been going through, the fallout from her disturbed sleep. A nice vodka and Coke would help to steady her nerves.
Her mouth felt dry as she looked around the room. The glass sat on the bedside table, where she’d left it, and so did the Coke. But the vodka had gone.
She looked in the bathroom, on all the surfaces. Checked under the bed, shook out the duvet and threw it on the floor. Dug under the mattress, opened her bag and rifled through her clothes.
Then she slumped on the bed and a horrible thought began to creep its way into her mind. Confused memories of last night came back, that awful dream and her reaching for the bottle in the dark moments between waking and sleep. Could she have drunk the whole thing? If she couldn’t remember finishing a whole bloody bottle in one day and disposing of the evidence, there was something seriously wrong.
She began to pace back and forth across the room. But there had been some left, she was sure of it. And if she was right there was only one possible explanation. Time seemed to slow as she stared at her bed. Looked towards the door.
Someone had been in her room.
She glared at the clothes and bedding strewn all around her. Someone, some creep, must have been in here, tampering with her things. Her skin crawled. She checked her bag again, but everything seemed to be there: purse, credit cards, keys. Were Mo and Lucy taking the piss? She wouldn’t even put it past Liam. He looked the sort to enjoy practical jokes, and he obviously liked a drink.
Or maybe someone was so uptight that they couldn’t bear to have alcohol anywhere near them. But how had they known it was here? And how had they known her key code?
Only Preserve the Past knew that. The website had mentioned a cleaner who came just once a week, but they weren’t due for another four days. Henry wasn’t around, so Hannah was the only one with a record of her booking.
She thought back over the past few hours.
There seemed to be only one short period when someone could have got in. She had wedged her door open and gone to see why Chloe was crying. That ruled out the family and Lucy, because she had listened outside their doors. Even Mo was unlikely, so that left Sandeep.
His room was close to hers and he had been acting strangely, hadn’t talked much over dinner. Maybe he didn’t approve of alcohol.
But he was just a harmless old guy who didn’t seem all that steady on his feet. She would have heard him shuffling down the corridor, too. Unless.
In the bathroom she splashed her face with water. Stared at the mirror and thought about what was on the other side of her wall. She wouldn’t have heard Sandeep if he had hidden in the little storage room, waiting in the dark for his chance.
She crept out into the empty corridor and stared at the keypad beside the mysterious door. Think, think. What was the code? But when she slapped the door in frustration, she felt the latch open and the door give way. She pushed harder and fell inside, the door shutting behind her.
The room was gloomy, just the sort of place where someone could hide. If this door had been on the latch last night, it would have been easy to wait in here and slip into her room.
She could make out a desk and on it a small lamp. When she hit the switch, the bulb cast just enough light to illuminate dusty surfaces and spider webs. She was in some kind of office, one that hadn’t been used in a very long time. A few rotten floorboards had fallen through, leaving splintered holes. There was no way Henry Laughton did his paperwork in here.
The desk was clear of everything but dust. Hannah brushed off the chair, sat down cautiously in case it gave way, and opened one of the drawers. A pile of small hardback books in various dark colours: red, blue, black. Picking one up she read the first few pages and then did the same to the next one. She counted ten diaries altogether, ranging from twenty to ten years ago. These must belong to the previous owners: the Fallons. She remembered Mo talking animatedly about them over dinner, about stuff he’d seen on Preserve the Past website. The family had died out some years ago, their house falling into disrepair, then the Trust had taken over.
It seemed wrong to look, but she carried on flicking through the pages. There were no scandalous confessions, just occasional initials and times on various pages, for what were obviously appointments. O.H. 3pm, Doc L. 9am, etc. There wasn’t even a name in the front or any phone numbers and addresses. On one page she spotted a star beside a word in capitals: MADDIE. Checking the other books, she saw it appeared in them all. Someone’s birthday perhaps.
The second drawer contained only a notepad and a couple of pens. As she piled the diaries back in, a piece of torn paper fluttered to the ground, with a sentence scrawled on one side.
She’s been fed so DO NOT give her any more. Just some water. J.
Must be about a pet. She slipped the paper into the notepad and moved towards the window. When she pulled