Page 26 of Highland Getaway
‘Well, yes,’ I agree reluctantly. ‘That was me. I was .?.?. well, it’s a long story.’
‘You looked really funny,’ Hannah says gleefully. ‘Your face was all red. And you had all this black stuff under your eyes.’
‘Were you watching, then?’ I ask, remembering the flicker of movement I’d thought was a ghost on the landing when I arrived.
Hannah nods cheerfully.
‘Oh, yes,’ she says. ‘I like watching people. I used to do it all the time in the olden days.’
‘The .?.?. theoldendays? How long have you .?.?.lived.?.?. here?’ I stutter, my body cold again with renewed tension, as I wait for her to reveal that she’s been walking these corridors for two hundred years now, luring innocent guests to their doom.
‘Oh,ages,’ replies Hannah seriously. ‘Weeks and weeks. I’m seven and a half now, and when came here when I was only seven and a bit.’
‘Right,’ I say, relieved. ‘And that was before the castle was turned into a hotel?’
‘Yes,’ says Hannah. ‘The olden days. And the only people who lived here were builders, and decorators and stuff. It’s much better now. There was a lady who looked like a princess outside earlier.’
‘Yeah, that was Bex,’ I tell her. ‘She’s very . . . princessy. Is this where you live?’
We’ve stopped outside a large wooden door marked ‘STAFF’, which Hannah immediately pushes open. I hesitate, remembering what Sabrina said this morning about not going into the private areas of the building. The last thing I want to do is risk incurring the wrath of the cantankerous old Lord Glenmuir; and, let’s face it, that wouldalsobe very much on brand for me this week, so I dig in my heels, determined not to cause any more trouble.
‘I think I better just leave you here, Hannah,’ I tell the little girl gently. ‘I’m not allowed to go any further. You know how to get back to your apartment from here, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ she says scornfully. ‘I know how to get everywhere. I told you, I’ve lived here for ages. I want you to come with me, though, Rosie. Please,’ she adds beseechingly, her eyes very wide. ‘I did a drawing of you after I saw you in the lobby. I really want to show you.’
‘Maybe you could show me tomorrow?’ I suggest. ‘It must be way past your bedtime by now. It’s definitely past mine.’
‘I’m scared,’ says Hannah, who doesn’t look like anything scares her. ‘I need an adult to look after me.’
I sigh, knowing perfectly well that I’m being shamelessly manipulated, but also knowing I’m probably going to let her get away with it, because who could refuse a cute little girl who claims to be scared?
‘OK,’ I say, relenting. ‘But very quickly, OK? I’m not supposed to be here.’
‘It’s fine,’ Hannah replies, forgetting she’s supposed to be scared as she grins at me. ‘You’re with me.’
Taking my hand again, she pulls me through the door, which – surprise, surprise – leads toanothercorridor. It’s darker here than it is in the public parts of the hotel, and I’m relieved to find we only have to walk a short distance before stopping outside yet another door, which Hannah unlocks with a key she pulls from the pocket of her dressing gown.
‘You have a key to get in and out?’ I ask, surprised. ‘I assumed your parents were in the apartment, and you sneaked out?’
‘I just live with my daddy,’ she replies sadly. ‘And he’s busy working. So I have a key.’
‘Oh.’
I’m not quite sure what to say to this, but I definitely don’t feel comfortable leaving her on her own now, so I allow her to lead me into the little apartment, which is small and mildly chaotic, with a large number of books piled on the various surfaces and a small mountain of laundry rising up precariously next to an ironing board, which has been set up in front of the TV. There’s a couple of acoustic guitars lined neatly up against the sofa, and almost as many vinyl records as there are books scattered around.
‘Let me show you my drawing,’ says Hannah, dashing off excitedly towards what I’m assuming is the door to her bedroom. A few seconds later, she’s back again, handing me a sheet of paper on which she’s drawn a very round person with a magenta face and two thick black lines under the eyes. The circle-woman’s mouth is wide open, showing an extremely large set of tonsils, and she appears to be completely naked.
‘Very accurate,’ I tell her, smiling in spite of myself. ‘I love it.’
‘You can keep it if you like,’ she replies, pleased. ‘I can always do another one.’
‘Well, thank you very much, Hannah,’ I reply, folding up the drawing and slipping it into the pocket on the front of my pyjama top. ‘I’ll treasure this. Now, I think it’s probably time we got you into bed, don’t you? It’s very late.’
Hannah puts up a token protest at this suggestion, but allows me to accompany her to her room (which is much tidier than the rest of the flat, and decorated with bright pink bedding and cushions) and tuck her into bed.
‘You will stay, won’t you, Rosie?’ she says pleadingly, as I finish arranging her staggeringly large collection of stuffed animals around her in an order that corresponds exactly to her extremely detailed instructions. ‘You’re not going to leave me on my own, are you?’
I look at her sceptically. I’m pretty sure she isn’t even the tiniest bit scared of being on her own but, at the same time, it doesn’t feel right to just leave her here.
