But that evening he came out to the terrace where she was reading. There was something in his hand.
‘I found it under some mortar.’
The silver charm was tarnished, almost black. For several moments she looked at it, then slowly she held it out to him again. ‘I think it’s yours.’
Their eyes met.
‘That is what you came back for, isn’t it?’ she said.
He looked down at it and slowly he nodded. ‘You say he looked like me?’
‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘She didn’t deserve his love. She wasn’t worth it,’ she insisted, more vehemently than she’d intended.
‘I’ve dreamed about this house since I was small.’ Glancing up he gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I don’t believe in reincarnation or anything like that. It’s just that sometimes, if you let yourself listen, you can hear the echoes, feel the ripples of sorrow as they reach you over the years. I thought studying architecture would take away the pain, would make the past rational, cool, sensible. And that building would bring it under control, make it safe.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘When I heard you wanted a builder, it just seemed like fate. Like something I’d been waiting for.’
‘And now you’ve found it,’ she said gently, reaching out to touch the fragile silver where it lay on his palm and feeling the warmth of his hand as it slowly curled around hers.
The Room Upstairs
‘Andy, I’ve found somewhere to live!’ The tousled red hair was if anything more vibrant than usual.
Andy looked up from his books at the whirlwind hovering by his desk in the library, her arms full of files and notes, canvas bag dangling from her shoulder. He shrugged a weary hello. ‘Can we afford it?’
Getting kicked out of their digs ten days before the end of their first term at university had been the last straw in a pretty foul week.
Jill nodded vigorously. ‘Big attic room. A bit far out of town, but walking distance. Just.’ She grinned. She held out two large keys. ‘Coming to see it?’
‘Now?’ He glanced down at his desk with regret. It was warm and secure in the library. Outside there was a gale blowing, sleet hit the windows like machine-gun fire and the thought of a long hike through the dark filled him with about as much enthusiasm as facing a firing squad. Still, it had to be done. Out at the end of the week their landlord had said and Andy knew why. The bastard had found someone who would pay more, no questions asked about leases and things.
Jill walked fast, head down, her face screwed up against the cold, her collar high around her ears. He wondered what she would do if he put his arm round her shoulders and pulled her close. Just for warmth of course. They were room mates out of necessity. Or fate. Not lovers. He had met her on the doorstep of the digs back in October, and they had viewed the double room together as rivals. Both were seeking someone to share with. They tossed for the room. He won. He chose her. Simple as that. No sex. No dirty socks on public view. Her rules. Fine by him.
He glanced around him as they walked. The streets were empty in the rain, viscous puddles reflecting the street lights. From time to time he could see a Christmas tree in a window. Otherwise the houses had withdrawn behind their curtains. He half wished he could reach for Jill’s hand. Just for company. In a lonely world. But that would be against the rules too.
As though half sensing his thought she grinned at him from the shelter of her collar. ‘I did say it was a long way.’
‘How did you hear about it?’
‘Chap I met at the Union.’ She was vague about the detail. ‘Said he’d been going to stay there himself but he’d found somewhere better.’
‘Sounds as though it’s not much cop.’
‘Cheap though.’ She fished a piece of paper out of her pocket and stopped for a minute under one of the street lights. A rain drop hit the paper and smudged the ink. ‘Next left. Then about half a mile.’
‘Half a mile!’ He was appalled.
She caught his eye and shrugged again. ‘Cheap!’ They said it together and laughed.
It was hard to find. The number had fallen off the gate and the front path was overgrown. They worked it out by the numbers on the other houses on either side. They were small and neat, with well-manicured gardens. Number 40 was overgrown, the paint on the door blistered. And it was huge.
‘There’s no one in.’ They stood side by side in the gateway looking at the darkened windows. ‘Shit!’ Andy was shivering with cold. ‘Now what?’
‘We’ve got the key. The chap I spoke to said the room was at the top. He said he never saw the people who live here at all.’ Jill looked down uncertainly at the keys in her hand. They were tied together by a piece of stringy red ribbon. ‘Come on, let’s check it out, then we’ll go and get some fish and chips at that place we passed about ten miles back.’ She was trying to jolly him along. And herself. ‘It’s not as though we’ve much choice. This end of term there’s nothing left in town.’
The gate was stiff. The hinges creaked loudly as she pushed it open and walked quickly up the path. They knocked and rang the bell, reluctant to go in uninvited, but there was no answer.
The hall was long and narrow and smelled faintly of cooking. They sniffed. ‘Cabbage.’ Jill was groping for the light switch. ‘Why is it always cabbage?’ The single bulb with its pleated orange shade showed a narrow strip of flowered carpet and an ornate mahogany hall stand with a built-in mirror. On it was a rumpled lace mat the colour of cold tea.
‘Hello!’ Jill raised her hand to knock at the only door leading off the hallway, on their left. Its brown paint was badly scuffed and it looked as though it had been forced open at some point in the past. There was no reply and gingerly she turned the knob. It was locked.
They stood looking up the staircase. ‘The top you said?’ Andy put his hand on the huge wooden swirl at the bottom of the banister rail. It seemed too large and imposing for the narrowness of the hall. ‘Come on then.’
The landing on the first floor revealed five more doors. One was a bathroom, basic, old-fashioned, without towels or mats or even – Jill noticed at once – lavatory paper. The other four doors were locked.
On up and they found three more doors. One, a small loo (also without paper) the other two locked, then a small uncarpeted staircase led even higher. They stood looking up into the darkness. ‘
‘I suppose so.’ Jill grimaced. ‘It’s pretty quiet isn’t it.’
‘As the grave!’ He put on a hollow voice, and then rather wished he hadn’t. ‘Here, let me have the key. I’ll go first.’
She hadn’t said anything but he could sense she was uncomfortable. So to be honest was he. The house was too bloody quiet by half.
The key slipped into the lock easily and the door swung back. It revealed, once they had found the light switch, in the orange glow of another pleated shade, a long low-ceilinged room with four mansard windows. Two looked one way over the street, the others looked presumably over the garden. When he knelt on a window seat to stare out at the back Andy could see nothing.
The room was furnished with two beds, two chests-of-drawers, two cupboards and a table. The floor was bare linoleum. In the corner behind a blue flowered curtain they found a small scruffy sink, a gas cooker and another cupboard.
‘Paradise!’ Andy sat down experimentally on one of the beds and gave a cautious bounce. He glanced up at her. ‘You OK?’ She was awfully pale.
‘Sure.’ She said it too quickly. ‘It’s fine. So, who do we tell?’
He shrugged. Standing up he went over to the window. ‘I thought I heard a car.’
They ran downstairs to find an elderly man on the threshold, opening and shutting his umbrella to throw off the rain. He looked up at them, a puzzled frown on his face.
‘We came to see the room.’
