After we’d settled in we had a stroll down to the front gate and did a bit of work just to say we’d got started. To tell the truth we hardly did anything more than take a few measurements and check that all the required materials had been delivered. Nonetheless, we felt better for doing it, and wandered back at dusk feeling fairly content with the world. We enjoyed our job, Noz and me, and together we made quite a good team.
“Big place, isn’t it?” he said, as we approached the house.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Must be dozens of rooms.”
“Which is ours then?”
“That one on the corner, I think. Can’t really tell from here.”
“We should have left the light on.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Suppose we should.”
Darkness had descended by the time we entered through the back door. I fumbled round for a switch and a moment later the kitchen was lit up like a Christmas tree. Then I filled the kettle and put it on the gas. Meanwhile Noz went up to the room for a ‘stretch out’, which was his name for a short sleep. Noz always liked a bit of a snooze around about teatime, even if only for a few minutes. It was something he’d done ever since I’d known him. He said it made him feel better.
I was a little surprised, then, when he returned almost immediately. I heard his feet coming back along the landing and downstairs, clomping over the bare floorboards and into the kitchen.
“That kettle not boiled yet?” he asked, raising the lid and looking inside.
“Give it a chance,” I answered. “I’ve only just put it on.”
“We’ve got milk and sugar, have we?”
“Yes, of course we have! Look, I’ll do the tea. You go and stretch out for a bit. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“No, it’s alright,” he said with a yawn. “Don’t think I’ll bother.”
Noz leant against the sink puffing his cheeks until the water boiled. Then he watched with interest as I brewed up. Finally we made our way upstairs, carrying a mug of tea apiece, and went back to our room. There were no curtains, and when I turned the light on our reflections appeared in the window, moving around on a black starless background.
Noz sat on his camp bed, I sat on mine, and we enjoyed our first proper rest all day. We’d had to drive fifty-odd miles to do this job. Any less than that and we’d probably have gone home each night, but as I said before, we were staying here for free so we made the most of it.
In the top of my bag I had the paper from that morning. We’d heard the latest news repeated all afternoon on the van radio during the journey down, but I thought I’d have a browse anyway so I opened up and read the editorial. Two minutes later a familiar grunt told me that Noz had succumbed to his sleepiness and now lay dozing with his tea undrunk beside him. I knew he’d wake up just before it was completely cold and slurp it down without complaining, but personally I preferred my tea hot so I went down to the kitchen for a refill.
On the way I noticed that one of the landing floorboards was loose. It made a sort of rocking noise as I passed over it, and did the same when I returned with my fresh tea. Purely out of curiosity I stopped to examine the fault, prodding at the board with my toe and watching it move slowly up and down. The nails had come adrift at one end, and as I stood there I vaguely considered doing the owner a favour and re-fixing them. All I had to do was get a hammer from my bag and it would be done in no time. A moment later, however, I dismissed the thought. For some reason I’d begun to feel rather unwelcome on that landing, as though anything I did would be regarded as interfering. It was almost as if I was being watched, and for an instant I was tempted to look over my shoulder to make sure no one was there.
How stupid, I thought, how childish and superstitious. Of course there was no one there! To confirm this I glanced quickly behind me, and then headed back to the room to drink my tea before it went cold.
Noz came awake as I entered. “Alright?” he asked.
“Of course I’m alright,” I said with some irritation. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
♦
Next morning, after we’d done a couple of hours’ work, we were sitting quietly eating our sandwiches when all of a sudden Noz said, “Funny house that, isn’t it?”
“Funny?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“What sort of funny?”
“Well, you know, all higgledy-piggledy.”
“Oh. Yeah. Suppose it is, now you come to mention it.”
“I mean, why put the bathroom up those little stairs, and the kitchen right at the back, miles away from anywhere?”
“Well,” I replied. “It’s just the way they built places in those days. They sort of added bits on as they went along. You know, when they had the money.”
“All the same,” said Noz. “Seems a bit funny putting the bathroom at the top of those little stairs. Stuck on its own, like.”
A long moment passed, and then I said, “Is that why you didn’t go up there last night?”
“Course not!” he exclaimed.
“Well, why didn’t you then?”
“Just didn’t need to, that’s all.” Noz closed his sandwich box and stood up. “Right,” he said. “I suppose we’d better get on.”
I remained seated. “Wait a sec, I’ve only had one sandwich.”
He tutted. “How long are you going to be exactly?”
“Not long,” I said.
“Alright, well hurry up, can’t you?”
This time it was Noz who sounded irritated. He was obviously a bit rattled about something, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. We resumed work shortly afterwards and there was no mention of the house, or its unusual layout, for the rest of the day. At dusk, however, when we packed in, I decided to clear the air a little. Both of us had been fairly snappy with each other all afternoon, pointing out one another’s mistakes and generally not getting along together. In the end I decided to say something.
“Look, Noz,” I began. “I think you’re right about that house.”
He gave me a sharp glance. “How do you mean?”
“Well,” I said. “I think it’s fairly creepy actually.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. Stupid, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. He looked quite relieved. “It’s because it’s all empty, I suppose. Oh well, I’m glad you’ve mentioned it. I thought it was just me.”
“No, I’m the same.”
“That’s alright then.”
“Yeah.”
While we talked we’d been walking slowly back towards the house, now once again engulfed in darkness.
“All those windows don’t help,” remarked Noz. “They’re like eyes watching you.”
“What we’ll have to do,” I said, “is sort of ride it out. Make a joke about it being haunted sort of thing.”
“Alright.” Noz approached the kitchen door, opened it and switched the light on. At the same instant his eyes dilated and he let out an unearthly scream.
“I knew you’d do that,” I said, shoving him through the door.
Next thing, we had the kettle lit and I was busy washing up the mugs so we could have some tea. For all his bravado Noz nonetheless declined to go ahead for a ‘stretch out’ until I was ready, but eventually we both headed up to the room, talking loudly as we went.
Crossing the landing I again stepped on the loose floorboard, so that it made its usual rocking noise.
“Right,” I said, with resolution. “Let’s get this fixed for a start.”
I got a hammer and some nails from my tool bag and immediately began the repair. Meanwhile Noz scanned some of the other boards.
“This one could do with a couple of nails too,” he said. “And here.”
We ended up spending about twenty minutes going over the whole landing, making a lot of noise with our hammers and tramping around as if we owned the place. Like most jobs we did it took longer than expected, but when we’d finished we stood looking at each other with big grins on our faces.