Letters in the Attic

by Talea Botha

  We stood together in front of the last door we haven’t tried. Everyone else were either too new, or just hadn’t taken notice of who had lived in the old house. We had asked more than ten people already, most of whom had opened the door with a scowl and impatiently shooed us away, expecting us to be from a religious organization or selling something. By the time they realized it was just a general enquiry they were irritable.

  We waited for ages after ringing the doorbell, eventually assuming that no one was home. Just as we made to turn away we heard a shuffle on the other side of the door, and it swung open slowly, revealing a white haired old man with very thick glasses, and a cane. He was bent over forwards from the hips. I was sure that if he didn’t have the cane he would fall on his face.

  “Yes?” he asked, his eyes watery behind his glasses.

  Serena smiled warmly, “Good morning, we’re so sorry to bother, but I was wondering if you could help us out. We’re looking to find out about the old house.” She was so warm.

  He blinked twice, and I wondered if he registered. His face was unreadable. Then he turned around slowly and beckoned with his free hand.

  “Come, come in. He croaked. Sarah will make us some tea. Sarah! Tea!”

  I pulled up my eyebrows and looked at Serena, but she shrugged, her eyes sparkling, and followed the old man in. Impulsive woman. I rolled my eyes, and went in after her.

  We sat down in a sun room; three of the walls had windows, covered with flower-print mesh curtains. It smelled of old furniture and dust, and something I couldn’t place. The old man lowered himself down, and dropped the last couple of inches into a cushioned chair with a grunt. He dropped the cane carelessly at his side and made chewing movements with his mouth. I didn’t want to think about what he could be chewing, or where he suddenly got it from. I really didn’t like old people. They were so difficult to talk to, so removed from everything I was comfortable with, and they didn’t know it but they spoke down to a person like they still knew exactly what was going on.

  I glanced at Serena who had gracefully perched herself on a chair next to the old man, like an exotic bird, and she had such a gentle expression on her face, as if the old man was no more than a child. Her eyes had faded to a soft kind of green, very different from the bright emerald green it had been the day before. She looked quite soft in the morning sun pouring through the mesh curtains.

  A middle-aged woman came in. She had a thickset body, with broad shoulders and a wide-legged stance. Her hair was pulled back tightly against her head, and her white, spotless clothes made her look like some sort of a nurse. She nodded a straight-faced greeting at us and put the old man’s cane within reach. Then she disappeared through the doors again.

  “Now,” he mumbled, “the old house. My my, it was so grand.” He closed his eyes, as if he was travelling back in time, “I can still see it, the caramel outside beaming proudly in the sun, with the gowns of the girls billowing in the breeze when they had their tea parties on the front lawn. I’d been to one of the dinners there, my mother was invited because she knew Lucille Blake personally, and the inside was more rich and golden than the outside could ever be. I was just a young lad then, and I’m not a male for nothing, if you ask me precise details now I won’t be able to tell you. But I can tell you that it was a privilege to be invited, and it made you wish for a grander life when you stepped down those porch steps at the end of the night. A house like that… Of course, all the houses in the street were something to look at; spectacular designs, capturing the essence of the century, calling out to those walking by, saying ‘there’s pride in my existence’. They’ve knocked most of them down, rebuilt them into these square things. But not that house, oh no. The history it has!”

  Serena leaned forward, her slim fingers fiddling with another of her scarves, wrapped around her hair and tied in a bow, the ends streaming down over her shoulders. She was enraptured; I could see her transported into the past with this old man’s unclear words and flying flecks of spittle as he spoke about a place that no longer existed.

  Sarah came back with a tray holding three cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. She held the tray to me and Serena, but put the old man’s on the table next to him. He grabbed a biscuit and sucked on it a bit until a piece came loose. The chewing motions again. Then he leaned back and carried on.

  “Things were different those days. Scandals were bigger than they are now, and fewer of them happened at a time. It seems people have forgotten what respect means, what your social standing could do for you. It’s everywhere now, the wrong things, and doing them goes unpunished. Not then, whether it was society or fate, you had to pay for what you did, and your family paid too. If you forgot where your respect lay, forgot yourself, your whole world was ripped apart. It was motivation, I say, to keep in line. Nowadays the only motivation is satisfaction.”

  I breathed in deeply, trying not to make it sound like a sigh. The other two hadn’t touched their tea; it was getting cold. I had already finished mine, and a handful of biscuits. I didn’t want to be rude and take more. My stomach rumbled loudly. Was it really necessary to know all of this? I really just wanted to know who’d lived at the house. I was already pushing my luck, having told my boss I was out to see a client. I couldn’t be away the whole day, what would I say? And he wouldn’t have anything to show for my time either. I’d have to tell my boss that the client changed his mind or something. My stomach knotted with tension.

  “It was the youngest of the Blake girls that ended up staying in the house, long after the others had left. She was the only one that seemed to be loyal enough, even through the darkness that was cast over their family. Her father had been caught with Madam Bouvier, you see, who lived in town, and his wife never lived down the shame. She was forever seen by the other women in the society as someone who couldn’t keep her husband happy. It was terribly unfair, how it all played out. She’d only ever done what was expected of her, been at his side at every social event, letting him be the proud Mr. Blake that he was. But when she was the one that started to suffer under the scandal instead of her husband, she changed her mind. Their family was torn apart, Mrs. Blake having taken up the girls and left him to think about what he’d done. This in itself, of course, was just as bad. You didn’t leave your husband then. Not the way they do now. Divorce was never something that was acceptable. They said he’d died of sorrow over having lost the love of his life to the curves of temptress Bouvier. She was called that, because she had a reputation with the suits in the city. Mr. Blake had refused to see anyone at all. Not that he had much of a choice otherwise; besides his youngest daughter visiting him, no one ever called. After his death, she had left her mother and sisters, and had come to live in the house alone. No one really knows why. There were visitors at first but she’d seemed to have inherited her father’s new love for solitude. Of course, with the kind of fortune he’d left behind for her there were many men who had wanted to whisk her away, and make her a Mrs. But they said that her father’s ghost was still there, he had taken it upon himself to spare his daughter of the woes of heartbreak, and he’d chased away every suitor, until Cathy, her name was, ended up an old maid, sad, hostile, angry, and died alone.”

  I looked from the old man to Serena. Her eyes had become just as watery as his naturally were, and they were both stuck in a fantasy that I felt excluded from. I noticed she was holding the old man’s hand in both of hers, nodding quietly as he told his story, drinking it all in. Finally, when he was quiet and I hoped the story was finally over, she leaned back and sighed.

  “Oh, it’s all so sad! Cathy Blake? Is that who lived in the house?”

  “Yes, until she died, about a year or so ago. She’d let the place go. She seemed to have retreated into the house, not caring about what it looked like anymore. She didn’t have any servants or help, and she did nothing to maintain the house that had both been a place of happiness and sorrow for her. Towards the end, she had a visitor, a young woman that stayed with h
er now and then. I don’t remember her name now, but she traveled from Phoenix every now and then to check in on her, especially if the old lady got sick. It was very sweet of her, but when Cathy died, she left her nothing, and the house was stripped of all the furniture, and stood empty for months.”

  “Do you know anything more about this woman that came to visit?”

  “No, I don’t. I didn’t have much contact with anyone around here after my own friends grew up and moved away. Everything has become so secluded. We used to know everything about everyone around us, and now it’s every man for himself.”

  “Was her name Elsa?” Serena asked, and held her breath.

  “Elsa…” the old man thought for a moment, his eyes not focusing on anything specific, “yes, it could very well be, Elsa… Elsa… Ryan? Something like that. Sarah here popped by now and then just to check.She was the only one that kept an eye over the old lady, found her after she’d passed away. Must have been a habit for her, already looking after old me, she must have felt old Cathy was her duty too.”

  It felt like forever, and finally we were leaving. Serena took leave from the old man as if they were related; she held his hands and thanked him dearly. They were just letters, nothing to get so worked up about. But Serena seemed to be the sentimental type. She’d had tears in her eyes when he’d been telling the story. I had looked at her, watched the green go deeper as tears welled up, and almost envied her ability to be so emotional without reserve. When was the last time I’d let myself feel anything? Even my anger at Will was subdued when we fought.

  We walked down the road and then across to the old house.

  “Elsa Ryan,” she breathed, elated, “how many of those do you think are there in Phoenix?”

  She turned her green eyes back to me and they were stunning. They’d changed to something so intense so quickly.

  “I don’t know,” I said, and she laughed.

  “You say that a lot, you know.”

  “I say it whenever it’s true.”

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever used it,” she thought out loud, “it seems like such an empty state to settle into.”

  “It’s a pretty common name; I think there might be a few.” I tried again, feeling vaguely insulted.

  “How will we find her? Phonebook? The internet?”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I have to get going.”

  “Won’t you come in? We’re only half way there…” her voice faltered with disappointment. Her eyes had dimmed a bit.

  “No, sorry. I do need to get back to the office. I’ve already abused my grace period.”

  I waved dismissively at her and carried on down the road. I felt her gaze burning on my back from where I left her in the driveway, and fought the urge to turn around again. I was annoyed at how easily her emotions changed and how I had to keep fighting the urge to give her what she wanted. She was a flighty, irrational person, going out on a whim and chasing ghosts. I shook my head trying to shake the image of her intense green eyes, her freckled face framed by the mass of curls. Ridiculous woman.

  Will phoned later on in the day.

  “Hey, kiddo,” I answered, “haven’t seen you since yesterday morning.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Listen bro, do you have a lunch hour you can take? Meet me somewhere?”

  “I’ve already taken lunch. What’s wrong?”

  “Can’t you get away for a bit, just meet me? I’ll come to wherever works for you.”

  “What’s going on Will?”

  “Just meet me, okay?”

  Half an hour later we were in a park. I sat on the edge of the bench, leaning on my knees with my elbows, fingers interlocked. Will paced the little path in front of me.

  “Are you going to keep pacing, or are you planning on telling me what’s going on?” I asked when the silence became unbearable. Will stopped and shifted from one foot to the other, looking at something in the distance instead of making eye contact.

  “Remember I asked about the old house?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, the thing is that Butch and the guys… “ he rubbed his face with his hands, a shudder travelling visibly through his body, “the guys got a hold of some things that might not necessarily belong to them. They need a place to stash it until we— until they can make arrangements for it to be… handled.”

  “You’re stealing!?” I stilled.

  “It’s not like that. I’m not the one stealing. It’s just my job to organize storage…”

  “That’s the same thing! What did you tell them?”

  “I told them they could use the old house. You told me no one wanted it, I didn’t think you’d find a buyer for it.”

  “You can’t make promises like that, Will.”

  “I know, I know. The thing is, they want it now, and I don’t have anywhere else.”

  “You had better not be thinking of keeping stolen good at our place.”

  “No of course not,” Will pulled a face like he couldn’t believe I would think something so careless of him, “besides, it’s not really big enough.”

  “Big enough? What did you steal!?”

  “I didn’t do it, Ian. They did, I told you, I just do storage. I’m not stupid you know, I’m not going to risk getting caught.”

  “Will, you idiot, what did you think, the police will just say ‘oh, let him off the hook guys, he was just putting stolen property into storage, he’s not a criminal’?”

  “Don’t say that. We won’t get caught anyway. Look, I have nowhere to go, and the guys are getting cranky about it. Please can you just help me out?”

  “I’m not getting involved in this, Will. I have worked every day for how long to get you to stay with me, and not end up in a home somewhere. You’re just going to throw it all away? What would mom and dad say?”

  “Don’t you dare talk about them!”

  “Why? They were my parents too, you know! I’m doing the best I can here, Will, and you’re throwing it all back in my face. You’re old enough to go straight to jail for this, they’re not going to take it easy on you.”

  “I know, okay,” he looked down, his voice suddenly soft. His shoulders slumped and he looked defeated, and I saw a reflection of the kid who stood at the grave so long ago. “Ian, I just need some help here. These aren’t the type of guys I can just let down. I know I’m in too deep, but I’m scared. Please.”

  I closed my eyes, willing myself to be somewhere else, willing this all to just disappear. Panic threatened to choke me with cold hands, and I had goose bumps despite the warm sun baking down on us. I didn’t even notice the green of the park, the children playing on the swings, didn’t hear their laughter anymore. My ears were ringing and I felt hollow.

  When I looked at Will again, the kid looked like he was going to cry.

  “Look, Will, we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll get you out of this mess. I don’t know how, but we’ll think of something. I need you to get on home, I just need to see one more client later, and then I’ll be there and we’ll talk about it.

  He nodded, and turned away, walking down the road like he’d already been condemned. Stupid, stupid boy. How could he do that to himself? How could he do that to us? It was hard enough already. I let my head sink into my hands, and sat there like that for a long time. Then, finally, when the sun was low in the sky, I hoisted myself off the bench. It felt as though my body had gotten twice as heavy during the afternoon, and I forced my legs of lead to the bus station. One more client for the day. I just had to put up a smile for an hour. Just one more hour.

  I was on the bus on the way back home when my phone rang. I anxiously pulled it out and relief gushed over me when it wasn’t Will. I’d been anxious during the meeting, missing half of what the clients had said. I had been cold all the time, and I’d gotten nauseous from the movement of the bus, something that never happened.

  “Yes?”

  “Ian, hi, it’s Serena,” her chiming voice came over the line. Her, agai
n. Was there no end?

  “Hi,” I said flatly.

  She carried on, ignoring my tone, “I found her! Well, nine of her. But I did it! It took me forever to get it right, I know nothing of computers, but there are 9 in Phoenix, can you believe it? I have their addresses written down.”

  “That’s nice, I’m happy for you.”

  “I’m going to Phoenix, I’ll leave in the morning. I’ve decided I’ll just drive down and look them up!”

  “Have a good trip. Well done.”

  “Thanks! And thanks for your help. Will you send me your banking details?”

  “Sure.”

  She hung up. I was getting paid. It didn’t seem like such a joyous occasion anymore. A big dark cloud hung over everything now. I used to think that money was our biggest problem. It had all seemed so much simpler that morning, the weight of my worries so much lighter than now.

  When I came home the lights were on, and inside, the place was neat and clean. Will came into the room when he heard me arrive, and stood in the doorway, not knowing what to do with his hands. It was strange that I was being relied on again. Will hadn’t bothered to spend time with me at all the last year or so, and never asked me for help with anything anymore. It had made me feel oddly secluded from his life, which was a weird sensation after having been so involved for so long. I wondered vaguely if I would ever have children of my own. Surely, I’ve done my duty already.