Chapter Thirty-Three
The lack of light was confusing and as a blanket of darkness fell on the hotel, Kate stumbled down the corridor with James in close pursuit.
‘Kate, I’m fairly sure that the internet won’t work in this storm,’ James said. ‘Come and sit down while we think what to do. You can’t wander around in the dark.’
Kate held on to the banister at the bottom of the stairs. When she heard James, she stopped.
‘And you can’t possibly contemplate travelling.’ James was firm. He took Kate’s arm and without any protestations she allowed herself to be led into the Red Room. The fire cast an eerie glow that lit the room with dancing shadows as James found a sofa and they sank into the soft cushions.
‘I must speak to the bank fraud line. There has to be an explanation.’ Kate fiddled about in her bag. ‘But my phone is dead.’
James dug in his pocket and produced his mobile.
He flicked it on and was pleased to see that he still had a signal.
‘I must be on a different service provider. You can use mine. Have you got a helpline number?’ He held out his phone so that it illuminated the number on the back of the card gripped in Kate’s hand.
‘Call now, while we wait for the power to come back.’ He handed Kate the phone and she began to dial.
‘You’ll feel better when you’ve spoken to someone; they’ll be able to advise you. ’
‘But will they be able to get my money back?’
James could barely see Kate’s face in the shadows but he could sense her worry.
‘I couldn’t say,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s keep everything crossed.’
* * *
Jo fumbled through the hallway. She wondered why on earth the emergency lighting hadn’t come on from the back-up generator. It was now completely dark and, as the storm built, the torrential rain seemed to be getting worse.
She stood by a window and stared. The drains on the driveway were bubbling and as Jo looked up, she wondered if the heavens were knocking on the roof, as an inescapable deluge fell from the sky.
She could hear Hattie calling out to the residents as she guided them through to the Green Room and she went to join her, groping her way along.
‘It will be safer if we keep everyone together in here,’ Hattie said and shone a torch in Jo’s direction. ‘Grab this and give us a hand.’
Hattie pressed a torch into Jo’s hand and together they found seats for the guests and settled everyone in. They placed candles in holders on the mantelpiece and lit them.
‘It’s quite spooky,’ Hattie said as she turned and looked at the group, discernible in the flickering light, illuminated enough to make their skin waxy and eyes bright.
‘I think we’d better do a roll-call and make sure that everyone is here,’ Jo instructed. ‘Can you get a list of names from reception?’
‘I’m on it,’ Hattie said and fumbled her way out of the room.
‘Darling, what’s happened?’ Bob called out from the doorway, his voice excited. ‘Will the power be off for long?’
‘I hope not, but the last time there was a storm it was off all night.’
‘Marvellous, we can sit by the fire and tell ghost stories.’
‘Stories to pass the time are a good idea but perhaps not of the ghoulish kind.’ Jo didn’t want any heart attacks or sudden strokes to complicate matters.
‘Leave it with me, I’ll make sure everyone is entertained.’ Bob waved his arms in front of his body and, scrabbling through the darkness, found a seat.
Jo went out to the hallway.
Where on earth was Alf? Her handyman was usually first on the scene when the weather threatened, checking the old place for leaks and damage and the generator was his favourite toy.
He kept it in immaculate condition, always ready in case of emergency.
With any luck, he’d be in the cellar working on it right now and very soon the lights would come back on.
Jo was uncomfortable in the dark and wished that Pete was with her. She remembered that Bunty was on her own in the house. Thunder and lightning didn’t seem to bother the dog but Jo craved to hold the puppy in her arms. She shone her torch down the corridor and, with slow steady steps, set off.
* * *
Hattie stood on the back staircase. She held a lantern and fumbled to grab a rail for support as she put one foot carefully in front of the other and climbed.
The lantern, left over from the Taste of the Raj evening, cast diamond shaped shadows that latticed the walls.
The hotel was eerily silent, unlike the elements outside.
Clouds crashed and thunder roared as wind and rain whipped furiously, shaking the old building to its core.
Hattie had checked on the residents and made sure that everyone was safe in the lounge but she’d been unable to find Hugo, Lucinda and Andy. Lucinda’s room was empty, the bed unmade and the door wide open with no trace of the occupant.
Where on earth was she? Hattie knew that the artist was taking strong medication and she was worried that Lucinda might be confused and distressed in the dark. Hattie was determined to find her.
She didn’t give a toss about Andy, but for safety’s sake she knocked on his door and when there was no answer, used her passkey to enter the room.
A cigar smouldered on a saucer, next to an empty glass.
Hattie searched the room and poked her head around the bathroom door but Andy was nowhere to be seen.
She went over to the bed.
Two suitcases and a messenger bag were piled on the duvet, where a briefcase was open. A laptop lay in the briefcase, beside the messenger bag.
James Bond was planning to leave!
Hattie paused as she stared at the luggage and, a few minutes later, relocked the door and went in search of Hugo.
Hattie thought that Hugo was probably asleep. He’d had a substantial amount of wine at lunch and there was a good chance that he’d gone for a lie down, unaware that the power was off. She reached his door and knocked gently and, receiving no reply, turned the handle and crept into the room.
Loud snores echoed through the darkness and as Hattie’s eyes focused in the gloom and she held her lamp out, she saw Hugo, fully clothed, asleep on his bed.
She decided to leave him; he would take no harm in the dark and was probably exhausted, but as she turned, she tripped on a rug and fell headlong into an armchair.
‘Bugger!’ Hattie cried out as her knee cracked on the wooden leg and upturned the chair, sending it careering into Hugo’s bed. The bag slung across her shoulder became twisted and her lamp landed upright on the floor.
‘What’s going on?’ Hugo sat up. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus as Hattie emerged at the foot of the bed.
‘Only me,’ Hattie said cheerfully and plonked herself down. ‘There’s a power cut. I just wanted to make sure that you’re all right.’
‘Damned kind, old girl.’ Hugo peered at Hattie. ‘I thought my luck was in for a moment, don’t fancy climbing aboard by any chance?’ He patted the bed beside him.
‘I’ll pass,’ Hattie said, pleased that Hugo hadn’t completely given up on life. His brother may have died but Hugo wasn’t one to miss an opportunity. ‘Let’s go downstairs, where we know you’re safe. Just until the storm passes and the power comes back on.’
‘We could go down to the pantry,’ Hugo whispered and stared at Hattie.
For a moment, the years melted.
‘I thought you’d forgotten,’ Hattie said. She felt her cheeks burn as memories of their night of kitchen passion flooded back.
‘Think about it every time I have a plate of cheese and chutney.’ He smiled. ‘Best night I ever had.’
Hattie was speechless. The old bugger! After all these years and he’d never said a thing.
Flummoxed, she reached out to straighten the chair.
But as she bent down to grab her lamp, a large brown envelope caught her eye.
It was open and several photographs had tumbled out.
‘What have we got here?’ Hattie said, her eyes wide.
She held the lamp over the pile and caught her breath as images came into focus.
‘Bloody hell, Hugo, what’s this all about? ’
‘Oh, good Lord, I can explain!’ Hugo swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrambled over to Hattie. ‘It’s well, oh my goodness, I’ve made a terrible mistake.’ Hugo sat back on the bed and, holding his face in his hands, began to cry.
‘There, there,’ Hattie said and put her arm around his shoulders. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘But the pictures are pornography and you’ll think I’m a pervert,’ Hugo said between sobs, ‘and the press will get hold of them and I’ll be ruined.’
Hattie examined the photos. She didn’t think Hugo was a pervert at all and as she carefully put the photographs back in the envelope, she smiled to herself.
She rather admired the old boy for his spirit and as far as porn went, thought it quite mild.
Hattie loved a bit of dressing up if it satisfied a sexual fantasy.
Whatever turned Hugo on was, in Hattie’s opinion, just fine.
At least it showed that he still had feelings and wasn’t dead from the waist down.
‘Tell me all about it,’ Hattie said suddenly, warming to Hugo. She wriggled her bottom up the bed and took hold of his hand. ‘Don’t dawdle with the facts, Lucinda’s on the missing list and we need to find her.’ As she made herself comfortable, Hugo began his tale.
Kate was in despair. She sat beside James and wracked her brains to try and work out what had happened to her finances.
She’d been on the telephone for what felt like ages.
The weather was causing communication chaos and the line kept cutting off, but in the limited conversation she’d had with the bank’s fraud team, their advice, other than telling her to inform the police, hadn’t been optimistic.
Someone had definitely emptied her accounts. Now all she could do was wait for the investigations but meanwhile, she was stuck. With no money to even put petrol in her car and with the storm still raging, Kate would have to stay at Boomerville.