The Clockwork House

by Wendy Saunders

  ‘Oh, that Caroline,’ Bunty rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘She couldn’t run away from home quick enough. I assume if she hasn’t told you about your grandmother, she’s probably explained precious little else.’

  It was still strange hearing people refer to her mother as Caroline.

  ‘Serenity… I mean mom,’ Ava corrected herself, ‘was a very private person.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Bunty pursed her lips until they wrinkled, ‘your mother was a little madam who always wanted everything her way. Still, you’re here now,’ she patted Ava’s hand fondly. ‘Come on, let’s have a cup of tea. I have a bridge game in an hour with the rest of the ladies, but for now I think I can close up a little early.’

  Before Ava could open her mouth to protest Bunty marched across the room, flipped the closed sign on the door and turned the lock with a tiny little click.

  ‘Come along, don’t stand there staring dear, follow me.’

  Unable to do much else Ava skirted around behind the counter, following the older woman through into a small parlor and kitchenette.

  ‘Take a seat dear,’ Bunty nodded toward the round table covered with a lace tablecloth as she picked up the kettle and set it to boil. ‘Do you prefer tea or coffee?’

  ‘Either,’ Ava slid awkwardly onto a dainty white chair with a pink padded seat and glanced around the room. It was neat as a pin, just like the stranger in front of her, who was currently laying out cookies in a ruthlessly decorative formation on a china plate.

  ‘How long have you been on the island?’ Bunty asked as she continued to bustle around the small kitchenette, her back to Ava.

  ‘Since yesterday,’ Ava replied absently as she studied a delicate porcelain figurine of a cat standing on its hind legs playing a fiddle. ‘I met Killian Ryan this morning, and he suggested I speak with you about the house I inherited, um… the Lynch House?’

  There was a sudden clatter as Bunty fumbled with the teacup. Her spine stiffened as she took a moment to place the cup and saucer carefully down on the tray in front of her, before twisting her head to look at Ava, her gray eyes unreadable.

  ‘Of course, you’d be curious about the house,’ she replied with a polite, if not slightly distant smile. ‘It’s only natural.’

  ‘It’s not just the house,’ Ava continued as Bunty turned back and lifted the now full tray. ‘I’d like to know about my family, about the people I come from. Serenity…’ she shook her head, and corrected herself again, ‘mom…’

  ‘Don’t keep correcting yourself on my behalf dear,’ Bunty shifted aside a small copper jug filled with cheerful flowers and set the tray down on the table. ‘Call your mother whatever you’d like. I don’t like to speak ill of the departed, but Lord knows I’ve had a few choice names for that girl over the years.’

  ‘You don’t seem to like my mom very much,’ Ava’s head tilted unconsciously as she watched Bunty.

  ‘It’s not like that, I loved that darn stubborn child. She was my God-daughter after all.’

  ‘She was?’ Ava’s brows rose in surprise.

  ‘Not that she would have ever acknowledged it,’ Bunty’s mouth set in a firm disapproving line. ‘Hari, your grandmother, was my dearest friend for more years than I can count, and I miss her every single day, but it was hard to watch your mother break her heart over and over again.’

  ‘Why did she?’ Ava replied curiously, ‘mom I mean. Why did she leave? She never spoke about her family at all; I didn’t even know about Midnight Island until after she’d died.’

  ‘There were so many reasons,’ Bunty waved her hand dismissively and brushed the question aside. ‘So, tell me where you are staying? The Pryce’s guesthouse over on Violet Avenue? It’s funny, I don’t recall Susanne mentioning a young lady staying with them.’

  ‘No,’ Ava watched as Bunty set a teacup in front of her and began to pour from a pretty lavender colored teapot, ‘I’m staying up at the house.’

  ‘What house would that be dear?’

  ‘The Lynch House,’ Ava muttered absently as she watched the stream of dark steaming liquid fill her cup.

  Bunty set the teapot down so abruptly the table rattled.

  ‘Excuse me?’ She blinked owlishly as if she hadn’t quite heard correctly.

  ‘I’m staying up at the Lynch House. Seeing as I own the land it seemed silly not to make use of it,’ Ava shrugged.

  ‘But the house is… uninhabitable,’ Bunty finished after a moment’s deliberation.

  ‘For the moment,’ Ava agreed, ‘that’s why I have a tent. Although I have to admit Killian does have a point. A tent isn’t going to be very practical once the work on the house gets underway. I’m thinking about upgrading to a small trailer or RV temporarily.’

  ‘You…’ she began but broke off as if trying to make sense of what Ava was saying, ‘what do you mean for the moment? What work?’

  ‘I’ve decided to restore the house.’

  ‘You’ve,’ Bunty’s voice was almost lost on a breathy exhale and for one ridiculous moment Ava wouldn’t have been surprised to see her make the sign of the cross against her chest.

  ‘It won’t last much longer,’ Ava replied, ‘it’s really now or never. It won’t sell in the current condition it’s in but even if I wanted to keep it, I can’t allow it to deteriorate further.’

  ‘You can’t allow it?’

  ‘I know that sounds silly,’ Ava shook her head. ‘I don’t know, I guess as its been in my family for such a long time and they’ve allowed it to fall into such a state I feel responsible for it.’

  ‘You sound like your grandmother,’ Bunty muttered.

  ‘Do I?’ Ava replied in surprise, somewhat taken aback. ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Hari?’ Bunty smiled as she once again picked up the teapot, this time filling her own cup. ‘She was very kind; she had a soft spot for everyone. She loved animals and children; she’d have loved to have had a huge family, but it wasn’t to be. The birth of your mother was hard, and after Caroline was born, she was told it was too dangerous for her to bear any more children. I think she would’ve adopted but then your grandfather passed away unexpectedly. A car accident, it was late and dark… and it was raining…’ her voice trailed off.

  ‘She never married again?’ Ava picked up her tea and took a thoughtless sip, wincing as she burned her tongue in the process.

  ‘No,’ Bunty shook her head. ‘For some there’s only one and your grandfather was the sun, the moon and the stars to her. He was my cousin you know, fourth, once removed on my mother’s side.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Ava murmured, ‘I don’t know anything about my family.’

  ‘Well we shall have to remedy that won’t we?’ Bunty patted Ava’s hand as it lay against the tablecloth.

  ‘I’d like that,’ Ava replied, quiet and genuine as she stared down at the contrast of her golden skin against the stark white table linen.

  Bunty studied the stunningly beautiful young woman as she toyed with a loose thread. The girl was an enigma. She had the kind of gorgeous, exotic looks of a movie star yet there wasn’t a stitch of make up on her flawless skin.

  If she looked really hard, she could see a trace of her old friend Hari and her wayward daughter Caroline, around the mouth, the full bottom lip, the line of her nose but it wasn’t obvious. The girl’s looks had to have come from her father.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Bunty asked as the silence began to stretch out between them, ‘you seem… pensive?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Ava shook her head, ‘I’m being rude.’

  ‘Not at all,’ the older woman assured her.

  ‘It’s something about this island,’ she frowned, ‘about being here. I have this feeling in my chest, in the pit of my belly and I can’t figure it out. I don’t recognize it so I can’t even put a name to it. Everything happened so fast. Serenity dying… I didn’t even know she was sick, until she was already gone. She didn’t bother to tell me she was dying of cancer. Didn’t even give me
the chance to say goodbye. She made the choice for me, like always.’

  Bunty’s mouth thinned.

  ‘That sounds like Caroline,’ Bunty sipped her own tea in a valiant effort to keep from saying what she really wanted to, but it was plain to see the girl needed some careful handling. She may have come across as independent and capable, but there was a vulnerability there, just a shadow, the merest hint in those dark eyes.

  ‘I want to know where I came from, who I came from,’ Ava looked up, her gaze locking with Bunty’s. ‘Can you help me with that?’

  Bunty stared at Ava for several long silent seconds almost as if she were weighing a decision of some sort. She slowly set her teacup back in its saucer, tapping her pearly pink fingernail against the delicate china.

  ‘I can,’ she finally answered her violet gaze unwavering, ‘but it does not come without warning or consequences Ava. Once you go down that road, there is no turning back and you may not like what you find.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Bunty sighed deeply. ‘Your family’s roots run deep here on the island. There is not a single brick or blade of grass that has not been touched by their legacy. Your mother didn’t want any part of it, she ran as far and as fast as she could and she never looked back, but your grandmother felt that same connection, that same responsibility as you do. We both spent decades searching for the truth and what we found came with a terrible price. Your grandmother was never quite the same… after…’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ava frowned.

  ‘She’d always been so happy, so kind, but the weight of the secrets of your family pressed down upon her, a heavy burden that in the end smothered her. I don’t want you to suffer as she did. If you want my advice, bulldoze that house to the ground and forget it ever existed.’

  ‘What could possibly be so bad?’

  ‘Ava,’ she began slowly.

  ‘No,’ she shook her head firmly, ‘I’m tired of everyone else making decisions for me or keeping me in the dark. This is about me, about what I need. I need to know where I come from. It’s important to me. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be adrift in the world with nothing and no one to anchor you? No one to turn to; no home to run to?’

  ‘No,’ Bunty admitted, ‘I don’t.’

  ‘This is my choice,’ Ava replied firmly, ‘and I want to know.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Bunty sighed again glancing at the slim gold watch at her wrist, ‘but not this evening. I have to go soon, or I will be late.’

  ‘Will you help me though?’ Ava asked softly.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied after a long moment, her tone carrying a hint of reluctance, ‘but I suggest you go away and think long and hard Ava, because truth always comes at a terrible cost.’

  Kelley’s car made it almost to the top of the long winding road before it shuddered and rolled to a stop, the headlights flickering in the dying twilight before cutting out completely.

  ‘Okaaay,’ Kelley reassured himself as he glanced through the tree line to the huge ominous outline of the Lynch House. ‘I’m sure it’s a total coincidence,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Nothing at all to do with the big scary house on the other side of the trees.’

  Shaking his head in denial he grabbed the heavily laden brown paper bag from the passenger seat, and the two bottles of beer nestled beside it, and climbed out of the car.

  ‘Nothing at all creepy going on,’ he mumbled to himself as he hiked through the trees further up the road toward the cliff top. ‘Just taking an evening stroll, absolutely nothing to worry about.’

  The crack of a branch breaking, and the sudden sharp hiss of the wind had him freezing in his tracks, his body tensing as he stopped and listened, his eyes darting about warily. There was a distant hooting high up in the trees but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary.

  ‘You’re such an idiot Kelley,’ he shook his head as he started walking again. ‘She’s going to think you’re some kind of crazy stalker.’

  He was right, he knew he was. The calmer more rational part of his brain had told him to wait at least until daylight, but when his brother had stopped by to grill him about the dark-haired stunner who’d pulled a Cinderella on him the night before he’d been surprised. Even more surprised to find that she was part of the Wallace family. But if he’d been surprised to find she’d inherited the most infamous house on the island, he’d been downright shocked to find she’d set up camp on the doorstep and not only that, but that she planned to renovate the old death trap.

  He couldn’t help it, the place freaked him out and had done since he was a kid. In the tenth grade he, along with a couple of his friends, Johnnie Baxter and Benny Malone, had hijacked a six pack from Johnnie’s dad and headed up to the bluff on a dare. They’d chugged the beer and raced their bikes to the top of the cliff, although weaved their bikes may have been more accurate, considering they were all novices to alcohol and, rather embarrassingly, well on their way to being drunk after only two beers apiece, determined to confront the ghost of Luella Lynch herself.

  They hadn’t confronted the ghost; his friend Benny crashed his bike into a tree and broke his leg. Johnnie hadn’t been much help either. He’d burst into tears at the first sign of trouble, more concerned with his dad finding out about the beers they’d lifted. Kelley had taken one look at the bone poking through Benny’s flesh and vomited back up the beer, before passing out and hitting his own head on a rock.

  As a ghost hunting mission, it had been a complete failure. Getting Benny back down the hill with a concussion and trying to explain his friend’s broken leg hadn’t been a picnic either. His own father had seen right through their rather elaborate cover story and had delivered a blistering lecture followed by a grounding that had lasted the rest of the semester. A little harsh Kelley had felt, but the one little pearl of wisdom he had gained from their little adventure was don’t drink and ride.

  The tree line began to thin out and beyond it he could see the clearing which led up to the huge imposing gray building. His hands began to sweat a little and his stomach began to roll. For a second, he’d felt like his sixteen-year-old self about to hurl up his contraband beer, but this time it had nothing to do with broken bones or torn flesh, it didn’t even have anything to do with the enormous creepy-ass house.

  He hadn’t felt like this since he’d asked Nancy Kitteridge to Homecoming, well over a decade ago. He was moments from being face to face with a girl he really liked, and he was pretty certain he was about to make a complete idiot of himself, incidentally just like he had with Nancy. He hadn’t at the time realized his sneaker was untied and instead of being smooth and suave, he’d managed to trip over his own laces and crash into the water fountain, once again knocking himself out.

  Come to think of it… he’d managed to knock himself unconscious with alarming frequency as a kid. Perhaps he had some sort of permanent brain damage. That was surely the only explanation for him driving out to the scariest spot on the island at nightfall, to see a girl he barely knew, and who may or may not end up thinking he was some sort of psychopath.

  Still, he’d always had the luck of the devil, or so his uncle continuously told him. Sure, he’d knocked himself out rather ungraciously in front of the prettiest girl in school, but he’d come to, on the ground, with her peering over him in concern. She’d helped him to the nurse’s office, said yes to the dance and they’d dated for nearly four months until her parents decided they were moving to Wichita, of all places.

  Randomly he found himself wondering what had happened to Nancy Kitteridge.

  She was probably married with three kids by now. Most people his age were, with the exception of his brother who was almost up to five, but then again, he was cheating by having them in pairs. Not that Kelley had given any thought to marriage and kids. He’d been perfectly happy with his life just the way it was… until she’d walked through the door and ordered an eighteen-dollar steak for her dog.

  It was like being hit with a ligh
tning bolt.

  He was like one of those dumb sheep who kept electrocuting themselves on the same stretch of fence and couldn’t wait to be zapped again. So, instead of waiting until a civilized hour and introducing himself properly, he was creeping through the rapidly darkening woods, well not creeping, stalking, no that sounded even worse… walking purposefully to her makeshift camp to… what exactly? Get to know her? Ask her out on a date? Propose marriage? Jesus, he really hadn’t thought this one through. This was probably why he was still single.

  The trees parted and he stepped into the clearing. The light was all but gone, casting long shadows. A short distance away he could see a large dark truck parked on the grass; beside it was a tent and an open campfire. Sitting at the edge of the fire holding onto some kind of large cooking pan was the dark haired, golden skinned woman who’d ruthlessly consumed his thoughts for the past twenty-four hours.

  He took a hesitant step forward and as he did a spicy, mouth-watering scent wafted toward him on the night breeze. Drawn toward her and the delicious smell his stomach growled, although whether that was due to the woman or the food, he wasn’t sure.

  His gaze focused on her as he crossed the distance more confidently. She seemed utterly engrossed in whatever it was she was cooking, and he found himself unconsciously trying to walk louder. A pointless task; his shoes sunk into the soft grass muffling the sound of his approach. He really didn’t want to sneak up on her and scare her but in the near darkness and silence of the clifftop, with nothing but the sound of the sizzling pan and the boom of the waves at the foot of the cliff, he feared it might be inevitable.

  He was about to clear his throat loudly to announce his presence when a huge shadow loomed out of the darkness, snapping and snarling as it barked loudly forcing him to stop dead and back up a pace.

  Ava looked up and blinked in surprise. For a moment she wondered why Killian had returned to the house so late but as she was about to open her mouth her eyes narrowed, and she realized it wasn’t the contractor she’d met earlier in the day.