House of Small Shadows by Nevill Adam

Author:Nevill, Adam [Nevill, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780230770690
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

When the first cold drop of rain struck her forehead Catherine began her journey back to the Red House. But never made it past number 3 in the cul-de-sac. She saw the house’s front door open at the same time she heard a voice come out of it. An old voice, reduced by its years, but still thick with the local dialect said, ‘You sin ’er? Eh? Eh? ’Scuse me. Scuse-meeeee. You sin ’er?’

Catherine stopped walking, though she wanted to carry on because the voice didn’t promise the kind of interaction she wanted, or even craved by this time. For a moment, still flustered and coming down from the brief fright the voice had caused, she was sure the person was asking her if she was a ‘sinner’. Then realized the speaker, whom she could not see, was asking if she’d seen someone. This ‘er’ being referred to was a her.

She approached the door, now ajar but ready to close. ‘Sorry? Were you talking to me?’

‘Yous’ll wake them up, you go knockin’ them up. It’s too early.’

‘Pardon?’

Through the lightless gap between the door and its frame, she heard a muffled retreat, followed by scrapes on the inside of the wooden door, as if the figure had pulled itself behind the door to hide in fear of her. Though the little squeal she heard also made her suspect the unseen person was excited, which was worse than them being afraid.

She didn’t get too close. ‘Are . . . do you need help?’ she was going to say ‘ma’am’, but wasn’t certain of the speaker’s gender. It must be the elderly person wearing the white gloves she had seen through the living-room window. A woman then?

An odour of damp, musty fabric drifted from the building and across the narrow footpath. The house was wet inside and virtually lightless. How could anyone see in there?

‘You been up the house? You seen her, who went up the house?’

‘Who? Sorry, I’m not sure what you’re asking me.’

‘Fings must turn a bit more, you fink? Not time yet for our lady.’

In the same spirit of her tour of the dismal village, communication with the only inhabitant she’d found was futile. But there was a surety and earnestness in the voice that made her linger. Catherine sensed this person believed that she was entirely aware of a set of facts upon which the speaker wanted a conversation to be based. Only she wasn’t aware of these facts, but to walk away would be rude. ‘Sorry. I don’t understand. I don’t think I can help.’

‘Here, here. Yous’ll want this. Run down that shop and get us half a pound of it.’ A thin arm came around the edge of the door. Some way above the limb, what looked like artificial greyish hair indicated the position of the mostly hidden head. But the person must have been small as the tuft of hair was no higher than her own shoulders and the threshold of the house was raised one step off street level.

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