Schrodinger's Cottage by David Luddington

Author:David Luddington [Luddington, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781909224506
Publisher: Netherworld Books
Published: 2013-11-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Work on the cellar doors went well. Eric kept up a furious pace and by the time I returned from B&Q with a set of three doors he already had the openings at the top and bottom of the newly exposed steps squared off and ready. I insisted on the doors being in place and lockable before I would let him venture to the other end of the cellar to create the exit. I’d made that mistake before with the kitchen door and I had no desire for a random stream of characters from his world coming up the steps to my library. They all sounded way too odd for my liking.

Once the doors were fixed, we rigged up a light on an extension lead. The cellar was huge. It seemed to run the full length of the cottage although only about a quarter the depth. The far end wall, which would be about under the dining room, contained a lumpy brickwork section the same shape and size as a doorway.

“There it is,” Eric said.

“Why can’t somebody on the other side just punch a new hole through?” I asked.

“It doesn’t work. It was tried many times with your kitchen door. It winds up just going through the kitchen wall in that universe. For some reason the doorways can only be created from this side.”

I ran my hand over the brickwork. “I need another sticky note.” I counted on my fingers. “This one is eight.”

Eric gave me a strange look. “I’ll start on this one then?” He picked up the pickaxe and swung it at the wall.

I went upstairs and made us both a sandwich. He reappeared shortly after and announced he was through, now it just needed tidying up. As we sat and ate I realised it was gone one o’clock and I hadn’t had my midday beer yet. I pulled a couple of cans of Budweiser from the cupboard and put them on the table.

“Have a try,” I said and slid one towards him then opened the other for myself. “The rules don’t apply here.”

He picked up the can and studied it. “Not today,” he said and slid it back towards me.

We ate in silence then both set to work on the doorframe with one of us keeping watch on the stairs leading to his world. He tried to convince me that nobody from the other side would notice yet but it pays to be paranoid I’ve learned.

Eventually we had a series of three lockable doors, one at each end of the cellar and the other at the top of the steps in the library. I didn’t exactly feel safe, given what he’d told me about his world, but I could live with it until he’d retrieved his wife and I could brick them up again.

“When do you want to go through?” I asked him.

“Now,” he said.

By the time I’d found him the money he had changed back into the green fatigues with the orange circle he’d been wearing when I’d first caught him trying to find the cellar door.

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