Sands of Time (27 page)

The gate was stiff. The hinges creaked loudly as she pushed it open and walked quickly up the path. They knocked and rang the bell, reluctant to go in uninvited, but there was no answer.

The hall was long and narrow and smelled faintly of cooking. They sniffed. ‘Cabbage.’ Jill was groping for the light switch. ‘Why is it always cabbage?’ The single bulb with its pleated orange shade showed a narrow strip of flowered carpet and an ornate mahogany hall stand with a built-in mirror. On it was a rumpled lace mat the colour of cold tea.

‘Hello!’ Jill raised her hand to knock at the only door leading off the hallway, on their left. Its brown paint was badly scuffed and it looked as though it had been forced open at some point in the past. There was no reply and gingerly she turned the knob. It was locked.

They stood looking up the staircase. ‘The top you said?’ Andy put his hand on the huge wooden swirl at the bottom of the banister rail. It seemed too large and imposing for the narrowness of the hall. ‘Come on then.’

The landing on the first floor revealed five more doors. One was a bathroom, basic, old-fashioned, without towels or mats or even – Jill noticed at once – lavatory paper. The other four doors were locked.

On up and they found three more doors. One, a small loo (also without paper) the other two locked, then a small uncarpeted staircase led even higher. They stood looking up into the darkness. ‘
Chez nous?
’ Andy raised an eyebrow.

‘I suppose so.’ Jill grimaced. ‘It’s pretty quiet isn’t it.’

‘As the grave!’ He put on a hollow voice, and then rather wished he hadn’t. ‘Here, let me have the key. I’ll go first.’

She hadn’t said anything but he could sense she was uncomfortable. So to be honest was he. The house was too bloody quiet by half.

The key slipped into the lock easily and the door swung back. It revealed, once they had found the light switch, in the orange glow of another pleated shade, a long low-ceilinged room with four mansard windows. Two looked one way over the street, the others looked presumably over the garden. When he knelt on a window seat to stare out at the back Andy could see nothing.

The room was furnished with two beds, two chests-of-drawers, two cupboards and a table. The floor was bare linoleum. In the corner behind a blue flowered curtain they found a small scruffy sink, a gas cooker and another cupboard.

‘Paradise!’ Andy sat down experimentally on one of the beds and gave a cautious bounce. He glanced up at her. ‘You OK?’ She was awfully pale.

‘Sure.’ She said it too quickly. ‘It’s fine. So, who do we tell?’

He shrugged. Standing up he went over to the window. ‘I thought I heard a car.’

They ran downstairs to find an elderly man on the threshold, opening and shutting his umbrella to throw off the rain. He looked up at them, a puzzled frown on his face.

‘We came to see the room.’

‘Are you the landlord?’

The simultaneous explanation and question seemed to confuse him. He put his umbrella carefully in the square compartment clearly intended for that very use at the end of the stand, then, slowly he began to unbutton his overcoat.

‘Is it all right if we bring our things over later?’ Jill smiled at him, not above wheedling when she had to. He reminded her a little of her grandfather and it had always worked with him.

He hung his coat on the stand and stood for a moment adjusting his tie, seemingly lost in thought, staring at the speckled mirror.

‘Is it your house, mate?’ Andy thought a man to man approach with a touch of familiarity might be appropriate.

The old man smiled to himself gently. He tweaked his jacket straight and stood back, turning towards the door behind him which Andy had tried earlier. They watched in silence as it opened and he walked into the room. As it closed behind him Andy gave a soft whistle. ‘Did he even see us?’

Jill shrugged. ‘Not very sociable, was he?’ She tiptoed towards the closed door and put her ear to the panelling.

‘Jill!’ Andy was shocked.

‘It’s so bloody quiet. Too bloody quiet!’ She turned to face him. ‘I don’t like it here, Andy.’

Secretly he agreed with her. ‘What choice have we? We’re not going to find anywhere else by tomorrow.’ He shrugged. ‘He looked pretty harmless. Quite nice in fact.’

She smiled at him in fond exasperation. ‘Optimist. OK. Here goes.’ She raised her fist and rapped on the door. ‘At least he must know who we should contact.’ She knocked again.

‘Or, again, he won’t.’ After a pause Andy grimaced. ‘As I said, not the world’s most sociable.’

‘Oh, come on!’ Jill took a deep breath and smacked the door with the flat of her hand.

‘Steady.’ Andy put his hand on her arm. ‘Perhaps he just doesn’t want to talk to us.’

‘Well I want to talk to him!’ She shook him off and to Andy’s surprise he saw that she was close to tears. ‘I only want a word. I want to get it sorted, Andy. I want to move in and have somewhere to stay! Come on, you silly old fool. Answer.’ She grabbed the door handle and shook it hard.

‘Jill, don’t – ’

‘Wait! Listen! I can hear him.’ Jill held up her hand. ‘He’s coming.’ Her relief was palpable.

Andy had heard it too now. Footsteps were approaching them on the far side of the door. He glanced at Jill, then he stepped forward and knocked again, politely this time. It opened almost at once.

‘Yes?’ The old man stared at them from mild, pale blue eyes.

‘I’m sorry to bother you –’ Andy found himself staring past the man’s shoulder into the room. It was softly lit and from where he was standing he could see the fire crackling brightly in the grate, the corner of a blue sofa, a table with on it a vase of red anemones. He took a deep breath. ‘We were wondering if we could rent the top room –’ For some reason he was finding it hard to collect his wits.

The old man smiled. ‘Of course.’

‘You are the landlord?’ Andy’s glance shot back into the room as he heard a woman’s cough.

‘I am.’ The old man inclined his head. ‘You are very welcome to rent the room, young man.’

‘What about references and things?’

‘Tomorrow.’ With another bow he stepped back from the door and pushed it gently shut in Andy ’s face.

For a moment he stood staring at the brown wood then he turned to Jill. ‘Well. What do you think?’ He was speaking in a whisper.

‘I suppose it will do. Temporarily. We could always look for somewhere closer in, next term –’ She broke off as behind them suddenly they heard the sound of raised voices from behind the closed door.

‘Andy – ’

‘Wait.’ He was listening again. ‘They are having an awful row. I can hear someone crying – ’

Suddenly the sound was reverberating around the hall. They could hear a woman shouting, then there was a scream. There was a loud crash from behind the door and then silence.

Andy and Jill stared at each other. ‘Should I see if they’re all right?’ Andy was frowning.

‘I don’t know.’ Jill was backing away towards the front door. ‘Andy, I really think we should go.’

He glanced at her. Her face was white. He bit his lip. ‘Look we’ve got to check. It’s gone awfully quiet in there.’ He raised his hand and knocked softly. There was no reply. He looked over his shoulder at Jill and knocked again. ‘Hello. Is everything OK? Can we help?’

With a slight click the door swung slowly inwards under his hand. Andy took a step back, surprised. He took a deep breath. ‘Hello? Excuse me, are you all right in there?’

With a quick glance at her Andy moved forward and pushed the door open. ‘Hello –’ he called again. He stopped abruptly.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s empty!’ He stepped into the room and stood staring round. It was large and high-ceilinged with an ornate fireplace. There was nothing but cold ashes in the grate. The room was empty and dark, the windows shuttered, the floor uncarpeted.

‘It can’t be! We both saw him.’ Jill was hovering in the doorway. ‘There must be another door. He must have come through here and gone somewhere else.’

He swallowed. ‘I saw him. You saw him. The fire was lit. The room was warm. There were lights – ’

‘I want to go.’ Jill’s voice was suddenly very urgent. ‘I don’t like this. Come on.’ She was pulling at his sleeve.

‘But it doesn’t make sense – ’

‘I don’t care!’ Jill’s voice rose an octave. ‘I’m going.’ She turned and ran out into the hall again and reached for the front door latch. Fumbling she pulled at the handle and dragged it open. ‘Andy, come on!’

‘Wait, Jill. Wait for me –’ Andy was still standing in the middle of the room, staring round.

Jill didn’t hear him. She had run out onto the path. Two cars had drawn up at the kerb and there were a group of men standing on the pavement. She couldn’t see them properly in the darkness and she paused. ‘Run, love. Get away from the house!’ A voice came at her out of the dark. ‘Quickly. You’re safe now – ’

‘Andy, what about Andy?’ She could feel the icy rain streaming into her face. The wind was lashing her hair. She looked up at the house, then she glanced back at the gate. ‘Andy, my friend. He’s in there – ’

The street was deserted. The car and the men had gone.

She stared. Then she turned back to the house.

In the darkness all she could see were trees. On either side the neat small modern houses with their lighted windows stood square against the rain. In front of her the weeds grew shoulder high and rank. She could smell nettles and dead leaves. The house had gone.

‘Andy?’ Ice cold, her stomach churning with fear, she stepped forward. ‘Andy, where are you?’

There was no answer. The only sound she could hear was the patter of rain on the shiny wet laurel leaves of the hedge along the road. In the house next door, behind the fence, someone flicked a switch and in the window she dimly saw the lights of a Christmas tree shining through the dark.

Moonlight

Turning on the bed-side light Chris sat hugging her knees, her head resting on her arms. The dream had come again, exhausting, terrifying, but oh, so exhilarating and she had awoken from it once more with the strangest feeling that it had not been a dream at all.

It was only a few months since she had moved into this cottage, so different from the house in which she had brought up the children and lived most of her married life. It was mad to move from everything she knew, but it was something she had to do – a sign of independence for a newly single woman, and besides the Sixth Form College in the nearby town was perfect for the twins. It had surprised her when they leapt at the chance of the change, but who understood children? Far from bemoaning the loss of friends and cinemas and urban delights without number, they had talked in a most unteenage way of fresh air and birds and flowers. She had wondered more than once if they had talked it over in that disconcertingly parental way one’s children sometimes did, deciding that it would be a good thing for her to move, to get away from Paul and his new wife. Not that she minded, all that much, seeing them together. When a marriage is over it is over. She was enjoying her new found independence.

She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. In her dream she had walked down the path between the beds of herbs and cottagy things like delphiniums and hollyhocks to the long grass at the end of the garden where there were three ancient apple trees. It was waiting for her there: the most beautiful white horse. Without saddle or bridle, its mane like soft silk, it walked up to her and thrust its velvet muzzle into her hands, blowing gently on her fingers. This was the strange part. All her life she had been afraid of horses. Not that she knew any well, but even from a safe distance, though undoubtedly attractive creatures, they looked strong and uncontrollable and dangerous.

Here her dream became stranger still. After flinging her arms around the animal’s neck and kissing it as though it were an old friend she somehow vaulted onto its back, feeling the muscular flanks of the animal beneath her bare legs, winding her fingers into the mane and leaning forward to whisper in its ear. It listened, it raised its head and pricked its ears, then it turned and strode purposefully towards the open (open? it had never been opened) gate. In her dream she was not afraid. She leaned low, encouraging it to go faster as the horse moved smoothly from trot to canter and finally into a gallop, taking her down the fields, across ditches and through gates and on towards the Downs.