The House

Chapter 5 - Day 1: Valuable Info

              Departure: Friday, 1 November 2019

So, this dump even has a name.

The cost indicated is a couple of hundred less than what I'd given Craig to pay for it. I now understand what Craig meant about having needed the money. Commission? Bastard... He could've just ASKED me for some money. 

I should've realised that something was up when he'd graciously offered to help me find and book a suitable place to work. Well, perhaps his pride wanted him to earn the money... I'll forgive him this time.

                For your convenience, we've instructed the caretaker, Ron McLaughlin, to clean the house and ensure that all sockets, light fixtures and appliances are in working order, as well as the gas hot water system and stove. Please do not hesitate to contact Ron should you require any assistance.

Please note that doing so will result in you being sent on nasty missions, where you will be assaulted by maggots, water and mud.

                The key to the front door accompanies this letter; additional house keys can be found on a hook in the kitchen, should you require them.

Please take note of the following:

A paragraph with some vague details about upcoming renovations to the grounds is followed by a list of do's and don'ts that succeeds in inspiring me never to leave the couch. The list covers the rest of the first page and ends around the middle of the second image. 

Weird how these things always make me feel extremely unwelcome, even when I know that I normally wouldn't be doing any of the don'ts and am always doing all the do's, even without being told. 

I'm a good little girl.

The list is followed by phone numbers, Ron's and other emergency services, covering the rest of the second page. The third image is a plan for the ground floor of the house, and the fourth contains the plans for the first story. 

The fifth image is divided between a plan for the top story, which covers the middle section of the house, and a plan for the rest of the grounds. The sixth page seems to be a short history of the house; the image is too blurry for me to be motivated to spend too much time on it on an empty stomach. 

The images tell me enough to know that there are some spacious bedrooms, more bathrooms and some other rooms on the first floor and that the second floor might be an attic. I'm not sure. It is quite a large room stretching from the front door all the way to the back wall of the kitchen.

My stomach is grumbling loud enough for me not to care right now. I'm a very basic person. My body's needs generally override everything else I might be dealing with.

I fish my phone charger from the backpack, connect it to my phone and plug it into the socket near a small table just inside the front door. Placing my phone on the table, I keep an eye on it until I'm certain that it is actually charging before I get up. 

The wind has calmed down somewhat, and if there's still rain, it is light enough for me not to see it. I'm going to take the chance.

"Where did I put my sandals?"

I'm not completely battered by wind, nor am I splashed with water, as soon as I step out onto the patio. I'll take that as a good sign.

The car is still where I'd left it, even with the keys in the ignition. A glance at the wheels tells me that I'm going to need a shovel to dig it out... later... Yeah, right! As if I'd ever go into the utility room again...

I scan the trees. It's become quite dark out there, but there are no darker shadows within the darkness. No non-tree movements. No sounds. Not even birds. See, even animals know better than to hang out in those woods in this weather.

In spite of the waning light and the pounding wind, unloading the car is not such an ordeal this time. Not shaking from cold has a lot to do with that. A few trips and everything I've brought is in the house. I lock the door behind me and put the house keys with my car keys in a pretty little silver bowl on the table inside the door (probably meant for the purpose) next to my phone and a lovely antique lamp.

Now that the windows are no longer rattling under the blows of the wind and rain, I can hear another ticking sound, slightly off-beat from the grandfather clock. I scan the foyer to find the source, up and down the walls. 

A huge nautical clock is mounted on the back wall of the first-floor landing. My eyes are really becoming well-adjusted now; I couldn't see the details on that landing earlier. That, or the fading light outside, is making the illumination inside the house more intense, in contrast.

From where I stand in the foyer looking up at it, it seems huge, impressive and quite beautiful. A little too overwhelming for the wall it's hung on, but still, I almost like it. Almost. If it were smaller and less looming, I would've loved it. 

It is a little intimidating.

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