Brad sighed as he dumped the box on the floor. It was the last of the things that we had with us in the bed and breakfast. Today was the day that the removal company was bringing our furniture. It was nice to be settled or at least on the path to becoming settled.
The thought of spending a year in this house and this town made me think about Brad's apartment that we'd left behind when we began this journey. Brad always said that we'd return to it one day but he never elaborated on when that would be.
We'd taken the essentials and the sentimental items but left behind the unnecessary things. It seemed odd to leave them behind, but Brad's boss wanted him in the next town by a specific date. So, we packed what we could into the bags that we could find and left.
I knew that Brad would have been given a lot of warnings about leaving to go on the road but like always, Brad would have flaked on it. He did it constantly. We would have to find a hotel to stay in when arriving in the new town because Brad didn't book ahead. Nothing was ever planned and there were times when it drove me crazy.
"So when exactly is your boss planning on making you return to the office?"
Brad dropped his bag and looked at me. I wanted to say that he didn't understand the question, but that didn't seem right.
"In a few months," he murmured. "Probably sometime after the year is out."
"Good."
I didn't miss Brad's poky apartment, but the town he lived in was far better than this place.
"I guess we'll sell everything that there are doubles of, right?"
Brad shrugged, more interested in shuffling things around the room.
"Because we are going home after we're done here, right Brad?"
"Sure."
My eyes narrowed. He was murmuring, a sign that Brad was trying to avoid the conversation.
"Has your boss said something?"
"No, Evie."
Moving to the open door, Brad stood on the threshold and sighed.
"I'm glad the rain stopped."
"Yeah, it's great."
He was changing the subject, which meant that there was something he wasn't telling me. It was guaranteed that his boss was already planning the next move. Either that or he wanted to set up a permanent base here. Yes, that would be it. We'd never be able to leave, and that's why Brad was avoiding the subject.
"We're being made to stay here, aren't we?"
"Nothing has been said. I don't know why you're making a big deal out of this."
"Because it feels like you're hiding something."
"Evie," he chided.
I rolled my eyes and lifted my legs onto the bay window seat that I was sitting on.
"My job is not going to make us stay here. You've got to make the best of the situation. I don't like moving all the time, but the positive thing is that I get to visit lots of great towns and meet new people. What positives can you find?"
He sat beside my feet, shooting a bright and happy smile at me.
"How about new friends?"
"Sure."
I wanted to say that I'd tried to make friends in the past, but I now saw it as a waste of time. At the first school that I was in after moving in with Brad, I made a lot of friends. It broke my heart to say goodbye. We'd promised to write to each other, which we did for a few months. Then after a while, the emails stopped.
School after school, I left a trail of sadness and diminishing contact. By the time I was getting close to my seventeenth birthday, I'd given up. Brad suggested that we do something fun for it. I told him not to bother because I didn't know anyone that would want to turn up. He seemed a little puzzled by the statement and pushed me for information. Once I'd relented, he then urged me into socialization groups. It was one of many failures. So, with those events in mind, I decided I would not make friends.
By the time this year was up, I would be eighteen and could remain here if I wanted, but there was something strangely familiar about Brad. It had only been three years, but we'd created a bond. It was odd, but it was us. We were family, and we were all that we had in this world. I will not remain in this town without him, and that is why I will not make any friends. In a year, we will not be living here, and I do not want the disappointment of saying goodbye yet again.
At least, I hope that we will not be here after a year. There was something strange about Brad's mannerisms when discussing the subject that made me think that this move was permanent.
I heard the brakes squealing long before the truck appeared at the end of the driveway. One of the drivers got out to assess it, and Brad was on his feet and out the door at record speed. After a quick conversation, Brad turned back and began to climb the driveway. I don't think they wanted to carry the furniture up the steep slope, but getting that truck up the driveway while avoiding the large trees would not be easy.
They were determined. Clearly destroying a few branches was better than lugging the furniture up the driveway. Brad narrowed his eyes at me.
"Don't," he grumbled. "They'd be blocking the street if they stayed out there. This is for the best."
"Sure."
Brad helped me move the boxes to one corner. We didn't have a lot of furniture, just a few essential pieces that followed us from town to town.
I hated packing. I despised my life being in a box for several weeks while we moved, then tried to find a place. There was no plan, no searching the internet to find a home before we arrived in the town. Brad was not the kind of guy to dive into a situation like that. I think that the lack of information and timelines from his employer made him like this.
"Try to get the washing machine and dryer off first. If we can get it set up, I can put our bedsheets in and have them ready for tonight."
"Good idea. Let's hope they packed the truck the way that the storage shed had been."
Brad sauntered out of the house while I searched for the box that had our linen in it. We had a set each, and I'd stuffed the linen into the box at the last minute. I usually tried to wash everything so it would be clean, but we ran out of time, and Brad's boss was getting antsy at every minute we were delayed.
The worn-out boxes were all labeled from the first town we moved from. They were far better than the bags we used when leaving Brad's apartment. We kept the boxes, knowing they would be used again. To make life less complicated, I used them for the same items. The linen was in the box marked last minute, which meant that it was all the stuff that I'd crammed into the box on moving day.
Dumping the linen onto the bay window seat, I looked out the window and saw Brad talking to the driver. It was a three-man team. The other two were starting to unload the truck. Brad didn't seem overly impressed, turning back to the house with a heavy frown.
Something was wrong. I walked to the door to meet him as he stepped up the few steps to the front porch.
"Why aren't they bringing that stuff into the house?"
"They're refusing because there is some local legend that says this place is haunted. No wonder we got it so cheap."
Stepping past Brad, I walked to the men who stopped when I approached.
"Haunted, as in how exactly?"
"The original owner disappeared. No trace of him was ever found. He didn't have any family, so the fate of this place fell to the town founder, who decided that the place would be rented until the body turned up. The first tenants complained that the house wailed. They moved out after one night. Since then, it's been a long list of people who treat this place like it's an unfurnished hotel."
The last of our stuff was put onto the driveway, and one of the men pulled one side of the doors shut.
"We expect that you will call tomorrow to come and collect your stuff, but we don't work on Sundays."
With a firm nod, he turned back to the front of the truck as the other door was shut and locked. The other worker looked at me, giving a vague smile before following his co-worker to the front of the truck.
"You could at least take it to the living room," I yelled.
They ignored me. They also started the engine and drove down the driveway without so much as thanks for the business.
"Do you want to know something crazy?" Brad asked as he stopped beside me.
"Sure. Why not?"
It would only add to the rest of this craziness.
"They were supposed to collect payment."
"Pfft. If you decide to pay them when they call, only pay half because they've only done half a job."
We turned and looked at the house. It was pretty, a little old, and the chances of it being haunted were high.
"Okay, you start with the smaller stuff while I get the washing machine into the basement."
"How are you going to do that? Those jerks didn't leave the trolley for you."
"Good point. How about I go to the hardware and see what they've got? I'll even buy lunch while I'm out."
"Great. Something fattening, thanks."
Brad chuckled. He was searching his pockets when the real estate agent turned up. A pickup truck stopped behind him, and both men got out of their vehicles.
"Hello, Brad and Evie," the agent said with an eager smile.
It was far too ghastly for my liking.
"This is Ryan, our handyman. You don't mind if he takes a look at the stairs and that crack?"
"Sure. Can you help me get the washing machine and dryer down there as well?"
Ryan gave him a nod.
"Once I check that the stairs will take the weight."
"Then go right ahead."
The agent and the handyman wandered into the house. Brad turned with a smug smile.
"Looks like I saved a few bucks."
"Yeah, but what about my greasy lunch?"
"Alright, how about dinner? We can work for a few hours and get this stuff inside. Then we'll explore the town and see what's available."
"Yeah, sure. Sounds great."
It was lucky that I'd grabbed some fruit on the way out of the bed and breakfast this morning.
We'd been here a week, and so far, we hadn't ventured beyond the bed and breakfast and a few shops on the same street. Our time was either spent searching for a place or being stuck in that room while Brad worked.
When everything was inside, I helped Brad lift the washing machine and the dryer to the front porch so that if it rained, they'd be undercover. It was still sunny, but now there were clouds in the sky. The seconds were ticking before Hades returned to the doom and gloom that had been our first week here.
Brad ventured down to the basement. I sat at the top of the stairs and listened to them discuss the crack. It had gotten bigger since yesterday, and Ryan was concerned that moisture might be the issue. Ryan then suggested that he underpinned the area in case there was subsidence. He'd have to investigate it further, and while he did that, Ryan wanted the owners to authorize rectification works.
"The movers said this place doesn't have owners."
The three men turned and looked at me.
"Technically, the owner is long dead, regardless of what happened to him. At the time, the council decided to wait for relatives to appear and claim ownership, but that has not happened. So, its fate was voted by the townsfolk. Now it is owned by the heritage trust. Hopefully, they won't drag out the approval process."
Tom shrugged, giving me a vague smile that showed the false hope he held. It made me grateful that the stairs were alright because it was obvious that nothing happened quickly in this town. As for the wall, it was hard to say. Maybe they might rush it through, and perhaps I'd wake to find my bed had crashed through the floor and landed in the living room too.