The House Next Door, page 2
“What made you move?” I passed her a muffin, which she took gratefully and cut into cubes.
“Oh, just life being unpredictable. There were some problems with my old house. I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
There are some problems with this house, too. I didn’t have much experience welcoming neighbours, but I was pretty sure telling them their house was haunted was the sort of thing people weren’t supposed to do.
But at the same time, it seemed unfair not to tell her about something so major. I struggled to find a middle ground. “This place has been empty for a while.”
“Has it?” She looked around the kitchen, taking in the dark-wood cabinets and granite benches. “It was a bargain. Surprising no one else wanted it.”
“Yeah.” I watched her closely. She didn’t look surprised. I had a suspicion she knew why the Marwick property had been untenanted for so long, and we were just dancing around the subject. I pushed a little harder. “This place has a bit of a reputation.”
She shot me a glance. Her eyes were bright blue; I hadn’t noticed before. Then I realised she hadn’t made eye contact before. Her voice dropped very low. “The real estate agent hinted at that. She said some families have had trouble living here. Some… unexplained stuff.”
“Ghosts.” It felt good to say the word and not get stared at like I was crazy. “Do you… believe in ghosts?”
She ran a hand over her mouth then blew out a breath and laughed. “That’s a heavy question, huh? I’ve never seen one. But I’m open-minded. I think there’s more to this world than we can see.” She sent another very quick peek towards me. “What about you?”
I shrugged. “I never gave it much thought until moving here.” But yes, I believe in them now.
We didn’t speak for a moment. Anna stared at her teacup, her muffin only half eaten, then said, “How much do you know about this house? Is it really bad?”
I suddenly felt guilty. I’d meant to warn her, not frighten her. “No, I mean, it’s not… uh…”
My words died into a mumble, and Anna’s brows pulled together. I couldn’t in good conscience tell her everything was fine. But I didn’t want her lying awake at night, terrified, either. I collected myself and licked my lips. “I don’t know much about it, sorry. But it’s not like what you see in the movies. There’s some weird stuff that happens. But they’re pretty minor. My cats avoid it. And, uh…” It would be unkind not to tell her. “The last family left in a rush in the middle of the night. But I’ve never actually seen a ghost in the house or anything. No one’s been hurt. That I know of.”
“Okay.” She picked her cup up and took a sip. “I can handle that.”
I narrowed my eyes as I watched her. She looked anxious but, at the same time, strangely resigned.
The next question fell out of me before I could stop it. “If you knew this place had a reputation, why did you move here?”
“I needed somewhere to stay but was short on both time and money.” She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “This place was really, really cheap. Way cheaper than it should have been for its size. I knew that meant there was something wrong with it. But I could afford it, and they let me move in quickly. Sometimes you need to make sacrifices for good things.”
“Oh.” There seemed to be a lot she wasn’t telling me, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by pushing further. I looked over my shoulder, through the doorway leading into a living room. The lighting was muted, and like the rest of the furniture, the chairs were large and stately. “It’s a really nice house. If the reputation doesn’t bother you, it’s an absolute steal.”
“Yeah?” She brightened a fraction. “It’s nice to have a place to call my own. And all of this old furniture must be worth a fortune. The agent said it comes from when the house was first furnished.”
“Really?” Ah, I didn’t think it looked like the last family’s style.
“And there’s plenty of space for a home office. At my old place, I had to work on this little corner table in my bedroom.” She laughed. “Paint got over everything. It was a nightmare.”
“You work from home? What do you do?”
“I repurpose dolls. Barbies, Bratz, character miniatures, or any plastic figurine that needs a makeover.” She nodded towards the foyer. “Want to see? I have a couple in a box back there.”
“All right.” I followed her back to the main room. We seemed to have found a subject she enjoyed, because she chatted freely as she opened and sifted through the box.
“All of these mass-market plastic dolls come off the production line looking so soulless. I buy them from op-shops, or sometimes even find them thrown out, and fix them up. I repaint their faces, sometime cut or re-weave their hair, and give them new outfits. Like this one.”
She pressed a doll into my hands. I guessed it would have once been a Bratz, but it was unrecognisable. Instead of the garish makeup and pouty oversized lips, it wore a warm smile. Anna had painted over its eyes to make them proportionate to the other features and had even given it freckles. It looked sweet—like a country farm girl, an impression heightened by the tiny denim overalls.
“This is really nice.” I didn’t have to fake my surprise.
“Thanks.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, apparently too full of excitement and joy to keep still. “Parents love them, especially in the home-schooling and alternative communities. They appreciate having a one-of-a-kind doll, and the fact that they’re recycled doesn’t hurt, either.”
“Yeah, I can imagine that. Do you sell them at fetes?”
“Online, mostly.” Anna took the doll back and tucked it into the box. “I upload new batches every few weeks. They sell really fast. I’m hoping I’ll be able to spend more time making them now that… well, now that I have this house.” The joy that had lit her face softened.
I hunted for something to bring it back. “I’m sure you will. Have you picked a workroom yet?”
“No, not yet. I thought maybe one of the upstairs ones. I like having a view. But I haven’t been up there since the agent whisked me through.” Anna glanced towards the staircase then turned a sheepish smile on me. “Did you want to… have a look with me?”
3
The curving staircase groaned as we crept up to the second floor. Part of me felt guilty for enjoying myself so much. The other part was just excited to finally explore inside Marwick House.
Watercolour paintings hung on the walls, alternately depicting nature scenes and small animals. The animals were all slightly wrong; the eyes weren’t level, one ear seemed larger than the other, or its pose was contorted. I wondered if those paintings were part of the original furnishings, too. Had each of the house’s occupants walked in to the same surroundings then walked out, leaving it virtually untouched for the next family?
Anna stopped at the top of the stairs. The hallway was poorly lit, and the light refracted from the lower floor painted her face with odd shadows. She stared down the hall. “It doesn’t look this large from the outside.”
“No,” I agreed.
She took a hesitant step down the hall. I moved up to her side to offer what reassurance I could.
“It’s strange with furniture in it.” She laughed, but there wasn’t much strength behind it. “I know that must sound odd—houses are supposed to be furnished—but these beds and desks and wardrobes aren’t mine, and that makes me feel like I don’t belong here.”
It was the same sensation I’d felt earlier, while eating off the previous family’s dishes, as if we were intruders taking advantage of their property while they were on holiday.
“It’s your house,” I said, putting conviction behind the words. “It belongs to you. No one else.”
The door at the end of the hall groaned as it shifted closed.
Both Anna and I jumped. I laughed and patted her shoulder. “Someone must have left the window open.”
“Yeah. Probably.” She tried to match my chuckles but stayed rooted to the spot.
We both watched the door. It didn’t move.
“Come on.” I led the way. “One of the rooms has got to be a good place to work. Do you need any sort of special arrangement to make your dolls?”
“N-No.” She glanced through each partially open door we passed. Most were bedrooms. “Just desk space and—and good lighting.”
The upstairs floor was all wood panelling. I ran my fingers over the planks, feeling their little grooves and bumps. A splinter caught on my index finger, and I pulled it back with a murmur. Should’ve been more careful.
“Jo?” Anna’s voice was a whisper. She tugged on my jacket. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” I followed her gaze towards the room at the end of the hall, the one with the shifting door. It was open just a sliver, revealing blue wallpaper and a hint of natural light. I squinted and took a step closer. A woman paced through the room.
I took a quick, sharp breath. She’d been visible for only a fraction of a second. I’d caught a glimpse of a washed-out slate-blue dress and sallow, shadowed eyes. Then she was gone again.
When I tried to step back, I bumped into Anna. Her voice was ragged with stress. “You saw her, too, didn’t you?”
Has someone been staying in the house? I didn’t want to move, but I forced my legs to carry me closer to the room. I stretched out a hand and bumped the door. The hinges wailed as the door glided open. Inside was empty.
“No one.” The anxious squeeze didn’t leave my chest. I couldn’t figure out if an empty room was better or worse than finding a squatter. Anna came up beside me. She crouched to peer under the wooden desk then stood and released a breath in a rush.
“Oh! Look! It was just the curtain.”
The windows had been left open. The heavy drapes framing them billowed out in a gust of wind. They were the right shade of slate blue to be confused for a woman’s dress and in the right position to be visible through the door’s gap, but as I stared at them, I found myself less willing to be convinced than Anna. The curtains had no eyes.
Anna’s mood had lifted again, though. She chuckled as she stepped into the room and admired its furniture and blue wallpaper. The space was larger than the bedrooms but sparsely fitted, and the window looked over the rooftops at the treed hills in the distance. “This is a really nice space.” She traced a finger over the desk’s surface. “Lots of natural light. Maybe this could be my workroom.”
“Maybe.” The walls were too dark and the rug too badly worn for me to like the space. I didn’t want to influence her choice by letting reluctance into my voice, but it slipped in regardless. “Let’s have a look at what else this house has.”
Anna nodded and followed me back to the hallway. We stepped into each room we passed. Some clearly hadn’t been lived in for some time. Others showed signs of recent inhabitation. Clothes hung in the wardrobes of the children’s rooms, where toys were scattered over the floor.
“The last family really did leave in a rush, huh?” Anna stopped in one of the boys’ rooms. The bed sheets lay in a pool on the floor. She rubbed at her arms. “I’m surprised they didn’t come back for anything. The furniture’s one thing, but wouldn’t you get your clothes?”
I could see the side of my own house through the window. It might have been the room I’d seen the flash of gunfire in. My eyes drifted over the wood panelling until they landed on a small black hole in the wall, near the window. I bet if we dug into the wood, we’d find the bullet there.
“Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“How long did the last family live here?”
“Not long.” I scoured my memory. “Three months. Maybe three and a half. The family before that was a year. The one before that cancelled and left during the buyer’s remorse period. The one before that was here when I arrived.”
“Okay.” She brushed some of her fine hair away from her face. “That’s a quick turnover.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” I tried to think of something to make it seem a little less grim. “They probably didn’t like the neighbourhood. There are lots of older people around here. Hardly any kids. And no convenient public transport. It’s no wonder they didn’t want to stay, huh?”
“Maybe.” She gave me a small smile and kicked at the discarded sheets. “Either way, the house was cheap. I can put up with some quirks for that.”
When we returned to the foyer, I was surprised by a taste of fresh air coming through the open door. I’d gotten used to the house’s stuffy, dusty atmosphere. Through one of the doorways, I caught a glimpse of a grand piano. I wasn’t surprised; the building felt like it needed a dignified instrument to round out the atmosphere.
Anna stared at the unpacked boxes for a moment, and I wondered what she was thinking. Was she trying to imagine where she would find room for her own life amongst a stranger’s house? Or was she afraid of unpacking, knowing that it would be a commitment to stay, and that she would risk leaving her own possessions behind if she had to flee during the night?
“Jo?” She folded her arms over her chest. Her posture belied that she was nervous, but at least now she looked me in the eyes. “Can I ask a favour?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“On my website, could I list your address instead of mine?” She must have seen the confusion on my face, because she quickly added, “Probably no one will visit. I just have to have a public address there by law. But… I’d rather not use my real address. I want to try to separate myself from my old life as much as possible. If that makes sense.”
It didn’t, but I shrugged. “Sure. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you.” Some of the tightness around her eyes relaxed. “And, um, if anyone ever does ask after me, could you… pretend like you don’t know me?”
Ah. So you’re hiding from someone. The rush into purchasing the house suddenly made more sense. “Yeah, of course. As far as strangers are concerned, I don’t know a single Anna.”
She grinned. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
Sunlight came through the window at a sharp angle. I’d spent more time in Marwick House than I’d expected and suddenly felt bad for taking up so much of Anna’s day. I waved towards the door. “I’d better head home, anyway. Thanks for letting me have a look around. And good luck with the dolls.”
“Oh, your basket—”
“Keep it. I’ve got plenty more.” I stepped through the door, and Anna followed to lean on the frame.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“Thanks for coming over. I’m glad we’re neighbours.”
“Me, too.” It wasn’t until I was halfway down the driveway that I realised how much I’d meant it. Somehow, between hunting for clean cups and being scared by the drifting curtain, we’d become friends. I wanted to see more of Anna… and her house.
Stepping into my own overgrown garden was like teleporting into another world. Duke, my roaming tom, ran across the street when he saw me. He followed me inside, where I shed my jacket at the door and flexed my shoulders. Duke moseyed around my feet, smelling my shoes, then clamped his ears onto his head and backed away.
“What?” I laughed at his expression. “Do my feet smell or something?”
He huffed out a breath and disappeared up the stairs, probably to claim his spot on the end of my bed. I continued into the kitchen to put the kettle on, and I found Bell, my third cat, sitting on her window-view cat climber. She was in a crouch, her eyes fixed on Marwick House, the fur along her spine poked up in a ridge. As I neared, I caught a low, frightened rumble reverberating from her throat.
“Not you, too.” I scratched behind her ears, but she wouldn’t even look at me.
4
I didn’t see much of Anna during the following days. Sometimes, we passed each other in the garden and called out a greeting, and sometimes, I glimpsed her through the windows. She would wave to me and always smiled broadly. She looked happy. I was glad; the first night after she’d moved in, I’d sat up until after midnight just in case she had any problems, but her lights had stayed off, and the house had remained quiet. She seemed to be settling into Marwick without issue.
Even so, a lingering shroud of unease clung to me. Maybe it was because another bird had flown into the Marwick house’s windows the day after Anna moved in. I’d peered over the fence to see if it was all right, but it lay on its back on the stones below the window, its head twisted unnaturally far back.
My cats remained wary, too. Duke spent more time indoors than usual and gave the Marwick house a wide berth whenever he passed it. Dusty and Bell alternated perches by the windows and watched the house. Occasionally, they growled at nothing.
Watching the others in the street, I noticed something strange. None of my other neighbours visited Anna—at least, none that I saw. But one by one, they closed the curtains on the windows facing the Marwick house. I wondered if it was a conscious choice or just a subconscious response to the same niggling unease that had dogged me since the house became occupied. Or perhaps my imagination was getting out of control. The temperature was growing colder as autumn changed to winter. People would be closing their curtains to keep the heat inside their houses.
Four days after Anna moved in, I was shaken out of the novel I was reading by a knock at the door. I rarely had visitors. What I’d told Anna about the street was true; almost all of our neighbours were elderly and often cranky, as well. Anna had to be a few years younger than I was. I jumped out of my chair and jogged to the door, wondering if Anna had come for a casual visit or if she’d perhaps seen something unusual in her new house.
A tall, thin man stood on my porch, his hands thrust into his jacket’s pockets. He smiled when I opened the door. It wasn’t an expression of happiness, just a perfunctory flattening and widening of his lips to push out his cheeks.
“Hey, Lukas.” I sighed. “What do you want?”
“Hey, Grumpy,” he retorted. “Move, I’m coming in.”
