The bottle popped open. “Are you sure you want to know?” he said, looking amused.
“Tell me. Then I can be prepared. Maybe call Ghostbusters or something.” She accepted the glass he poured and went to sit down on the overly large, over stuffed sofa. It was unsightly and needed either reupholstering or burning, but she liked it. It was good to fall asleep on after reading a few chapters of her latest book.
“The lift,” he said, sitting down next to her, within touching distance. “It goes up and down of its own accord and it isn’t an electrical fault—we had it checked by three different electricians. The corridor upstairs—the doors will close and open without human intervention. And there was once when a resident called Mrs Johnson looked at the stairs and said hello to her husband, as did the carer with her, forgetting that Mr Johnson had died two years previously.”
Sorrell nodded. None of this bothered her. She’d grown up with seances and Ouija boards, with the occasional witch popping in for dinner. As much as she was a city girl, she’d been exposed to a very alternative belief system, goddess bless.
“Any objects sent flying or moved? Doors locked? Strange lights moving or people in bedrooms at night?” she said, knowing that any of the above could indicate something more malevolent and the need for a medium. She might do that anyway—bring someone in for a spot of ghost hunting, invite Gwensi and maybe Keren. The Maynards, too—if they were brave enough.
“None of that. Apart from objects being moved,” he said. “And it was all okay really. Photos got shifted round, a book might be opened to a certain page, that sort of thing. Nothing nasty. But enough to make some of the staff only walk round at night in pairs.”
Sorrell snuggled down into the sofa, enjoying the bubbles and the sound of his voice. She missed cosy evenings in with someone, hearing someone else’s voice instead of just her own thoughts. There had been times like that with Mark, the evenings when they had planned the hotel venture and discussed how they’d wanted it to look and how they’d specialise in certain things, like weddings, small, boutique weddings, just like today had been. Now she wasn’t sure if it had been his idea or hers, given that it was her who was living it.
“I haven’t seen or heard anything since I moved here,” she said. “How about the big cottage? What’s the story behind that?”
“It hasn’t been used in a long time,” Zack explained. “We thought about turning it into staff quarters but there was never the need. And then maybe extending it, but it was a bit too far away from the main house and we’d have had to station at least one carer there at all times. I thought about moving in there and renovating it, but it seemed pointless. I didn’t need something that big for just me.”
“And your girlfriends,” she teased.
He laughed but didn’t deny it. She’d heard a little about his exes from Rayah in the past few days. Zack wasn’t the romancer that Jake was, but the only reason he didn’t have a reputation was because Jake had eclipsed him. “Maybe. It was too much of a trek up here though,” he said. “Scott had a spare apartment over the bar; that was a great place to fall after a night out.”
“It’s good to see you don’t deny your past.” She was nonplussed by it. Everyone had a past, including her. Hers was just a little more sedate than Zack’s had probably been. “But then in a small town, it’s probably documented in the local newspaper.”
He laughed. “Kind of. Just ask Gran. I think she knows everything everyone’s ever done in the last two decades. But what about you? You looked thoughtful when I came in before. I’m guessing it’s because of your wedding?”
Sorrell nodded. “Friday December thirteenth.”
“Let me take you out that day.”
She looked at him, questioning whether he was right in the head or not. “I should be out getting drunk with my girlfriends.”
He shrugged. “Why? So you can do a bit of man bashing and talk about how shit your ex was? If I didn’t think you were already over him, that would be a good idea.”
“I’m over him. What I’m not over is how quickly I got over the person I was meant to marry. I’m pretty sure I should still be plotting to sew prawns in the hems of his curtains or something like that.”
“Can you sew?”
”No. But’s that’s not the point.”
“Are you the type of woman who holds a grudge?”
She shook her head. “I don’t forget, but I don’t judge people by their past actions. Only myself for not using information to make a wise decision.”
“Let me take you out on the thirteenth,” he repeated. “Make it the beginning of something new. Let yourself move on. Even if it’s not going to be me you move on with, don’t keep on grieving for something you don’t need to mourn.”
She rested her head back and nursed her glass. “I don’t want to do anything fancy,” she said. “I’d rather just stay here in Severton.”
“Are you taking the day off or can you?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why? I’m not good with surprises, Zack.”
“It’s eleven days before Christmas Eve. That means something Christmas-like will be going on in Severton. I can’t go far anyway—I’m on call that day,” he said.
“When aren’t you on call?” she said with a grin.
He shook his head. “Not for Sunrise; for mountain rescue.”
“Seriously? How did I not know this?” Sorrell sat up and pinned him down with her eyes.
