Page 79 of The White Octopus Hotel
“Well, are you coming?” Max was saying.
Eve shook her head. “You go. There’s something else I want to do.”
Max disappeared with the sculpture and when Eve went downstairs alone, she wasn’t hunting for octopuses this time; she was hunting for ghosts. She walked straight to the Smoking Room. It was still quite early, and she’d thought the room might be empty and that the telephone might ring just for her. And maybe this time she’d pick it up and hear whatever it was Bella had to say. Just take it all—the recriminations, the hatred, the blame. But the room was already occupied by another person. Nan sat cross-legged in the seat built into the telephone table. The Bakelite receiver was pressed to her ear. Just as before, the phone wasn’t plugged into the wall, but Nan was talking to someone on the other end of the line.
Chapter 49
“Yes,” Nan said cheerfully. “Yes, I’ll tell her. Bye!”
She reached over to hang up the receiver with a solidclunk.
Eve cleared her throat, realising her mouth had gone dry. “Who were you talking to?” she asked.
Nan looked around. “Oh, hello! I was taking a message for you. Adults can’t understand child ghosts. Only other children can.”
Eve’s eyes went to the phone. It was still and silent, but it seemed to Eve that it gave off a dangerous sort of something—a warning, like a bomb yet to explode. She wondered briefly whether she could tell Nan she didn’t want to hear the message, but wasn’t that why she’d come to the Smoking Room? To hear from Bella? Not Annabella Roth the woman, but the little girl who’d been her sister.
“She said she’s tired and wants to go now.”
Eve took a deep breath. There was no way of knowing whether Nan had actually spoken to Bella, or whether she was simply playing make-believe. A gate creaked loudly inside her head and she saw a rabbit hopping about on the other side of the mirror.
“Why are you upset?” Nan asked. “Is it because of Aunt Anna? Because she put it in the fire?”
“She burned the music boxes and paintings,” Eve replied. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, and she burned the special one,” Nan said. “The music box that plays the most beautiful music in the world. It’s broken now.”
“Yes.”
“Daddy says Aunt Anna isverystressed,” Nan said. “Because she worries about the hotel, because she loves it so much, and we’re not supposed to bother her.” She paused. “The music isn’t gone, though.”
“It’s not?”
“No.” Nan beckoned Eve closer. “Can you keep a secret?” she whispered.
“I think so,” Eve whispered back.
“Aunt Anna doesn’t know about this,” Nan said. “But my mouse band can do it.”
“Do…what?”
“They can play it. The most beautiful song in the world.”
Eve recalled the tuneless whirs and clicks from the last time the girl had put on a mouse concert and felt her burst of hope fading away. The mice musicians couldn’t play the most beautiful music in the world. They couldn’t play any music at all.
“I’ll show you,” Nan said.
She reached for Eve’s hand, making her flinch. The last child’s hand she’d held had been Bella’s. She had a sudden strong flash of memory of her sister reaching for her whenever their mother took them to the forest. It was something she’d forgotten for many years, but Bella always wanted to hold Eve’s hand as they walked towards the duck pond. And when they got there, Bella would try to eat thebread they’d brought for the ducks, and Eve would say, “No, Bella, you’re supposed to give it to the ducks. Look.”
She’d toss in some crumbs, watching them land on the murky surface of the pond. And then Bella threw her bread in too, because she always wanted to do what Eve did.
“That’s right!” Eve exclaimed.
And Bella beamed, and then she giggled, and Eve felt a rush of warmth and love for her sister, and a burst of pleasure at the fact that she was the one who’d made her laugh. There had been moments like that, when Bella wasn’t being a pain, or getting in her way, or crying, or making a fuss, or throwing food on the floor. There had been times when Eve had been glad to see her, when she’d liked her, when she’d taken care of her and they’d enjoyed each other’s company. It was hard to remember those moments sometimes now, but theyhadbeen there.
Eve swallowed hard as she followed Nan down the corridor of the hotel. The child was so completely trusting, not realising that she was holding hands with a killer, as she skipped straight to the Billiards Room. Eve had been inside it before, on that first day of the scavenger hunt. The room had one clock—an old, German-made billiards timing clock—and two octopuses, in the form of the twin lights suspended above the table. They were switched on now, illuminating the smooth green felt below. The room was empty at this time of day, but there was a small whiskey bar in the corner, along with two high-backed armchairs. The walls were lined with bookshelves and glossy wooden panels and there was, to Eve’s relief, not a painting in sight.
“This way,” Nan said, humming to herself as she dropped Eve’s hand and went over to a shelf. Upon it sat the Merrymakers clockwork mouse band Nan had shown her before—the four tin mice assembled around their piano.
