Dead Gorgeous (2 page)

‘Nova, I’m watching you,’ Dad yelled, leaning even further over his desk.

‘Dad, please.’ Nova was desperate. ‘Besides, you don’t want Mum to see this, do you?’

‘So what if she does?’ Dad looked around furtively. He stood upright, shoulders squared, lips pursed and set. ‘Besides, what I say goes.’

‘Only when Mum isn’t here,’ replied Nova.

‘Well, she’s not here now so that notice stays. The job’s a good ‘un! Leave it alone.’

Nova recognized that belligerent tone of voice. She was familiar with the gritty, stern look. She had thought that throwing Mum into the conversation would make Dad back down – it usually
did – but he was obviously having one of his ‘I’m the man and not under my wife’s thumb’ moments! Nova couldn’t help shaking her head at the notice one last
time, before turning to make her way to the kitchen.

Mr Jackman bumped into her and carried on walking without saying a word.

‘Excuse me all over the place,’ Nova huffed at him.

Mr Jackman hadn’t altered his pace one bit. Nova didn’t even know if he’d heard her. What was that man’s problem? He shuffled around the hotel as if he had the weight of
the world on his shoulders. He wasn’t even that old. Nova didn’t think he’d reached his thirties yet. Early to middle twenties at the most. But he moved like a man at least three
times his age. If he tried smiling occasionally he might actually be passable. Short, dark-brown hair, and once, when he’d actually looked at her rather than slinking past, head down,
she’d noticed with a start that he had one brown eye and one dark blue. The start was because he’d been at the hotel for a few days by then and it was the first time Nova had caught a
clear glimpse of his eyes. She had never seen a mixed race guy with different coloured eyes before. It made Mr Jackman seem even more mysterious.

Now he’d been in the hotel for over a week and when he did put in an appearance – which wasn’t often – he always wore immaculate black jeans and a T-shirt, usually white,
even in the unusually chilly autumn weather.

‘Ah, Mr Jackman, will you be staying on with us for a while longer?’ Dad called out, leaning over the reception desk and craning his neck.

Mr Jackman nodded and carried on towards the stairs.

‘Can you give me some idea how long you’ll be with us?’ Dad leaned out even further, one hand waving to attract Mr Jackman’s attention.

But the initial nod was all Dad was going to get. Mr Jackman walked up the stairs as if Dad hadn’t spoken. As if Dad wasn’t even there.

‘Er . . . Mr Jackman . . . Mr — Arrggghhhh!’ Dad tipped right over the reception desk to land in a heap on the other side.

‘Hello, Nova.’

Nova jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. She whipped round, surprised then not surprised to see Miss Dawn standing behind her. Both Miss Dawn and her companion, Miss Eve, had the
weirdest knack of appearing behind you almost out of nowhere. Miss Dawn was an elderly black woman, her black hair streaked with honey brown and burgundy highlights. She was about as tall as
Nova’s sister, Rainbow, though Miss Eve was taller.

‘He’s a strange man, isn’t he?’ said Miss Dawn.

‘Are you talking about my dad or Mr Jackman?’

Miss Dawn smiled in Dad’s direction, watching as he cursed up a blue streak while he struggled to his feet. She turned to watch Mr Jackman’s back disappear round a bend in the
stairs. ‘Well, in this instance I was referring to Mr Jackman.’

‘He’s not very friendly, is he?’ Nova said.

‘Maybe he’s got a lot on his mind,’ Miss Dawn suggested.

‘And all of it bad, from the look on his face.’

‘What he needs is a good friend, my dear. Someone like you,’ said Miss Dawn.

‘I’m sure the very last thing he wants is to be bothered by me.’

‘Don’t you believe it. We all need someone to talk to, someone to share things with and sometimes . . .’

‘Yeah?’

‘Sometimes, no one sees things more clearly than a child.’

‘Excuse me, I’m not a child. I’m nearly thirteen.’ Nova bristled.

‘Oh, of course, my dear. My mistake.’ Miss Dawn’s eyes twinkled. ‘My point is just that sometimes younger ones like you see more clearly than us . . .
wrinklies.’

‘Tell that to my dad – ‘ Nova indicated with her head ‘then maybe he’ll let me take down that notice.’

‘Oh, no! You don’t want to take that down. Your father’s quite right, my dear.’

‘But . . . but it’s
embarrassing!’

‘What’s embarrassing about using the toilet?’ asked Miss Dawn with perfect seriousness. ‘It’s something to celebrate rather than be ashamed of. We all do it! And
toilets are a fantastic invention. So useful. So
comfortable!’

Nova’s face grew hotter by the second. That was not the sort of thing old women should talk about. ‘If you say so.’ She took a discreet but wary step backwards.

‘I do! I’ve spent many a happy hour sitting on the toilet, reading or sewing or just contemplating the infinite!’

‘Er . . . I think I hear Mum calling me. Bye!’ Nova turned and raced for the kitchen.

‘Nova, don’t run!’ Dad yelled. ‘Health and safety!’

‘I wasn’t about to give you a graphic demonstration, my dear,’ Miss Dawn called out. ‘I was just talking about them, that’s all.’

Nova didn’t stop running until she’d reached the kitchen. If it weren’t for the weird guests at the hotel and the even more weird behaviour of her dad, the hotel might actually
be a reasonable place to hang out!

‘When I was at school, my cookery teacher told us the secret to rolling out good pastry was “Short, sharp strokes away from you! Short, sharp strokes away from
you.”’ Mum matched the words to the actions, her hands on the rolling pin moving in brisk, precise strokes across the pastry on the kitchen table. ‘And I find it actually works!
I’ve never rolled out uneven pastry in my life!’

Nova entered the kitchen, only to stop short at the sound of her mum’s voice. Mum was a cookery superstar again! Whenever she was alone in the kitchen, she always pretended to be some
really famous cook whose every culinary move was watched by millions to copy, learn from and enjoy.

‘And I find there’s something very soothing about cooking foods high in carbohydrates. Beating cakes. Kneading dough. Rolling pastry. Very therapeutic. Very satisfying,’ Mum
continued, totally unaware that she was being watched. ‘Take this pastry I’m rolling, for instance. Now, the guests brave enough – or broke enough – to eat dinner here may
say that my puff pastry is as light as a brick, but they’re missing the point. Making pastry stops me from throttling some of them. Beating cake mixture works out all the little stresses and
strains of everyday life. And as for kneading bread dough – now that’s a life saver. I even keep batches of bread dough in the fridge in case of emergencies. I have a little song I made
up which goes to the heart of what I’m trying to say. It goes like this.’ Turning her head away from the pastry before her, Mum coughed a couple of times to clear her throat before she
began:

‘Oh, yes, there’s nothing like a big dollop of bread dough,’ Mum concluded.

‘Mum, that’s about seventeen signs of madness all rolled into one, that is!’

Mum jumped so high, Nova thought she’d have to scrape her off the ceiling. ‘It’s not polite to listen to private conversations,’ Mum ranted, when her feet touched the
ground again.

‘And it’s not sane to pretend you’re being filmed every time you break out a saucepan,’ Nova pointed out.

‘Was there something in particular you wanted or are you just here to make my life a misery?’ Mum asked.

‘What’re you doing?’ Nova came further into the room.

‘Making pastry, dear. What does it look like?’

‘Who cheesed you off then?’

‘No one. Sometimes I make pastry because I’m cooking something that requires pastry.’ Mum frowned. ‘Besides, you’re the one who’s got a funny look on your
face.’

‘No I haven’t.’

‘Yes you have. Your eyebrows are knotted together so tightly, it’d take Alexander the Great to sort them out.’

‘Who’s he then? A footballer?’ grinned Nova.

Mum shook her head. ‘What do they teach you at school these days?’

‘Things that are far more useful than the dreary stuff you learned,’ Nova replied. ‘And I know who Alexander the Great was. He was the son of Alexander the Average.’

‘You were telling me why you’ve got a face on?’ Mum said patiently.

‘I had to get away from Miss Dawn.’

‘Why?’

‘She was going on and on about toilets and how lucky we are that they’re so comfortable!’

Mum burst out laughing.

‘I like her but she is really strange.’ Nova shook her head.

‘She’s in the perfect place then. Strange is what we do best at this hotel,’ said Mum.

‘Yeah, but there’s something very odd about her. And that other woman, Miss Eve. Why do they travel around together? They’re always sniping at each other,’ Nova wondered
out loud.

‘At least they don’t stab each other in the back,’ Mum pointed out. ‘They’re nasty to each other’s faces.’.

‘But why go around together then?’

‘Why not? And at that age, maybe it’s better than being alone.’

‘Is it?’ said Nova.

Mum shrugged. ‘Some people will do some really foolish things or put up with a great deal rather than be lonely.’

‘Would you?’ Nova asked.

Mum considered. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘I don’t think I would either.’

Mother and daughter exchanged a smile of perfect understanding.

‘D’you want a snack?’ asked Mum. ‘I’ve bought some rock buns or there’re some doughnuts next to the bread bin.’

‘No thanks.’

‘Not hungry?’

‘Not especially,’ Nova replied.

‘You never are,’ said Mum. ‘You only ever eat at meal times – that I’ve seen, anyway.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, but it’s not normal. Not for a twelve-year-old at any rate!’

‘I’m the most normal one in this hotel,’ Nova said indignantly.

‘Which isn’t saying much!’

‘True,’ Nova agreed with a grin.

Mum’s smile faded. ‘So why d’you never eat snacks?’

Nova sighed with impatience. ‘I do eat snacks. I stuff myself with snacks.’

At Mum’s raised eyebrows, Nova insisted, ‘It’s true.’

‘You don’t seem to have much of a sweet tooth either. It’s not natural,’ said Mum, more to herself than otherwise.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Nova marched over to the bread bin and helped herself to a jam doughnut from the paper bag next to it. She took a huge bite out of it, chewing rapidly
as she said, ‘See!’

‘Yes, dear.’ Mum smiled and returned to her pastry. Nova finished her doughnut in four bites before licking her sugary fingers clean like a cat licking its paws.

‘Want another one?’ asked Mum.

‘Maybe later.’ Nova drifted around the kitchen, looking for something to do that would require little effort and less thought. ‘Dad’s put up one of his notices
again.’

Mum sighed. ‘Oh dear! What’s this one about?’

‘Using the toilets properly.’

‘First Miss Dawn, then your father. Why is everyone fixated on their nether regions today?’ Mum frowned.

‘Don’t ask me. D’you want some help?’

‘No, I’ve got it all under control,’ Mum said hastily. ‘No offence, love, but you helping out in the kitchen is like a bull helping out in a crystal glass
shop!’

‘Well, thank you very much. And when I don’t offer —’ Nova got no further.

Jude and Jake raced into the kitchen, crashing into her. ‘Ow! Can’t you two watch where you’re going?’ she stormed at them.

Only seconds behind them sprinted Rainbow, Nova’s older sister. ‘Mum, tell those little nappy squirts to stay out of my room or I’ll. . . I’ll torture them,’ she
raged, snatching at her brothers.

Jake and Jude ducked under and around the table, trying to keep out of reach of both Rainbow and Nova. The twins hid behind Mum as Rainbow did her best to grab first one, then the other, without
much success.

‘Raye, calm down. Nova, they bashed into you by accident so back off. OK, you two, what’ve you been up to?’ Mum had to sidestep, then front-step to keep between Rainbow and the
twins. It looked as if she were line dancing.

‘They’ve been in my room, searching through my things – that’s what they’ve been doing,’ Rainbow fumed. ‘Mum, I want a lock on my door and if you
don’t get someone to do it, I’ll do it myself.’

‘Jude, is that true? Were you two searching through Raye’s bedroom?’

‘Only a little bit, Mum,’ Jude admitted.

‘In a pig’s eye!’ Raye exploded. ‘They’ve been through all my stuff and my room’s a mess.’

‘How can you tell?’ Mum wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. At least, Nova didn’t think she was. From the instantly apologetic look on Mum’s face, it’d obviously
just slipped out. But it’d slipped out far enough for Rainbow to hear. Rainbow glared at Mum before she turned and marched out of the kitchen.

Mum turned to the twins. ‘Could you two please,
please
stay out of Rainbow’s room for the sake of my blood pressure? Not to mention my sanity!’

The twins grinned at her. ‘At least we give Rainbow something else to worry about apart from boys!’ said Jude.

‘So what did you get this time?’ Nova said eagerly. ‘Anything interesting?’

‘Raye’s writing poems,’ Jake informed her solemnly.

‘No! Did you manage to get one?’

Jake lifted up his jumper and a piece of paper immediately fluttered out and onto the floor.

‘Let’s see.’ Nova bent to snatch at it but Jake got there first.

‘We’ll read it,’ he told her.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Mum warned. ‘It doesn’t belong to you and if Raye finds out you’ve got it, you’re on your own!’

‘She won’t find out, Mum. Don’t worry. Ready, Jake?’ said Jude.