111 West End

Chapter Ten: The Agent

Ben propped his leg up on an upturned wastepaper basket with a bag of ice on his knee and a cup of hot, sweet tea on his desk.

"You should go to the hospital. You may have torn a ligament," Anne said with a concerned frown.

"No. I'm fine. It's just a bruise." Ben flinched as he tried to straighten his leg. Maybe it was more serious? The shock of seeing the portrait meant he'd not registered how hard his knee hit the stairs.

"How did you fall?" Anne folded her arms across her chest, which made Ben feel as though he was being scolded.

"I wasn't looking where I was going and I tripped on a cobble. I saved my face from the pavement, but I landed on my knee."

"That's what happens when you rush. You need to allow more time between appointments."

"I know," Ben said, rearranging the bag of ice.

"I'll reschedule your appointments for this afternoon, and if you need anything, call." And as she left Anne added, "You should stay off that knee. I don't know how you drove yourself back to the office."

Ben didn't know either. He couldn't remember the drive back. His mind had filled with memories he thought he'd buried long ago.

*

Fifteen years earlier,

Ben pressed the doorbell and waited. Natalie had called him in an agitated state, talking about strange noises and weird lights. He couldn't make any sense of it, but she was clearly distressed.

When the door did not open, Ben took his spare keys from his coat pocket. For all he knew, she was lying dead inside his house.
His neck and shoulders tensed as he pressed the doorbell for a second time.

This time, the door opened and Ben slipped the keys back into his pocket.

"Natalie, are you ok?"

"I-I don't know," she mumbled, blocking his view of the hall with her body.

"Can I come in?"

"Erm... yes... of course." Natalie stepped back and allowed Ben inside. He did a quick scan of the hall. Everything looked fine. No obvious damage.

"When you called, you seemed upset. Is there anything I can do?"

Natalie sniffed and fished a tissue from her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, Ben. I shouldn't have called." She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

Ben frowned. He needed to know what was wrong.

"It's fine. I told you if you had any issues to call me. Now, what is this all about?"
Natalie paused, as though unsure whether to confide in him.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked, heading into the lounge. Ben followed.

"Erm, yes, please."

Natalie gestured to the sofa. "Make yourself at home."

Ben sat on the edge of the sofa and stared out of the window. Natalie had been busy. She'd dug and planted flowerbeds around the edges of the lawn and they were bursting with colour. There wasn't a weed in sight or a blade of grass out of place.

"The gardens looking nice," he called.

"Oh, yes. I hope you don't mind. Gardening is a passion of mine. I enjoy being out in the fresh air. It's my therapy."

The kettle boiled, cupboard doors opened and closed, and mugs clinked against the granite worktops.

"Hmm... I can't see the fascination myself."

Natalie stepped into the threshold between the lounge and the kitchen diner. "I could show you if you'd like." She smiled at him warmly.

"No thanks. Gardening is just not my thing."

"So what is your thing, Ben?" she asked, returning to the kitchen.

"I should think it is obvious, Natalie—Property." He grinned.

Natalie returned with two mugs of tea and, handing one to Ben, she sat next to him.

"So, will you tell me what happened?"

Natalie stared into her mug as if she could find the answer to his question in the tea leaves.

"It's this house. This house is full of death."

Ben almost dropped his mug. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She leant closer. "I'm never alone. He's always watching me."

"Who?"

"The doctor." She looked beyond Ben and whispered, "He's here now."

The hair on the back of Ben's neck rose. But not because he believed in ghosts. But because Natalie needed more help than he could give her.

"There's no one here."

"Yes, there is."

"Where?"

Natalie's eyes widened, and she said, "Behind you."

Ben turned in his seat.
"I don't see anyone. Natalie, there's only you and I."

*

The pain in Ben's knee was now a dull throb. The ice had brought down the swelling and the ibuprofen he took earlier was taking effect. He lowered his leg from the wastepaper basket and slumped in his chair.

Natalie tried to warn him about 111 West End.