Eleven New Ghost Stories (24 page)

She showed me to my room – all
staff rooms were on the ground floor. It was a touch dark because
the room was just below ground level. It was clad in plasticy
fake-wood panelling, giving it a boxy quality – it wasn’t very big,
but I was just glad to be there.

I didn’t arrive till late in the
evening, but dinner was still being served in the restaurant and I
had a very nice fish and chips. That evening we took a long walk
along the sea front. I realised then how much she had grown up. She
looked so mature, so adult all of a sudden. She was more confident,
more assured, more – I don’t know… she looked taller; I remember
thinking that she had grown. Perhaps that was just her standing on
her own two feet now; all the responsibility had changed her.

She was more with me then than
ever before, not drifting on to her own wavelength like the old
days; no long mysterious gazes at the sea. But she was still the
girl I had known, all smiles and knowing glances. We ducked into a
bus shelter on the way, one of those old concrete shed types. We
had our first proper snog there. It was worth the wait…

Those first couple of weeks were
perfect. We were inseparable; even the early morning starts weren’t
so bad. Laying the breakfast tables at eight, serving, clearing and
washing up until eleven, and then cleaning the rooms and making the
beds. That was the best time; we were alone together in bedrooms…
No prying eyes, just us together enjoying each other’s company, and
each other’s bodies…

We had to be careful though; her
father was suspicious and would come looking for us if we were away
too long. He was on his feet again and working, although he did
nothing very physical. He was more bad tempered now than ever; he
wasn’t allowed to drink at least, although that didn’t exactly make
him any cheerier. Both Lily and her gran were determined to keep
him away from the front desk where his attitude might do harm.
Bookings were ok, but not stellar, and they couldn’t afford to make
a bad impression on potential guests. Everyone who seemed to stay
there was elderly, there were hardly any young guests. If the
commercial decline of the seaside didn’t threaten the business, the
march of time certainly did.

They really were the best times
I think I ever had in my life. We had each other, we had some money
to spend; we worked during the day and had the evenings to
ourselves. Neither of us, strictly speaking, were old enough to
work, so we didn’t work when alcohol was being served in the
restaurant, just in case there should ever be trouble about it.

The nights we spent in the
arcades, at the cinema, the bowling alley or at the cheap bingo
halls, trying our best to win tacky souvenirs or knock-off toys. By
then, things were getting pretty bleak along the sea front. There
were more closed businesses than open ones, and the walls with the
peeling paint now had coatings of graffiti and cheap pasted-on
posters advertising club nights and local DJs.

It didn’t matter though. Those
long walks along the promenade, through the parks and gardens, or
along the beach – those were my favourite things. They were when we
were closest, when we were at our most happy and in love. And they
always held the promise of an illicit detour, on a park bench, in a
phone box or on the beach.

Everything was so perfect –
trust me to throw a spanner in the works. Sometimes I don’t think I
know how to be happy…

The things was… she was my boss.
And after a while, I started to get frustrated. Emasculated, a bit.
She worked hard to keep that place running, and sometimes I was
pratting around too much and she’d get on at me. It sounds so
stupid, but I’d get wound up. It was supposed to be a holiday for
me, but it was seven days a week, no time off. It got busier as the
schools broke up and her father couldn’t or wouldn’t hire new
staff. So there was so much work to do and she got stressed and
started to get impatient and everything started to become less fun
and… well… more like work.

I admit I could be a bit lazy
sometimes, or slack off a bit. And she’d get annoyed and sometimes
just tell me off. And sometimes in front of others and that chided
me and got on my nerves. This was the girl who used to sometimes
get lost walking in a straight line and now she was telling me off
for not paying enough attention to my work.

And she was so confident now.
She could talk to anyone, not like me; I still fidgeted and didn’t
know how to react if a guest started to get annoyed with their room
or their breakfast. And guys would flirt with her. We didn’t have
many younger guests, but she was a good looking girl and guys
noticed that. I suppose I felt a bit threatened. No guy likes to
feel weak in front of their girlfriend, or to feel that they’re
weaker than their partner. It was pathetic, but I let my lack of
self-esteem get the better of me.

One weekend, I was asked to
clean the pool. I had to go around it with a big fishing net and
scoop out all the leaves. She came looking for me and stood by the
patio doors and asked me to help her put away the food delivery
that was due in the afternoon.

While she was giving me her
instructions, I noticed that she was stood in the doorway, that she
hadn’t set foot on the poolside tiles. It suddenly occurred to me –
she was still afraid of water.

I pretended I couldn’t hear her
as she spoke. She spoke louder but I still couldn’t hear her, so I
told her to come closer. She hesitated but came out onto the tiles,
slowly, arms folded. She told me what she wanted, but I think she
noticed the slight smirk on my face. She knew that I had remembered
her fear.

If we had any free time during
the day, it would be on a Tuesday, after guests had been checked
out from the weekend and preparations for new guests had been
completed. We were still being a bit ratty to each other – we’d
been spending too much time together – so when she asked me what I
wanted to do that afternoon, I said I wouldn’t mind having a
swim.

She wasn’t keen on the idea; she
said her father wouldn’t like us swimming when there were guests at
the hotel. But there weren’t that many, the place was quiet and her
dad was away all day, so why would he care?

I asked her if she was still
afraid of water. She denied it; neither of us wanted to admit
weakness or fault. So I said she should come out with me and take a
dip. It would be quiet and relaxing, not like the beach, which she
suggested, but I said would be too noisy and too crowded.

So I went to the pool in the
afternoon and waited for her. After I’d been swimming for more than
half an hour she turned up in shorts and a t-shirt. She had it in
mind that she would relax on one of the loungers and maybe read.
But I chided her: “Why not just come in for a swim?”

She said she didn’t feel like
it. I asked her again, “You’re not afraid are you?” She said again
she wasn’t, but she wasn’t a good liar and I knew the truth.

“There’s nothing to be afraid
of,” I said. It was just like being in a large bath – which it was,
the water was shallow, you’d have to be a midget with weak legs to
drown in that pool.

She said again that she wasn’t
afraid and that she just didn’t feel like it. I got out of the
pool, and walked over to her. “Just a dip, a quick dip” to show me
that she wasn’t afraid. I don’t know why I had to tease her so
badly; I just felt good being in control. And it was just water
after all, nothing wrong or difficult about having a swim. You
don’t even need to swim in a pool so shallow.

She said no and got quite
aggressive. I put my arms around her and started to move towards
the pool’s edge. She started to shout and scream; I didn’t take her
seriously. I moved my weight over to one foot and let us both
topple into the water.

I didn’t realise… I thought, at
least for a moment, that I was doing her a favour. Showing her that
there was nothing to be afraid of. Christ, like there was anything
noble about what I was doing to her, tormenting her, wrestling back
control like that.

She hit the water and screamed.
She became hysterical. Her face was panic-stricken; she howled
between breaths. She looked like she was drowning, even though she
was swimming – I assumed she couldn’t, that she’d never been in
water. But she could swim and as I tried to help her, put my arms
around her, she pushed me sharply away.

She swam frantically to the side
and hoisted herself onto the tiles, slipping on the way and bashing
her elbow on the pool’s edge. She lay on the tiles gasping for air,
like she was hyperventilating – I’d traumatised her.

I climbed out quickly and went
over to her: her eyes were wide open, her mouth desperately drawing
in air. She was shivering, lying on her side like a wounded animal.
People from the hotel started to gather around us. I tried to
comfort Lily, but she kept pushing me away.

Her grandmother came out. I
passed her my towel to wrap her in. “I didn’t know,” I protested, I
didn’t know this would happen.

Her grandmother was furious with
me. With the help of some of the staff they carried her inside.
They didn’t know whether to call her a doctor or not. Her gran
didn’t think so, she’d just had a shock and she’d be alright.

They left me standing there
feeling like the biggest bastard in the world. And then he showed
up. I was stood there face to face with her father – he hadn’t left
at all.

He went for me; put both his
hands around my neck to throttle me. I couldn’t stop him, he was in
a frenzy. I couldn’t move his hands from around my throat.

I was lucky any of the staff
noticed, they were so busy fussing over Lily. It took three people
to get him off me. He let go and I went crashing backward over a
lounger, hitting my head on the tiles.

“I’ll kill you,” he shrieked at
me. “You won’t take her away from me. She’s mine, she’ll never have
her. She’ll never get her hands on her.”

I was terrified, frightened out
of my wits. I swear to you, without exaggerating, that he would’ve
killed me. He was out of control; if those people had not been
there he would have strangled me, I know it.

I was so frightened, I just ran.
I just took off and found myself running along the beach. For hours
I sat amongst the rocks, hating myself, hating her father. But
thinking that maybe I’d deserved it.

What had I done to her? I felt
like smashing my brains out against the rocks. She was the most
important thing in my life, the only thing I had, the only thing I
loved. The thought that I’d harmed her, hurt her… it made me feel
like taking a knife to myself, cutting my body, ripping out great
chunks of flesh as penance for doing such a vile thing.

I was out there for hours, not
knowing what to do. I was so scared to go back – and I didn’t know
what I would find. I was so scared Lily might hate me, that I had
done her great harm, that I had really hurt her. And I was scared
that her father might kill me; that this time he’d have his chance
and would honestly murder me.

I had to go back. I had only my
swimming shorts on, by the time it was dark I was utterly freezing.
I must’ve looked a real sight going into the front entrance,
dressed at night in my shorts, shivering.

Her grandmother was on the front
desk. She looked at me with a mixture of disapproval and pity. Like
a pet that’s knocked over a priceless vase; foolish, but
innocent.

In fact, after a moment, she
started to laugh. I did look a right state.

She took me to the kitchen where
she gave me a hot drink and reunited me with my clothes. I told her
how sorry I was, but she wasn’t quite forgiving. She said I
should’ve known better, especially considering how her mother had
died.

This was news to me – as far as
I knew her mother had died of illness. Her grandmother cursed
herself, realising Lily had deliberately withheld the truth. I
would’ve probed her more, but then Lily came in…

Her grandmother left us and I
quickly broke down into tears, I felt like such a miserable,
spiteful monster. She hugged me and told me that it was all right,
that she was fine, she was ok. She had had a bad shock, but she was
fine now. That she forgave me, which only served to make me feel
more ashamed.

We went out walking along the
waterfront and down by the beach. She wanted to tell me the truth.
Something she had never talked about before – the reason for her
fear of water. How her mother had died…

Her mother had been unwell, that
was true. She suffered badly from depression, and after Lily was
born, even more so. She was on and off tablets for most of Lily’s
childhood. She would have bad spells where she would unaccountably
become hysterical and unhappy and break down into tears and the
pressures of running the hotel would often be too much for her.

When her episodes became worse
and more frequent, her doctor recommended changing her medication,
because after so many years, her current medicine might no longer
be effective. But depression medication was habit-forming; coming
off it was no easy task and adapting to new pills was no easy thing
either.

Her mother lost all her energy,
became very tired all the time. To help her, her father hired more
staff so she wouldn’t be needed to work at the hotel at all. This
was good for a while, but it produced an unexpected new side
effect. Her mother became jealous, deadly jealous, and resentful.
He was spending more time looking after the hotel than he was with
her. She began to feel like the hotel was more important than
her.

They would have these blazing
rows. She started to hate him talking to other women. Whether they
were guests or members of staff – they were all a threat. It was
weeks before she was herself again. During this time she would
never let Lily out of her sight; whatever else was happening, she
could feel happy together with Lily.