“Why the necessity now? What could have gone wrong over the years?”
“Not being used. According to gossip, the old man shut off most of the house and stuck to a couple of rooms. His bedroom up there,” he pointed to the right of the stairway, “and a sitting room next to it. Of course the old housekeeper had her own room right up top of the house, but apart from the kitchen, they were the only rooms open.” He tipped his chin. “Doors tend to get stuck if they don’t get used. Swell with the moisture in the air and then you have a problem, see. Easy to avoid, but bloody annoying to fix and this house has more than its fair share of doors. Heavy damned things, every single one of them.”
“Sounds like you’re the right man for the job, then.” Flattery usually worked.
“You mean the only one fool enough to take it on for the money on offer. I’ve only done half of the doors downstairs so far. Still have to work my way around the upstairs living quarters and then last of all, I’ll be doing the rooms at the top of the house on the third floor. They’ll be the last ones opened to the public, that’s if the society has enough money to fix it up which I seriously doubt.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, dislodging a few flecks of sawdust and Billie felt a wave of sympathy for him. Seems like the job was bigger than he’d been led to believe and he was stuck with it.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked the gardener and the old housekeeper back for photos later this afternoon. I promise they won’t get in your way.” She smiled, hoping to avoid any negativity with him since he was really the only point of contact she had at the estate.
“Don’t worry me so long as I get my job done without interruption. Not sure I’ll even be here tomorrow.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Got another job on too that I have to keep ducking back and forth to so you might not see me for a couple of days.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief. “That’s great, thanks. Well, I might have a quick look around outside first to get an idea of the gardens and then I can lose myself in the house.”
“Righto, I’ll catch you later.” Pete strode off towards the back of the house, past the entrance to the grand staircase.
Billie raised her eyes and took another glance upstairs, she couldn’t wait to explore. It might take more than one night away from home to get her fill of this place. Excitement shivered under her skin as she made her way outdoors.
She paused to grab her camera from the car just in case. She never knew when the right shot would present itself. Her shoes crunched over the crushed gravel driveway, and she crossed the lawn and made her way toward the rose gardens. If she could work out the easiest way to get Mr. Wilkes here later to save his legs, it would make life easier and the nicer she was to him, the more information he would be inclined to share with her. People often spill more than they thought when they passing the time of day somewhere familiar.
Aquatic birds puddled for insects that hovered over the only water source she could see in the area. It must have been beautiful when it was full to the brim, swans and ducks gliding over it. As Billie let her imagination roam free, she could almost see the garden parties from when the estate was in its heyday. A far cry from the sad neglected place it was today.
The closer she got to the roses the clearer it became that they were in no way as beautiful as the ones in Mr. Wilkes’s garden. Not a single weed dared show its face in his rose beds where here they had free rein to grow around the straggly roses.
She bent down to sniff a blood-red blossom. The smell was superb, nothing like the hothouse offerings she picked up once in a while from the flower sellers on the street corner near her old apartment in San Francisco. She envied Mr. Wilkes his green thumb now more than ever. Pulling the camera out of its case, she snapped a shot of the rose, more for herself than for her story.
Billie wandered around the rose beds, bending every now and then to sniff the blooms, taking her fill of the beautiful heritage scents. The crypt stood facing the house, overlooking the arid lake, holding the bodies of Mrs. Wallace and her parents. Mr. Wallace had been buried in the Singleton cemetery as per his will and that intrigued her. Why he’d not wanted to be in here with his wife and in-laws was one of the speculative questions going around that Billie would like to find the answers to.
She moved over to the monstrosity and framed the family crest in her lens. Billie focused and snapped off a couple of shots then tipped her head, looking closely at the door. A rusted chunky chain hung woven through the
