The Winter House

by P. R. Black

  Her trainers had taken a beating in the few days since she’d moved into the caravan with Seth; they had their own space underneath the steps, where she left them every night, ignoring Seth’s warnings about foxes who shit in the night. Dressed in her running bottoms, a training top and a base layer, she bent over to retrieve the shoes. The mud had dried from her yomp of the day before, and she battered the shoes off the caravan steps to dislodge earth from the tessellations of the soles.

  She took four or five minutes to head down the path into the woodlands, skirting the spare ground to the west side of The Glades. The debris of the property that had lain here had long been cleared, although the grass seeded into the earth it left behind wouldn’t grow until the spring. Even after the rain, the earth had the churned, blackened look of the aftermath of a public bonfire. Vonny had been told a stables and paddock had been on this land, and she could have believed it.

  She pushed on into the woodland. The land was flat, barring the odd tree branch, but a carpet of pine needles leavened the hard, pitted earth, leaving a pleasingly springy surface to run on. She’d only stumbled the once on this run previously, and that had been thanks to a grey squirrel who’d made an atrocious decision when it came running out into her path, almost careering right into her before scurrying up a tree. Vonny, for her part, had beeƒn left to regret reading those James Herbert novels of her father’s when she was a girl.

  The path was clear enough through a spectral canopy of midwinter oak, sycamore, birch and lime trees, with a foreboding army of Scots pine fringing the far end of the estate. The woods were thick, and while there was a public right of way at the other side, the woods were private. They were also thick and dark, even without any leaf cover at the very start of December, but there were enough gaps to grant a sense of freedom and open space.

  On her first run, Vonny had been a little freaked out by the parallax effect as the trees converged, spaced out, and scrolled this way and that as she followed the main path threading from east to west. She wasn’t quite frightened of the woods, but the light was fading fast, and there was a sense of isolation, which she wouldn’t quite have enjoyed after dark.

  On the whole, though, she had the satisfaction of being a landowner, no matter how briefly. If only dad could see me now, she thought, as she took a turn off the path and into one of the broader spaces between the trees.

  That was when she caught movement behind a twisted oak, which undulated in a bizarre curve in and out of a mound of earth, roots curled among a tangle of bracken-like tentacles.

  There was no suggestion of a face; just a hand, resting against a tree branch. This wasn’t another of her rodent friends of the forest, or the sudden flight of a startled bird.

  She stopped. There was no one there. She was out of breath, and the sweat stung her eyes even as it chilled on her forehead; she tried to focus on the tangle of alder trees where she’d seen the hand clutch the bark.

  ‘Hello?’ she said.

  Vonny had not expected any response – so the sudden flight of a spindly, dark figure was quite astonishing. Legs and arms pumping, the figure moved deeper into the forest at some pace. Vonny couldn’t have caught up with this figure even if she’d wanted to.

  ‘Hey!’

  But she was alone again, adrenaline surging through the pain and fatigue. And then Vonny realised that she might be in a horror movie after all.

  She turned and ran, the scrolling trees, bristling undergrowth and fluttering birds taking on a new menace until she reached the clearing taking her past the charred stables site and finally the path to her house. No one had followed her.

  Devin Marshall caught sight of her from the top floor. Sliding open the patio door at the balcony above, he hailed her as she rested her hands on her thighs, gasping for breath.

  ‘Uh… You OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine. Got the heart rate up, I suppose. Can I ask – have you seen anyone out in the woods?’

  ‘I haven’t seen anyone. I haven’t really been out on the paths, to be honest. But I think… You said someone was out there, Stu, didn’t you?’

  A young man given a Pierrot face thanks to powdered plastering appeared by Devin’s side. ‘Yeah, some people were out on the path at the back, behind the pines,’ Stu said. ‘I think there’s a public path out there. I was out on my break, like,’ he added.

  ‘But no one inside the woods?’

  ‘Nah. That’s private,’ Stu said.

  ‘Never mind… Probably someone who wandered off the path. I probably scared them more than they scared me. Was there something else you wanted?’

  ‘Someone to see you at the bottom of the drive. She said she’d wait. Her name’s Susie. A reporter, I think she said?’

  ‘What?’ Vonny checked her watch, and muttered: ‘Christ, she’s early.’

  *

  Vonny had to make her wait, in order to get showered and prepared. Even so, she still caught up with the reporter well ahead of their rendezvous time.

  Susie McCracken was leaning against the one fence Vonny really disliked on the property – the one that she thought of as skewed cricket stumps, ready to fall at the slightest contact. And the girl in question was indeed the slightest contact – slim, with pink Doc Martens, jeans and a loose floral top with a long woollen overcoat on top, topped off with long, curly henna-red hair that put her in mind of a Celtic maiden in a storybook. A delicate scarf that was more for decoration than keeping out the chill hung loose over one shoulder, and, Vonny was delighted to see, she clutched a notebook and pen in her hands, rather than a phone. She seemed startled when Vonny approached.

  ‘Hi,’ Vonny said, ‘I think we spoke on the phone?’

  ‘Hey – you’ll be Vonny?’ The girl beamed and extended a hand. ‘Susie McCracken. I realise I’m super-early. I can come back, if I’m intruding…?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Vonny shook hands. ‘I’m delighted you could come at all. It’s the Brenwood Green Advertiser, is that right?’

  ‘Advertiser and Chronicle. I think they could have fit a few more names in there, personally. Advertiser, Chronicle and Bugler, maybe.’ Susie had the kind of smile you responded to. In close-up, Vonny saw that she was surely no older than nineteen, and even that could be pushing it. Probably not long out of school. Vonny wondered if she was on work experience.

  ‘Is there a photographer on the way?’

  The girl held up a smartphone. ‘You’re looking at her – 108 megapixels. Enough to get me on the front page of the nationals. Now, I don’t know how many megapixels is standard, or what that even means, but believe me, 108 sounds a lot.’

  Vonny burst out laughing. ‘It sounds plenty to me. Come on, it’s just down this path, behind the trees. One thing, though – you’ll need to take those boots off. There’s a lot of white paint on the go in there, and they’re just finishing the plastering. I’m talking serious white – like, John-Lennon-video white.’

  The girl looked puzzled. ‘John Lennon is the guy who managed Celtic, isn’t he?’

  Vonny paused before speaking, and locked eyes with the girl. ‘You’re fucking with me,’ she decided.

  The girl laughed. ‘Of course I’m fucking with you! I’ll take the boots off, don’t you worry.’

  ‘You can take a look around, if you like. Don’t worry about the workmen – they definitely don’t bite. To be honest, I don’t think they bark either.’

  *

  The workmen made their excuses and shuffled out of the way, looking doubly embarrassed to be having two women appear within their midst.

  ‘Have you traumatised them?’ Susie asked, snapping pictures of the patio, then taking one or two of Vonny. She had changed into a red dress with black dragons stitched into the sides. Seth had been in the mood to complain when she’d told him what she intended wearing to the photoshoot, but he had known better than to actually do so.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘The workmen. They’re about the same age as I am. I wasn’t expe
cting workmen to behave like that. I thought I’d be… I don’t know, leered at or wolf-whistled. Not that I’m saying I should deserve it, especially, just… it’s standard procedure, isn’t it?’

  ‘I mentioned this to my man. He said guys on building sites have to sign up to codes of practice. They get sacked if they act like… well, builders. Changed days, they tell me.’

  Susie snapped several shots of an alcove that caught the light in sharp angles – Vonny was particularly pleased with this, as the effect mimicked that of the V-shaped balcony above and to the right. ‘Weird design – who’s the architect?’

  ‘Well, I came up with the base design.’

  ‘No way! You’re an architect?’ Susie scribbled this detail down on her notepad. She had told Vonny she was recording the conversation on her phone, but chose to record her actual impressions on the pad as she went along.

  ‘Not quite. I studied design when I was younger. I was considering going that way, in time… I worked with the architects on the project, but the main design of it? That’s all me.’

  ‘Tell me about the raffle – how did it come about?’

  Vonny repeated the story of the chance click on something she’d seen on Instagram. ‘My first instinct was scepticism, but I was curious, too. I checked it all out. Sure enough, it was legit. The relatives of the guy who lived here before were offering the entire estate for the price of one raffle ticket. Twenty-five quid. I went for it on a whim, that afternoon. Best of it was, I was skint at the time – it would have taken me onto fumes for the last couple of days of pay.’

  ‘It’s weird,’ Susie said, ‘isn’t it?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean… having your own house. That’s weird for a start. A place you can call your own. It’s not even rent, or even a mortgage… Just, yours. That must mess with your head a bit.’

  Trying her hardest not to sound patronising, Vonny said: ‘How old are you, can I ask?’

  ‘Eighteen. Just turned eighteen, in fact. At the weekend. Still a bit hung over.’

  ‘I have to be honest with you, Susie, I didn’t imagine I’d be owning a house, either. My life hasn’t really gone down the job-to-mortgage route. And I’m not sure I’d change anything about it, either – I love what I do. I work freelance, consultancy… But I thought owning a big property was beyond me. But this was just good luck, really. Outrageous fortune, Shakespeare called it. Beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.’

  ‘It’s not just the house, is it? It’s the grounds. I think this is more land than my entire street. Including the football pitches round the back.’

  ‘Are you from around here?’

  ‘Nah, from Norwich. Grew up in Balham, though. That’s why my accent’s all over the place.’

  ‘I was struggling to pin it down. How did you get to working for the Brenwood Green Advertiser and… and whatever the other bit was?’

  ‘Chronicle. First job after school… Which finished in the summer. I did some interning for them. They must have liked me. I was thinking of studying but… I couldn’t afford it. Beyond me, you know?’

  Vonny smiled. ‘I know the feeling. The debt is ridiculous. And I’m not sure there was any point to it, either. “I went to university and all I got was this lousy degree.”’

  They passed through to the kitchen and dining room, with another massive patio looking onto the garden. Vonny tried the spotlights, and smiled when they lit up the shadows on the corner of the curved room. The long patio doors were draped.

  ‘This is weird,’ Susie said, clicking shots of the walls. ‘I mean – not weird as in strange, just… unusual. I really like it. It’s like there’s no straight lines on that wall. That’s deliberate – isn’t it?’

  ‘Totally – I wanted it that way. I’ll tell you a secret – my partner doesn’t know this; he’ll faint when he hears – I copied the design for the entire house off a toy spaceship my brother had. It was amazing – the front of the house is the prow of the ship, the back is like the engine… I think that’s what it was, anyway. Curving outwards.’

  ‘That’s superb.’ Susie made a lot of notes. ‘I’ll use that. Out of this world! Did it cost you a lot to put the house together?’

  ‘Yeah… We used some savings here and there. Seth paid for the build. He works in the record industry. Does all right. Not, like millionaire class, but well enough. We were still saving, living in a studio flat. We’ve sold that, put the profit into this.’

  ‘Still must have cost you a fortune,’ Susie remarked.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t cost as much to put a house together if you have a decent plot… but it’s pricey, for sure.’

  ‘Had’ve been me, I’d have used a credit card. I think,’ Susie said absently. She was still writing down details on her ring-bound pad, riffling over a fresh sheet. She had shorthand; it looked second nature. The speed and skill was fascinating, like watching a potter or a weaver at work.

  Vonny hit a switch, and the curtains withdrew with a smooth movement. The garden and the pool came into view – this area had been slabbed and turfed, with immense clay pots at the four corners of the pool. That had been drained, but was still inviting, the mosaic effect of the tiles an intense blue tending towards cyan.

  ‘Oh wow,’ Susie said. ‘Your own pool! I don’t think I’d stay out of that. I’m a water baby. One of those kids you don’t get out of the sea on holiday, you know?’

  Then the drapes gathered at the far side of the patio windows – revealing a figure, standing right in the corner, staring into the room.

  6

  Vonny and Susie made almost exactly the same shocked, avian sound. Vonny recovered first, and started giggling.

  ‘You know him?’ Susie asked.

  ‘Yep. But I don’t know what he’s wearing.’ Vonny flicked the lock on the patio door and slid it open.

  Seth was stood on the pristine patio paving stones. He wore a pair of brown riding boots, buffed to a high sheen, topped off with a pair of tweed trousers, woven in to large, crude squares. Above this was a thick dark green waxed jacket, which might have suited someone with a smaller frame, but on Seth it looked as if a child had attempted to squeeze a baby doll into Barbie’s clothes. The jacket was open just enough to display an unspeakable cravat, attempting to escape from collars big enough to cradle Seth’s chin. On top of that, a flat cap.

  ‘Hey, darlin’,’ he said, ‘I’ve been shopping. Who’s your friend? Is this the journalist?’

  ‘It is,’ Vonny replied. ‘Susie, this is Seth, who seems to have chosen the wrong day to go a bit Guy Ritchie on us.’

  ‘Shane Richie might be a better comparison,’ Seth said, agreeably. ‘Hold on, I’ll get these boots off…’

  He moved to tug one of the long brown boots off, but Susie ran out to intercept him. ‘No – hold on a second there, you look amazing just where you are. Let’s have a few shots… Can you move up against the back wall, there? That’s perfect.’ She clicked a dozen times, from several different angles.

  ‘Oh yeah, no probs… I think this is a better side…’ He grinned at Vonny as he turned to the left.

  Vonny shook her head. He was such a tart. It might have come across as arrogant or affected, because, as Vonny sometimes took for granted, he was a very good-looking man, whatever he was wearing – but he wore this quality lightly, tending towards self-deprecation. But rarely had she seen him look so self-consciously ludicrous.

  ‘How about pensive? You want me to look pensive?’ He reclined on a wickerwork garden bench, elbow rested on his knee, chin resting in his hand, and that’s when Vonny stepped in, as Susie flittered around him, taking shots.

  ‘I think that’s enough of the garden shots, Seth.’

  ‘Ah, bang on. Hey, glad you could come along. I checked out your newspaper today, in fact – great stuff. Always wanted to be a journalist.’

  ‘I could probably make as much delivering parcels, but I guess it’s interesting work,’ Susie said. ‘Are you from London
, too?’

  ‘Bang on. Croydon. How about you, I’m hearing the East Anglian massive in your accent, there. Ipswich, or have I just mortally insulted you?’

  ‘You have mortally insulted me. But I’m a Catholic. I’ll forgive you.’ Then, as if embarrassed at having struck a rapport, she turned to Vonny. ‘Can I have a few shots around the garden, before I head upstairs?’

  ‘Upstairs is out of bounds just now – even for us. They’re finishing off the snagging. But feel free to take a few shots around the garden. It’s all finished. Don’t be tempted to jump in the pool – there’s no water in it, though you wouldn’t think it to look at the colour of the tiles.’

  While she was off trying to capture the bright blue square in the middle of the garden, Vonny tugged at Seth’s cravat.

  ‘Leopard skin? A leopard-skin cravat?’

  ‘You should’ve seen their faces when I walked out the toilets at the coffee shop,’ Seth said. ‘This little kid cried.’

  ‘It’s… going in the paper. Remember that.’

  He shrugged. ‘A keepsake for future generations. Can get it framed.’

  ‘Where in the name of God did you get that stuff?’

  ‘The horsey shop, about fifteen minutes down the road. Drove past it loads. Went in it once before. I couldn’t help it, Vonny. I saw the get-up, and thought: country gent, tweeds, the lot. Next time I’ll get a walking stick. I don’t want to lean on it. I want to brandish it. You know, like you see guys doing on Sherlock Holmes? Leading with it, leaning into it, and back and forward and off we go, you’re a toff.’

  She kissed him. ‘It’s time we posed for the joint picture, now that you’re here.’

  They did so, standing in front of the pool. Over their shoulders was another fringe of pine trees. Susie offered them no instructions, just taking loads of photos. Later, they went into the basement, where Seth had built his rudimentary studio.

  ‘Oh, I was expecting soundproofed booths, control panels, that kind of thing,’ Susie said, shooting the computer equipment, the bass guitar and the synthesiser.