Chapter 4
It was four o’clock in the morning and Aurelia was standing in her pajamas at the door that led from the flat to the shop.
She’d woken to the sound of voices again and had gotten to the bottom of the stairs only to hear them more distinctly and to see that same light coming from under the door.
Once again, the voices didn’t seem angry or aggressive.
It was all playing out just like last night, making it harder to believe she might be dreaming.
This time, she’d brought her phone with her straight away and she clutched it in her hand, debating what to do.
She was scared but also… curious. Were people actually in the shop, or was she just hearing things?
Last night she’d seen for herself that no one was there; perhaps they would go away again if she opened the door?
It was mad, but she made the snap decision to do it—to open the door and check.
She had her phone, she reassured herself, so she could quickly call the police if she discovered that the voices were attached to bodies.
Aurelia’s hand was shaking, but she managed to turn the door handle.
Peeking through the smallest possible gap, she ran her eyes over the mezzanine but saw no sign of anyone.
It seemed as though the voices were coming from the first floor of the shop; she’d have to get closer to be sure.
She stepped through the door and took a few steps toward the mezzanine railing.
Blinking in the soft light emanating all around her, she stood still as her eyes adjusted after the darkness of the stairwell.
Within the same instant, she registered two things: the voices had gone quiet, and people were standing downstairs looking up at her.
Feeling as though she’d opened the wrong door into the wrong room, Aurelia quickly stepped back into the stairwell and closed the door.
For a moment she was embarrassed by her mistake before remembering it wasn’t a mistake at all—she’d definitely walked into the shop, and she’d certainly seen a group of people there.
With that reality confirmed, she fumbled for the lock, then closed her eyes and tried to steady her erratic heartbeat.
Well, she thought, not only did the voices not disappear, but they are now officially connected to bodies. She couldn’t decide whether that made her feel better, or worse.
It took her several tries to dial the police, thanks to her shaking hands. Once they promised they were on their way, her tension eased, but only just.
As she waited, she replayed her brief encounter with the people.
They were all wearing suits and dresses that looked like costumes from a period drama, not exactly the sort of outfits you’d expect to see on a group of burglars.
Was it some sort of fancy-dress party? The thought shifted her feelings from fear to anger—just who did these people think they were, making themselves at home in the wee hours?
Curiosity and annoyance did battle with her fear.
Maybe she ought to go back out and shout at them to leave?
The police were already on their way, and the people she’d seen were all downstairs.
If she went in again, she was certain she could get back to safety quickly if anyone made a move toward her.
She was still trembling slightly, in spite of her resolve, but managed to open the door again.
Taking a step toward the mezzanine railing, she leaned forward. There they were! A whole gathering of people looking up at her. She let out a mangled scream as she stumbled backward, falling to the ground as she tripped over Fezz, who had appeared underfoot.
She heard gasps from below and someone saying, quite calmly:
“Oh, dear. She is not taking it well at all, is she?”
All thoughts of shouting at the people and telling them to leave were gone—Aurelia’s only instinct now was to escape.
She scooped up the cat and got herself back into the flat’s stairwell, slamming the door behind her.
After locking it, she held Fezz tight against her chest, breathing hard.
She had the urge to scream again but couldn’t seem to find her voice through her shock—it seemed she’d used up her minute of pluck.
Aurelia’s knees practically gave way beneath her as she sat on a stair and counted the seconds until she heard a police siren signaling their arrival to rescue her.
The shop was a scene of chaos. Police were milling about, their badges catching the lights and their shoes crunching broken glass into the carpet.
When they had arrived at the shop, they told her, there was no sign of forced entry.
Having been informed that she was barricaded upstairs, they broke the glass door themselves in order to get in and look for intruders.
They reported seeing what looked like smoke near the table at the front of the shop, but after they’d turned on the lights, it was gone and there was no sign of a fire or smell of smoke on the air.
Nothing had been disturbed—the books were in order and the register hadn’t been tampered with.
The police were kind, but it was clear they’d written it all off as a false alarm. One of them gave her the number for a twenty-four-hour glazier who could fix the glass panel on the door, and they left once the glazier had arrived and started his work.
When Aurelia was by herself in the building again, dawn light was coming in through the blinds of the shop windows, reflecting off the glass shards on the floor. Another sleepless night, another baffling encounter, and now add to that—a mess to clean.