The Clock House (ON HOLD)

Chapter One

They found themselves in a hallway with two doors. The door on their right, as she clarified, was a utility room where cleaning supplies were stored, as well as food, a dryer and a washer that renters were welcome to use. The door on their left lead to the two rooms that were up for rent.

Heart hammering in eager anticipation, Dorian entered behind Fionnoula and was taken aback by the mere expansion of the so called room. He reckoned its dimensions were similar to those of a small studio apartment. Gazing around, he couldn't decide whether the feeling welling up in the pit of his abdomen was relief or utter excitement. Either way, it was definitely promising.

Dorian had been prepared for a basement, not for... this. Everything was well lit and restored in the cleverest of ways. They had played with the building's industrial connection by recreating a stone floor and leaving the floor beams from ground level exposed to create a lovely ambience and intimate space.

Lost in reverie, Dorian had just about missed everything Finn said to him so he quickly straightened up and trailed after her into the next room. Again, the sight before him was one to astonish. A modern bedroom with a connecting, open bathroom.

'As you can see, the lighting in here is fairly vibrant. What we did to accomplish this was place a couple of thick glass blocks in the floor of the Conservatory, which is situated right above us, to allow natural light to stream in.' Finn pointed upwards, proving her claims to be true.

Captured by her passionate tone of voice, Dorian listened attentively as she chatted on about the roots of the house, its history and some information regarding the restorations. Even as they finished the tour and made their way up to the kitchen for some tea, he hearkened on with intrigued ears.

With his bottom settled on a driftwood bench, he inspected his surroundings and came to the conclusion that Finn was fond of international cuisine. Or so he gathered from the iron trolley that was extensively furnished with cookbooks and showed directs signs of frequent usage --such as the gaping hole in one of the bars or a missing wheel that caused slight skewness.

Whilst sipping from his cup, Dorian peered over the rim and took notice of Finn's appearance. Or rather her dishevelled, windblown look –a look one gets from standing outside during a violent disturbance of the atmosphere. Which was ironic, because as the thought crossed his mind, the storm that had threatened outside unleashed its torrent of rain.

'Just my luck.' he mumbled to himself, already dreading the journey back to his friend's house.

'Pardon?'

Dorian shook his head and turned to face Fionnoula, realising he had interrupted her in the middle of a sentence. 'Sorry, I just saw that it's raining.'

She snorted and let a melodious giggle slip past her lips. 'Welcome to London.'

Perceiving that the man wasn't finding the joke to be as amusing as she did, Finn stopped and regarded him with a cock of the head. 'Where are you from?'

'Los Angeles.'

'Ah, Alta California.' she nodded thoughtfully and went to finish her tea in a single gulp. Taking the teapot by the handle and pouring herself another serving, she offered him one as well –which he politely declined.

'What dragged you to this part of the world?'

The double meaning behind her words was more than evident, and Dorian found himself impressed by her observation skills. The question's bold undertone was something he hadn't encountered often, not whilst living in London anyway.