Just beyond it, past the frosted glass, was the outline of a person. At least he hoped it was a person and not the threat of ghosts the shopkeeper had been muttering about. More so because the fire poker wouldn’t hurt a ghost, and William was ready to swing it like Tiger Woods directly at the visitor’s head.
“I can see you!” a muffled yet very deep voice shouted as the banging ceased.
William’s dread spread down him at the pure accusation in the man’s voice. He couldn’t find the words to reply with, so he tightened his grip on the fire poker and closed in on the door.
“No shit,” he muttered to himself, dog-slippers shuffling against old wooden floors.
The shape beyond the glass shifted. A hand pressed into it, and the blurred face followed. Whoever was outside was now peeking in. Then the door handle began to rattle, and William’s hungover induced fear turned to anger.
William stormed the last steps towards the door, snatched the key from the hook beside it, stabbed it into the lock and turned. He pulled the door wide, profanities rising to his tongue.
“What thefuckdo you think you are doing?” William shouted as a man came into view.
He was taller than William by enough inches to make him crane his neck upwards. As he did the bright light of day cast a sudden glint into William’s eyes, blinding him for a moment as the fury of the intruder’s voice barrelled into him.
“Me?” the stranger barked, deep russet eyes wide and full of allegation. “From my standing, I’m not the one invading someone else’s home. What areyoudoing?”
William held the fire poker aloft in one hand and the keys to the manor in the other. “This ismyhome.”
“Claiming squatter’s rights?” He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Is that what this is?”
“No, I–” William pressed a finger into his thumping temple. “I think there has clearly been some misunderstanding.”
The man barged towards William, almost slamming his broad shoulder into his chest. William side-stepped, the brush of winds passing him as the man entered inside – uninvited.
The unwanted guest walked with a long confident stride. He took a sharp left into the front room of the manor, William giving chase after him, body tensing as a result of this stranger’s brash attitude.
“Get out of my–”
William silenced himself as he took in the sudden change in the man’s demeanour. He stood in the middle of the front room, surrounded by mountains of furniture covered in dust-covered sheets. The stranger’s gaze was focused on a dominating portrait of a young man that hung with pride of place on the wall before him.
The curtains were partially open in this room, allowing beams of sunlight to cast into it. Dust danced within the strands of gold light, twisting and moving in tandem with the turn of the man’s body as he faced William. A look of pure embarrassment cast across his face, drawing the thick brows down over his rich brown eyes.
“Hey, dickhead,” William shouted, breathless from the little excursion. “Getoutof my house.”
The stranger turned his back on the portrait, fixing eyes on William where he stood. “This house belongs to the Thomas family.”
Archie Thomas, and his allusive ancestors.
“Belongedbeing the operative word,” William said, fist tightening on the poker. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but I just… purchased this building. Which means its mine now, andyouare trespassing!”
William didn’t mean to lie, but he thought it was best not to tell this stranger about his recently dead ex and the gift he left in his will for him.
“Youpurchased Hanbury Manor?” the man asked, his voice peaking with almost amusement. Eyes traced William up and down, drinking every possible detail in. “You’re rather young looking to run a house like this.”
“And I’d say you don’t look like a prick, but then again I know one when I see one,” William bit back, trembling with rage. “I’m going to give you five seconds to leave or I’m calling the police.”
“Police. Oh right.” The left corner of the stranger’s mouth quirked up. “With what signal?”
William swung the poker, all to the man’s amusement. Arms raised in defeat, he took cautious steps back whilst William’s mind raced with categorising the danger before him.
In all, the stranger didn’tlooklike a psychopath murderer. He wore a knitted sleeveless jumper above a white shirt unbuttoned at his neck. William took him all in, from the brown of his hair – parted down the middle and hung in curtains on either side of his sharp face – to the polished boots and tweed trousers.
They stared at one another, both equally as confused as the next. Then the stranger seemed to grow taller, as if realisation had sunk in. “Well, this is awkward.”
Awkward?William thought.This is far more than just bloody awkward.
“I think I’ve made a little bit of a mistake.”
