Grimm by Mike Nicholson Page A

you are,” said the boy, seemingly quite relaxed as he bent to gather some of his painting materials together.
    “How come?” said Rory, baffled that the mystery painter was more informed than he was.
    “You’ve been in my house,” said the boy.
    “When was I at your house? Who are you?” asked a bemused Rory.
    There was a long pause as the boy weighed up the situation. A slow smile drifted onto his face, as if amused by Rory’s confusion. “I’m Grimson Grimm.”
    Rory’s mind raced. A boy called Grimm? How could he have missed the fact that there was another living Grimm?
    “You didn’t know about me, did you?” said Grimson Grimm looking up from his backpack. “Well you should know that there is more to the Grimm family than what you read.”
    “So why have you been doing this?” asked Rory pointing at the mural.
    Grimson paused, surveying his work. “It seemed a bit … incomplete. I thought I’d finish it off. So what about you?” continued the boy. “Have you done anything yet?”
    Rory looked confused once more. “I mean … how are yougetting on with what my Dad asked you to do?” Grimson stood with arms folded as if planning to go nowhere until he was answered.
    It was Rory’s turn for a long pause.
What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to describe his progress in rebranding Hotel Grimm?
Suddenly a few things fell into place.
    “You were watching when Grog showed me round, weren’t you?”
    “Sure was. You seemed to have trouble keeping up with him,” replied Grimson with a smirk.
    “Those paintings in the corridor are yours too, aren’t they? The ‘GG’ on the door isn’t for Granville Grimm, it’s for you, isn’t it?”
    “So you
are
quite sharp then. I wasn’t sure if the Zizz Boy would be all he was cracked up to be.”
    The hairs on the back of Rory’s neck shot up as he felt the world of Zizz Cola come all too sharply into focus. He was saved by the phone buzzing in his pocket and remembered that Bonnie still had no idea about the identity of the painter.
    As he answered, Rory was reminded just how determined a character Bonnie O’Donnell was. Not content with Rory’s explanation of who he had just discovered, she demanded to speak to Grimson himself. He in turn looked bemused. Rory was quietly amused and tried not to stare at the one-sided scene of Grimson being interrogated over the phone, having to explain how often he had been coming to paint, how long he had spent on each session and whether anyone up at the hotel knew about what he had been doing. Grimson was finally saved by Rory’s phone bleeping to signal that the battery was running low.
    “I thought I told you to make sure it was fully charged,” snipped Bonnie, as Rory took the phone again.
    “I did. You’ve sapped it of all its energy,” said Rory.
    “I know the feeling,” said Grimson with a grin.
    “I heard that,” said Bonnie.
    “Good,” said Rory. “Now go and get some beauty sleep.”
    “Don’t need it,” said Bonnie.
    Rory switched his phone off before she could say any more.
    “Right I’ll get the cable car back home,” said Grimsonstraightening up from filling his backpack.
    “It was good to meet you,” Rory replied, trying not to react to the fact that Grimson was about to travel by a mode of transport that no Aberfintry resident would think of risking their life in.
    “When are you next up at the hotel? You should come and see me,” said Grimson.
    “The day after tomorrow. Can you put in a good word for me?” asked Rory.
    “I tend not to see my Dad that much,” said Grimson closing the last of the clips on his backpack and swinging it onto his shoulder. “I sort of do my own thing.”
    “I know the feeling,” said Rory. “What are you going to do about this?” he said gesturing at the mural.
    “Well, I wasn’t planning to do much more,” said Grimson. “I wanted to make sure the place was there but not too obviously. I think you and Bonnie have