Chegwin walked across the lawn towards the staffing quarters. Nothing was going to stop him this time. The two sides of his brain – thanks to some constant nudging by Pepper – had come to another agreement. He would confront his parents about their secret.

‘Chegwin, bunnykins,’ said Mrs Toffle. ‘Come in. We were just about to head over to the Gazing Room for breakfast. We hoped we might catch you this morning.’

‘We’re very proud of you,’ said Mr Toffle. He was wearing a T-shirt by the highly acclaimed reggae group, Polly Gruffin and the Discrete Beats of Seattle Beach. ‘To think the hotel is fully booked! I just got off the phone to the storage company and asked them to ship the last of our belongings. We love it here and we are so pleased you made the decision to come to Alan–’

Chegwin blurted out the question before he could stop it escaping his lips. ‘Who is Milton?’

Mrs Toffle gasped. ‘How did you find out?’

‘Tell me everything,’ said Chegwin. ‘No more secrets. No more sneaking around.’

Mr Toffle scratched his head. ‘I knew you were clever, son, but I didn’t think you’d be onto us before we had the chance to tell you ourselves.’

Mrs Toffle’s phone rang and she answered it quickly. ‘NOT NOW, YOU CRUMPET HEAD – I’M TALKING TO MY SON!’

Mr Toffle stared across the lawn at the busy hotel while his wife hung up. ‘Who was that?’ he asked.

‘My mother.’

‘What’s going on?’ said Chegwin, who was eager to get to the bottom of things.

‘Well, darling,’ said Mrs Toffle, ‘we have some exciting news to share with you. You’re going to be a big brother. We’re having a baby!’

Mr Toffle glowed with pride. ‘We wanted to tell you, son … so badly. But we could see you had lots on your mind with the hotel and we didn’t want to distract you from what you were trying to achieve here.’

Chegwin was stunned. ‘I’m going to be a big brother? We’re having a baby?’

‘Yes!’ exclaimed his parents.

‘But who is Milton?’ said Chegwin. He put his hand back into his pocket to feel the key to room 49, where he was certain they had been keeping his brother.

‘The baby, of course,’ said Mrs Toffle. ‘It’s a nickname. It’s what we called you before you were born – while we were still thinking of your real name. We’re doing the same with Milton Number Two.’

She reached towards the coffee table and plucked a flower from the vase. She sniffed it deeply, then popped it into her mouth. ‘I can’t hide these pregnancy cravings any longer. Mmm, mmmmmm.’

Mr Toffle reached for a photo album on the bookshelf. He turned to the page Chegwin had seen before with Amy and Rufus.

‘But there are photos missing,’ said Chegwin.

‘They’re your ultrasound pictures,’ explained Mr Toffle. ‘We wanted to compare them to the ones we have of Milton Number Two.’ He retrieved a new album from the shelf and showed Chegwin the first two pages of photos.

‘Hello, Milton.’

‘Milton’s first wave.’

‘Our little boy is growing.’

Chegwin ran his finger over the ultrasound photos. In the second picture, it looked like he was waving at the camera.

He studied the photos on the other side of the page.

‘Hello, Milton Number Two.’

‘We can’t wait to meet you, baby boy.’

‘You look just like your big brother.’

As Chegwin stared at the photos, a warm sensation flowed through his body. He was going to be a big brother! It was the same fuzzy feeling he had when he made the decision to move to Alandale and manage Toffle Towers.

Well, almost.

‘Just one last question,’ said Chegwin. ‘Why have you been sneaking around in the right wing?’

Mr Toffle sighed deeply. ‘Yes, well, we’ve been thinking about buying some new furniture for our room. Your mother’s trading has been doing well, and so have the bands I manage. We thought we might splash out and buy a new bed and lounge. Skeet-bop skeet-diddly-bop. We’ve been having a good look in the right wing for ideas. Some of the furniture there is beautifully designed.’

Chegwin smiled. ‘Oh, is that all? Sometimes my imagination runs away with me.’

‘You’re a treasure, angel face,’ said Mrs Toffle.

‘The only thing is,’ said Chegwin, retrieving the key from his pocket, ‘what was the attraction with room forty-nine? How did you even get inside to scope it out?’

‘We’ve … never been up to room forty-nine,’ said Mr Toffle, looking confused. ‘We’ve been focusing on the furniture on the ground floor.’

‘Oh, but I thought …’ Chegwin looked across the lawn at the hotel, just in time to see the curtain twitch in the far room on the top floor. He showed the key to his parents. ‘Well, if you haven’t been in room forty-nine,’ he said, ‘then who has?’