Beams of sunlight shone through moth-eaten holes in a pair of purple curtains. The golden lances illuminated the dim interior of the ambulance. Their touch was warm and their shine bright. The combination nudged Harmony awake like an over-friendly dog.
She opened her heavy eyelids with reluctance and a loud yawn forced its way out of her mouth as she stretched her stiff muscles. She sat up and looked around for Rose. Her mother’s bunk was empty.
Despite the ambulance being full to the brim with clutter (an ideal environment for beasties of all descriptions to take up residence) it was devoid of life. Somewhat flummoxed she climbed down from her bunk and pulled on her favourite pair of jeans and an old, red sweater.
She slipped on her trainers when, with the speed and power of a lightning bolt, a memory exploded into her mind. They were at the cottage! She had forgotten all about it. She raced to the door and reached for the latch.
Nervous wasn’t an accurate description of how she felt. The next few moments of her life had the potential to be the most significant yet. A place to call home, to settle down in, had been at the top of her wish list for as long as she could remember.
The letter’s arrival was undeniably mysterious and it had the potential to have been written by a senile, old lady. Yet amidst the intrigue a beacon of hope emerged; a glimmer of possibility, brighter than the sun’s rays. Harmony crossed her fingers and pled to any gods listening that this cottage would be the answer to her dreams.
She opened the door. The intensity of the light, accompanied by sweltering heat caught her off guard. She had not expected to be greeted by what appeared to be a summer’s day in April.
Harmony ignored her seasonal-misgivings and instead focused her attention on the cottage. This was it; the moment of truth was upon her...
Her gaze latched onto the inherited-dwelling and in that moment she knew the dream’s outcome. Her hopes of a place to call home looked to remain unfulfilled. The cottage was a wreck...
She couldn’t hide her disappointment; it was bitter and heart-felt. The heavy, knotted-tug of discontent twisted in her stomach as she faced reality and found it lacking. A warm summer breeze, imbued with the earthen-scents of the forest, enveloped her as she walked toward the ramshackle cottage.
Her eyes drifted across the faded thatched roof. The once golden straw had paled to a mottled-slant of silver and black decay.
She followed the line of the roof and saw a strange, copper funnel poking out at an odd angle. The apparatus was beyond anything she had seen before. The design looked to have purpose, though what that was remained a mystery.
The few windows the cottage possessed were all broken. One frame, devoid of glass, had half a table protruding through it. The front door was also missing. In the empty frame Rose stood waving frantically in an attempt to draw her attention.
“Good morning, my darling. I've got the kettle on,” Rose called to her. She smiled and disappeared into the darkness of the house.
Harmony approached the garden gate and pushed it aside as she stepped through. At first glance the garden looked like a wild meadow. The fenced area was filled with a garbled patchwork of flowers; bluebells, lavender, poppies, roses, chrysanthemums and sunflowers to name but a few.
The staggering variety grew in scattered colonies; fighting for dominance. As she walked she discovered a plethora of strange objects lay discarded in the undergrowth; most of which looked broken or damaged beyond any real use.
An overturned cauldron had rusted away to allow a yellow-flowered shrub to grow from its demise. Just beyond the stricken pot she located half a cart wheel. The wooden spokes were home to a rose bush, toe-sized thorns glistening in the sun.
Harmony shook her head. Why would anyone collect so much junk? She was still pondering the answer as she spotted a large oak tree in the corner of the garden.
“Ah ha, Meme I presume?” she noted.
The tree was host to a rather spectacular honeysuckle plant, each flower head in full bloom. The great oak loaned another of its gigantic bows to an ancient and rather dangerous looking swing.
With a knot at the bottom, the top wrapped several times around the branch, the swing had pretence of security. Harmony knew better than to trust appearance. The rope itself was green and black with mould. Even from across the garden it looked rotten and decidedly treacherous. This air of danger was added to by the patch of brambles covering the ground beneath it.
Harmony questioned the sanity of anyone wishing to swing on such an obvious death trap. However, she trusted that it had been a lot safer when Rose played on it as a girl.
She quickly traversed the rest of the path, unavoidably stepping on the pieces of smashed crockery that were violently strewn across the threshold. The variability of colour and pattern reminded her of flower petals scattered before a bride.
Harmony reached the empty doorway and tentatively entered the darkness of the cottage. Perhaps she wouldn’t have done so if she’d know what lay within
***
The dim light of the interior did little to hide the devastation she found. A floral-patterned sofa and accompanying armchairs lay ruined. Their frames had been smashed beyond repair. The once plump cushions were ravaged by mould and animals. The stuffing they once contained was strewn around the room to produce a nightmarish scene.
Torn books and smashed plates were spread across the filthy, shredded rugs. Harmony, gifted with a keen sense of observation, noted one thing; for a single person living alone in the woods Nova certainly had a lot of crockery.
Using her detective skills Harmony surmised that an intruder had been searching for something. The seeker had foraged through every cupboard, shelf, hidey hole, nook and cranny. Their search had been so thorough that no stone was left unturned.
It was clear to her that the house had been open to the elements for some time. She acutely discerned this due to the rampant ivy which had grown up from beneath the floor boards. The invasive foliage, its nimble stems clinging onto the mould-sullied walls, had already instigated a claim on the unoccupied house.
All of these things were bad enough but the most horrific thing that caught Harmony's attention was the graffiti painted on the walls. Huge runic-symbols and bizarre words, scrawled in child-like handwriting, covered any patches that the ivy hadn't monopolised. Worst of all the words were painted in what looked like blood.
It was then that Harmony wished her great aunt had left the cottage to someone else. “Love my home and treat it well. Do this and I promise you will be protected from the dangers ahead,” she recalled from the letter. “Not very well by the looks of things,” Harmony muttered as misery took hold of her.
“Bit of a mess isn't it? Never mind, though. It’s nothing we can't clean up,” Rose encouraged. Her head appeared in the doorway that led into the kitchen. She smiled and beckoned for Harmony to follow her.
Harmony carefully picked her way through the debris and entered the heart of the home. The sun, bright and revealing, streamed in through the glassless window frames that dominated one long wall.
Rose had already begun to tidy the mess. What remained of the large dining table stood in the centre of the flagstone floor. The two surviving chairs accompanied it. Next to the cracked sink Rose had swept up a pile of broken glass, spilt spices and several other ingredients that looked suspiciously like dried frogs. Amidst the detritus torn books peppered the bulk.
“What’s going on with the weather?” Harmony asked.
“Oh it’s a gorgeous day, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Harmony agreed. “It’s a beautiful summer’s day. But this is spring, not summer.”
“Are you really complaining that the weather is too nice?” Rose commented shaking her head.
“Not complaining, just observing,” Harmony countered. “I suppose the heatwave may explain why all the flowers are in bloom. Though, it is exceedingly odd all the same.”
“Honestly, you’re never happy. Maybe I should start calling you Goldilocks.”
Harmony didn’t respond. Her eyes drawn to another symbol, etched in blood, on the wall. The peculiar shape was formed of three, woven bands which encircled a large paw-print.
“This is unbelievable. Who did all these scribblings? Who would come all the way out here to graffiti an old woman's house?” Harmony wondered aloud while she took a seat and sipped from the steaming-hot cup of Earl Grey tea Rose handed to her.
“I don't know love, but I hope they found what they were looking for. I don’t know what I’d do if they came back,” she worried, shuddering at the thought of defending the cottage from burglars.
Harmony looked around and made a mental note that nothing seemed to be of worth. In her opinion the intruders were welcome to take anything they fancied. She wouldn’t stop them. With more thought she decided it might actually be helpful if they did come back and take some of the junk away.
“Any ideas what these words and symbols mean?” Harmony said, pointing a finger at one of the offending artworks.
‘WER IZIT’ was scrawled in huge letters on what remained of the chimney breast.
Rose scanned the area Harmony was pointing to, shrugging her shoulders and tilting her head in a thoughtful manner.
“No idea love. They don't seem to make much sense though do they? Then again when does gibberish ever make sense?”
Harmony sipped her tea again, trying to glean some logic from the chaos. All of a sudden a disturbing thought crossed her mind. The very idea made her skin crawl with unease.
“You don't think she died here do you? I mean this place looks like a murder scene.”
At this suggestion Rose froze, the tea cup pressed to her lips mid-sip, with only her eyes visible above the rim. Her gaze slowly moved from side to side checking for a potential killer, still lurking in the corner, waiting to pounce.
Rose shook her head. “No. Well. I hope not anyway. Besides, I’m very sensitive to those kinds of energies. I would have picked up on a negative vibe the instant I arrived. Also I’m sure the police would have sealed the house had she snuffed-it here.”
Rose said this in her reassuringly-omniscient way. Harmony heard the doubt in her tone. Clearly she was trying to convince herself more than anything else.
“Oh I just wondered if that axe-wielding man had anything to do with it,” Harmony joked.
Her words instantly shattered her mother’s calm demeanour and caused her to spit tea across the table. Rose quickly span round in her chair to see where Harmony was indicating.
“That's not funny, Harmony! My poor nerves,” Rose scolded. She stood up and snatched a rag to mop up the spillage.
Sodden, she threw the rag onto the heap of junk and put her hands on her hips. This was never a good sign. Rose turned around and scowled at Harmony’s continued amusement. Her brow creased in frustration.
“Sorry Mum, but you should see the look on your face,” she said, apologetically. Her remorse was difficult to convey. Try as she might she just couldn’t force the smile from her lips.
“Apology accepted. Now, on that note, I’m going to try and find a shop, or something like one, in Bellflower. So why don't you stay here and start clearing the rubbish out,” Rose replied with a smile. “Now you should see the look on your face,” she continued with a laugh as she winked at Harmony and picked up the keys for the ambulance.
“You’re not serious. You want me to stay here...alone? What if I have an accident? Or...or I get crushed by something? Or...or the burglars come back? Or what if something happened to you? No-one would know I was here. You can’t leave me all alone. What if I have to defend the house from intruders? You’d never forgive yourself if I were savaged to death by wild animals. Do you really want that on your conscience?” Harmony warned in a panicked voice. She was desperately searching for valid reasons to go with Rose.
The thought of being here alone filled her with fear. She wished for the second time that Nova had left the cottage to some other unsuspecting, long-lost relative.
“I'm quite confident that you'll handle any interloper or ferocious beasts that come by. You are obviously very mature now and that should be rewarded with some extra responsibility,” Rose stated, tough her tone implied she was being sarcastic.
“If I get mauled to death you’re gonna feel so guilty.”
Rose adopted her ‘this is happening so don't even try’ manner. Harmony decided to not argue. Staying in the cottage was preferable tohaving another ‘go with the flow’ lecture.
Rose smiled and kissed her lovingly on the forehead. Then she turned and in seconds had swept out of the kitchen door.
Harmony heard her tutting and chattering to herself as she headed down the path. The swift exit, another of her mother’s characteristics, left her feeling annoyed. Rose really couldn’t take a joke.
Harmony sat alone in the dishevelled and tattered remnants of her unwanted inheritance.