the Bremore Hotel

[Derby]

Story Starter.

Charlie stood with his tray looking about for a spare table. A voice at his elbow spoke. 'You can sit here, I'm off soon'.
She was middle-aged and had greying hair. He thought that she looked pleasant.
'Thank you' he said warmly, and as he sat added, 'Its a bit billowy out there' and nodded towards the sea.
'Yes I was hoping for a bit of sunshine. I saw this holiday programme and thought to myself, Mary book yourself a holiday you deserve it'.
'And where are you staying?'
'At the Bremore Hotel. Its clean and does good food'.

[Tommie Lyn]

The Bremore.

His mind summoned an unwelcome memory and he shuddered. Mary's expression changed, and he realized his feelings were probably emblazoned across his face. He tried to banish the image conjured in his mind by the word "Bremore" as he placed a determined smile on his lips.

"That's nice," Charlie lied. He busied himself with cutlery and napkin while casting about in his mind for something to say. "Perhaps the weather will subside and you'll have more luck with the sun tomorrow."

He tried to meet her eyes but couldn't, so he examined the sandwich on his plate as though it held the secrets of the universe.

[Keith Wallis]

"Do you know the Bremore ?" she asked.
Though she already knew THAT answer, his face was clearly that of a person in a group photo in the hotel lounge. She might be greying her the eyesight and memory were still focussed she thought, barely supressing a smile.
"Because I've got something on my mind, that I need an answer to, concerning the place," Mary continued.

Having had an earlier conversation, within Mary's earshot, with the waitress that rather implied he was a local gave him no oportunity to play games.

Begrudgingly he answered: "I've known OF the place since I was a kid, it's changed hands a few times but I think the present owners are OK."

"Oh good," Mary's eyes perked up, "What's the secret about that first floor front room, the one with th drapes across the door ?"

[Filoli]

Charlie peered at Mary, through tears that threatened to spill and thought she looked as though she were sitting in the bottom of a pool. He swallowed hard and gathered his thoughts on how to explain.

"Tis no secret," Charlie replied finally. "Everyone from around here knows what went on there that frightful night forty years ago."

Again he went silent,eyes searching about the room for anyone that might be listening. Satisfied they were not of any interest to the rest of the patrons, he let is eyes rest on her. He realized that her eyes were searching his for an answer to her question.

"Would you like to join me?" he finally asked.

Mary simply nodded and followed him to a small round table, that had become available as they were talking. Without speaking they began setting up their meal. After Charlie returned their trays, he nervously fingered his hair.

"My name is Charlie, by the way," he extended his hand to her.

"Pleased to meet you, Charlie. My name is Mary."

Mary waited for him to enlighten her. She could sense that he was having difficulty. She had just meant to pass the time with polite conversation and was intrigued by the possibility of a good story.

[Cymrugirl]

"Mary," he said. "Nice name, Mary. Holy."

He was poor at stalling.

"Do you believe in the afterlife, Mary?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

Charlie looked unsure. His brow was digging furrows.

"Anyone who says he doesn't is lying," said Mary.

"I suppose," he said, eyeing her with curiosity. "So what do you think goes on in there?"

"In Room forty four?"

"No, no....in there," he said, as if she hadn't heard him right. When she continued to stare at him blankly, "The other side."

Her face looked like a lit candle in a room full of dynamite.

"Are you going to tell me a ghost story?" she said, accidentally putting salt instead of sugar on her waldorf salad.

"Ah, no," he said. "Though that would be nice." Here he removed a pipe from his tweed pocket and tapped it on the table three times. Then, he smiled a thin smile. "I'm going to tell you mine."

[Tamera]

"it all started when I was just a boy," Charlie said. He drank of swig of coffee as he tried to figure out where to begin. "You know how boys are."

"No," Mary said. "I had three daughters. How are boys?"

"Well, when somebody challenges a boy to do something, he just has to do it, no matter how insane the challenge. To not do it would be... Well, you could never refuse a challenge and show your face again."

"I take you were given a challenge."

"Yes," Charlie said. He gulped another sip of coffee and looked at the window at the sea.

[Rachel E.]

"You see," he continued in a slightly strangled tone. "I had a friend when I was very young. We grew up together," he added with a short laugh.

"Yes?" Mary asked, wondering if this story was going to be worth the wait.

"Yes," Charlie said, and then fell into a silent reverie. For several minutes Mary watched his face without a word. But at last, she knew she was going to have to go soon. And she didn't want to miss a good story.

"Well, what happened?" She prompted him.

He jumped as her voice cut through the silence that had surrounded them.

[Tommie Lyn]

Charlie's eyes took on a haunted look, one which clearly bespoke his pain, and Mary almost wished she had not asked him to tell of something which caused him such distress. Almost. But not quite.

There was in her personality a trait -- she didn't think of it as outright callousness, but . . . she admitted that she had a callous bent. She had faced this less-than-admirable part of herself many years ago. And when presented with a manifestation of it such as she was at this moment, evidence of an unfeeling pursuit of a subject which obviously caused someone deep heartache, she merely shrugged and told herself, "Hey, it's the way I am."

Charlie swallowed hard and his voice came almost as a husky whisper when he said, "Did you ever hear of the Rankin Road disorder?"

[Derby]

Charlie launched into his story.
‘You have been here in Bowness a few days and have no doubt visited the start of Hadrian’s Wall at the water front. You can see Scotland one and half miles away over the Solway Firth. The wall has gone, Bremore Hotel is made from some of its stones and Rankin Road goes from the hotel down to the water, it is actually built on top of the wall’s foundations. You can imagine all the Roman soldiers who have patrolled that wall and the people that have died there. Their memorial is that hotel. Rankin was the archaeologist who worked on the site. He came to a sticky end. Sorry, I shouldn’t make a joke of it.’
‘I don’t see any joke’ quipped Mary.
Charlie, feeling that he had been rather callous said ‘From a room at the hotel someone saw Rankin start to walk towards Scotland at low tide, it looks deceivingly possible.’
‘What happened?’ asked Mary, who loved a disaster story.
‘He got halfway across then sunk into the sticky mud and was never seen again. One can only wonder what drove him to do it. I expect he shouted for help but there are hundreds of noisy gulls there at low tide, feeding and wheeling around in the sky, and most of the villagers were at the annual fete on the Green.’
Mary asked ‘But what has that got to do with you Charlie, tell me!’