Chapter 18 #2
‘Oh. That’s a shame,’ I reply, struggling to imagine Ken-doll Dante sitting in a rustic village pub, when he looks more suited to a spooky old turret, say.
Or a coffin. ‘I was really hoping to get to the bottom of this. Although, if it was Dante who did it—’ I nod at the turnip, which Hunter has placed on the table, thankfully minus the dirk ‘—I don’t suppose he’d just admit to it, would he? ’
‘I suppose not,’ agrees Hunter. ‘I can’t imagine Dante being behind this, though. He wouldn’t want to risk the hotel’s reputation – or his own. This job’s a big deal to him. It’s basically his entire personality. You saw how he reacted to your video.’
‘Um, yeah,’ I reply, cringing at the memory. ‘Hannah told me he’s always “creeping around” the place, though. I mean, doesn’t that sound suspicious to you?’
‘He’s the manager of the hotel,’ Hunter replies, sounding infuriatingly unbothered by this nugget of information.
‘What Hannah sees as “creeping around” is probably just him keeping an eye on things. It’s his job.
And it would be pretty strange for him to sabotage it by terrorising a guest, wouldn’t it?
Come on, Rosie, you have to admit, that’s pretty far-fetched, even for you. ’
‘Maybe,’ I say, refusing to concede the point. ‘Or maybe if the hotel’s that important to him, he’d think nothing of trying to scare off someone he saw as a liability to it? I mean, how well do you really know him, Hunter?’’
I twirl my fork absent-mindedly in my spaghetti, more convinced than ever that Dante is the dark force behind all of the things that have been happening since I got here.
‘I know him well enough, I suppose,’ Hunter says, helping himself to some more pasta.
‘I know his mum moved here from Italy before he was born. Apparently she fell in love with a Scotsman, but it didn’t work out, so she ended up having to raise Dante on her own.
I think she worked here in the castle at one point, too. ’
‘As, like, a scullery maid or something?’ I ask, suddenly feeling a bit more sympathetic to Dante now that I know he was raised by a struggling single mum, just like I was.
Hunter snorts so hard I think he’s about to choke on his pasta.
‘I don’t know how old you think Dante is, Rosie,’ he says at last, ‘but I’m pretty sure he’s around my age. This would’ve been the 1990s, not the nineteenth century. I don’t actually know what his mum did here, but I don’t expect it was cleaning the grates, or whatever it is you’re imagining.’
‘OK, OK,’ I reply, blushing. ‘So, what else do you know about him, then?’
‘Er, that’s it, really,’ Hunter admits. ‘Men don’t really have deep and meaningful conversations with their colleagues, Rosie. We just talk about the weather, and sometimes football.’
‘So, I’m guessing you don’t know anything about the rest of the staff, either?’ I say, disappointment making my shoulders sag in defeat. ‘Agnes? The guy who drives the minibus? Anyone?’
‘I haven’t been here all that long, really,’ he says apologetically.
‘No one has; it’s a brand-new hotel, so we haven’t had a lot of time for staff bonding.
And I spend most of my time out in the grounds.
So I know everyone about as well as I need to, but not much more than that yet.
None of them strike me as the kind of people who’d go around sticking dirks into turnips as a warning, though, so .
. . I’m not much help here, am I?’ he finishes ruefully.
‘I’m sorry, Rosie, really. I wish there was something more I could tell you.
I’m almost as much of an outsider here as you are, though. ’
‘Oh, I doubt that very much.’
I chew my bottom lip, anxiety rising as it occurs to me that I might never find out who’s behind all of this now – especially if I do get kicked out of the hotel first thing tomorrow morning, like I’m expecting to.
And even though it technically won’t matter anymore by then, I hate the idea of the mystery being forever unsolved.
‘Try not to worry,’ says Hunter. ‘You’re safe here. Hannah and I will look after you. And I’m sure Sabrina and Dante will see the funny side of the cucumber video eventually. What is it they say? “All publicity is good publicity”?’
‘That might be what they say,’ I point out, starting to clear away our plates. ‘But it’s not what anyone actually thinks. I was supposed to be influencing people to come to the hotel; not to avoid it.’
‘And it’s important to you, this influencing thing, isn’t it?’ Hunter asks, getting up to help me.
‘I thought it was,’ I tell him ruefully.
‘I didn’t get to be popular in high school; I guess I thought I could make up for it by being popular on the internet.
But it turns out I’m not particularly good at that, either.
And I’m not sure I really want to be anymore.
I’m not sure I want to be like Bex, or the rest of them.
And after speaking to Izzie and Ian at the market, I just .
. . well, I just thought that if I’m going to influence people, maybe I could do it over something more important than clothes.
I thought if I could do something to make people want to come to the hotel, then that would help save your job – and Dante’s, and Agnes’s, and everyone else’s.
And, OK, I messed up by posting the unedited video rather than the version I’d planned, but I didn’t do it on purpose.
Lesson learned, though; at least I’ll be happy enough to go back to being invisible again after this. ’
‘You’re only “invisible” because you make yourself invisible,’ Hunter points out, rummaging in the fridge until he finds a bottle of wine.
‘Buying the same clothes as all the rest of them; trying to act like them and be like them. That’s what makes you invisible, Rosie.
Er, not that I think you are invisible, obviously. I always notice you, anyway.’
My cutlery clatters loudly against my plate after he says this. Did he mean that how I think he meant it? But before I can say anything, he holds up the bottle, looking as flustered as when Hannah mentioned my bum earlier.
‘Um, wine? As a thank you for dinner?’
‘Sure,’ I reply, mentally calculating how long I could conceivably stretch out a glass of wine for, so I have less time to spend in my room. ‘You were saying? About it being hard not to notice me when . . .?’
I widen my eyes innocently as Hunter takes a couple of glasses out of one of the cupboards, keeping his back turned for longer than is strictly necessary.
‘You were going to say it’s hard not to notice me when I’m always inadvertently flashing you, weren’t you?’ I go on when he doesn’t answer. ‘Admit it, you were, weren’t you?’
‘No, not all,’ he insists, pouring the wine rather sloppily.
‘I hardly ever think about what happened in the sauna. And as for your . . . bum . . . well, I’m far too much of a gentleman to think about that, either.
Not that it isn’t a bum worth thinking about, obviously, because it very much is.
Um, from the very little I’ve seen of it, because I haven’t been looking. It’s a very fine bum, though. I think.’
‘Relax,’ I reply, smiling as he hands me a glass of wine. ‘I’m just teasing. You can stop saying the word “bum” now. Listen, though, I was thinking; you have access to the room keys here, don’t you?’
‘I do. Why do you ask?’
‘I want to change rooms,’ I blurt out. ‘Now, preferably. I don’t want to go back there, Hunter. Not even for the night. Not now I know for sure someone’s been going in there. I’m . . . I’m scared. I know how stupid that sounds because it’s just a turnip, but I am.’
I pause, waiting for him to make fun of me, but instead, his face softens.
‘Oh, Rosie,’ he says, taking a step towards me. ‘You’re not stupid, OK? I shouldn’t have said that about you earlier. And I’m not surprised you’re a bit shaken by . . . well, all of it. I can’t give you a new room, though; or not right now, anyway.’
‘You can’t?’ I know my voice sounds kind of weak and pathetic, but I can’t bring myself to care. I just want to be able to go to sleep tonight without worrying about waking up to find a dirk stuck in my own head.
Not that I’d be very likely to wake up under those circumstances, I suppose.
‘No, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to,’ he assures me. ‘It’s just, none of the other rooms are ready yet. They haven’t been cleaned, or even decorated yet. It’s just the ones that are being used this week that were prepared for guests. Everything else is still under dust sheets.’
‘Oh, I don’t care about that,’ I reply, relieved. ‘I can make up a bed myself. And I don’t mind a bit of dust, either. As long as the door locks and I know no one but you knows where I am, that’ll be fine by me. It’s probably going to be just for tonight, anyway, so it’s fine.’
I look up at him hopefully.
‘No, Rosie,’ he says gently. ‘It’s not fine.
I can see how scared you are over this; and I’m sure you’re perfectly safe, but I want you to be sure of that, too.
I don’t like to think of you lying awake worrying that someone’s going to get into your room.
No, you can stay here tonight. At least you know no one’s going to get past Stevie. Or me, for that matter.’
He grins in a way that I know is supposed to reassure me, to make me feel safe.
And, actually, it works. Even though I barely know this man, I do feel safe with him.
For all he likes to pretend to be a misanthrope who just wants to be alone with his mountains and his plants, I can see how much he cares about Hannah; not to mention the way he raced after Bex earlier today.
Whether he’d admit it or not, Hunter Stuart is clearly a man who cares about people. And, just for tonight, it’s very tempting to let myself pretend he cares about me.
‘Oh! I didn’t mean . . . I wasn’t trying to . . . I couldn’t possibly . . .’ I mumble, awkwardly, worried that he’s just offering out of politeness. But he holds up a hand to stop me.
‘Relax, Rosie,’ he says with a grin. ‘It’s no problem.
Look, you can take Hannah’s room; she can come in with me.
There’s plenty of room – well, as long as you don’t mind sharing with all of those soft toys she collects.
Then we can speak to Dante in the morning and try to figure out what to do about this business with the dirk. I’ll help you, I promise.’
‘Are you sure?’ I reply, still torn between relief and awkwardness at the thought of staying here overnight. Then I catch sight of the turnip again, and I decide to go with relief.
‘Absolutely,’ says Hunter firmly. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to play Minecraft for a bit, though; I don’t think Hannah’s going to take no for an answer.’
‘Fine by me.’ I smile, my stomach doing an odd little flip of either excitement or nerves as I get up to start clearing the table.
I’m spending the night with Hunter Stuart.
Maybe my luck really is about to change, after all.