Hannah held up a hand. ‘None of my business. I just wanted to meet you, to say “hello”.’
‘Hello,’ Gwen said. She realised that she’d folded her arms across her body. Not very friendly. She forced them to unknot, put them by her sides.
‘There are a few old families still around. My lot, the Ash family, are Avon way, the Irons are Somerset, I don’t know the Willows very well but they’re in Dorset. You know what it’s like, can’t live too close. That just causes problems.’
‘Right,’ Gwen said. She felt a little faint.
‘I pass through this way at least once a month, usually around this time. Or you can ask one of the other river folk — they’ll pass a message on. Just if you ever need anything.’ Hannah gave Gwen a final look, raised a hand in a half-wave and jumped back onto the boat. She ducked through a low doorway and was gone.
*
Katie had arrived at The Grange for her afternoon shift. Anna was in the staff room, tying her hair into plaits and looking hot and bothered. ‘Can you believe we’ve got to work in this weather? It’s inhumane.’
‘Agreed,’ Katie said. Her back was damp with sweat just from walking through the grounds. She hung her bag on a peg and sat down to change her sandals for shoes. It was like forcing mini ovens onto her feet.
‘I feel sorry for the bride,’ Anna said. ‘I mean, everyone wants sunshine on their big day, but this…’ She waved one hand as if the heat had overcome her ability to finish sentences.
‘Agreed,’ Katie said again. She was trying not to think about Max, and failing. Raking through the lost property with him had been about the most exciting thing that had happened to her all year. ‘What? Sorry.’
‘Heatstroke,’ Anna said, as if that finished the matter. Then she slugged back some water from a bottle and pushed through the door into the kitchen.
Katie was working the main function room, ferrying plate after plate of melon and prosciutto and dodging Frank’s wrath. The sun was beating through the tall glass windows and everyone from the waiting staff to the groom was sweating.
As soon as she’d served the last of the starters, Katie went to find Anna. ‘We need more fans.’
She set up three more electric fans around the edges of the room and a woman with silver-grey bobbed hair smiled and said, ‘Bless you.’ The air movement helped, but the temperature was still very high. Katie wondered how many guests would nod off during the speeches and she hoped the family would keep them snappy.
Katie had just finished serving sparkling wine to every table and making sure the kids had lemonade or orange juice when the best man rose and tapped his glass. The room fell quiet, apart from the drone of the oscillating fans.
Katie retreated behind the serving tables and carried on working as unobtrusively as possible. She knew from bitter experience that if you waited respectfully while the toasts were being made, you ended up in a mad rush afterwards. Fascinators bobbed gently in the breeze from the fans and the best man’s voice, soporific in the best of circumstances, droned on.
‘He’s a bore, isn’t he?’
Katie had been quietly boxing up slices of cake and hadn’t noticed the woman approach. She had brown bobbed hair and a peach satin dress. Instead of the ubiquitous fascinator, she had a silver and black Alice band with a geometric design. She smiled widely at Katie’s appraisal and lifted a hand to her head. ‘Do you like it? It’s the latest thing. Du mode.’
The woman was younger than Katie had first thought. Younger than her, in fact. Katie smiled politely. She didn’t want to be rude, but carrying out a conversation, even quietly, was bad manners during the wedding speeches.
‘What kind of cake is that?’
Of course, ignoring guests was probably worse. ‘The bottom tier is chocolate cake, the middle tier is pineapple passion cake and the top tier is vanilla sponge. The boxes are labelled.’ Katie indicated the pile she’d already filled. ‘The bride wanted people to have a choice.’
The girl wrinkled her nose. ‘Fruit cake is traditional. You’re meant to keep the top tier and have it on your first wedding anniversary. Sponge will spoil.’
Katie looked around, anxiously, but no one seemed to have noticed their conversation. They were all watching the father of the bride and swigging table water, fanning themselves with wedding programmes.
‘I don’t understand the way people do things nowadays.’
Katie repressed the urge to laugh. The girl was seventeen or eighteen tops.
‘And look at that.’ The girl nodded towards the top table. ‘The bride is making a speech.’
‘And why not?’ Katie shrugged.
The girl pursed her lips. ‘It’s not traditional.’
Katie wanted to tell her that wedding traditions like wearing white and taking your husband’s name were throwbacks to a more sexist time but she didn’t want to argue with a MOP. Plus, she had the sneaking suspicion that, given the opportunity, she’d be wearing one of those elegant ivory gowns, too.
‘I’m Violet, by the way.’ The girl trailed her hand lightly across the surface of the table. ‘Is this real linen?’
‘I don’t know,’ Katie said. She added ‘sorry’ to make it sound more subservient. Truth was, the girl was starting to make her a little bit uncomfortable. She had a very intense gaze.
‘Would you like some cake?’ Katie asked, holding out a slice.
‘Oh, no.’ The girl’s hair didn’t move as she shook her head; it made Katie’s eyes feel funny. Maybe she really did have heatstroke. ‘I don’t eat cake,’ Violet said. ‘It’s bad for the figure, you know.’
Fuck that, Katie thought. Out loud, she said, ‘Oh, come on. You only live once.’
The best man pulled down a projector screen with a loud clatter and began showing photographs from the groom’s life. Smiling pictures of the groom as a kid, groom as gawky teenager, and many, many pictures of him with groups of friends, red and grinning, drinks in hand. His life before meeting his beloved, of course. Back when he belonged to the best man and hadn’t been bewitched by a female. Katie had only been half listening, but the best man’s bitterness was seeping through.
Wrap it up, buddy, she thought. The emotions that came through during weddings were not always the ones you expected. Katie stopped staring at the carnage and turned to see if the MOP had any way of influencing the best man, but the girl had gone.
*
By the end of the shift, Katie was exhausted. The heat, combined with not sleeping well, made her feel like a zombie.
Outside, she found Max sitting on a low wall. He stood up as she approached and put his hands in his pockets.
‘Hello, again.’ Katie tried not to be pleased to see him. ‘You’re too late for the buffet.’
‘I know.’ Max flashed his boyish grin. The one that had probably been getting him out of trouble since he was a toddler. ‘I was waiting for you.’
Katie stamped on the burst of excitement that flared in her stomach.
‘I actually wanted to ask a favour.’
‘Ah,’ Katie said.
Anna came out of the staff door, pulling car keys out of her shoulder bag. ‘Do you want a lift anywhere?’ She caught sight of Max. ‘Hello, again.’
‘No, thanks,’ Katie said. ‘Anna, this is Max. He was at the Cole wedding.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Anna said.
‘It’s fine,’ Max said.
‘He crashed the wedding,’ Katie said. ‘So he’s not bereaved.’
‘Oh, good.’ Anna looked confused. ‘I suppose.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Max said. ‘Again.’
‘Likewise.’ Anna tilted her head slightly, appraising him. ‘You don’t live in Pendleford, do you?’
‘Just passing through,’ Max said.
‘Lucky for you,’ Anna said cheerfully. ‘Are you sure I can’t give you two a lift somewhere?’
‘We’re fine, thank you,’ Katie said. Ignoring the significant way Anna was looking at her.
&nb
sp; After Anna had walked away, towards the staff car parking area, Katie turned to Max. ‘A favour?’
‘I was hoping you’d let me into that room again. The door was open before but someone has locked it.’
‘Probably because of the dodgy types hanging around,’ Katie said. ‘I’m not going to help you find money. I told you—’
‘It’s not that. I’m curious about what happened earlier. I wanted to take another look.’
‘Why?’
‘It might’ve been a ghost,’ Max said. ‘That’d be pretty cool.’
Katie crossed her arms. ‘Are you going to tell me the real reason?’ She waited for a moment and when Max didn’t elaborate, she said, ‘I don’t think I should. I don’t know you.’
‘Fair enough.’ Max shrugged. He began walking around the side of the hotel.
Katie followed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking a look from the outside. Looking for wires or something rigged up that could’ve caused that effect with the curtains.’
Max stopped on the lawn and took several steps backwards, shading his eyes from the sun with one hand. ‘Is that it?’
The window of The Yellow Room was on the second floor. It had one of the tiny balconies with thick stonework around the edge. Katie saw the window darken and she looked up at the sky, expecting a cloud to have crossed the sun. It hadn’t.
‘Nothing,’ Max said. ‘And I’m not climbing up there.’
He lay down on the grass and crossed his hands behind his head. ‘It’s too hot for one thing.’
Katie sat cross-legged next to him and then, feeling stupid for being so hesitant, lay down on the grass, a few inches of space between them. They were in a very public place, in broad daylight; there was nothing to worry about.
She put an arm across her face, shielding her from the sun.
‘That room we were in?’ Max said, his voice super-casual. ‘Is it going to be Barton’s when he arrives?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Just a guess.’
‘But you know he’s coming here for a show?’
Max looked embarrassed. ‘Yeah. I don’t suppose you can get me a discount on a ticket?’
‘Not my area,’ Katie said. ‘I thought you were just passing through.’
Max propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. ‘Can I be honest with you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Katie said, moving her arm so that she could look at him. ‘Experience suggests not.’
He straightened up. ‘Wow. You’re really uptight, aren’t you?’
‘I’m big on honesty.’ Katie shrugged. ‘It’s my thing.’
‘Okay, then.’ Max folded his arms. ‘I wasn’t just passing. I came to see Greg Barton.’
‘The medium?’ Katie tried to think of something polite to add. ‘I’m surprised,’ she managed. ‘You don’t seem the type.’
‘I’m not. Usually.’ Max said. ‘But I’m very interested in Mr Barton. I’d like to know more about him. You know, the man behind the show. His friends, his habits. If you could keep an eye on him for me when he checks in, let me know if—’
Katie moved back a little. ‘I can’t do that. I can’t spy on a customer. That isn’t right.’
‘He’s a public figure,’ Max said. ‘And a hotel is a public space.’
‘That’s not really true. Some parts of a hotel are public, some are extremely private. Plus, I can’t trust you. You could be up to something illegal. I already know you’re a liar.’
‘Of course you can’t — you just met me. Trust has to be earned.’
‘That sounds almost noble.’ Of course, he was a smooth-talking bastard. He would make it sound good.
‘If you trust a person you’ve just met, that doesn’t mean the person is trustworthy. It means that you’re an idiot.’ Max was clearly warming to his theme. ‘There are two sorts of people in this world: mugs and marks.’
‘Aren’t they the same thing?’ Katie leaned forward, interested despite her best intentions.
‘No,’ Max said seriously. He watched her intently as he spoke, as if it really mattered to him that she understood. ‘Marks aren’t necessarily stupid. The best marks aren’t stupid at all. You need someone with the intelligence to see the possibilities. You can trick a mug, but for a con you need a mark. Marks are a little bit twisted. They have to be willing to do something they know is a bit dodgy because they want a part of the score being offered. That’s why cons aren’t often reported — the mark knows that telling the story will reveal his own part in it. That’s what makes cons so beautiful.’
‘There can’t just be mugs or marks,’ Katie said, forcing herself to look away. ‘That’s very bleak.’
‘There are grifters, too,’ Max said. ‘Probably honest-to-God nun-types, too, but I’ve never met any.’
‘You’ve never met a good person? You really are hanging out in the wrong places.’
‘Nobody is pure as the driven snow. We’re all living in the shades.’ Max shrugged. ‘I’ve never met someone who wasn’t at least a little bit bent.’
Katie shook her head. ‘My aunt Gwen isn’t bent. Not even a little bit. She’s always helping people. It’s like, literally, her life’s work.’
‘I’m not going to comment on your family,’ Max said. ‘I’m not that stupid.’
‘And what about nurses and those people who volunteer in Africa?’
‘I didn’t say people can’t do good things. People do good things all the time, but that doesn’t make them good.’
‘But we are just actions — there isn’t anything else. If you do good things you are good, if you do bad things, you are bad. That’s how it works.’
‘What about intention? What if you mean to do something good but it goes badly? Does that make you a bad person?’
‘I don’t—’
‘And what about if you do bad things and good things? That’s the usual thing.’
‘You have to weigh them up,’ Katie said. ‘Some bad things are worse than others. If someone does loads of brilliant things and saves lives and stuff and then they nick a Mars bar from a shop, that doesn’t cancel out all the good stuff.’
‘Just makes a tiny dent in it?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And what if someone does something really bad? Can they cancel it out if they do enough good stuff afterwards?’
‘Maybe,’ Katie said.
Max smiled widely, genuinely amused. ‘You believe in redemption?’
‘Yes,’ Katie said, irritated. ‘Absolutely.’
Max shook his head. ‘You’re too nice.’
‘I’m really not. Redemption isn’t the same as forgiveness.’
‘So, if I do lots of good stuff, you still won’t forgive me for lying to you?’
‘Oh.’ Katie stayed very still while she thought about it. ‘How good?’
Max smiled and she felt a low hum begin in her stomach.
‘Like, maybe, kiss you,’ Max said. At once, his face seemed very close. He wasn’t leaning, though. Wasn’t touching her at all. He was just sitting next to her and staring at her with such intensity, as if his whole life depended on touching her lips with his own, as if she were the centre of his universe. ‘May I?’
Katie thought that nobody had ever looked at her that way. Then she realised that she wasn’t breathing and took a gulp of air. When she managed to speak she had to clear her throat to stop it coming out all croaky. ‘I don’t know you. I don’t kiss people I don’t know.’
‘But you want to kiss me?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Interesting.’ Max tilted his head, as if considering her. ‘If you never kiss anyone you don’t know, how do you get to know people?’
‘Talking. Words. You know, the usual way,’ Katie said. His confidence was making her feel more in control. If he carried on annoying her she wouldn’t feel dangerously lustful.
‘Kissing is quicker.’ He smiled. ‘You can tell a lot abo
ut a person from the way they kiss.’
Without meaning to, Katie thought about Stuart. Her first — and only — boyfriend. He had taken the advice to be gentle a little too much to heart and prefaced kissing sessions with a hundred or so tiny, feather-light touches to her lips, cheeks, chin. Every Single Time. It had been like foreplay performed by a butterfly. Katie felt her cheeks flush. To cover her embarrassment she said, ‘You can tell a lot more from the total shite a person will say in order to cop a feel.’
He grinned. ‘This is true.’
That smile punched her in the stomach. If she didn’t move away, get distracted, right at this second she was going to take him up on his offer. What would kissing Max be like? She’d lay money it wasn’t like a butterfly.
His smile widened, as if he knew what she was thinking. He leaned forwards, tilting his face to hers. ‘Why don’t you live a little?’ He smelled of clean skin and sunshine and that indefinable bloke smell. He put a hand on her jaw, angling her face and then stopped, raising his eyebrows slightly in a way that asked for permission.
She tilted her head and leaned forward a fraction, closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at his expression.
His lips on hers were firm and the pressure of them made every nerve in her body crackle into life. Katie opened her mouth and tasted his. She felt as if she were melting into the ground, everything in her body liquefying. She put her hand on Max’s cheek and felt that it was the perfect shape of a face, something that her hand had been waiting to touch for years.
Max was still leaning across, not touching her body in any way, and Katie was simultaneously glad and disappointed by his restraint.
He broke the kiss and smiled at her in a dizzy-making way. Katie resisted the urge to grab the front of his T-shirt and haul him on top of her. Barely. Instead she reached up and pulled him back down, capturing his mouth, testing to see if that first kiss had been a fluke. She was nothing if not scientific.
It was better. Max really was excellent at kissing. Not that she’d had that much experience, which, now she thought of it, was the perfect justification for necking with a complete stranger.
The Secrets of Ghosts Page 7