THE LANDLADY by Jay Jay.

BATS.

Once again Cindy found herself in Mrs Jones' living room. This time it was to accompany Len, whom Mrs Jones had wanted to see about signing an independent tenancy agreement. Mrs Jones had said that, since Len was not part of the original group, it would be better if his dealings with the landlady were on a different level. Cindy was not sure why that sounded slightly sinister, but honestly, looking around the living room, what was there to worry about? Old Mrs Jones seemed as harmless as Cindy's poor late Nan. This room would not have been out of place in the rest home that Nan had spent her last weeks of life in. 

There was floral wallpaper on the walls. Big cheerful pink rose buds with bright green foilage. Chintzy curtains, in darker pink, with net inbetween for privacy. A large fireplace, with a decorative surround and generous mantlepiece. It was filled with large pine cones, as the day was too warm for a fire. Even for one as old and presumably cold sensitive as the elderly Mrs Jones. A crisp, white table cloth with a hint of lace in silver thread. Bone china plates and cups on the table, decorated with blood red roses. A plate of a dainty selection of biscuits. Cindy was munching on a lemon creme whilst they waited. Mrs Jones had poured them weak tea, from a large tea-pot with a cheerful red and yellow striped tea cosy to keep it warm. 

Cindy had been looking round the room, finding the decor too busy and old-fashoined for her taste. One thing that had made her curious was the lack of family photos. Not a single image of Mrs Jones' late husband. No photo of any human, anywhere. However, there were photos and images of animals, real and imagined. Above the mantle, a large painting of a unicorn trotting through a forest. A dragon, in a frame on the mantle, that looked more like a photo than a painting. Photos of wolfy-looking dogs. She assumed they were pets. She assumed they were dogs, for that matter. A black panther. A large photo of three bats, hanging from a branch, fast asleep. 

As she was staring at the photo, one of the bats suddenly opened it's eyes and winked at her, with a toothy grin.

"Oh!" Cindy exclaimed. Len looked at her.

"That photo," she pointed. "I thought I saw it move."

Mrs Jones had just come back into the room, clutching a bundle of paper in her scrawny age-spotted hand. 

"Ah," she said. "I'm rather proud of that photo. I took it here, on the estate, about a month ago. So hard to get a shot of that species of bat, in daylight too. I got three of them!" she cackled. 

"I do a bit of photography," Len said. "Sort of a hobby. Is it O.K. if I have a go around your property?"

"Be my guest!" Mrs Jones said, sounding delighted. "Maybe I will join you one day."

"That would be a pleasure," Len purred in his deep, masculine voice. Cindy shivered. Her relationship with Len was still fresh enough to find that voice thrilling.

"Be sure to get some shots of Dean, my wonderful Ornamental Hermit!" 

"Oh, Dean!" Cindy said. "How is he getting on?"

"He is the best Ornamental Hermit I have ever employed!" Mrs Jones said with enthusiam. "He is so creative! And he has roped in some of the others from the big house. You know, they did a really funny rendition of part of Romeo and Juliet for me and my friends. Such a lovely surprise. I wish I had recorded it."

"Maybe I can video them sometime," Len said.

"Oh, could you? I would so love that." Mrs Jones smiled sweetly. "it would be so lovely to relive that moment, you know, when everyone has gone."

"Gone?" Cindy asked.

"Gone home," Mrs Jones clarified.

"Oh," Cindy said. 

"Now, to business." Mrs Jones laid out the paper work in front of Len. "I thought it would be unfair, if the other tenants were to suddenly disappear, and you were left being the only person in the house with the full rent to pay by yourself."

"That would not be desirable," Len agreed.

"So, maybe you would like to sign this separate agreement, saying you only need to pay your share of the rent, should this happen." She blinked a few times, took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. "Have a read, see what you think."

Cindy couldn't see much of the document, but thought it looked unneccesarily long and complicated. There were several pages. But Len was skim reading it, seemed happy enough with it.

"Seems straight forward enough," he said. "Where do I sign?"

"Oh, right here, Len."

Mrs Jones leaned over, tapped a dotted line with her scrawny finger. She held a pen in the other hand. 

Cindy was not sure how it happened, but as Len reached for the pen, he must have brushed against Mrs Jones' rather sharp finger nails. Suddenly he was bleeding, copious amounts of blood from such a small scratch, all over the contract.

"Are you alright?" Cindy said, alarmed.

"Just a scratch,"Len said, mopping up blood with part of the white table cloth and looking embarrassed.

"Don't worry, dear, blood comes out in the wash easy enough, with a bit of cold water."

"Do you want to get a clean copy and I'll sign that?"

"No, dear, this one will be fine." She cackled again, and Cindy thought the noise was sinister. Like dry leaves, when a stranger creeps up on someone walking through the park. Where on earth had that image come from? But there seemed to be an air of expectancy in the room. She shuddered. Something about this whole contract thing was wrong.

"I think it might be fun, to have a contract signed in blood," Mrs Jones said. "Don't you think so? Just like pirates, and buried treasure."

"Yeah, I guess." Len sounded doubtful. 

"Go on, just move the pen through the blood. You can use it like ink. It's landed right by the dotted line...yes, that's the way. Perfect!"

Len had written his name in red along the dotted line. The blood seemed to suddenly suck into the paper. It left a rusty red colour behind.

"Now your soul belongs to me," Mrs Jones said. Cindy shuddered again.

"Huh?" Len said.

"Sorry, dear, I've always wanted to say that! Just a bit of old lady humour, you understand?"

Cindy glanced at the photo of the bats, stared in horror. All three bats had their eyes open now, all three had mouths open and teeth bared. "I'm sure that photo didn't look like that before!"

Len looked, gave her a hug.

"Silly, that's why I thought it was such a good photo. To capture that expression in a wild animal...that takes a bit of skill. Mrs Jones, you obviously have some talent."

"Thank you, my boy, it pleases me to hear that." She smiled sweetly. "Now, if you don't mind, that has been enough excitement for me today. I want to take my granny nap now."

"Oh, of course! Do you want a hand with the dishes?"

"Thankyou, dear, but that is what a dishwasher is for. I'll be fine."

Cindy and Len returned to the house and Len's room. Cindy still felt unsettled about events with Mrs Jones, but Len soon had her thinking about other matters.

Mrs Jones picked up the contract, looked at it with hunger.

Her three friends appeared from the other room.

"Well done," the tall man said.

"Too easy," the short fat man said, and his repulsive wife giggled. "Portia, will you shut up?"

"I can't help it," she snorted. "What an arrogant prick he is. Won't he get a surprise?"

"Not yet," Mrs Jones said firmly. "I'm filing this away, for now."

She snapped her fingers, and the contract disappeared.