“The hotel? Well I knew it was old, it had been a big stately home at some stage. I’m sure it was the “big house” of one of the “rich folk” in one of those costume dramas in the eighties”

The phone signal was terrible so I only got the gist of my friend’s response. I guessed it was about the tv show, she’d really been into them back when we were at school.

“Oh I don’t know which one but it must have been a good few years ago as this place is nothing like the glamorous mansion with the magnificent chandeliers and the huge ballroom. I think it’s feeling it’s age..”

..

“Sorry I didn’t catch that bit, I thought I heard crying,no, it can’t have been a baby, at least it shouldn’t be. It’s an adult only hotel, you know the type, “get away from it all”, so no kids allowed.”

..

“Nope, no better, I’ll move around the room a bit. Wow that crying is getting louder, actually it sounds more like sobbing, must be from the room next door”

Meanwhile my friend must have been looking up the hotel on the internet as when I could here what she was saying it was about the original occupants of the house.

“Well I guess we must be in one of the servants rooms judging from the size of it. If you look at the picture of the front of the hotel, we’re on the top floor, one of those attic rooms”

This set her off on a rant about husbands who don’t like spending money on their wives - it was a frequent topic of our conversations - although I was only half paying attention as the sobbing had become almost a wail and was really getting on my nerves. Wow they certainly skimped on insulation in these rooms if the walls were that thin.

“Michael? Ah, yes, the “it’ll do us good to get away from it all”? The “it doesn’t matter that the wifi isn’t reliable, we’ll get out and about and enjoy the countryside”? Well I may be able to survive without the internet for a weekend but he just had to get in a round of golf”

By this time I was pressed up close to the small window trying to get a better signal. Looking down, past the peeling paint on the window frame, I had a glimpse of the garden with its ornate hedges looking sinister as the mist swirled across the lawn. I shivered and moved over to stand near the small radiator. The sobbing was much louder there and I was starting to feel a bit guilty, maybe I should knock on the door and see if she’s alright? Actually it seemed more like the sound was coming from the compact en-suite rather than the next room.

My friend had finished complaining about her other half and was back to reading out bits from the hotel website. Apparently it was supposed to be haunted. I suppressed a snort of laughter as I knew my friend believed in all thing supernatural. Back in day, when the house really was the grand place the tv programme had tried to recreate, there were loads of servants. A full compliment of housemaids, chambermaids, scullery maids, footmen, valets…all the way up to a housekeeper and a butler. Of course there was a story of a young, innocent chambermaid and the Duke’s son, the heir to the estate. You’re sure to read of types like him in any typical period romance, all brooding passion and declarations of love. I’m certain you can guess the rest, she ends up in trouble and he goes off and marries some rich heiress. And the poor maid is never heard of again. Unless you count the rumours of the ghost. Which I didn’t, at least until I opened the door to the en-suite.

“Ah…….. I’ll call you back” as I stared at the young girl sat on the edge of the bath in what to me looked like a maids outfit - full length blue skirt, long white apron, blue elbow length linen top with white collar and cuffs and why is this what’s going through my mind at the moment? I’m not back in history class.

The girl didn’t seem to have noticed me yet, she was still sobbing into a handkerchief that looked like it had once been white but now was soaked through with tears.

“Mary?” I said hesitantly, as that was the name of the girl in the story. I wasn’t sure if she could even hear me over the crying so was surprised when she quickly brought her head up and glared at me.

Her face was all blotchy and red, particularly round her eyes, yet she managed to make me feel that I was the one in the wrong.

“Do I look like a Mary?” She snapped. “Or have you got an accomplice just around the corner with their camera poised to take some snaps for the front page?”

“Er..sorry?” I tried then realised that with her tone of voice not only had I obviously let my friend’s story get to me but some complete stranger was in our room!

“What exactly are you doing in here then?!” We both said at once.

She swiftly followed up with “You don’t recognise me do you?” And sounded quite indignant, maybe with a touch of resignation.

“Er…sorry…no?” I gave a small shake of my head and tried to look a bit ashamed then pulled myself together adding “why are you in our bathroom?”

“Ooh” and this time she was the one looking abashed, “ I hadn’t realised that they were letting anyone stay up here. I just wanted somewhere to hide away from the paparazzi, you know how it is, one hint of scandal and they’re instantly on the scene, hounding everyone for a quote or pointing their telephoto lenses where they don’t belong “

By now I must have been looking really puzzled as she gradually went from sounding like a giddy starlet gossiping away to someone rather lost.

“The press?” She tried again slightly tilting her head in question.

“Um… it’s really quiet here, I’ve hardly seen anyone “ I ventured.

“Oh don’t be silly,” she replied, “ all the crew are downstairs setting up for the main scene in the ballroom.”

“Film crew? I haven’t seen a film crew.”

“Are you blind or just incredibly unobservant?! The car park is full of trailers, there’s cables and lightning rigs everywhere, the constant noise of the generators.” She was almost yelling now but at the same time was looking increasingly concerned.

She rushed past me to the window, well not quite past me, the doorway wasn’t big enough, yet somehow she was there at the window looking eagerly out.

When she turned back to look at me it seemed all the energy had drained from her.

Her face was no longer blotchy with tears, it seemed almost grey.

“Every once in a while I forget,” her voice was forlorn, “I forget my fate. I’m that young hopeful once more, her first big break, her dream of being a star so close.” She was gazing upwards now, so fervently I could imagine the spotlights & the cameras.

“I was so foolish, I should have known he wouldn’t take me seriously. He was famous, he’d made his name, he’d been the lead in so many films, always the brooding love interest. And how all the girls swooned when he glanced in their direction, an imitation of the ladies in all those films” I sensed her looking back, back to another time, back to her time.

“Oh I was so delighted that he noticed me. I would have done anything for him. And of course I did.” She looked back at me now, a sad smile upon her face. And somehow she seemed slightly paler, almost as though the light from the window was shining through her.

“I thought all my dreams had come true but then she” that last word was hissed out, “she suddenly announced that she’d split from her producer boyfriend she’d met in her last film, and then I may as well have not existed. All he wanted was to be with her. I was now just an inconvenience. He just wanted me to fade away”

Which is what she gradually appeared to be doing now. I started to feel chilled again and gave an involuntary shiver.

“Wait!” I cried as she faded away, “I never got to know your name”.

There was a faint whisper, not loud enough to make out, then nothing more.

I sat down on the bed, feeling rather bewildered. I shook my head, I must have been dreaming I told myself. I got up to splash some water on my face but didn’t really feel like going into the en-suite again. Instead I reached for my coat deciding some fresh air would be better.

Then just as I was closing the door behind me, I heard it, the sound of someone sobbing.