Mistletoe Mansion (29 page)

‘Wow.’

‘Fab, isn’t it? Usually there’s some hidden agenda, like our honeymoon in Bali where our hotel just happened to be next to the most amazingly scenic golf courses. There was the time we went to Sri Lanka… That course even had a steam train running through it. The worst was our trip to Southern Australia where he’d promised to only play one round of golf. Little did I know he’d chosen the longest course in the world which, at eight hundred and fifty miles, took most of the holiday to play. He’s sworn that the only strokes he’ll be interested in on this holiday belong to his hand rubbing sun cream all over my back.’ She beamed. ‘So. I’m in a good mood. Let me hang around with Luke. I’ll keep an eye on all the rooms– make myself indiscreet, guarantee nothing disastrous happens…’

‘This place still doesn’t spook you?’

‘I’m the youngest of five children. When you’ve spent your childhood being teased and having practical jokes played on you twenty-four seven, it takes a lot to make you jump as an adult. It was good training for the celebrity life. Really, I should be used to no privacy.’ She opened her huge crocodile handbag. ‘Before I forget… Give that to Jess. I… don’t think I’ll need it for a while.’

I took the book. ‘A Guide to Pregnancy.’

She adjusted her top. ‘I guess Jonny and me, we need to work on our relationship first, before…’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m just lucky to have him.’

The doorbell chimed and I hurried into the hallway.

‘Chill! It’ll go fine,’ Melissa called after me.

I opened the door. It was a middle-aged couple. Where on earth was Luke? Hopefully he’d keep Groucho from barking, as I’d locked him out in case the prospective buyers didn’t like dogs. The woman held out her hand. I shook it, and then the man’s.

‘Do come in. My name’s Kimmy.’ I stood back. They both gasped at the magnificent chandelier. This was a good start. In fact everything went as well as it could, whilst they explored downstairs. The man – Mr Stedman – loved the Games Room and teased his wife that she’d never get him out of there. She fell in love with the kitchen and hot tub, whilst they both cooed over the summerhouse. Recently they’d come into an inheritance and had five year old twins. I could tell they thought Mistletoe Mansion and its location were perfect. As we went upstairs I crossed my fingers, as Melissa paced up and down the landing. I had a good feeling about this couple. Sad as I’d be to leave, maybe I was getting near to selling this place; completing the task I was set, being responsible.

Because I still wanted to impress Adam. Definitely. Snogging Luke didn’t mean a thing. It had nothing to do with the extra care I took to shave my bikini line this morning; nothing to do with me getting up extra early to jog around the garden.

‘Where’s Luke?’ I hissed to Melissa, as the Stedmans explored the mint bathroom. I’d introduced her and they’d chatted briefly about the tranquillity of Badgers Chase. Poor them. They’d be in for a shock living here with all the long lenses and dodgy-looking journos.

‘No idea,’ Melissa said and sniffed. ‘Just as well I’m here. I think we’ve got a bit of a problem.’

That familiar sweet smell wafted into my nostrils. Oh God. I shivered. Smoke drifted down the landing towards my bedroom. And there was that wind rushing sound.

‘Leave this to me,’ whispered Melissa. ‘You keep them the other side of the landing as long as you can.’

She teetered along to the bedroom at the front and rattled the door. It was locked. I smiled nervously at the Stedmans and bundled them back into the bathroom. I managed to talk for a couple of minutes about the bidet and they were well impressed with the waterproof telly. Then I walked them along to the office. What was Melissa doing?

Tentatively, I entered the office, in my high shoes. Phew. No knocked over chairs or scattered papers like the time Deborah was here. I glanced at the laptop and swore I’d update my Facebook status that afternoon. Plus Ashton Kutcher might have noticed my absence on Twitter.

‘Um… back in a minute…’ I said. ‘Do look out of the window. From up here, you’ll see just how magnificent the back garden is.’

I strolled out of the room and then darted to Melissa. She was bending over, hairpin in the keyhole, jiggling the door handle.

‘Where did you learn to do that?’ I asked.

‘My older sisters used to lock me in my bedroom for a joke. We moved house a lot. I learnt to pick lots of different types of locks. There.’ She stood up and replaced the pin into her swept up blonde hair. ‘After you,’ she said. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Melissa followed me in. Wow. There were paintings, random bits of furniture, a couple of sets of golf clubs and sheets draped over various items – a large ceramic plant stand by the looks of it and a fancy-looking needle box. I picked up a glass swan and ran my hand along its contours. There was an intricately engraved cutlery set, a knitting machine and a gorgeous purple upholstered rocking chair. I could see why Luke was protective of these rooms. Walter and Lily had some really posh stuff.

‘Well, there’s no bogeyman in here,’ I muttered, minutes later. What an anti-climax. ‘Come on. I’d better get back to the Stedmans.’

But Melissa stared at the far wall which backed onto my bedroom. ‘Something moved,’ she mouthed and put a finger to her lips. She slipped off her squeaky rubber boots and tiptoed over, picking up the glass swan on her way as she navigated various objects. Finally she stopped. We looked at each other, as her hand was poised over a sheet. She brandished the swan and in one swift move, yanked the material away, like a magician revealing a rabbit.

‘Luke?’ I raised my eyebrows. He was no rabbit, but certainly looked as if he’d been caught in the headlights.

He stood up. ‘Um… Hi. I thought I smelt smoke, so I came in here to have a look.’

‘Why lock yourself in?’ said Melissa, the glass swan now by her side.

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘If, um, there was anyone in here, I didn’t want them to escape and cause you lot trouble.’

‘Why not let us know you were here, when you heard our voices?’ I said, an uneasiness stirring in my stomach. I made my way over, any awkwardness about last night forgotten. I bent down behind him but he pulled me back up.

‘No! Don’t look there! I mean… I knocked something over. There’s broken glass. You might hurt yourself.’

But flexible Melissa had already ducked behind his legs. She pulled out what looked like a cross between a fan heater and a huge old-fashioned camcorder. She examined it for a moment and then straightened up. Her generously mascara-ed eyes narrowed.

‘I used one of these for a party once,’ she said. ‘It’s a smoke machine.’

Something else caught my eye. I moved another sheet, near to me. Underneath was a CD player. I pressed “play”. The spooky wind-rushing noise swept around the room.

‘
You
?’ I said to him. ‘The face in the window? The hooded figure? No wonder you’ve not taken long to get here every time I’ve called for help. You’ve already been in the house!’ My stomach churned.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Anyone could have set this up.’

‘You’ve got the keys to get in,’ I said, a waver in my voice. ‘Haven’t you at least got the guts to own up?’

‘It’s not like that,’ said Luke and reached out to touch me. ‘Let me explain.’

I shook him off.

‘Helloooo?’ called a voice from the landing.

‘It’s all right,’ said Melissa. ‘I’ll finish the viewing – they’ve nearly seen everything by now, right?’

‘Yes.’ I mumbled, without moving my gaze from Luke’s face as I heard her pick up her boots and leave the room. Tears pricked my eyes and a wave of nausea backed up my throat. Walter. The thuds. The White Christmas music – no doubt that was his idea of a joke as well. How could I have been so stupid? I glanced down. How ridiculous I was, with my lacy top, poker-straight hair and glossy nails. Fancy going to all that effort for such a slimeball.

‘Why do this?’ I said. ‘Why don’t you want the house to sell? The locked doors, turning the lights off… Did you think it was funny?’

‘No. I–’

‘All week this has been going on. Right from the first day I got here. Last Saturday night, the spooky face in the window – you did that? How? Just dumped the dressmaking doll in your car and then let yourself back in to Mistletoe Mansion and waited for me to come back from walking Groucho?’ Heart racing now, I headed for the window, lifting up sheet after sheet, rummaging through boxes. Something fell onto the ground and smashed. It was a glass dolphin.

‘Stop!’ shouted Luke. ‘Don’t damage Walter and Lily’s stuff.’ He strode over. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll show you.’ He reached behind the curtain and pulled out a circle of tracing paper. It had two eye shapes drawn on it and a mouth and nose. ‘Light this up with a torch behind it,’ he said, in a quiet voice, ‘and–’

My hands flew up to cover my eyes. I’d been a prize idiot. ‘Then the next day, when you were over to mend the chandelier and my dripping shower – you never went home, did you?’ I took my hands away from my face. ‘The smoke, locking me in, you must have pretended to leave and instead gone right upstairs and into the front room, whilst I was still in the kitchen, and waited for me to come up.’

‘I’ll do anything to stop this place selling, Kimmy.’

‘And that evening you stayed over,’ I continued, running over the last week, hardly listening to his mutterings. ‘… You were the hooded figure who grabbed my leg on the bed.’ My voice wavered. ‘You scared the shit out of me, you bastard.’

‘As I told you before, none of this is personal.’

‘Oh, here we go with the cryptic comments again. Have you any idea how stupid I feel? All the conversations I’ve had with Walter – you thudding out the replies, treating me like some imbecile, playing me Bing Crosby music, shooting gusts of cold air. I bet you nearly died with laughter.’

He frowned. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. What thuds and music? I haven’t heard you say anything to Walter.’

‘Oh, please! Next you’ll be telling me that it wasn’t you who messed up the house when the last viewers came round.’

His eyes widened. ‘No. All I’ve tried to do is scare off the housesitters. A couple have been really untidy, letting Deborah down at viewings. I just assumed that the mess this week, well… was your fault.’

‘Stop lying!’

‘I’m not! And it’s not a criticism,’ he said in an exasperated voice. ‘I’m not the most orderly of people, myself. That’s why I was originally asked to move out, at the beginning, because I never kept the place smart enough.’

‘And what about the night before last,’ I continued. ‘When Terry and Melissa were here? You pushed me into the cupboard.’

‘I… didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he reached out to touch my cheek, but I stepped back.

‘And you scratched that desk,’ I said, my voice breaking.

‘It was old. Walter wouldn’t have minded.’

‘And last night? That coin?’

‘I moved it with a snooker cue.’

‘Why didn’t you do more? Make the pictures crooked again? Throw my make-up against the walls?’

‘What are you talking about?’ he muttered. ‘The smoke, the windy noise, locking the doors, turning out the lights – yes, okay, hands up. But I told you – I’ve never messed up the rooms. And as for last night, I kind of got distracted.’

His eyes crinkled at the corners. Those moss green eyes. Just below his sexily tousled hair. Just above those irresistibly bristly cheeks. A lump hurt my throat.

‘You and me, Kimmy. That kiss. It threw me right off track.’

I snorted. ‘Don’t act now as if it meant anything. All that talk about my business, about my mum – be honest, you really couldn’t give a toss. It was just a ploy to make me think you cared, to let you hang around this morning and “help” so you could ruin things, just like you have for previous housesitters.’ A sob rose in my chest and I held my breath for a few seconds, determined to keep it down. ‘Well, for your information,’ I muttered, eventually, ‘that kiss meant nothing to me either.’

‘I’ve wanted to wrap my arms around you from the first night we met,’ he murmured.

Tears pricked my eyes. ‘Liar. You were rude and obnoxious.’

‘And you were adorable, with your attitude and that honeysuckle behind your ear. From the first moment I met you, I sensed a… a kindred spirit.’

‘Don’t bother with the sweet-talk.’

‘It’s not like that, Kimmy. You’ve got to believe me. And any deception on my part – it’s because I’m trying to put things right. Something’s wrong with the will–’

I snorted again. ‘Yeah. Fell for that hook, line and sinker didn’t I, during my conversation with “Walter”? Was it fun pretending to be a dead man? Do you think Walter would approve?’

A car door slammed shut on the driveway. The Stedmans must have left. Hopefully they’d put in an offer and I could get out of Harpenden. How dense was I, thinking I was special enough to talk to a spirit; special enough to have been chosen by a nice old gent, to sort out his problems?

‘I don’t know what you’ve got against Mike Murphy,’ I said, ‘but he’s Walter’s closest relative and entitled to inherit.’

‘Not in my opinion,’ said Luke and a muscle flinched in his cheek. ‘I knew the Carmichaels a lot better than he did.’

‘Oh my God. So that’s behind all of this – you’re jealous? Mad that the house wasn’t left to you instead?’ A sneer crept over my face. ‘But you’re nothing but the handyman.’ I swallowed. Why did I say that? But then he hadn’t worried about my feelings when he’d snogged the face off me, just to get into my good books.

‘Hand over your keys!’ I said, voice trembling.

‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ he said, in a measured voice.

I stretched out my hand, willing it not to shake.

He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a bunch of keys, then dropped it into my palm. ‘I can see you’ve decided what my motives were, so there’s no point trying to explain.’ He shut the door behind him and I collapsed to the floor, finally releasing that sob. I was nothing but a silly little girl who believed in spirits; who believed she could one day be a successful business woman. Luke had only taken an interest in KimCakes Ltd so that I wouldn’t suspect him of doing the spooky stuff. Deep down, he probably had as little faith in my entrepreneurial skills as Adam.