111 West End

Chapter Four: The Tapping

Georgie couldn't see over the boxes she carried. Nick had left early to catch his flight to Germany, leaving her alone to unpack the rest of their belongings. So far she'd unpacked four boxes and found homes for their bed linen, Nick's books, and her mother's antique china.

Georgie dropped the boxes by the cellar door. She hated going down there. It was dark and musty and gave her the chills. She flicked on the light. That didn't improve things. It still smelt like damp soil and mould.

Pull yourself together.

It was safer to carry down two boxes at a time. The estate agent hadn't exaggerated when he said the stairs were steep and she didn't want to fall. A fortnight was too long to lie helpless in a cold cellar. She shivered at the thought. Even wearing furry slippers, the stone steps sent a shock of cold through the soles of her feet and up into her ankles, numbing her toes.

Painted white, the strong room had three rows of stone shelves and an abundance of spider webs. The removal men had stacked boxes against the far wall and filled the bottom shelves with rugs and Christmas decorations. Georgie slid the empty boxes onto the middle shelf. She stepped back and squinted at the shelf above her head, but even on tiptoes, she couldn't see. She headed up the stairs to fetch the remaining two boxes.

The rest of Georgie's day passed quickly. She unpacked five more boxes and by four, she decided she was done for the day, and pouring herself a glass of wine, she went upstairs.

Dust covered her clothes and hair, and her hands were smeared with newspaper print. She tugged the hairband from her hair, placed her glass of wine on the windowsill, and turned on the bath taps. The water spluttered as she added bubbles. Steam filled the bathroom and misted the mirror above the basin. The lavender-coloured bath water looked inviting as her muscles ached from lugging boxes and rearranging furniture. Georgie stripped off her mucky clothing and slid into the warm water.

She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander. Tomorrow she would venture into town and look for an antique shop, or two. The house needed life breathing back into its old bones. Well-placed pieces of art would make the house feel homely. A few paintings and perhaps a grandfather clock.

A soft tap made Georgie sit up, splashing water over the sides of the bath. Another tap came from the cupboard. It could be mice. It was far too quiet for rats.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Slowly, she rose from the bath and stepped onto the bath mat. She reached for a towel and wrapping it around herself, she crept to the cupboard.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

With a deep breath, Georgie yanked the door open, expecting to find at least one mouse. To her relief, all she found was a thick layer of dust. She quickly closed the door.

Georgie pulled the plug from the bath, grabbed her glass of wine from the windowsill, and went to her bedroom to dress.