The driver scoffed, shooting the manor at his back a wary glance. “I’ll be back as requested next Saturday,” he reminded. “If you need me any earlier, you’ve got my number. I’m only a call, and a hundred or so miles, away.”
“Next Saturday will be fine,” William said, hating the way he sounded but unable to stifle it. All he wanted was to be alone. To distract himself with the plans and work laid out before him for the next week so he didn’t have to think about anyone else or their opinions. Silence. It was all he wanted –needed,more like.
And that was it. William watched, key still clutched in hand, as the taxi sped off back up the long track. It was as if he couldn’t get away any quicker. Clouds of dust billowed behind the car, blurring it from view. Then he was gone, and William was finally alone; his only company was the sea of plastic shopping bags, two suitcases and a worn backpack, all in a mound beside him.
Or so he thought.
Hanbury Manor was many things – but most notably, athornin William’s side. He’d barely made it three steps into his new home when the first issue revealed itself.
“Fucking electrics,” he moaned to no one but the silence, flicking the light switch in the porch on and off without any effect on the bulb hanging above him.
The food William had brought would spoil if he didn’t get the electrics working. He’d not yet explored the manor, hoping to pack away the meats and fresh produce in the misplaced nineties fridge that the last unfortunate occupants installed. Not to mention it was an eyesore in the old farm-style kitchen. And it wasn’t working. William even kicked it a few times, but that didn’t start it up.
He’d hoped the initial light issue was just a problem with a burst bulb. Of course it wasn’t going to be that simple.
William’s first moments in his new home were tainted with bad luck. He and Hanbury Manor were not off to a good start. And what he thought about as he raced around the right side of the dark building only made matters worse.
Archie could have got the electric working again.
The sting of loss, the sneaky bastard it was, stabbed him in the heart. The grief was almost a year old, and still it brought him to his knees, head bowed, face clutched in shaking hands. There it was… the anguish and agony he expected to hit him. Turned out the distraction it awarded didn’t last as long as he hoped.
Archie was the reason he was in this cold, damp, dark manor in the first place. A gift given to William from beyond the grave. Kismet. They were both supposed to have enjoyed life in their luxury London apartment together, the one on the eleventh floor with the most breathtaking view overlooking the Thames. It had a kitchen with a thick marble countertop and an en-suite with a walk-in shower, everything a young couple could want. But it turned out Archie had other dreams for their future – dreams shattered when someone drove their car into Archie, knocking him off his bike, killing him on impact with the rain-slicked tarmac.
Discomfort coiled once again around William’s heart. He rubbed a fist atop the soft spot in the centre of his chest, trying hard to focus on finding the fuse box and getting the electrics working, not wasting what could’ve been hours of crying on the kitchen floor.
Grief was like that. Ever present, always lurking, looking for moments to strike when the mind was at its weakest.
William did his best to quash the feeling enough to stand again. Focusing on something important helped ease the pain, and right now, he needed to work out how to get the electrics up and running.
He withdrew his phone from his pocket – still no signal. So that meant calling an electrician was out of the question. Were there even electricians in this neck of the woods?
Using the narrow beam of the torch on his phone, William scanned the ground-floor rooms to no avail. The cool glow of the light flashed over large lumps of furniture covered with sun-stained sheets. He expected cobwebs and dust but didn’t realise his shoes would leave actual imprints on the floor. It was as though he waded through snow, tracks being left behind him in his wake, obvious enough for anything to follow.
Time rolled on, and beyond the windows the sky had stained a deep orange. Clouds rolled over the blue, bringing a blanket of night upon him. He had to work faster, otherwise it would be a romantic night for one with candles, no heating and the faint smell of mould.
He paused his search for the fuse box on the first landing of the three-story building. This floor had four bedrooms, a large corridor between them and a single, carpeted bathroom with a window looking out over the front of the manor’s grounds.
Who on God’s green earth carpeted bathrooms?
William had yet another daunting realisation fall over him. Out of all the things that could’ve increased his stress levels, this next thought was almost ridiculous.
Gardening. It was never something he’d worried about before. Living in London, where cement replaced grass, cultivating a green thumb was impossible. He’d been given a Devil’s Ivy plant as a Secret Santa present from his colleagues one year, and William had managed to kill even that. Which was a feat, because Google told him the plant was supposed to be robust.
But here, stretched for as far as his eye could see beyond the window, was a garden, so expansive it deserved emphasis with a capital letter. Gardening was unavoidable at Hanbury.
Archie was the green thumb, not him.
Archie loved nature, whereas William preferred cement streets lined with expensive coffee chains.
The gardens were laid out at the back of the manor, shrouded by towering oak trees and overgrown shrubbery. Beyond the line of trees at the back, William made out stretches of fields and lakes for as far as the eye could see. Google Maps hadn’t done the landscape around any justice.
His annoyance at the lack of electricity waned for a moment as William took a deep, dust-ridden breath in and held it.
He caught movement out the corner of his eye. It was slight, only lasting a second. Leaning closer to the window, breath fogging the odd-smelling glass, he was sure he’d seen a person skipping between trees. Was it Archie, come to taunt him with the joy of afterlife? No. Impossible.
William continued his search for whatever he’d seen, until he put it down to delirium, or more sensibly a deer or woodland creature.
“Look what you’re missing out on,” William said, speaking to the memory of the man he loved. The words misted against the single-paned window, clouding the view. “You always wanted a vegetable patch, and I suppose here you could’ve had an entire farm.”
