I frowned at her. “You’ve mentioned this before – why would you move in? I know they’re moving quickly but will it be liveable by that point?”
She shrugged as we walked down the path to the door. “It means I can work late and get more done. I’ll employ painters and decorators for some of it, but there will be times when I need to get bits done myself and I get a better feel of the house when it comes to decorating it. I know it sounds weird.”
“A little, but I kind of get it,” I said, following her through the front door. A fine layer of dust coated the floor from the plaster and a couple of sockets were loose, waiting for a second fit. “Where’s the boarded up door?”
“In the cellars,” she said. “It had been walled up but the different brick gave it away, plus it wasn’t a skilled job. I removed the bricks easily and found the wood which is pretty much rotted.” We headed to the cellar steps, the door before them no longer there. “When Jon drew up the plans there was space that wasn’t accounted for. We could be about to find out why. Let the Famous Two adventure begin!”
She practically skipped down the stairs, her enthusiasm bubbling like the fizz in a lively sparkling wine. Bricks were scattered about the floor, only a few remaining in their place at the bottom of the wooden board. Ava tapped the wood and then applied more weight.
“This will be down in two seconds.” She picked a sledgehammer from some tools in the corner and stood a few steps away, side on, before using her body weight to smash the wood.
It broke straightaway, splintering into fragments and exposing a door behind it. I spotted a pair of thick work gloves with the tools and pulled them on; now the wood was broken it would need to be moved by hand so as not to do damage to the door.
“Thanks,” she said, seeing what I was doing and grabbed a pink pair I’d seen.
Five minutes later the boarding was away enough for us to be able to get to the door which looked in better condition than some of the others that I’d seen around the house. It was heavily styled, with a carving in the centre that I figured had something to do with the building’s former use.
“You know it’s going to be locked, don’t you?” she said.
“It wouldn’t be an adventure if it was easy.” I smiled up at her, moving a last splinter of wood away. “What’s your prediction?”
“I think it leads to stairs, and from the dimensions on the plans, I guess they’re going to be quite narrow.”
“Secret staircase?”
She flashed a toothy grin. “Definitely. This is why I love old houses: they’re full of secrets.” She bent down and gave me a full view of the curve of her ass in her tight jeans. I stuck my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t touch. Now wasn’t the right time.
“So you did this job to nosey around other people’s houses?”
“Pretty much.” She stood up. “The lock’s different from the others and I don’t recall seeing a key that will work. In fact, I’m not sure any of the other doors were locked.” She depressed the handle and applied pressure to the door. Nothing budged.
“Guess I’ll have to pick the lock.” She headed back to the tools and rummaged round in a large box.
“Who taught you to pick a lock?” I said. I’d known Jackson and Maxwell for years and neither were the type to know how to break in anywhere.
“Believe it or not, my mother,” Ava said, heading back to the door, her hands full. “Marie might’ve been this amazing lawyer but she’s also pretty streetwise. When I bought my second house to flip, there was a bedroom door that was locked and I didn’t want to bust it, so Marie taught me a few tricks.” She jiggled around in the keyhole with the metal pieces and I heard something rattle. “Done. That was fairly easy. I have a feeling I’ll need these upstairs.” She pushed the door open and I felt a waft of stale air come through. The stairway could’ve been hidden for hundred years or so and I did feel like an explorer from a children’s book.
Ava grabbed hold of the torch she’d left by the door and flicked it on. “Stairs like we predicted and they’re steep. No rats though.” She started to climb them and I followed. The stairs were narrow and made of stone which had been worn slightly with the feet that had walked up and down them over the years.
At the top was a slim door to our right. It was low; I’d have to stoop to get through it. Ava tried the handle it and surprisingly it swung open straight away.
“Clearly whoever boarded up the door downstairs didn’t think anyone would get past it.”
“Which floor are we on now?” I said, looking back down the stairs.
“I think we’re three storeys up from the cellars,” she said. “Fuck. Look at it in here.”
She stepped through the doorway, brandishing her torch and then paused. We looked into a small room, windowless and claustrophobic. There was a bed in the centre, still made with sheets that were now yellowed and aged. A chair stood nearby and a bed pan. Facing the bed on the wall was a dusty picture of Mary, framed, rosary beads hanging from it. Several crosses were on the same wall.
“I feel completely creeped out right now,” Ava said. “It looks like someone meant to come back to this room. But the atmosphere isn’t troubled.” She stepped across the bare floorboards to a wardrobe, simple in its construction.
“It does have an odd atmosphere though. I take it you won’t be using this as your bedroom when you stay here.”
“No way. I don’t even feel like I can swear in this room without a bolt of lightning shooting at me. Given this was a priory, I wonder if it was built as a safe room in case there was any further persecution of Catholics?”
I moved closer to her as she opened the wardrobe, using the torch on my phone to add extra light. “Maybe. It could also be a room used for solitude, for the priest or nuns maybe to mediate.”
She knelt down and pulled out a box. It was intricately painted on the top with flowers, perfect for a little girl. Her small fingers worked it open. “Or you could be here while you were pregnant.” She held up a tiny pair of baby’s shoes, the material yellowed with age. “There are letters in here too. I’ll take them down with us to read through.”
