Primogeniture (The Firstborn)

2: Peter at home

2: Peter at home

It was with the fumbling of various keys, suddenly seeming to be of identical size and shape and becoming surprisingly difficult to grasp with sweaty fingers, let alone position in the lock, that Peter Ruddle attempted to enter the pristine, high gloss, black painted, double front doors of the Ruddle residence.

Ill at ease in the late afternoon winter sunshine—which seemed to have been unrelenting in it’s attempts to shine with particular intensity directly into his eyes; needling his already nagging headache and increasing his state of confusion and exhaustion after the short walk from the tube station—he was anxious to get inside.

“For Christ’s sake,” Peter cursed as he dropped the entire bunch with a metallic rattle, trying hard to recall the night before, but with little success. As he bent down to pick up his keys he felt tiny beads of perspiration trickle down his forehead and into his eyes, and a slight dizziness, reminding him of exactly how unwell he had felt earlier in the day.

The journey home from Cambridge had been a blur but at least the mild nausea that had persisted most of the way back to London was subsiding and he was, he had to admit, feeling better, even though still plagued with an overwhelming sense of weakness.

 The house was situated in one of the more salubrious parts of West London. The houses in this district were substantial white stucco affairs and being too large for most requirements and too expensive for most pockets, had been systematically divided into lavishly appointed units of

various sizes and shapes.

A few houses, however, retained their more or less original Victorian layout; fitted with the latest kitchens, bathrooms and modern amenities, but otherwise laid out as the architect intended.

It was one such house that Dr Andrew Ruddle had made his main London residence many years before. Since that time, life for Dr Ruddle had moved on and he had acquired additional properties located in some of the most prestigious cities around the world. He now spent most of his time in a lavish penthouse in New York overlooking Central Park with his new wife and his new children.

He kept the London house mainly as an investment but also for his personal use during his frequent trips to London on business. In addition, it was useful for Peter whilst he completed his course in Computer Science at Cambridge University.

Peter, finally managed to fit the correct key, turn the lock and stumble into the hallway.

The hallway, seemed to Peter, in his current state of confusion, to be even more cavernous than he remembered; designed, more to the proportion of a small luxury hotel than to that of a domestic residence. Peter, looked around at the high Regency grandeur, the ornately decorated ceiling roses, coving and architraving. The sparkling chandeliers twinkling in defiance of weight and gravity and skirting boards of quite unnecessary depth which all combined to both impress and overwhelm.

How is it that big houses intended for vast entertainments; people, friends and family, only help to emphasise — like a permeating silent dense fog that crawls into every part of the soul—an overwhelming sense of detachment.

Peter tried to recollect if it was Byron who once described the gloom of his once magnificent ancestral home built for a different time and age, now decaying and cold, as he moved from one room to another in a monotonous lonely charade. Peter smiled to himself. Perhaps that was why Byron spent so much time travelling.

 Languishing deeper into lethargy and depression, Peter anticipated a long, lonely and fairly miserable Christmas.

Last year had been very different. He had been invited to spend Christmas and New Year at his girlfriend Anna’s parents; a sprawling country estate in Surrey. Anna was an undergraduate studying Medieval languages. She also had a large extended family and Peter had been popular with Anna’s mother and three younger sisters. Her father had also liked him particularly after a few male bonding sessions down at the local pub. This was one of the happiest periods that he could remember and Anna seemed to be besotted with him and he believed he loved her.