‘Good job,’ says Klint, putting his knife and fork together neatly on his empty plate. ‘The police will sort him out.’
The cook, a large man with a bushy beard and a striped apron, comes over with a sheepish expression. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Is everything OK?’ asks Klint.
The cook sighs. ‘He’s a regular, a local businessman. We’ve had him barred before, but it only lasts three months, and he’s back again.’ He glances at our empty plates. ‘Can I get you some dessert?’
‘Yes, that would be great, thanks,’ I say. If we stick around, there might be some more drama.
While we’re waiting for dessert (and the police) to appear, I go for a poke around the dimly lit back of the restaurant as I glimpse some photos on the wall. There’s nothing too exciting—only some old black-and-white shots of the hotel. I move around the corner, and my eye lands on a gold-framed certificate proclaiming, ‘THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED!’
It states that the Ghost Research Foundation has undertaken a study and found‘conclusive evidence’of ghost phenomena within the building—and to ‘watch out as there are ghosts about’. I groan inwardly. That must be why Dain asked if I was the nervous type. Did Klint know about this when he booked our room? I hotfoot it back to the table, where he’s on his second pint of cider, and sit down hurriedly.
‘Oh, hey, do you want another G and T?’
‘No thanks. Did you know this place was haunted before you booked it?’ I say accusingly.
Klint raises his eyebrows at my tone.
‘Um, no, I didn’t. What makes you think it is?’
‘I found a certificate in the back over there. Some research foundation did a study, and they found “conclusive evidence of ghosts”.’ My voice rises an octave, but Klint doesn’t look fazed.
‘Calm down. It’s probably a marketing ploy. They have to say something to get people to stay here since it’s out of town.’
I take a deep breath. ‘If that’s the case, it would’ve been front and centre on their website when you booked. The fact that it’s on a certificate hidden in a back room suggests that it’s legit. We can’t stay here.’
Icannotstay in a haunted hotel. I’m the sort of highly strung person a ghost would appear to, and Ido notwant to see it. Once, I stayed in a spooky hotel with a group of friends on a murder mystery weekend, and it was horrible. Of course, everyone else slept like a baby; and I was up all night, having panic attacks every time a floorboard creaked.
Klint clicks his tongue. ‘It’s too late to find something else, so we’ll have to stay tonight at least. Even if it is haunted, which I highly doubt, a ghost isn’t going to hurt you,’ he says.
‘It said “phenomena”, so it’s more than just one!’
The cook comes in with our dishes of chocolate cake with caramel sauce and vanilla ice cream. ‘Here you go.’ He sees my mournful expression and enquires, ‘Everything all right?’
Klint answers for me. ‘Lizzy is worried there are ghosts floating around.’
The cook smiles at me reassuringly. ‘Nothing to worry about. I’ve been working here for seven years, and I’ve never seen anything.’
My anxiety eases. ‘So the certificate I saw is silly nonsense?’
‘Well ... I wouldn’t say it’s entirely unfounded. But it’s only people staying in room 6 on the old side of the hotel that tend to complain about things going bump in the night.’
My anxiety returns doublefold. ‘But we’re in room 6!’ I exclaim, staring at him wide-eyed in horror.
The cook gives me a pitying look and decides this is a good time to slink off back to the kitchen.
‘Maybe we can shift rooms,’ I say to Klint, who’s digging into his pudding with gusto.
‘I think you’re being overly dramatic,’ he replies, licking ice cream off his spoon. ‘Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve watched those ghost shows. They set up their cameras and audio equipment in a “supposedly” haunted house for a night. There’s always a massive build-up, and it’s usually a big let-down because nothing whatsoever happens. So if you do see anything, I’ll be mightily surprised. Anyway, I’ll be there. Just wake me up if you’re scared.’
I reach over to place my hand on his to show my gratitude, which he allows. But after a moment, he moves it away, saying softly with a side glance at the bar, ‘Sorry, you know how I feel about PDAs.’
I bite my lip.There’s no one around! Unless he’s worried a ghost might see.
Lying in bed later, I roll towards Klint and spoon against him hopefully, but he doesn’t respond. I rub his arm gently, and he tenses. ‘I’m not in the mood,’ he says.
I sigh and roll onto my back. I was hoping sex would enable me to drop off to sleep afterwards, therefore solving the ghost issue. But it seems Klint isn’t going to help me out. ‘Do you mind if I read then?’
