Chapter 46
The house is quiet, but it doesn’t feel empty. It doesn’t smell empty.
Maybe that’s just the Conservators maintaining the place, but Sadie doesn’t think so. Empty houses have a certain aroma. Kind of stale and musty. Especially if they’ve been shut up a while. This place smells vaguely of food, like a hot dog or something, and deodorant or body spray.
Also, it should be hot in here, stifling. But as soon as she opened the door she was greeted by a waft of cool air. Maybe not quite as fierce as their own aircon. But still, why cool an empty house if it’s only maintained for appearances?
She looks around. She’s standing in a spacious hall. To her right must be the workroom she saw through the window. To her left, the living room. Ahead, there’s another door on the right, which she presumes leads to the kitchen. She hesitates then turns right into the workroom.
She looks around. On the table, fabric in oranges and browns. Autumn colours. It looks like some kind of bunting being made for Halloween. There are dress patterns and knitting patterns stacked neatly in storage boxes, and more wool and fabric.
She crosses to the living room, trying to tread quietly. Although she’s not sure why. If someone is here, they’d have heard her enter by now.
The living room is pretty much as she saw from the window. Overstuffed sofas, a lot of florals and throw cushions. Cabinets stacked with figurines and other knick-knacks. It’s twee, so much so it sets her teeth on edge. She exits and walks into the kitchen.
Pine table, Shaker units. Everything clean and perfect.
She almost expects to smell baking, a cake warming in the oven.
But all she can smell in here is bleach.
She looks around. There’s a patch on the floor, a little lighter than the rest of the linoleum, like it’s been scrubbed too hard.
Perhaps a spillage. She bends to take a closer look and then jumps at a sudden thud from above her.
Shit. She glances around and spots a knife rack.
She grabs a large bread knife just in case and walks back out into the hall.
She looks up the stairs and immediately spots the source of the noise. At the top of the landing, a loft ladder has been dropped down from the ceiling. She stares at it.
‘What the fuck?’
Gripping the knife tightly, she ascends the staircase. The landing is empty, but she can see that the loft is illuminated. An invitation.
‘Hello?’
No reply. But someone is up there. Waiting. She can feel it. So, obviously, it would be pretty fucking stupid to climb up, not knowing who.
But she’s come this far.
‘Fuck it,’ she mutters.
Knife still in one hand, she climbs awkwardly up the ladder. If someone up there wants to attack her, now is the time. Whack her around the head or shove her back down. Or maybe they’re waiting to get her into the loft and then they’ll tie her up and torture her slowly to death.
Great. Comforting, Sadie. Her head pokes into the loft space. She stares around.
It’s large, almost the entire width of the house. The beams have been boarded and at one end a small bed has been set up, a camping light next to it. At the other end there’s a desk and a chair.
A figure is seated on the chair, eating a hot dog. As Sadie emerges, he turns. ‘Sorry, couldn’t reply. Mouth full of food.’ He grins. ‘But hey, you made it at last.’