3
Even Weirder House!
Bryony’s worst fears were realised.
Wychetts: weird name. Even weirder house!
The building was irregular in design, if it had any design at all. Nothing was square or aligned, and it seemed as though the hap-hazard construction was the result of some freak architectural accident.
The upper storey jutted out from the lower, making the whole structure appear precariously top-heavy. The imbalanced feel was exaggerated by a tall, steep-sided gable, which rose from one end of the building and reminded Bryony of a pointed witch’s hat.
But it wasn’t just the bizarre appearance of the house that worried Bryony. The whole place was in a terrible state of disrepair.
The timber-framed walls were cracked and crumbling. The narrow, arched windows didn’t have much glass left in them. The thatched roof had more holes in it than actual roof, and the crooked chimney seemed to defy the laws of gravity.
“Our very own country cottage,” said Bill, grinning from ear to ear. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Again, his question was directed at Jane, but this time she didn’t seem to know what to say.
“It’s a dump,” said Bryony, who had no problem expressing her opinion.
“It’s old,” said Bill. “It has character.”
“Yeah,” agreed Edwin. “The character of a dump.”
“At least it’s detached,” said Bill.
“More like detach-ing.” Bryony pointed to a section of wall that was in the process of crumbling away.
Bill dismissed his daughter’s concerns with a shrug. “So, it needs a bit of work doing here and there.”
Edwin snorted. “More like here, there and everywhere.”
Another shrug from Bill. “But it won’t take much to see an improvement.”
Bryony nodded. “Five minutes and a bulldozer should be more than enough.”
“Don’t need a bulldozer,” said Edwin. “May as well just wait for a strong breeze.”
Bill’s smile fell, and his gaze shifted to Jane. She gazed intently at the ruined house, her lips pursed thoughtfully, ginger head tilted sideways.
“Well, darling?” Bill clasped his hands as though in prayer. “Do you like your surprise?”
Bryony knew this was the first time Jane had seen the cottage. And she didn’t look overly impressed.
“I think it’s…”
Horrible, willed Bryony. Please say it’s horrible. Dad won’t listen to me. But if you don’t like it…
“Lovely,” trilled Jane, clapping her hands together. “I think it’s absolutely lovely!”
“I knew you would.” Bill grinned again. “We are going to be so happy here.”
“Speak for yourselves,” grumbled Bryony. “I’d be happier living in a bucket.”
“Me too,” said Edwin. “But not the same bucket. And it would have to be a very long way from Bryony’s.”
“You’ll change your mind once you see inside,” Bill assured them.
“We can see it already,” pointed out Bryony. “Through the gaps in the roof.”
“Just a bit of patching up required,” promised Bill. “I’ll sort it first thing tomorrow. Now come on in and take a look. I’m sure you’ll like the cottage once you’ve seen the whole of it.”
Bryony thought she had seen more than enough holes already.
Bill went up to the arched front door of the cottage. He took a large rusty key from his pocket, grinned at Jane, and then slid it into the lock.
He needn’t have bothered. Before the key was turned the door fell inwards, hitting the floor with a rap that echoed through the decaying structure.
“Just needs a few screws,” explained Bill. “I’ll sort it first thing tomorrow. Now in you come.”
Jane followed Bill through the cottage entrance, but Bryony remained outside. Her gaze wandered once again over the dilapidated building, and she shook her head as she pondered on the sorry condition of her father’s mind. She’d thought he was mad marrying a woman like Jane. But buying a house like Wychetts…
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”
Edwin’s voice interrupted Bryony’s thoughts, and she turned to see that he was also studying the cottage.
“Me too,” she agreed. “Looks sort of… spooky.”
“Spooky, yeah.” Edwin glanced at Bryony. “I’m not scared, though.”
“Me neither,” said Bryony.
“You look it,” said Edwin.
“I don’t. But you look scared. And stupid.”
“Hurry up,” urged Bill, waving at them from the doorway.
Eager to prove herself braver than her stepbrother, Bryony charged towards the door. Edwin followed, breaking into a run to catch up. The two of them slammed into each other, and ended up getting jammed in the doorframe.
Bryony pushed and shoved. Edwin pushed and shoved back, and it needed a sly dig in the ribs before he gave way with an agonised yelp.
“Ow, that hurt!”
“Good,” smirked Bryony. But her smirk became a grimace when she saw the dingy, narrow hallway. The walls were stained with brown blotches, and there was a horrible smell that reminded her of mouldy mushrooms.
“Just a touch of damp,” said Bill, noting his daughter’s wrinkled nose. “I’ll sort it first thing tomorrow.”
Bryony puffed her cheeks. At this rate Dad was going to have a very busy tomorrow. Or an averagely busy tomorrow that lasted for about fifty years.
“Wait until you see this.” Bill took Jane’s hand and strode off into the gloom. He halted in front of a wonky door and wrenched it open with a flourish. “Ta dah!”
“What is it?” Bryony squeezed past Jane, and found herself in a room that was even dingier and smellier than the hall.
“The study,” said Bill, as though it should have been obvious.
“Looks more like a dungeon,” observed Bryony.
“And a pretty basic one at that,” added Edwin, peering from behind his mother.
“I think it might be better as a dining room,” said Jane.
Bill shook his head. “But it’s perfect for a study, darling.”
Jane frowned. “What do we need a study for?”
Bryony’s heartbeat quickened. Were they going to have an argument? At long last? Oh please let them have an argument!
“Perhaps,” said Bill, patting Jane’s arm, “a dining room might be more appropriate.”
Jane smiled again. “Oh thank you, Bill. You’re so accommodating.”
They kissed. Bryony’s stomach lurched. She looked away and saw that Edwin looked just as repulsed.
Why couldn’t they argue? Just for once? Why did they have to be so nice to each other all the time? It was so horrible.
Bill took Jane’s arm and led her from the room. Bryony was about to follow, when she caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye.
Startled, she instinctively grabbed the nearest human being; which unfortunately happened to be Edwin.
“Gerroff!” he growled, pushing her away.
Bryony was just as horrified at her actions.
“I saw something,” she explained, pointing into the corner of the room. “Something moved.”
Edwin’s expression changed from disgust to curiosity. “Could be a rat,” he pondered. “Must be a perfect breeding ground for them.”
Bryony knew what his little game was. “I’m not scared of rats. Wouldn’t be talking to you if I was. Anyway, this thing was bigger than a rat. More the size of a…”
Meeooow!
“A cat,” chuckled Edwin, pointing at the sleek feline form that emerged from the gloom. “That’s all it was, dumbo.”
But this was not ‘just’ a cat. It was a beautiful creature, with a silky cream coat, chocolate coloured paws, and eyes that sparkled like emeralds. It wore a gorgeous diamond-studded collar, and purred softly as it came mincing towards them.
“Oh, you’re divine!” An entranced Bryony crouched and beckoned to the cat. “Here kitty. Come and say hello.”
The cat by-passed Bryony, seeming more interested in Edwin. It reached his feet and reared up, clawing at his jacket pocket.
“Get away!” he hissed. “Scat!”
It was Bryony’s turn to laugh. “Now look who’s scared. Here, kitty. Come to Auntie Bryony.”
The cat left Edwin, and slinked towards Bryony’s outstretched hand. Bryony grinned at Edwin, savouring her moment of triumph.
“I’m very good with animals. They all seem to like me. Guess I have a natural affinity with...”
Suddenly the cat lunged at Bryony, raking its needle sharp claws across her palm.
“Ow!” Bryony jumped back, shaking her injured hand. “Ow, ow, oooooowwww!”
“Edwin, what’s happened? Are you all right?” Jane came running back into the room, her normally pale face even paler with anxiety.
Edwin was laughing so hard that he could hardly speak.
“Bryony… hah! Bryony was just showing me… hah! how good she is with animals. Haha!”
“I got attacked by a cat,” growled Bryony, struggling to ignore the pain in her hand.
Jane hurried towards her. “Let me see, darling.”
“I’m OK.” Bryony snatched her wounded hand away from Jane. “And I’m not your darling.”
“But it might be infected,” fussed Jane. “You could go down with something nasty.”
“I’d be more worried for the cat,” chortled Edwin.
“I’ll teach it a lesson,” vowed Bryony, scanning the room for her attacker. The cat sat on the window ledge, staring defiantly at her with its luminous emerald eyes. Bryony lunged, but the cat escaped through the broken pane before she could get within kicking range.
“What’s the hold up?” asked Bill, peering through the door.
“Nothing,” said Bryony, who didn’t want to look like a wuss in front of Edwin and Jane. She slipped her injured hand into her trouser pocket, and followed her father back through the hall and into another room that he called “the lounge”.
Bryony thought “the morgue” would be more fitting.
The lounge was much bigger than the dining room, but it was still gloomy and stank of mushrooms. There was no carpet, and the stone floor was cracked and uneven. Twisted wooden beams ran across the sagging ceiling, which looked like it could come crashing down at any second. And it was cold in here. Freezing, in fact.
As if reading her mind, Bill pointed to the far wall. “I think there’s a fireplace hidden behind the stonework. I’m going to open it up to provide some warmth.”
“A real fire would be lovely,” said Jane, nodding enthusiastically.
Bryony had another suggestion. “Why don’t we just burn the house?”
“Too damp,” chipped in Edwin.
“Now don’t be like that.” Bill gave both children an indignant look. “You’ll feel a lot better once I’ve got a nice log fire installed.”
“But what about central heating?” Bryony (like her real Mum) thought log fires a bit passé.
Bill chuckled at his daughter’s suggestion. “This is a very old house. When Wychetts was built people didn’t have central heating. Or electricity, for that matter.”
“No electricity?” Edwin reacted to this news with a look of sheer terror. “So we don’t have any lights?”
Bryony wondered why Edwin found this so upsetting. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Scared of the dark?”
“No.” Edwin’s freckles vanished as his cheeks flushed bright red. “It’s just… um… we won’t be able to watch TV.”
“No TV!” The sudden realisation made Bryony feel sick.
“Don’t worry,” said Bill. “I’ll get it sorted first thing tomorrow.”
“But there’s no TV,” whined Bryony, on the verge of hysterics. “I can’t last until tomorrow without TV.”
“We don’t need television,” said Jane. “We have each other for company.”
As far as Bryony was concerned, that was exactly why she needed television.
“But Mum,” bleated Edwin. “What about tonight?”
“Don’t worry,” whispered Jane, brushing Edwin’s ginger locks. “I’ve brought a supply of candles.”
“What about a water supply?” Another thought had just struck Bryony. “Is there hot running water?”
“The only things running around here are probably cockroaches,” said Edwin.
Jane shuddered. “Please don’t say things like that, darling. I’m sure the house has a water supply.”
Bill nodded, without appearing convinced. “Yeah. I’m almost sure it has. It has a kitchen, just down here.”
Bill left the lounge, with Jane following close behind. Bryony stood still, her attention suddenly drawn to the wall at the end of the room. Dad said there was a fireplace behind it, but Bryony sensed there was something else hidden there.
Something ancient. Something powerful.
Something that had been there a very long time.
Waiting.
Waiting for her.