Grimm

by Mike Nicholson

  “Gregory Grimm. Sir Gregory Grimm I should say. He was the reason the place was classy. Slicked back hair and a green velvet smoking jacket with a matching cravate. Dead posh but nice with it. Met a sticky end unfortunately. One of the gargoyles was loosened in a storm and it squashed him flat as he set off for a walk one day. Nasty. Poor man deserved better. He would swan about chatting to us as we worked. Loaded with money so he was.”

  “Was there money in the family? How come he was so rich?” asked Rory.

  “A bit of both. Obviously they were a rich bunch to have that place built to begin with the century before, but Sir Gregory had made his money from tobacco and designing fancy cigarette holders. Smoking was quite the thing then you know. Not like now. It would need some help from a marketing genius to sell that as a healthy option these days. Fancy a wee challenge?” Grandad winked at Rory. “Unless you’re busy with other work?”

  “Grandad, it’s not funny. What am I going to do?” said Rory in despair. “I’m supposed to be back there in a week with a plan of what they should do. You know what happens to people who spend any time up at that place. I just want to disappear. Come to think of it they could probably arrange that for me.”

  “Well … I’ll help you as best I can but isn’t there anyone else that could lend a hand? It’s not a job you should have to do on your own.”

  Rory shrugged, slumping in his seat.

  “Your mum and dad?” asked Grandad. Rory gave him a look that said “are you serious?”

  “Well, I had to ask,” said Grandad.

  “You know as well as I do, Grandad,” said Rory. “Your daughter lives on Planet Disconnected-from-Reality these days. As for Dad, he is connected to reality but never emerges long enough to be any use.”

  “Aye, aye, fair point,” said Grandad with a sigh. “Well….what about your Zizz man. Mr Fankle, was it?”

  “Finkleman?” said Rory.

  “That’s him,” said Grandad. “He understands a thing or two about how to sell a product.”

  “Yeah … you’re right,” said Rory. “I could at least drop him an email for some ideas. I suppose I was hoping there was someone a bit closer to home.”

  “Well what about that lassie at the library? Bonnie?” said Grandad. “She sounds interested and seems a bit of a bright button. What about getting her involved?”

  Rory knew that deep down he had wanted to tell Bonnie what he was doing when she approached him the other day. After talking things through a bit more, Rory was also reminded that his Grandad had rarely been wrong about things in the past. By the time he had left Boglehole Road, Rory had resolved that since disappearing was not an option, he would speak to Bonnie at the first opportunity.

  13. The masked ball

  It took some tossing and turning overnight and a few false starts the next day at school before Rory managed to work up the confidence to approach Bonnie.

  “Thanks for these. They were great,” he said, holding out the box with the binoculars back inside. “It was really good of you to drop them off for me.”

  “I thought they’d be handy but I could see you didn’t want to talk about it,” said Bonnie. “I would ask how it went,” she continued, “but I’m not sure that you want me to.”

  Rory shrugged. “No, I don’t mind.”

  Bonnie’s eyes widened at the opportunity. She pulled herself straight in her wheelchair and clapped her hands in glee. “So? Why were you up there? What’s going on? Come on, tell me all. Spill the beans. Was it what you expected? I’ve been dying to ask you. Did you only just get back alive? Have you any scars?”

  “Maybe I do mind if that’s how you normally ask questions,” said Rory managing to get a word in eventually.

  “Sorry, sorry,” said Bonnie. “It’s just that I’ve never met anyone who’s been there.”

  “You should meet my Grandad,” said Rory. “He confessed to me yesterday that he half-built the place.”

  “Wow! I’d love to meet him,” said Bonnie.

  “Well, actually I er … need a bit of help with what Granville Grimm has asked me to do and I’m going to be doing it at my Grandad’s. If you came we could kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Granville Grimm has asked you to do something?” Bonnie squealed.

  “SSSSHHHH!” said Rory. “Could you keep it down a bit, please. It’s not something I was planning to broadcast.”

  “Sorry,” said Bonnie, speaking in hushed tones and looking furtive. “What’s he asked you to do? Is it a marketing job? How exciting!”

  “You can have this job if you want,” said Rory, “You sound more into it than me.” He was wishing again that his encounter with Finkleman all those months ago had never happened. He had emailed the big American about his impossible challenge, trying to describe Hotel Grimm as diplomatically as he could, but had heard nothing back yet.

  At least Bonnie was right in front of him and showing an interest so Rory gave her as much of a run through of what had happened as he could before the bell rang to go back inside. As it did, he fixed a time for Bonnie to join him at his Grandad’s the next day.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bonnie,” said Grandad. He was on his feet holding on to the back of his armchair. “I’ve tidied up a bit as Rory had said you were in the wheelchair. Hope I’ve given you enough room there,” he said jabbing the coffee table with his walking stick. Rory cringed a bit as it seemed as though his Grandad was drawing attention to the fact that Bonnie was in a wheelchair. Bonnie didn’t bat an eyelid and was upfront as ever.

  “That’s fine, Mr Munro. As long as I can get through the door I can usually muddle through. The fact that you’ve got a ramp up to your front door is the winner for me. Otherwise you and Rory would have been fighting over who got to carry me in.”

  “You should hear him complaining about that ramp,” said Rory. “Might as well hang a banner up saying ‘I’m about to keel over,’” he said doing a very good imitation of his Grandad’s accent. Grandad grimaced at him.

  “I just see these things as a way of getting from A to B,” said Bonnie.

  “Here,” said Grandad, wanting to change the subject. He manoeuvred around his armchair, reaching for the padlocked box. “This is what keeps Rory entertained when he comes here.”

  “What is it?” asked Bonnie resting the box on her lap and peering at it.

  “Just a load of old junk, some people might say. But everything seems to have a story attached to it, so it’s all been worth hanging on to.”

  “Have a go,” said Rory. “Grandad’s right. It’s amazing what’s in there.”

  Bonnie unclasped the padlock and looked inside. Then reaching in as if it was a lucky dip, she rummaged right to the bottom until she pulled out a crumpled and grubby white card, its gold edge nearly rubbed off with age.

  “Okay, what’s this then?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Grandad glancing over and looking a bit vague, as he concentrated on getting to his seat. “Some old invitation I think. Try something else.”

  “That’s not like you, Grandad,” said Rory. “I thought everything in there had its own story.”

  Bonnie began to read aloud: “Sir Gregory Grimm cordially invites you to the Masked Ball at Hotel Grimm on 28th August, 1948.”

  “Did you go to that?” asked Rory staring at his Grandad.

  “Well, it would have been rude not to,” said his Grandad.

  “That’s not what I mean,” said Rory sharply. “I told you I was in the ballroom the other day, but you never mentioned this.”

  “Calm down son,” his Grandad snipped back.

  Rory was perplexed. “What else is hidden in there about Hotel Grimm that I should know about?” he asked despairingly, looking over at Bonnie with the box on her lap.

  “Nothing’s hidden Rory. It’s all there waiting to come out,” said his Grandad.

  “So what was this event like?” said Rory looking at the antique invitation that Bonnie had passed o
ver to him. “Looks very grand.”

  “All the men who had worked on the building were invited. It was a sort of celebration to mark the end of the work.”

  “Like a big party then?”

  “Aye, well that was the idea, son,” said Grandad. Rory noticed that he sounded as though he would much prefer if Bonnie would pull something else out of the box.

  “You don’t sound too sure about it, Grandad,” said Rory. “Was it a party or wasn’t it?”

  “Well there was a big spread of food, music filling the ballroom, chandeliers sparkling and everyone dressed up to the nines … so aye, it was a party.”

  Rory couldn’t quite work out what was wrong. Grandad’s tone seemed strangely flat. He didn’t seem to want to reminisce about what must surely have been Aberfintry’s event of the year back in 1948.

  “Wait a minute,” said Rory. “That’s the same year that The Chronicle was saying was the turning point for the hotel, and the same year that was on the plaque in the ballroom that I told you about. In fact it might even be the same date. 28th August?”

  Rory rooted around in his backpack and pulled out his notebook. Flicking through the pages he came to a note he had made back in the ballroom. “LG:5.12.29– 28.8.48. I knew it.” He flicked to the next page. “And then the name “Lottie Gilchrist” was on the memorial in the graveyard. Grandad?”

  Grandad was silent. He had a pained expression that Rory could tell wasn’t the result of his usual aches and pains.

  “Aye well that year and that event was the start of a lot of trouble, that’s true enough. But it’s not a nice story.”

  “Grandad, you know I need any information that might lead a way out of this mess. I don’t care what kind of story it is if it helps me,” Rory said in exasperation.

  Grandad cleared his throat. “Well don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Rory and Bonnie glanced at each other and traded apprehensive looks as Grandad began to speak. “Well, there was this masked ball as you know. The band was in full swing and the dancers were spinning round. While all this was happening, one of the stonemasons had taken his girlfriend outside and up to one of the walkways on the roof to see some of the gargoyles that he’d been working on.”

  An uneasy feeling began to creep into Rory as Grandad continued with the story.

  “It’s not clear what happened next, but … well … there was … there was a horrible accident.” There was a long pause from Grandad.

  “Go on,” said Rory, although deep down he was becoming less sure that he did want to learn more of Grimm’s secrets.

  “The girl …” Grandad paused again. He swallowed as if his mouth had gone dry. “The girl lost her footing.”

  “From the roof of the hotel?” said Rory.

  “Aye, but what made it worse was she sort of … stepped backwards through a glass roof and came crashing into the middle of the dance floor.”

  Rory clearly pictured the scene as he had recently been in the ballroom.

  “So that was Lottie Gilchrist? Did she …?” asked Rory, not able to finish his sentence.

  “Aye. She died then and there. That was about the only mercy. She wouldn’t have known much about it.”

  “You’re right. That is a horrible story,” said Bonnie.

  “Sorry,” said Grandad looking over at Bonnie. Bonnie shook her head as if to show it wasn’t a problem for her. Grandad continued.

  “That was the start of people giving the place a reputation. It never got better from that point on. The girl’s family tried to get the place shut down. Then there were claims that the girl who died had started to haunt the place. All sorts of nonsense started after that.”

  “But it’s not just nonsense, Grandad, is it?” said Rory. “Other people have died too, not to mention the near misses of fires, rockfalls, avalanches and all sorts.”

  “Aye, well you could choose to look at it that way and some folk do. All I can say is that the Grimms always treated us well when we were working there, but once the first of these things happened, you couldn’t raise your voice and say that you thought they were decent people. You were shouted down and folk in the town started to treat you in the same way as they did with the Grimms.”

  The room fell silent. Rory felt a bit uncomfortable that the mood had turned as dark as this. He also realized that although this story probably counted towards his background research, it didn’t leave him any further forward for the task he had to do.

  “Well, thanks for that cheery little number,” he said trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I hate to spoil the fun we’re all having here, but we are here to talk about rebranding Hotel Grimm if you remember.”

  Bonnie smiled, and looked relieved that the silence had been broken. “Oh, terribly sorry, Rory. I’d forgotten that today was all about you.”

  “It’s ever since he won that award,” said Grandad pretending to speak quietly to Bonnie behind his hand. “His head has doubled in size you know. I had to get the door widened.”

  “Well you did me a favour there,” said Bonnie as she and Grandad sniggered together.

  Rory ignored the jibe. “When you two are quite finished, perhaps we could get on? You both know what I’ve been asked to do.”

  “Aye, son, and your first meeting sounded quite eventful.”

  “I was certainly glad to see you get back safe and sound,” added Bonnie.

  “Aw thanks,” said Rory. “I’m touched by your concern.”

  “It had nothing to do with you, Rory,” said Bonnie with a grin. “I just wanted my binoculars back.”

  Grandad choked laughing on a mouthful of tea.

  Rory was getting impatient. “Come on, guys. Help me here. I have to get my head round why anyone would want to go to Hotel Grimm and stay there … and come up with some sensible idea by this weekend.”

  “Sorry, son, sorry. You’re right. We need to give this some serious thought.” Grandad pushed himself up in his armchair. “Come on Bonnie, we need to help the lad out here. I think it’s fair to say he’s a wee tad anxious about all of this.”

  “Well who wouldn’t be!” snapped Rory. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me if I don’t come up with some ideas.”

  “Well let’s think it through logically,” said Bonnie. “Why do people go away from home to stay in other places anyway? And where else do they go? Does Hotel Grimm have any competition?”

  “People go away because they want to relax and stay somewhere nice. They want to be looked after. Not go to a complete dive like that place,” grumbled Rory. “Sit back and take the weight off your feet while having some giant moths flap round your head … oh, and by the way, there’s a chance you’ll never leave. It’s a really strong set of selling points, isn’t it?”

  “People go away to see somewhere new,” said Grandad. “That’s what I miss these days.”

  “Yeah. Holidays are all about getting away from what you normally do, and seeing something completely different,” said Bonnie.

  “Like what?” said Rory.

  “Well, sightseeing, like going to a new part of the country. Or even to some special place like a museum or a country house … or a zoo. You know … people love seeing how others live, or seeing curious animals and all their funny little habits.”

  “Aye you’re right, Bonnie,” Grandad chipped in. “The other thing is that people these days are all into their leisure sports are they not? They weren’t when I was young.”

  “Oh, here we go,” said Rory. “Stand by for a lecture about the good old days.”

  “Hang on a minute, it’s true,” said Grandad. “Folk now are off skateboarding, mountain biking, rock climbing, that bungy jumping thing, scuba diving … goodness knows what else. There was none of that in my day. Who knows what’ll be next? People seem to want to escape and get their adrenaline rush at the weekend and then return to normal life on a Monday.”

  “That’s why people go to amusement parks too,” said Bonnie. “People love th
e big rides to get a bit of a thrill … a bit of escapism.”

  “If people want excitement, then Hotel Grimm might be able to offer them something,” said Rory mulling it all over. “There’s an element of excitement there if something awful has happened to each of the last few guests.”

  “That’s not exciting, that’s just horrible! That’s not the route to go down at all!” said Bonnie.

  “No, no, I think it is … I think that’s it!” said Rory dropping his notebook and clapping his hands. “That’s it! Excitement, getting away from it all, a glimpse at a different world … all of those things. That’s it!”

  “What do you mean that’s it?” said Grandad looking confused. “What’s what? I can’t keep up here.”

  “Well, it’s obvious. Why didn’t I think of this before? Those things are what set Hotel Grimm apart from any other hotel. You get a chance to look into a different world. There are curious people with bizarre behaviour for you to see. Go to a place where you’ll really feel like you’ve escaped from everyday life. Where else can you feel your way around in the dark and not know what you’ve stepped in? Not only that but you can have the ultimate fright ride … better than any rollercoaster, because you don’t know if you’ll come out alive!”

  Grandad nodded slowly, beginning to get what Rory was suggesting. Bonnie, however, was shaking her head. Rory was oblivious to both, caught up in his own world of ideas.

  “I can see the advertising campaign now. “Do you dare to stay at Hotel Grimm? Don’t just look at it … try staying there! See the Grimms in their natural habitat in the ultimate test of survival!”

  Rory was on a roll. He could feel relief flooding through him in great waves. It dawned on him that he had actually found a way to solve the impossible problem Granville Grimm had presented him with.

  “This is what sets Hotel Grimm apart from anywhere else. The weird butler, the odd owner, the bizarre chef and the chance that you might not get out alive. That’s their Unique Selling Point!” He beamed in delight and punched the air. All of the gloom of the last few days had lifted from him.