by Jack Lewis
When she learned that their dad had kicked them out of Harrow Hall and they hadn’t seen him since they were kids, she felt a flicker of happiness. Just a flicker, and she was ashamed of it straight away. But it meant that maybe she and they weren’t so unlike after all. That begged the question of why he would move to Harrow Hall with his family, and then almost immediately kick his family out.
“Was he having an affair or something?” asked Loe. “Did he meet someone else and decide to live with her? I don’t get why someone would do something like that.”
“Takes a special breed of bastard,” said Jay.
“Sure. But there has to be a reason. Even bastards have reasons for their bastardry.”
Neither brother could offer an answer, so Mag spoke for them. “Because he was a selfish git. That’s the closest you’re gonna get to a reason because it’s the closest we ever got.”
“Letter?”
“Enough about this,” said Jay. “Since you’re here, you need to see The Door. Maybe you’ll notice something we didn’t.”
“The Door? That sounds incredibly vague,” said Loe.
“Come on.”
Jay led them out of the living room, through a set of doors with stained glass panels, and then to a hallway so long that Loe couldn’t believe it was part of the house.”
“It’s just down here,” he said. “Let me show this to you, and then I’ll drive you out to take a look at your car. It’s probably the spark plugs.”
“I checked them already,” said Loe.
“Dead battery, then. I have some cables in my car.”
Mag laughed. “Bullshit. I have cables, you mean. And no, I won’t loan them to you. You won’t know which end connects to which. Besides, I stopped loaning you stuff when you broke my bike, and I don’t care that we were just kids. Loe, I’ll take you, okay? That way, you can trust your car won’t be made worse and that Jay won't accidentally blow it up.”
Loe was surprised at the good humor in Mag’s voice. She had known her for less than an hour and yet she had detected a good deal of contempt. But there was no doubting the kindness of her offer.
Unless she was luring her into the remote woods, of course.
This place isn’t safe for you.
The words replayed in her head, prompting a question she’d forgotten to ask.
“Hey,” said Loe. “Who’s the old woman?”
“Old woman?”
“The one who lives in the woods. Dresses like she’s in a Charles Dickens novel. Walks with a stoop.”
Altair looked at Jay, who shrugged his shoulders.
“She said I could use her phone, and then she just vanished.”
“We know as much about the woods as you, Loe,” said Jay. “Like I told you, Dad kicked us out after a few months. We all made a pact that even when we were adults that we wouldn’t give the selfish asshat the satisfaction of a visit. First time I ever came here was when I got the call that he’d kicked the bucket.”
They walked on in silence along the seemingly never-ending hallway. Altair strolled alongside her. “You thought my…our…father’s funeral was today?”
“No,” said Loe. “Are you saying I look like I’m dressed for mourning? Rude. This is my favorite dress.”
Altair blushed a little. “I didn’t mean,” he said, taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses. “That is to say, I…”
She smiled. “I’m joking. Sorry. Yes, Altair, I thought it was today. Mainly because the announcement in the newspaper said it was.”
“Bloody idiot,” said Mag, walking ahead. She didn’t turn around when she spoke. “Not you, Loe. The newspaper girl. I knew the bitch on the phone wasn’t listening to me when I placed the announcement.”
“So it was yesterday?”
“A quiet affair,” said Altair. “Just us, the priest, and the funeral directors.”
“And our friend at the back,” added Jay.
“Ah, yes.”
“A friend of Stanway’s?” asked Loe.
Jay swigged from a beer bottle, his third bottle since Loe had got there, and shook his head. “A yokel from Eldike. I turned around and saw him standing at the back, glaring at Dad’s coffin. As soon as I spotted him, he limped away.”
“Eldike is full of weirdos,” said Mag.
They reached the end of the corridor. Jay opened a door, revealing a set of stone steps leading down into the bowels of Harrow Hall.
Staring at the darkness below, Loe thought nostalgically about her tire iron. Then she told herself she was being stupid, that they weren’t leading her to a murder basement or something. Then again, what did she know about them?
Were they even who they said they were? It wasn’t as if she’d asked to see their ID. No, she’d turned up at this old, abandoned manor and she’d assumed the three people loitering inside were being honest when they said they were Stanway Harrow’s children. They could be a bunch of scumbags, here to ransack a manor after its only occupant became worm food.
A shudder ran through her, and she chided herself for her stupidity in going this far with them. She’d let three strangers lead her to a basement.
She felt like she was coming to her senses. That she’d blundered into deep waters, but luckily she’d realized it while the shark fins were on the horizon, and not close by. She had time to do something.
The question was, what should she do?
Should she back out? No, too obvious. If they were disingenuous, then backing away would force them to reveal themselves in a way she might not like.
Okay, so how about pushing Jay down the stairs and using the diversion to run? She couldn’t bring herself to do that…yet. It seemed a bit extreme, considering the guy might be exactly who he said he was.
So she couldn’t run, couldn’t push them down a set of stairs. Suspicions aside, she didn’t want to run, either. Lacking any information about her father growing up, she badly wanted to know everything she could about him and her extended family now. That included whatever the hell this mysterious door was. But how could she make sure it was safe?
Jay walked down the stairs first, his outline growing darker the further down he went until he stopped and was half-shadow, half-light.
“What are you waiting for?” he said.
Loe felt Altair behind her. Mag was probably behind him. Both waiting for her to move. No backing out now.
Then again, one elbow to Altair’s crotch would have him screaming, and it wouldn't take much to knock Mag down…
Then she remembered something that might prove who they were. A fact from her genealogical research, one that any opportunists thieves wouldn’t have bothered to look up. A way to sift out the lies, if there were any.
“I know this is out of the blue, but it’s bugging me,” she said. “My grandma on dad’s side. I never met her. What was her name?”
“Altair can give you a family tree lecture later,” said Mag, with an edge to her voice.
“I’ll gladly listen later, but this is really bugging me.”
“Gran? She was called Netta,” said Jay, casually. Almost too casually, as if it was forced.
The casualness of his voice didn’t matter; it was his answer that made her hairs stand on end. Her father’s mother wasn’t called Netta. Not even close. She knew that because she’d done her research.
So they were lying, and she was in an old house with them, near an old basement. No phone, no car, outnumbered. Damn.
She forced herself to stay calm. She’d unmasked them, but she still had an element of surprise. She knew they weren’t who they claimed to be, and they didn’t know that she’d figured it out. A phrase from a boxing class she once took came to mind. He who strikes first, strikes last.
She raised her elbow, ready to give Altair’s balls hell, smash Mag to the ground, and then bolt. Maybe even steal one of their car keys and…
“Actually,” said Altair, “Grandma was called Helen.”
“What?” said Jay.
“You learn something new every day,” said Jay, and descended the steps, walking fully into the shadows until the only hint of his presence was his voice.
“Well?” said Mag. “Can we get this over with? Let Jay show you The Door, and then I’ll make us all something to eat. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse, a cow, and a hog.”
So they were exactly who they said they were.
Sorry, Altair. Sorry Altair’s balls, Loe thought, and she followed Jay down the stairs. Then again, was there really anything wrong with a healthy dollop of suspicion? It had served her as a loyal companion so far in her life. Suspicion had been her friend. Best not to abandon it fully.
“Here,” said Altair, pressing something into her hand.
It was a torch. Small, black, and it took three clicks to send out a beam of yellow light. The spread was small, and the light was weak, but at least it split through the shadows, where it lit on Jay at the bottom of the steps.
*
The steps led to an arched tunnel deep under Harrow Hall, but this was much shorter than the hallway on the level above. As they followed it, Loe felt a chill wrap around her quickly and strongly, like ghostly hands stroking her skin.
“They used to use this as a larder,” said Altair. “before the miracle of modern refrigeration. The temperature would be enough to store all kinds of carcasses down here.”
At the end of the hallway was another arch, and this led past four empty larder rooms, and finally, a much bigger space. This one was chilly and curiously absent of any kind of sensory input. There was no smell in the air. The acoustics seemed to smother all sound, even their footsteps. The only light was the beams of their torches. It was like a void where nothing had ever, or could ever exist.
Except for The Door.
“So this is The Door,” she said.
The Door was indeed worthy of being spoken about with mysticism, because it was no ordinary door. Shaped circular like the giant helm of a galleon, made from rusted iron that was probably polished to perfection when it was first made, but dwelling down here in the guts of Harrow Hall had dulled it. The façade was decorated so that it looked like an impenetrable wall of vines and ivy, complete with metal thorns sharp enough to stab someone.
Just as impenetrable as the mock vines, was the door itself. There was no handle, no lock that she could see. Jay demonstrated by pushing on it until he was red in the face.
“I’m pretty strong, but this thing doesn’t budge.”
He ignored the guffaw from Mag.
“Have you tried pulling?” said Loe.
Mag flashed a smile at her. A genuine one, maybe. An amused one. “That was the first question I asked him when he ran upstairs yelling ‘there’s a cool-as-shit door down there! It won’t open!’”
“Give me some credit,” said Jay. “The thing is locked tight. Only, I can’t see a lock.”
“So Stanway kicked you all out when you were kids,” began Loe. She saw Altair wince. “Sorry. I don’t mean to phrase it so harshly. It’s just…I’ve always thought about Stanway as some abstract figure. He was never a reality to me, so I never really missed him. It’s hard to talk about him or his life with anything but detachment.”
Mag reached up to pat Altair’s shoulder. Altair placed his hand on hers and gave a subtle nod. Loe felt bad and resolved to have a little more empathy.
“My question is,” said Loe, “was the door here already when you all moved here when you were kids? Or did Stanway have it fitted after he kicked…after you left?”
“Why do you ask?” said Jay.
“If it was fitted before you got here, then someone who lived in Harrow Hall before Stanway had things to hide. If Stanway fitted it, then he had something to hide.”
“Only Harrows have ever lived in Harrow Hall,” said Altair.
“Right. So, did you ever look into when this door was installed?”
“Funny that you’re asking Altair that,” said Jay. “He’s clever, but he doesn’t know about stuff like this. He gets confused deciphering the instructions from Ikea tables. Whereas, I’m a structural engineer.”
Mag gave a mock whistle. “Ooh, look at Mr. Fancy Pants. We know you’re an engineer Jay. You know how we know?”
“Because he always mentions it,” said Altair.
“Damn right I do. I studied my arse off, as you know. I took four jobs to pay for college, since good old Stanway didn’t send us a penny. Just like we all did. So If I want to brag about it, I feel like I can.”
“And when was the last time you did any engineering?” asked Mag. “Because qualifications are one thing. Doing it is another.”
This remark seemed to have found a chink in Jay’s armor, but he quickly recovered.
“Point is, I know about this stuff,” he said.
Loe noticed that Altair was staring at his little brother with an unmistakable look of pride. She had to revise her own opinion of Jay. She’d seen his athletic build, she’d watched him drink three bottles of beer within an hour in the middle of the afternoon, and she’d took a big run and a leap and landed in the sandpit of judgment. That was a crappy thing to do. It wasn’t like structural engineers walked around wearing hard hats and carrying bundles of building blueprints all day. Why had she judged him like that?
“Did you look this place up?” asked Mag.
Jay shrugged. “It’s not hard. You can get most blueprints from the town hall. Or the village hall, in this case. You just have to smile nicely at the lady behind the desk.”
“And pay a set fee,” said Altair. “Access to documents like that isn’t reserved for those who can flirt.”
“Well, I offered to teach you…”
Altair glared at his brother, and it was then that Loe saw a trace of Mag’s temper in his features. Maybe Altair wasn’t as amiable as she’d first thought. It was time to scrap every opinion she’d formed of these people.
“Believe it or not,” said Jay, rapping the door with his knuckles, “This thing was fitted in the era that Altair here should have been born into – the 1800s.”
“Really? I know it’s faded, but it doesn’t look that old.”
“I expect people have given it a little care at some point over the years. A nice varnish here and there. Doesn’t look like Dad bothered, though.”
“Did your research tell you how to open it?”
“Nope,” said Jay. “This thing is a bloody enigma. No handle, no lock, no kind of hinges or mechanisms. I expect you could run at this with the biggest battering ram imaginable, and it would just laugh at you.”
“How do we get it open?” said Mag.
“Great question.”
“And what’s inside?” said Loe, wondering out loud.
“An even better one. I’m telling you guys this now. I know we’ve buried Dad. We’ll have all his shit packed or thrown away by the end of tomorrow, and that’ll be our duty done. But I’m not going back home until I have opened this damned door.”
“Me neither,” said Mag. “Ariella and I had a massive blowout before I left. Plates flying everywhere, the lot. Not at each other, of course. More like we took our frustrations out on our crockery. She’s being an absolute bitch, truth be told. I’ll let her sweat for a few days before I go home and make up.”
“Alt?” said Jay.
Altair scratched his chin, where the beginnings of stubble were sprouting. “I could stay a little longer, I suppose.”
And now all three of them were looking at her.
“What?”
“We’re all sticking around until we get this thing open. What about you?”
She wanted to say it wouldn’t feel right. That she wasn’t really part of the family. She wanted to show mock-modesty in that strange way people do, where they decline invitations purely out of politeness.
Screw that. Loe wanted to know
what was behind the door.
“Mag, if your offer to help me with my car still stands, I’ll stick around. Maybe there’s a B&B in the village.”
Chapter Four
This was it. The end. Twenty-nine years old, and Loe was going to meet her maker. Her heart was in her throat, fear blocked her airways, blood was simultaneously draining from her face yet still making her temple veins throb.
“I don’t see any speed signs around here,” she said, trying to sound calm. “But fifty miles per hour? Really, Mag?”
The forest whizzed by as Mag drove them down the mud road. The giant tank of a car belonged to her, and it made light work of even the crappiest of roads. She drove as if speedometers weren’t instruments of measurement but were instead a challenge to see how high she could make the needle go.
“Way I see it,” Mag said, “They wouldn’t put the higher numbers on the speedometer if it wasn’t your job to hit them.”
Loe tugged on her seatbelt for the fifth time. She winced as a giant tree loomed ahead, and only just held in a sharp exhale of breath as Mag swerved right, missing it by inches. The last thing she wanted to be seen as was a coward, so she did her best to look as relaxed as possible. One more seatbelt tug, and then she forced a state of calmness on herself. Or a close approximation, at least.
Her change of clothes had helped with that. She hadn’t brought any with her after hiking from her car to the hall, and she hadn’t packed a change of clothing in any case. After all, she hadn’t expected to stay beyond the funeral. Mag was kind enough to loan her jeans and a t-shirt, and although Loe was a little taller than her, they were an okay fit. The fact that the t-shirt was emblazoned with the words I Hate Kittens wasn’t ideal, but whatever. Loe didn’t like kittens much, either. She wouldn’t say she hated them, but she was more of a dog-girl.
Well, maybe not a dog-girl. That sounded weird, like she was half human, half canine. Whatever. Point was, wearing this stuff felt a hell of a lot better than walking around in a funeral dress like some mad widow.
