Starlight on the Palace Pier: The very best kind of romance for the Christmas season in 2018. Tracy Corbett

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      She flicked off the light and locked the door.

      It shouldn’t matter what she looked like. She should be judged on her performance, not her appearance. Not that she was glowing in that department either. But at least she could do something about that. Changing how she looked was not an option. It was who she was.

      She passed through reception and knocked on the office door.

      No answer.

      She tried the handle in case Jodi was wearing her headphones. Her cousin wasn’t expected to work on a Saturday, but she’d offered to do a few hours ahead of her shift at the restaurant later. Carolyn had a habit of talking to herself, so Jodi had started wearing headphones to block out the noise.

      The door was unlocked, but Jodi wasn’t at her desk. Becca was about to leave, when she realised Carolyn was asleep on the sofa. She was curled up, one arm flung off the side, her head at a strange angle.

      Becca went over and removed Carolyn’s shoes. She lifted her head and placed a cushion underneath, trying to make her more comfortable. The sofa was too small for her tall frame, but there was nothing Becca could do about that. The woman smelt of booze. The office keys were clutched in her hand.

      She slid the keys from Carolyn’s hand, intending to give them to Jodi when she saw her.

      When she stood up, she noticed the wall safe was open. She couldn’t imagine that had been intentional. Carolyn had probably got distracted halfway through a task, as so often happened.

      She went over and shut the door. The office looked much tidier now. Jodi had spent her first week filing, shredding and finding homes for various things. She’d always known her cousin would impress. She’d just needed someone to take a chance on her. And now Carolyn had.

      Shutting the office door, she headed down the corridor towards the café. A couple of creative types wearing tie-dye overalls were enjoying a brew; other than that, the place was deserted. The Starlight Playhouse boasted an art studio, a small cinema, a theatre and a grand ballroom, and yet all the rooms lay empty, unused, failing to generate any income. It was a travesty. And a waste too. This place could be a thriving arts centre if it was in better shape.

      As Carolyn wasn’t in a fit state to discuss the repairs, she decided to ask Eddie Moriantez instead. She’d seen him fixing a door hinge and sanding down a splintered bench seat this week.

      Before she could track down the handy groundsman, she heard heated voices. As she rounded the bend, she saw her cousin locked in battle with the front-of-house manager.

      ‘You’re being unreasonable,’ Jodi said. ‘Why won’t you give it to me?’

      ‘Madam may trust you, but I don’t.’ The woman lifted her chin, looking down on Jodi like she was something attached to the bottom of her heeled court.

      Becca wanted to thump her.

      ‘Until I receive express authority from madam, I will not comply with your request.’

      ‘What is it you think I’m going to do?’ Jodi looked perplexed. ‘Open an offshore account? I’m just asking for the password to QuickBooks.’

      ‘If madam wanted you to have access, she’d have given you the password.’

      ‘Carolyn isn’t feeling well,’ Jodi replied. ‘She’s lying down. I don’t want to disturb her.’

      Becca caught sight of Eddie coming through the French doors. He was carrying a toolbox.

      As much as she wanted to stay and defend her cousin, she’d learnt over the years that Jodi didn’t appreciate people wading in to help her. Confident her cousin was more than a match for Vivienne, she left Jodi to continue her battle and went after the groundsman.

      She caught up with him as he reached the ballroom. She hadn’t been inside since returning to Brighton – the door had always been locked – but the sight that greeted her was no less impressive than it had been twelve years earlier when Tom had shown her around.

      She squashed the image of Tom that popped into her head. Nothing good would come from reminiscing.

      The grand ballroom was huge with wooden parquet flooring and a high ceiling painted in the style of the renaissance artists. Angels were depicted in full flight, armed with crossbows, flying between the clouds, the moon and the stars.

      The walls were painted white, decorated with intricate carvings adorned with gold leaf. At the far end, a grand fireplace sat beneath a gigantic mirror. Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling, ornate and fragile. A grand piano sat in the corner, hidden underneath a dustsheet.

      It was breathtaking. A stunning space, waiting to be filled with royalty and nobility. It was only as she walked further into the room that its beauty became overshadowed by disrepair. Paint peeled away from the artwork on the ceiling. Cracked plaster hung from the walls. Several panes of glass were cracked. The chairs, once plush and ornamental, looked tired and worn.

      Eddie was up a ladder inspecting the water-stained ceiling.

      Careful not to make him jump, she approached. ‘Eddie? Do you have a moment?’

      He glanced down. ‘Hey there, Becca. How was ballet class today? It sounded lively from outside.’

      She’d warmed to the groundsman the instant she’d met him. He had kind eyes and was always cheerful. Next to the sombre front-of-house manager and grumpy chef, he was a breath of fresh air. ‘Less disastrous than last week. It’s a work in progress.’

      ‘You’ll get there. Nothing worth achieving is ever easy.’

      ‘That’s just the sort of thing my mum would say.’

      He laughed. ‘Sounds like a woman worth listening to.’ He aimed his torch at the ceiling. The shake of his head indicated all was not well. ‘Did you want me for something?’

      ‘It’s about the dance studio. What are the chances of you fixing it up a bit?’

      He sighed. ‘It’s on the list, but so are lots of other jobs.’ He shrugged. ‘There’s not enough budget to get all the work done.’

      ‘But income will only increase if we get more people using the facilities. The state of the dance studio is putting people off. Is there really no way you can bump it up the pecking order?’

      He shone his light on the ceiling. ‘See that? There’s a leak in the roof, which is affecting this room and the art studio next door. If we don’t get it seen to there’s a risk the whole lot will fall down.’

      ‘Oh.’

      He climbed down the ladder and fetched a drill from his toolbox. ‘In terms of priority, this takes precedence. Sorry.’

      ‘Fair enough. I thought it was worth asking.’

      ‘What are you doing in here?’ The sound of Vivienne’s voice made Becca jump. She turned to see the woman marching towards her, her heels clicking on the flooring like rapid gunfire. Against the white walls, her black flapper dress seemed even more sinister than normal.

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