“Edward? I know this is stupid, and you don’t need to be the one to tell me. But… would you stay here tonight?”
Edward looked back, blinking as if he didn’t quite understand the question. “Are you sure?”
“I am. It doesn’t bring me joy to know you’ll be sleeping out in that gatehouse when you could choose from plenty of rooms here.” William took the chance to start back down the stairs, Edward chasing at his heel. “What harm is one more night?”
“I mean, I won’t refuse if you’re offering. I’ve never been one for camping, if I’m honest,” Edward said.
William admired his attempt to add humour to his words, but it felt lacking.
“For the record, I don’t think you sound stupid, William.”
“Go and collect your stuff then,” William said, stopping on the bottom step and turning back to face Edward behind him. His neck ached as he was forced to look up. Although he didn’t want to admit it aloud, he took comfort in knowing he wouldn’t be alone. “I’ll get some food on the go, and then we can sit and go through Robert’s journal over some wine. Maybe you’re right, and you’ll find something about Teddy that will help you get the answers you want. If not, maybe it will at least help put this all to bed for you.”
So you can move on, and so can I.
“I think you’ve got this all wrong. This isn’t about what I want.” Edward chewed his lower lip, rich eyes tracing every inch of William as he stood beneath him. “I’m doing this for my great-grandmother. She died never knowing what happened to her brother. And I promised her I’d uncover his story.”
A warmth uncoiled in the pit of William’s belly. “Reading between the lines, I get the impression you already have made your mind up as to what you think you’ll find here. But I want to hear you say it. What doyouthink happened to Teddy?”
Edward took a step down until there was only one more left between them. It was incredible, William thought, how Edward could smell so much like himself whilst still wearing William’s spare clothes. He inhaled deeply, noticing the citrus and spice that oozed from his skin.
“I think that Teddy Jones never left.”
“England?”
Edward shook his head, strands of dark hair falling over his serious-set gaze. “Hanbury. I don’t think Teddy ever left Hanbury.”
William stood before the non-descript door to the attic, fingering through the twenty-or-so keys hanging from a chain. He’d been given the bundle before he’d left London, collected from the solicitor who – in hindsight – seemed almost too excited to hand them over. He wasn’t sure which key fit into the lock for the attic, and he’d not even begun to try them. Instead, he’d just stood there for about ten minutes, staring at the door.
Maybe he should’ve waited for Edward to return. But that desire was stupid. This was William’s house. His name was on the deeds, so he refused to be scared of closed doors or the secrets behind them. Regardless of the dark untold story which clung to Hanbury manor, it wouldn’t send him running. This was his life – one that Archie would’ve wanted for him.
He wasn’t going to allow the past to dictate his future anymore.
Hanbury Manor was mostly still. Every now and then, the walls would creak, old pipes clanging a tune, before settling back to silence. It was becoming the soundtrack to William’s new life, not signs of the otherworld, as Mike and everyone else had suggested.
“We’re only afraid of what we don’t understand,” William said to himself as he chose what key to start with. It was an old brass one, the metal cold and coated in rust. As he lowered it towards the lock, he knew it was too big, so he moved on to the next. On and on he checked for the right key, his worries becoming frustration with every one he tried.
Not a single key fitted in the door. Not one. He ended up trying them all about three times before completely giving up.
William was just about to give up too when he heard an out-of-place rustling. At first, he put it down to Edward returning with his belongings from the gatehouse. Until the noise came again, louder that time. William snapped his head up, looking at the closed door. The sound came frominsidethe room.
“Impossible,” he exhaled with a forced laugh, trying to negate the creeping dread that returned. “Just rats. Big, juicy rats.”
As if in answer, the noise came again. The screech of wood. A creak. His mind conjured an image of a chair being dragged across the floor. No rat was big enough to do that, no spider capable.
William couldn’t move a muscle. For a moment, he was frozen to the spot. The icy scratch of fear scoured down his spine. He even held his breath to make sure he wasn’t the one making the noise.
Nothing happened. He almost laughed but had the overwhelming urge to keep quiet. He knew it was ridiculous, but William crept closer to the door, turned his head and laid his ear on the rough wood.
He closed his eyes, eliminating one of his senses to heighten another. And then he listened.
Silence hummed against the side of his face. The only thing he could hear was the thumping beat of his heart as it echoed back to him. William was just about to scold himself for thinking he’d heard something. The noise started again. But this time, it was different. Not the screech of wood.No. It was the soft whimpering of a person.
Horror unspooled like thread inside of him, knotting and tangling into a bundle of uncontrolled emotion. His initial reaction was to gasp in shock. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Whatever was beyond the door heard him. The whimpering stopped, as though a hand was clasped across their mouth too, stifling the sound.
That’s when the footsteps began.
Careful, poised footsteps, growing louder as whatever was beyond the door walked towards it. The same noise that William had heard on his first night.
