Heller's Regret

by JD Nixon

  I kept my eye on the doorway, smiling in a friendly manner when I noticed the little head peeking around once more. It quickly withdrew when he saw me looking at him. A few minutes later, the head appeared again, this time a body following. He stood shyly in the doorway, regarding me solemnly with enormous black eyes. He was small and thin, with a mop of dark blond hair and a sweet, serious face.

  He was dressed in a very conservative, unfashionable manner in a long-sleeved buttoned white shirt and grey shorts reaching to his knees, black shoes and long white socks. His clothes probably reflected Mrs Grimsley’s elderly fashion taste. He came into the room hesitantly, standing beside Mrs Grimsley, and staring at me the entire time.

  “Samuel, this is Miss Chalmers. She’ll be staying with you while I’m in the hospital. Remember I told you?” He continued to keep his eyes fixed on me.

  “Hello, Samuel,” I said in the gentlest tone I could manage. “You can call me Tilly, if you like. I hope we’re going to have a lot of fun together over the next week.”

  The barest hint of a smile creased his mouth. He was too shy to even speak to me.

  “Samuel, would you like to take Miss Chalmers upstairs so she can choose a bedroom? That will give me a chance to finish my packing and to call a taxi.”

  He nodded and came over to me, slipping his little hand into mine, looking up trustingly at me with those big eyes. I’ll admit it, he pulled on my heartstrings.

  He led me upstairs and meticulously took me to each of the seven vacant bedrooms, three of which faced the front, each with a gabled window. They were all nearly identical with the same heavy, dark furniture, stiff yellowing lace curtains and musty, unused smell.

  I made my choice from the front-facing rooms based solely on the artwork. The room I chose had a slightly less ferocious relative glaring down from a portrait on the wall. At least this one was a woman, although her hard eyes and thin lips were never going to lull me to sleep. Samuel regarded the painting with intense dislike. Perhaps he thought I should have chosen the saggy-jowled, mutton-chopped, scowling bald man in the room next door instead?

  “Where’s your bedroom, Samuel?”

  He pointed to another front-facing room at the end of the hall and led me to it. I expected his room to be messy and disorganised, like my little nieces’ bedrooms, but it wasn’t. His room was spotless, the bed made neatly, his clothes stowed tidily in drawers, his small collection of books painstakingly aligned on the bookshelf.

  “You’re a very tidy boy,” I noted approvingly. He allowed himself a small smile. “Where are all of your toys?”

  He opened up a chest at the foot of his bed and showed me the contents, an assortment of antiquated wooden toys, including some soldiers dressed in a very old-fashioned uniform, a spinning top and a miniature train set. They’d probably been in the Grimsley family for generations. Not a piece of Lego to be seen anywhere. That made me feel sorry for him for some unknown reason.

  “You don’t have any electronic toys? No computer or PlayStation? No Lego?”

  “No,” he said in a soft voice.

  “What do you like to do during the day?”

  He didn’t answer, instead talking hold of my hand again and leading me back down the stairs to a grand room containing an elderly upright piano. He climbed onto the seat and started playing. I sat down in the nearest armchair, enchanted by the beautiful music he produced. He was very talented, his little face earnest and intense as he read the sheet music. When he finished the piece, I clapped him enthusiastically.

  “You’re very good, Samuel. That was lovely. Thank you so much for your performance,” I gushed.

  He smiled broadly at me. I heard Mrs Grimsley calling my name and searched for a while through the many rooms before I found her. She had packed a small bag and called a taxi. She handed me a piece of paper with the details of the hospital she’d be staying at recorded in her formal, old-fashioned writing. She hugged and kissed Samuel goodbye with firm advice for him to behave for me.

  Worry puckered her brow as she peered out the window for the taxi, and I thought that probably at her age, every time she went to hospital, there was no guarantee she’d come out again. Samuel’s future was obviously a persistent concern for her. I wondered briefly, if something did happen to her, whether I could persuade Heller to take in yet another family-less boy. I gave her every assurance I could that I would take very good care of Samuel in her absence and not let anyone take him away.

  The tooting of the taxi’s horn brought us to the door. I helped Mrs Grimsley and her luggage into the car and waved her goodbye. When the taxi disappeared around the corner, I returned to the house, firmly shutting the front door. As I did, I noticed how quiet it was in the house. I’d just seen a huge-bellied man across the road shifting leaves from his driveway with an obnoxiously noisy leaf-blower, but I couldn’t hear it at all once I closed the front door. The house was blissful, like a world apart.

  I felt a shiver run through me and realised just how cold it had become. I had to find the thermostat for the air-conditioner, but before I did, I thought I’d warm myself up with a pot of tea. Samuel followed me around as I bustled in the kitchen, his big eyes wide with interest. I hadn’t really enjoyed the tea Mrs Grimsley made for me, but she didn’t stock any other variety, so I had no choice but to drink it again. And as I’d suspected, there was no coffee to be found in any of the many cupboards.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink, Samuel?” I asked.

  “No, thank you,” he replied, his manners impeccable.

  He wandered away when I sat at the kitchen table to drink my tea and soon I heard a beautiful melody drifting from the music room. I grimaced at the taste of the tea, but it was hot and helped warm me up a little. I ended up drinking three cups of the brew, before deciding to listen to Samuel play for a while.

  The music floating down the hallway was hauntingly sad, expressing a deep sense of hopeless longing. I sat in the kitchen listening for a few more minutes. I suddenly thought of Daniel and Niq, missing them enormously. Tears sprang to my eyes unbidden. Wow! Where did they come from? I thought, hurriedly wiping them away on the sleeve of my polo shirt. I didn’t want Samuel to catch me crying.

  I pushed open the door to the music room, praise on my lips, but the tune stopped abruptly. I stood in the middle of the room, gazing around in bewilderment. It was empty, the lid of the piano closed. I could have sworn I’d heard Samuel playing. I touched my still wet cheeks. I’d heard music so sad it made me cry. I couldn’t have imagined that, could I? Maybe there was another piano in the house? I thoroughly checked every room downstairs. No piano and no sign of Samuel. I ran upstairs and searched every room, finding Samuel in his bedroom, quietly playing with his little train set.

  “Did you hear that music before? It made me feel really sad,” I asked him.

  He shook his head, regarding me with his enormous eyes.

  “Is there another piano in the house, besides the one in the music room?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Weird,” I muttered to myself, determined to force it from my mind.

  I watched Samuel playing for a while, his sweet little face pursed in concentration as he pushed the train around the figure of eight track. When he’d had enough of playing, we sat together on his bed, cuddled against each other under his blankets to keep warm. I began to read Alice in Wonderland to him. I kept reading until his little head nodded forward and I realised he’d fallen asleep sitting up.

  I looked at my watch. Shit! It was nearly midnight! What happened to the time? Why hadn’t I noticed it had turned dark outside? Samuel’s light had been turned on. Had I done that? I couldn’t remember getting out of bed, or walking to the light switch.

  I tucked Samuel into bed, fully dressed, and collapsed on my own, still in my uniform, my boots on. I’d almost fallen asleep before remembering that I hadn’t eaten anything since I arrived. Neither had Samuel. I berated myself for being, without doubt, the
worst babysitter in the world. But he hadn’t complained, and I honestly hadn’t felt hungry. I’ll sort it out in the morning, I thought sleepily, pulling the thin blankets up around me in a desperate attempt to get warm.

  Moonlight streaming in through the window illuminated the portrait of the woman hanging on the bedroom wall. She was dressed in Edwardian era clothing – a long black skirt teemed with a white long-sleeved blouse with leg-of-mutton sleeves, buttoned primly to the neck. Her hair was swept up into a severe bun. She wore no jewellery or any type of decoration except for a small cameo brooch on the breast of her blouse. She sat with rigid posture on one of the winged armchairs I recognised from the parlour, her hands calmly crossed on her lap.

  She stared at me disapprovingly from the painting. I shut my eyes to block the image, but could still sense her disfavour through my eyelids. I tossed and turned for a while, but kept opening my eyes to look at her. She continued staring at me, her eyes hard, her thin mouth compressed with censure.

  Cursing, I rolled out of bed, and after a brief struggle, as it was heavier than I’d expected, lifted the painting from its securing hook and placed it on the floor, puffing slightly afterwards. I leaned it against the wall, facing inwards. There! She wouldn’t be staring at me anymore tonight. I jumped back into bed again, curling into a ball to conserve heat. Guilt about sleeping on Mrs Grimsley’s sheets wearing my boots niggled me, but as they were keeping my feet moderately warm, I didn’t take them off. I didn’t think I’d sleep at all, being so cold, but I must have drifted off eventually.

  I woke suddenly only a few hours later to find Samuel standing beside my bed, looking down at me gravely, his large eyes glinting in the moonlight.

  “Shit!” I screeched, sitting up in fright. I clapped my hand over my mouth, regretting my foul mouth. “Sorry honey, but you really scared me. What’s the matter? Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream? Are you hungry?”

  He shook his head sadly and held out his hand for me to take. I climbed out of bed, taking his hand. Our breath misted in the air as he led me in the dark down the stairs to the ground floor, through the kitchen to stop before a door. I opened it to find a staircase descending into inky darkness.

  “Why did you bring me here, Samuel? Is there something in the basement you want to show me?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is there something down there you want me to find for you?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll have a look in the morning. I don’t want to go down there at night. Okay?”

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that response. I took him upstairs and tucked him back in, bestowing a small kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes and rolled over and it wasn’t long before his even breathing assured me he was asleep again.

  I was so cold that I decided to make some tea to warm myself up before attempting to go back to sleep, so I returned to the kitchen. As I waited for the tea to brew, I noticed a very old thermostat on the back wall of the kitchen, near the basement door. I twisted it upwards to increase the heat in the house, hoping it would take effect quickly because I was freezing. I sat at the kitchen table in the dim light produced by the solitary weak bulb hanging from the ceiling. I huddled myself smaller, sipping the tea and enjoying the warmth of the mug in my hand. I yawned, but stopped with my mouth still wide open when I heard the faint notes of that infinitely sad song drifting through the open door. My heart thumped wildly.

  I turned off the kitchen light and cautiously approached the music room, the music becoming louder as I went closer. The tune was so wrenchingly poignant that again my thoughts turned instantly to Daniel and Niq. But for some strange reason, I struggled to form a clear picture of them in my mind. I couldn’t understand why I had such trouble remembering what they looked like. Niq has the eyeliner, Daniel has the scars, I reminded myself, reciting it quietly a few times as I hesitantly opened the door.

  Again, the music stopped as soon as I entered, and again the room was vacant, the piano closed. Frantically, I turned the light on and searched every nook of the room. Nothing. Nobody.

  Maybe it was noise from a neighbour and it only sounded as though it was coming from this room? I liked that explanation. It was far preferable to the alternative, which I didn’t want to consider. Not in the early hours of the night in a gigantic strange house. I decided to investigate the neighbours in the morning.

  By now unable to control my yawning, I dragged myself upstairs and settled back into bed when I stiffened with confused disbelief. The painting was hanging on the wall again, the woman’s bitter eyes boring down on me even more intensely. What the hell was going on here? I thought nervously. Did I take the painting down or did I only dream that I did? I wasn’t sure – I really couldn’t recall.

  I climbed out of bed and removed the painting, leaning it against the wall, facing inwards. Just as I did (or thought I’d done) earlier. There! Now I knew I’d actually done it and wasn’t dreaming this time. I crawled back into bed and fell asleep.

  I battled my way to consciousness the next morning, opening bleary eyes to find Samuel beside my bed looking down at me once more. My eyes flicked to the wall, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw the portrait hanging up. Did I take it down or didn’t I? I was positive that I had, remembering telling myself I would know that I had this time. But maybe I’d only dreamed doing that too? I just couldn’t be sure.

  I stared at the woman. I thought her face appeared altered, her cruel thin lips lifting in a slight snarl, her eyebrows lower in anger. I couldn’t recollect noticing that yesterday. She seemed to be focussing her hatred directly at me, but I had no idea why.

  I turned troubled eyes to Samuel, who still regarded me steadily with his enormous eyes.

  “Are you hungry, Samuel? Will I make you some breakfast?” I asked, attempting to cover my perplexity over the painting.

  “No, thank you,” his soft voice replied.

  Perhaps he was a grazer who helped himself to the contents of the fridge and pantry at will? I wasn’t particularly hungry either, but had a raging thirst. Pot of tea, I thought to myself. It was just what I needed.

  I was even more freezing this morning, despite fiddling with the thermostat last night. Before making the tea, I went to Mrs Grimsley’s bedroom to hunt through her clothes, not having brought any warm clothes with me at all. I found an ancient, moth-eaten, grey cardigan in her cupboard that I wrapped around me, taking comfort in its additional warmth.

  I made the pot of tea and brought it upstairs with me to Samuel’s room where he quietly played with his trains again. I sat on his bed, my hands gratefully wrapped around the hot mug, slowly sipping the tea and watching him play with his wooden engines. I thought I’d been there for barely a blink of time, but when I checked my watch, I realised it had actually been three hours. Good God! Time flew by in this house.

  A loud knock on the front door resonated through the house. We both froze in place, staring at each other. Fear gripped my heart. What if they’d come for Samuel? I couldn’t let them take him. Mrs Grimsley would never forgive me.

  I put my fingers to my lips to warn Samuel to be silent, furtively glancing out of his bedroom window, careful not to be seen. There were two of them standing on the veranda, dressed in black. They banged on the door for a while, called out and looked around them puzzled, then gave up and drove away. It was only when I exhaled that I realised I’d been holding my breath.

  “They’ve gone,” I told him. We smiled at each other conspiratorially. We’d beaten them this time.

  “Now Samuel, do you want to play the piano for me for a while or should I start in the basement?”

  “Piano.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that!” I exclaimed delightedly. “I love hearing you play.”

  We headed downstairs where I first made myself a fresh pot of tea, taking it with me to the music room, feeling a bit guilty. Perhaps you weren’t meant to drink tea in the music room? I made Samuel promise not to tell
Mrs Grimsley. He agreed with a mischievous little smile on his face.

  Samuel played beautifully again and I savoured every note, applauding enthusiastically after each piece. After a while, he tidied up his sheet music and carefully closed the lid of the piano. I looked at my watch and was shocked to see it was the late afternoon. He’d been playing for hours and hours. I could have sworn it was only twenty minutes.

  “Let’s get down to the basement, shall we?”

  He nodded and slipped his little hand into mine. I made sure all the lights were on before we descended. It was a dirt floor basement, an absolute junk pile, crowded with broken furniture, dead appliances, and trunks of old clothes. It would take an eon for me to find anything in this mountain of detritus.

  “What is it you want me to find for you, Samuel?”

  He shrugged.

  “You don’t know exactly?”

  He shook his head.

  “Will you know what it is when you see it?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you think it’s in one of these boxes or trunks?” I asked with not much enthusiasm, thinking of the hours of toil ahead of me.

  He shook his head, and pointed his finger downwards.

  “You think it’s buried in the ground?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then. Well, I suppose I better get digging.”

  He smiled sweetly at me, and settled himself on a large trunk, his thin legs dangling, not quite reaching the floor. I searched through the mess locating a very old shovel. Deciding I’d better approach this task methodically, I started in one corner, moving the junk to another area before digging into the bare ground. Fortunately, it wasn’t too hard to break through, but it was slow, back-breaking work.

  Despite labouring hard, I found myself growing colder and colder, thinking that perhaps there was damp rising from the earth or something. I seriously considered raiding Mrs Grimsley’s wardrobe for a beanie and some mittens as I dug. After a couple of hours, I had to take a break and we went upstairs where I made another pot of tea, sitting down to drink it with relief.