by Jack Lewis
When they got closer to the kennels, the yelping got louder. The puppies were probably conditioned to know that when they heard the estate manager’s pumps on the gravel, they’d soon be getting a walk or some food.
The sounds were a mixture of yelps and barks, with some whining thrown in for good measure. The kennels comprised of two cells. In one of them, two adult dogs slept against a wall, their backs turned so that they couldn’t hear the puppies in the cage across from them. Ruby ran straight over to the animals and tried to open the gate. She shook it, and this seemed to send the puppies into a frenzy.
This was dangerous. There was no doubting that they couldn’t keep all the dogs, but explaining that to Ruby would be a nightmare. If they could get through this part of the tour without Ruby getting attached to the dogs, they’d be okay.
“Are they the puppies' parents?” Scarlett said, pointing at the older dogs in the opposite cell.
Jonathan nodded. “Had to separate them. The mum kept attacking the pups.”
“I’ve never heard of that before,” said Trev. “You sure they’re not wolves?”
“Wolves don’t attack their young either,” said Jonathan, missing Trev’s joking tone. “To be honest, we might have to put her down. Her aggression is getting worse. She only calms down when she’s with the pup’s father.”
“If they’re dangerous, they have to go,” said Scarlett.
“Animals are animals,” answered Jonathan. “They are fine if you know how to treat them. They’ve never attacked a person.”
“Only a matter of time,” said Scarlett.
“Come on Scar,” said Trev. “They look gentle. Let’s meet them.”
Both Ruby and Trev stared at Scarlett with the same longing expression, and she knew she’d been backed into a corner where she would look like the bad guy. “Just the puppies then,” she said, sighing.
All it took was a key in a lock, a twist and a pull. The door opened, and soon Ruby wore a coat made of puppies. She fell back onto the floor, laughing as the dogs swarmed over her, showering her with licks.
Scarlett took a step back and turned to look at Trev. “We need to get rid of them,” she said. “We can’t afford to feed ourselves, let alone seven dogs.”
“You own Gawthorpe now, Scar. Our days of sleeping in the car and dining on sliced cheese are over. We can afford it.”
She shook her head. “Until we figure out what to do, this estate isn’t a fortune, it’s a money-sink. Think of all the upkeep costs. I mean, it must cost a year’s salary to heat the place. Right now, we couldn’t even afford to stock the fridge.”
Trev put his hands in his pockets. “Jonathan,” he said.
The estate manager turned around. “Yes?”
“Is there any money put aside anywhere? You know, petty cash for repairs and stuff around the house?”
“I can only address matters like that to the lady of the house.”
“She’s standing right here,” said Trev.
“We don’t keep a jar of pennies lying around,” answered the estate manager. “There’s a trust fund that Mr Gawthorpe set up, but it can only be used for repairs on the house. You’d need an invoice proving what work you need the money for before any is released. Otherwise, the bank holding the trust won’t release it.”
Scarlett ran her fingers through her hair. It was tangled, and it took a few tugs to glide through the length of one of her locks.
“We need to get rid of them,” she said. “Sell them to a farmer, or advertise in the village. Somewhere good though. I don’t want them going to a bad home.”
She realised she’d said this too loudly when her daughter bolted up into a sitting position. One puppy pawed at her hair and tried to grab it, while two of them started to play fight with each other. Another puppy spread out over Ruby’s legs and settled.
“You can’t, Mum. They live here.”
She could already sense the tantrums and arguments to come, and she knew that her first few hours in Gawthorpe with her daughter wouldn’t be peaceful ones. Ruby was well-behaved but like any other kid, there was always a tantrum just waiting for the right bait to coax it out.
Scarlett turned to Trev. “We should let her keep one. What do you think?”
He shrugged. “As long as I’m not the one getting up at 4 a.m. to let it out.”
Scarlett looked around her. She didn’t like the idea of standing in the estate gardens alone in the early hours, but she’d do anything for Ruby.
“You can keep one puppy, Rubes. We can’t afford the others. There will be families out there who would love a puppy.”
“Can I just suggest that we keep two?” said Jonathan.
Scarlett shook her head. “No, you can’t. Now which one do you want, Rubes?”
The girl pressed her index finger to her chin. Two pups pawed at each other in front of her, struggling in the world’s most adorable gladiator fight. The pup on Ruby’s legs put his head between his paws and closed his eyes.
“This one,” she said, giving him a stroke.
“And what do you want to call him?” asked Trev.
Ruby didn’t even need a second to think about the answer. “Glanville,” she said.
“Where did that come from?” asked Scarlett.
Ruby shrugged. “Dunno, Mum. I just thought of it.”
For the next half hour, Jonathan led them on a tour through the estate, pointing out things he thought were of note. His knowledge about the house and its grounds were impressive. He could tell them everything, from the number of hares that lived in the forest, to how long it would be before the frogspawn on the numerous ponds turned into frogs.
Ruby went forward on her own now, clutching Glanville in her arms and cooing to him. Scarlett hung back and walked alongside Trev.
“We’re going to have to let them go,” said Scarlett.
Trev nodded. “I’ll go to the village and see if someone is looking for a puppy or two. It shouldn’t be hard.”
“I mean Jonathan and the others. We can’t afford to employ them. I mean, how are we supposed to pay their wages?”
“I just don’t understand how your father carried it on. He must have some money somewhere.”
She shook her head. “Look around. The place is falling apart. Almost every window needs replacing, and the brickwork is decades overdue repointing. I don’t know how dad kept things going, but he couldn’t have done it for much longer.”
“There’s something else,” said Trev. “We’ll need some cash for food and stuff like that.”
Jonathan spun around, again pirouetting like a seasoned dancer. Scarlett wondered whether the estate manager had listened in all this time.
“Pardon the intrusion,” he said. “but there is a provision of food in the larder. More than enough for you to settle in.”
Scarlett looked at Trev, but he just stared back at her.
“You tell him,” he said.
Chapter Seven
She got the feeling she didn’t need to tell the estate manager anything since he appeared to hear everything anyway. Nevertheless, Trev clearly wasn’t going to do it, so she’d have to.
“We can’t afford to keep the staff on,” she said. She didn’t know what to say; she’d never fired anyone before. “I’m sure you understand that money is…Well, we just can’t keep things how they used to be. We’d give you a month’s notice, or whatever’s in your contract.”
Jonathan shook his head. “We never had contracts. You’re free to fire them whenever you wish.”
“Them? It means you too, Jonathan, I’m afraid. If there was any other way…”
Jonathan stepped forward. There was a look of desperation in his eyes, and Scarlett wondered what the estate manager would do. Surely, given his experience, he’d be okay?
“I’ll write you a letter of recommendation to anywhere you like. And with the years you’ve served here, you’ll find something else.”
He stepped forward again. This time he rea
ched out and snatched at her hand. His fingers felt cold on hers. His eyes were pleading.
“I’ll work for free,” he said.
She wanted to move away, but she didn’t wish to upset him any further.
“I’ve been here years,” he carried on. “I’m as much a part of the house as the brickwork and furniture. I’ll do the same hours, I’ll work just as hard, and I’ll do it for free.”
He clutched her hand harder. She was aware of Trev moving next to her, and she could sense the tension building. She moved away, out of Jonathan’s grasp, and looked at him.
For the first time, she felt like she was really seeing him; his wide eyes, a film of moisture on them. His black pumps, his dirty trousers. She was sure she knew him from somewhere else, that she’d met him in a different place at a different time. She was making the right decision.
“I’m sorry, Jonathan,” she said. “We need to settle in on our own. It’s a big change, and I don’t want Ruby to be upset.”
Jonathan straightened himself up. He looked at her, his gaze set firmly on her face.
“You’ll regret it, Ms Gawthorpe,” he said.
She wondered why he’d called her ‘Ms. Gawthorpe’ after spending all morning saying ‘Mrs. Thorne.’ More importantly, she wondered if he was right. Something told her that she might come to regret it.
Telling the other staff members wasn’t a joyful experience, but Jonathan made it harder by storming over and informing them they were soon to be jobless. Although neither the cook nor the maids had begged to be allowed to work for free, they’d asked Trev if they could stay on for longer.
“Just a few months. Or five. Half a year,” said the cook, looking at Trev.
“I don’t know why you’re asking him,” Scarlett had said. “I’m the one who inherited this place.”
She didn’t know why, but something annoyed her about the way they’d assumed Trev was in charge. Then she remembered that she was telling these people that they had lost their jobs, so she sucked in her anger.
Sensing she wasn’t his favourite person, she thought better of asking the cook to fix them something to eat. Instead, she gave them all the day off, with pay. Only Jonathan refused her offer, insisting that if he went home, he’d just be thinking of everything that needed doing at Gawthorpe, so he might as well stay.
She then made the trip to the larder herself, grabbing some bread, ham and eggs. The larder was near the kitchen, adjoined by steps that descended to the bowels of the house. It was a room made of cold stone, with a sloping roof that made anyone but the smallest person duck their head.
They ate in their bedroom, with Trev sitting in a chair next to the bed, Scarlett leaning against the headrest, and Ruby at the foot of the bed. Despite Jonathan’s protestations, they found that some rooms in the west wing did have beds. All it took was for Scarlett and the estate manager to carry over some bedding.
‘Leave it to me,’ he told her, grabbing a bundle of sheets from the airing cupboard.
Somehow, she felt too guilty to let him do all the work, and she insisted on helping. That feeling stayed with her throughout their meagre meal, so that with each bite of bread, she felt a pain in her stomach increase. She couldn’t help but think she’d blown into Gawthorpe like a whirlwind, disturbing an eco-system that had run for decades without her.
Trev leaned forward and stretched his arms. “Okay Rubes, time for bed,” he said. “But you can stay in here with us, just for tonight.”
He raised an eyebrow at Scarlett as if to ask, ‘Is this okay?’ She nodded at him.
“It’s okay,” she answered.
It was her daughter who leant a dissenting voice to the idea.
“I want my own room,” she said. “You promised me I would, one day.”
It was true. In their flat, there’d only been one bedroom, which meant that Ruby slept on an airbed in the living room. Sometimes it made Scarlett feel ashamed to think about, but what was she supposed to do?
When her father kicked her out she was sixteen years old and hadn’t even been to college. Her new independence hit her like a bus with the driver asleep behind the wheel, and she’d spent the next few years just getting by.
“Jonathan made up a bed in the room across from ours,” she said. “Take that one. But I’ll be checking on you, Rubes. I don’t want to walk by and see a light on when it’s late. No staying up.”
“I won’t.”
Ruby had a talent for looking her and Trev in the face and telling the most blatant lies. Scarlett knew full well that if she got up at midnight, she’d walk by Ruby’s room to see light flickering under the door. She’d leave it alone for now; this was new to them all, and they had to settle as best they could.
After Ruby had gone to her room, Scarlett and Trev got ready to sleep. She kept the bedroom door open an inch so that she could hear any noises coming from the hall. With the darkness settling around them, she and Trev got into bed.
Scarlett lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Her body craved sleep, but she knew it wouldn’t come.
“What’s with you?” said Trev.
“I just feel bad about the staff. How old was the cook? People aren’t lining up to hire guys his age. I feel like I snatched food from his table.”
“It was the only thing we could do,” answered Trev.
“I feel strange,” she said, adjusting the pillow under her head. “It’s like I know this is my home, but it doesn’t feel like it’s mine. I get the feeling I’m not welcome here.”
“If you’re not welcome,” said Trev, “how about me? Your dad probably threw darts at a picture of my face.”
“Do you ever miss it?” Scarlett said.
“Miss what?”
“The village. Your parents.”
Trev propped himself up on an elbow. “The best thing I ever did was leave. Even if it weren’t for us, I would have gone eventually. You don’t spend your life there, it’s somewhere you go to die.”
“I’ll never forget it,” she said. “The way you came away with me. You didn’t have to.”
“And leave my pregnant girlfriend on her own?”
Trev fell asleep minutes later. He’d always been that way. It was like there was a button he pressed and it powered down his mind. Scarlett was the opposite; her brain liked to wander at night, sifting through thoughts and problems and bringing the worst ones to her attention.
She rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. The sounds of the house were as she remembered. The old wood shifted in the night. Mice, always heard but never seen, scuttled through walls and along floorboards in the rooms above. Branches tapped on a window outside her room. It didn’t matter where you went in the house, they always tapped.
When she was younger, she’d always thought that things came out at night. Figures that used to hide from her parents, only stepping into the old halls when they were asleep.
Gawthorpe belonged to something else when darkness settled over the estate. For years, Scarlett had even been scared to go to the bathroom. Even now she could remember how much her bladder hurt after holding it in for hours.
Her mind started to drift.
Then, she heard something. It wasn’t the sound of Ruby in her room, but something else. She sat up. What was it?
It sounded like scratching. Like something sharp running up and down the walls in the hall, gouging something into the oak.
Mice? Or worse, rats? She wasn’t squeamish, and she knew anyone living in a house as ancient as this would have to share it with something else. Still, something was unsettling about the noise. Something that made her want to pull the bed covers tight over her chest.
She had to go and see what it was. If it was rats, then they had to sort it out. She couldn’t stand the thought of the dark creatures scurrying through Ruby’s room as she slept.
When she tried to get up, she found her legs wouldn’t move. It was like the night terrors she used to have. The ones where she’d wake up to find
an old hag in her bedroom, at first in the shadows but then creeping forward. Closer and closer. Eyes black, closed so tight it was like they were sewn shut.
Just dreams. Nightmares. Figments of an imagination that tormented her by playing tricks in the darkness. Yet she was an adult now, and still, she couldn’t help the sense of dread that crept across her chest. It made her skin tingle as it filled her.
The scratching carried on. Whatever it was, it was just outside her bedroom. It was in the corridor, standing in the darkness and digging at the walls. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to be angry at it, but she couldn’t summon any feeling other than fear.
