Temptation [A Young Writer's Prize Submission]

Haithwaite

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now is springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

Isaiah 43:19

I followed Lorraine up the six steps towards the building that was to be my home for the foreseeable future, and each step brought out a greater sense of rightness, which only perplexed and excited me.

Lorraine reached up to use the old brass knocker, shaped like a lion's head, holding a heavy ring in its sharp teeth. The sound of it smashing against the door echoed on the other side. We waited patiently, not speaking. I inspected the slate sign to the side of the door, which read 'Uniens House' in intricate calligraphy.

The door opened before I could delve any deeper into that thought. A middle-aged gentleman stepped out, smiling broadly at the two of us.

"Ah, Ms Jakes," he appeared to recognise Lorraine, stepping forward and kissing her hand amorously. He then held out that hand to shake mine. He graciously ignored my reluctance to accept, shaking it warmly. "You must be Miss Falle."

"Mercy," Lorraine turned to me, "this is Mr Haithwaite, the man who owns Uniens House."

Haithwaite was a pleasant looking man: his dark brown hair was wavy, but combed back so precisely that every strand gleamed. Around his temples, it was beginning to turn grey, particularly into his sideburns. I saw a small cut on his cheek, just at the edge of his hairline, proving he paid close attention to the shape of his facial hair. Though sideburns can be difficult to pull off, Haithwaite had made a virtue of them.

His watery blue eyes twinkled as he smiled, and a dimple in his chin winked whenever he spoke. He was of average build and height, wearing a complimentary dark-grey suit with pinstripes over a purple waistcoat and silver necktie. He even carried a pocket watch, which made him look as though he'd just stepped out of the 1800s.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," he said politely. "Do come in, both of you."

We stepped into the reception room, which was far larger than I'd expected. Probably a two storey room, the walls were covered in intricate paintings - from biblical scenes to the crusades. Light fixtures hid behind gold bars on the wall. Crystal-like chains dangled from these bars, sending rainbow-coloured light dashing across the room. At the end of the room, another heavy door sat squarely in the middle of the room. Above it, a row of dark wood banisters cut into the plastering. When a set of socked feet crossed behind that banister, I saw that it was a corridor on the floor above. That seemed a bit of a strange design, but still.

"I do apologise for the state of the place," Haithwaite said. His accent was extremely pronounced - he sounded like a member of the royal family. "It's been so long since I had anyone around to clean it."

Yeah, the single speck of dust on the sideboard really made the place a dump.

"It's lovely," Lorraine smiled, glancing around with a gleam in her eye.

Haithwaite beamed proudly, pressing onwards to the next room. A room I can only describe as grand central station. Not because it was big or grandiose - although it was - but because it had about six doors, a staircase, and two corridors heading off it. The floor was wood, polished until it gleamed. I was almost afraid to step on it with my shoes on, as it obviously took hours to clean. The double staircase on the far wall separated into two corridors on the second floor. Lush gold carpet clothed those stairs and an ebony-coloured banister followed them up.

In a symmetrical pattern, there were two doors on each side of the room, and a fifth and sixth door either side of the staircase.

 Haithwaite headed toward that fifth door, beckoning us forward.