The Silent House

Prologue

Caroline parked on the gravel drive and stared at the house.

Its charm was instant and disarming; it stole her heart at first glance.

She sighed. If only she and Rob could afford something like this.

House hunting in Oxfordshire had become increasingly disheartening.

Property prices here were far steeper than in Leeds.

As she admired the house, she couldn’t help but recall what her colleague had told her about its history, and she shuddered. Still, that was six months ago. Best not to think about it.

‘The owner wants a valuation,’ her boss had said, handing over the key.

The front garden was wild and overgrown, but Caroline could picture it transformed: flowerbeds bursting with colour, clipped hedges, and a cobbled path leading to a blue front door with a brass knocker and ornate bell.

She slid the key into the lock and stepped inside. The air was cold and stale. That would have to be sorted before any viewings. A warm, inviting atmosphere was crucial, and the musty smell wouldn’t help.

‘Air freshener,’ she muttered, making a note in her planner.

Despite the chill, golden sunlight spilled in through large windows, bathing the rooms in a cosy glow.

Caroline caught her breath. The lounge looked like a spread from House just a tight, invisible pressure. Her breath hitched, then a scream tore from her – raw and ragged, echoing off the walls.

She ran. Tripping, stumbling up the stairs, and crashing into walls; she barely made it outside. Caroline flung herself into the car. The engine roared as she sped away, but her heart was thundering so hard, it drowned out everything else.