The House of Hidden Things

III: House Affairs

I didn't want the stain, I remind my self, which is why I'm here.

"My office is right this way." She says without turning. Her hand is now gently placed on the rusted copper railing at the very point where the staircase splits and the ceiling opens up into an atrium. Wide round lightbulbs trickle from the ceiling. "Just through here. I see you've spotted the the academic side of Porthcrawl Some of the Howards building houses the University. Which you have full access too."

"Thank you," I said aloud, but I won't be here long enough to use it, or the care-homes visitors pass. Ana gives me a reassuring nod and turns her beige clad shoulders, stopping just before a door tucked under an arch. A trinket shaped like an octopus tentacle is holding the door open. Brass details that match the curling claw feature of the two high-backed chairs facing a glass desk. A touch of modern in an old building.

The professor sinks into the high-backed chair in the room, deciding not to sit behind the desk. Ana slides a knee over the other and beckons with a hand to the remaining chair and the narrow table next to it. "Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea, please." She reaches across her self to slide an already poured cup of tea towards me on the cart, adjacent to the glass desk. She offers it to me before taking her own.

"So," she starts after I cross my own ankles over one another, in the soft chair. "I was able to find almost everything I'd hoped too. A copy of this file was sent to the estate agent at your request, of course. I pulled blueprints, land deeds and renovation permits, all under Whitfield. The land and the manor house, had only been owned by one other person beside you and your family."

"Really? I always assumed it was older."

"It could be. Our record keeping is a little newer than Porthcrawl. There are attics full of records that hadn't made there way here yet. It makes my job complicated. The historical society, likes things a certain way." She nods to the file and leans back in her chair, giving me a chance to look through it.

There were pictures slipped behind sheets of plastic. Some coloured while others were black and white, and shades of worn grey. The largest of the pictures were taken at a straight ahead view and unlike any of the family picture I had of the house. These made Bridgeland look ageless.

A test of time.

It always looked the same. The large fountain, delicately carved to resemble an angle, rested in the middle of the circular drive. It the photograph it was covering the two steps up to the porch. There weren't any vines to breakup the face of the exterior, a slight difference, but the trim of the windows held seeds of them growing. The brick was perfectly laid and the face of the baby angel was still intact.

It almost looked the same.

"The file goes back through most of the century, with a few gaps but that's to be expected."

"I'm sure the fire didn't help with any of that." I comment, looking through another picture. The house must have been my grandfathers ideas when they bought it, if it was him that bought it. I hadn't read the deed but if it was Edmund and not Agatha, then he would have called it charm and character. She probably would call it old and interesting.

'The fire made it difficult to reach certain points in the house before we started the restorations but, no actually, once we were cleared to enter the house, they were easy to uncover."

"What sort of damage was there?"

"We had to replace the staircase," Ana said conversationally, taking another sip from the teacup.

"All of it?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle. The manor looks exactly as it did before the fire, thanks to these photographs of course. Some minor things were added after the fact, building codes and electrical maintenance. We replaced a few doors that wouldn't open and per Mrs. Whitfield's request we stored some of her furniture in the room on the first floor, for you to go through."

She pauses and seems to be choosing her next words carefully. "In Mrs. Whitfields will she leaves the house and all of it's contents to you. As such nothing was removed from the house and the few items that had been say, melted, were replaced to the standard your grandmother requested."

"Alright." I sigh, "Do you need to go through any particulars? Is there anything I need to sign today?" 

"As the acting executor of her will, it's my legal obligation to handle all of this over to you. John, whom you spoke with, simply requested that you sign some documents to ensure that I discussed all options and avenues available as stipulated in Mrs. Whitfields last will and testament but all of this can wait until you're ready."

I set the delicate teacup onto it's saucer and cross my ankles. Suddenly, it was all a lot to take in. "So the house..."

"Bridgeland Manor and all of it's land, the graveyards in the exterior of the house and within the grounds of Bridgeland as well as all possessions there in," she clarifies, her eye unsettlingly sympathetic. "You are able to delay this process as your grandmother is still in a condition to own her house. If you decide to leave and return at the time of her... passing, everything will be placed in your name."

"Agatha asked me to stay, well, stay in Porthcrawl but also stay in the house. I'd like to honour that but my intent is to sell it, after sorting through her affairs."

Ana's face remained poker. She nodded once, pulling open a drawer, a set of keys hanging from a rusty metal loop. "I'm sure that would make her very happy. You staying in the house, I mean. She was adamant I try and get you to stay in the house. Very well, I have the extended key set here. To the shed and the exterior gate."

The keys felt wrong in my fingers. Too heavy. Very different from the house keys I have for my apartment. Ana adjusts a piece of white hair from her shoulder, setting her pen down in the spine of the file. She'd adjusted her pages after handing me the key and it felt very final.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Dr. Whitfield?"

"No, this is more than enough. Though you can start calling me, Charlotte." I stand from the high-backed chair, dumping the old photo's into the folder, gathering my coat in my hands. My head spinning a little from everything, but it was a beginning to an end and that was enough for now.

Ana Crane stood from her desk and motion for me to walk with her to the staircase overlooking the lobby, and the top of the students head. Poppy.

"Charlotte, then." Ana declared by way of goodbye, and extended a hand to shake mine.

The Howards Building is quiet on the way out. I tuck the folder under my arm and slip the keys into my pocket, adjusting my scarf. I never gave much thought to what would happen when the Whittled name – the legacy – would end with me. Or at least, would end with me returning to this town. Mom had a hard time handling the visits after Edmund passed. I had a hard time coming after she passed and now here I was because Agatha was the only family I had left.

I had spend far too long making up for Edmunds indiscretions that I missed having a family. The guilt couldn't make up for what my grandfather had done, but I could – would stay for as long as Agatha needed me too and then I will pack up Bridgeland and all it's ghosts, and I may be able to find some peace.

I step out into the cold– into the snow, starting the long walk back to the manor, with a stop at the bakery on my way.