Shadows of the Lost Child (extract)

Chapter One

Now – Aleph

I’ve always lived in the shadow of churches. Now, when I see one, I walk the other way.

It was Thursday morning, the beginning of spring. I walked down Narrowboat Lane to the arch, and under the archway onto the street. I saw the house, it was over to the left; it looked quite something. Then I raised my eyes above the windows and saw what was towering high above it. An enormous church. A single word sprang to my lips. Or maybe two.

‘Hell,’ I said. ‘Hell and damnation.’

Not just a church behind the house, but a great big giant, a monster of a thing, all gables and parapets, much more like a cathedral really. My heart sank, for I knew what it meant, another place I’d have to turn down.

‘Curdizan Abbey,’ said the voice beside me, ‘and don’t say no to the house just yet. It has some truly amazing features.’ I shook my head and looked to the right and there was Gemma, from Cloud House Properties. The word amazing wasn’t strictly accurate. I imagined the house had draughty rooms and uneven floors, and doors that didn’t quite fit properly. But, what did I think the woman would say? She was an estate agent after all. Gemma Pearce held out her hand.

‘Good to meet you, Mr Jones.’

‘Good to meet you,’ I said, smiling, and grasped her hand which was small and neat. She was blonde, beautiful, tall and thin with china doll features and perfect straight hair. I could feel the benefits of the house already.

We moved a bit closer and she jangled her keys, and a flash of the sun caught the edge of the steel. A sharp strip of light fell down from the sky, splitting the steps up ahead in two. There was light and dark and I knew which side of the steps were mine. I raised my head and there was the abbey, all of a shimmer. It almost felt like some kind of welcome.

‘It seems to me it’s yours already,’ Gemma said, coyly, as she pushed on the door, which was old and warped. I followed her in.

No, I thought, as we entered the hall, it’s not my house. But it was, really.

***

Later that day I was standing inside the estate agent’s office. The lovely Gemma had long since gone, leaving me there with somebody different. Exceedingly different. Her eyes were cold and her face disapproving.

‘You’re self-employed?’ she said, frowning. ‘We’ll have to see your accounts, I’m afraid.’

‘But I don’t have any accounts,’ I said. ‘I don’t earn enough to be VAT registered.’ I could feel the palms of my hands sweating. This wasn’t going the way I’d hoped.

‘Well, what about your tax returns? We do need to see you can cover the rent.’

The way she was making me feel right now, I doubted I could. I said nothing.

‘Do you have any other assets? A house, perhaps, or maybe some savings?’ I shook my head. Nothing, I thought, that’s what I’ve got.

Before, I’d lived in my girlfriend’s flat, I hadn’t needed any assets, not even things like a washing machine. We’d shared possessions, plates and everything. I thought my life was hers, forever. Now, I needed to rent a place. I knew I could afford it, so what was the problem?

The woman before me was frost dressed up. I knew about that, how people could change, but I still didn’t like it, it made me nervous. I knew I’d never win her over.

‘I have got savings,’ I said stiffly. ‘More than enough for the rent, as it happens.’ I hated baring my soul like this.

‘Well, that’s good news,’ she said, smiling. The smile went nowhere near her eyes. ‘You can pay the rent for the house in advance. The whole six months.’

***

It was tall and rambling, in the centre of town, three storeys high, and I knew there must be something wrong, for a house this big to be offered this cheap. Well, not that cheap, but cheap enough for me to afford it. Even with all the rent in advance. I guessed it must be a wreck inside.

‘How long has it been on the market?’ I’d asked Gemma.

‘I’m not quite sure,’ said Gemma vaguely, twirling her hair around her fingers. ‘About three months.’

‘So why did the previous tenant leave?’

‘I’m not quite sure,’ she started to say, but stopped abruptly at the look on my face. ‘She died, actually.’

‘Ah,’ I said.

‘Not in the house,’ said Gemma, quickly. ‘She died in hospital, after a stroke.  She was eighty-eight and deaf as a post, poor old thing. She’d lived in the house all the time she was married.’ She glanced ahead. ‘The house is a bit neglected, sadly, and I know there isn’t a washing machine, but at least that means you can choose your own.’

I laughed out loud, I couldn’t help it. The woman was clearly a natural at this, she was already trained in estate agent speak. I thought she was very convincing, I guess I wanted to be convinced. The house had something, was in some ways perfect, tall and old and great for an office, as well as a home. I saw myself in my fantasy world, doing it up and making it smart, clients climbing the wide stone steps, pouring happily through the doors. Turning a shell into a home. And then I remembered.

There was no future. Not for the house, and not for me. Even now, I still forgot.

The sun went in and all of a sudden the day seemed cold and the house run down. Gemma and I were standing in the kitchen. I didn’t like it. Gemma was right, it was basic.

‘There is a fridge-freezer,’ she said tersely, sensing my mood but still valiant, gesturing to an upright object, standing squat, in the middle of the room.

‘What a strange place to put it,’ I said.

‘There’s plenty of room in here,’ said Gemma. ‘I expect Mrs Parks thought to make it homely.’

Homely wasn’t the word I’d have used. The kitchen was huge, with three old windows facing the back. They had very old glazing and strong iron bars. The glass was cracked and warped in the way only old glass can be. Ignoring the dirt, I could barely see out. The floor was covered in cheap lino and the air of neglect was incredibly strong. I could almost smell it.

‘Why don’t we go upstairs,’ I said.

***

Shadows of the Lost Child will be available in full soon. You can follow me on Twitter or like my Facebook page. For more information, please see http://elliestevenson.wordpress.com Your support is appreciated. Thanks for reading!