by Matt Drabble
As a sociology major, Colin was fascinated by a whole town that existed within its own boundaries; he wondered what restrictions and limits were placed on the citizens. Did they have their own system of government, social structure, law, class, or religion?
The bus had only gone a couple of miles when it pulled up to a small building that read “Welcome Office”.
“Your stop, son,” the driver called towards him, pleasantly enough.
Colin grabbed his backpack from the overhead compartment and walked forward through suspicious glares. He did not know how the driver knew that he was supposed to get off here, but he did not care. He was just eager to be away from the creepy and hostile atmosphere.
“Thanks,” he muttered to the driver.
“I understand that the car you’re picking up is waiting here for you,” the driver replied. “But I wouldn’t hang about if I were you,” he whispered low. Before Colin could ask him just what he meant by that, the door was closed, and the bus was pulling away on the ominous tone.
Colin swung his bag over his shoulder and walked across the tarmac parking bays towards the office. The rental car and trailer were there, parked neatly and looking as though they had just been washed. He stopped to peer in the car window; there were no visible leftovers from the previous occupants. When he had first taken the job with the rental company, they had told him to always check for maps and sunglasses etc, as renters would often demand that the company post back any left behinds. His instructor had told him that a man had once demanded that the rental company post back a half eaten candy bar that he had left rotting on a dashboard. He gave the trailer a hearty shove. It was obviously still fully loaded, much to his annoyance.
Colin headed into the office; the door swung open with the soft jingle of a bell that hung above. The interior was blissfully cool. The doorway opened into a small waiting area behind a high-backed wooden counter that was fragranced with perfumed polish. It appeared deserted beyond the high desktop and Colin looked around for occupants or a means of attracting some. There were two matching desk tables inside, high metal filing cabinets lined the rear wall, and neatly kept shelves were full of paperwork stuffing. “Hello?” Colin called out. His voice echoed, lost and lonely. After his journey and the creepy bus ride, he was eager to be on his way out of this sterile test tube. “HELLO?” he shouted loudly, his voice infused with impatience and irritation. He leaned over the counter, trying to hopefully spot the rental car keys. A large manila envelope lay just in sight on one of the desks. The envelope had the name Torrance printed neatly across the front and Colin knew that this name belonged to the rental client.
The counter had a hinged middle that swung up, allowing entry to the inner office. Screw it, he thought, and lifted the hatch. He quickly crossed the distance to the desk and picked up the envelope. The hefted weight rewarded his initiative with a metallic jangle. He emptied the contents and the keys slid neatly out onto the desk, along with some papers. He took the keys and tucked them into his pocket. He was pushing the A4 paper sheets back into the envelope, when his eyes processed enough of the words to make him stop dead in his tracks, and then his world exploded in pain and darkness.
CHAPTER NINE
The drive to the new house was both too quick and too slow. Both of them knew that photographs on a computer screen could only tell you so much. Michael watched the neighborhoods that they drove through intently. They were heading for an area known as Fairfax. The photographic images online had looked wonderful, but he would never fully trust anything other than his own two eyes. The houses were huge stately homes compared with their compact apartment back in England, where space was at a premium and you paid expensively for every inch. The surroundings here looked like a movie set; the houses were enormous fronted mansions with long winding driveways that snaked invitingly towards the road. The homes were two and three storeys with stone fronts decorated with intricate brickwork and pillars. Michael felt Emily’s tension; he knew that this whole move had been primarily powered by him, and it would stand or fall largely on their new home.
Michael suddenly noticed a group of industrious individuals washing the side of a house with gusto. Under their soapy hands he could just see watery green paint running in streaks.
“Hey, Casper, what’s going on over there?” he asked.
Casper visibly bristled in the driver’s seat. “Just a little graffiti,” he almost growled.
“I thought that there was a zero tolerance policy on crime?” Michael said, a little teasingly.
“After we catch them, you’ll see how little tolerance we have for the criminal element.” Casper’s voice was thick with menace.
Michael and Emily shared a nervous look over Casper’s intensity.
As the houses passed, Michael was struck by the American design of having open-fronted properties. Back in England, houses were fenced and hedged in. You drew your possession lines around your home and barricaded yourself against the outside world. Here, all of the houses, despite their obvious luxury and value, did not separate themselves from their neighbors. You could walk across the whole street of front lawns from one end of the road to the other. It be must indicative of the psychological differences between our cultures, he thought. One more thing to get used to. In truth, Michael was looking forward to living a more rounded life. The idea of having friends and neighbors who were positive and open was appealing to the self-confirmed “miserable git”.
Emily also watched the properties that they drove through. She worried that they were heading out of the affluent area and that the other side would drop to a more realistic tone. Surely only the fabulously rich and famous lived in such opulence? She knew that she and Michael lived relatively comfortably, their income was steady, and they had no mortgage to worry about. Michael’s money was tucked away safely, and treated with respect. She knew that Michael had concerns about their finances, and he seemed to live in perpetual worry that it would all disappear at some point. She had grown up in an upper-middle class family, with decent and loving parents. Money had never been a worry to her growing up, nor a real interest either. She’d gained a good education and had emerged with her teaching degree and without the burden of the heavy debts of her classmates. Her parents had let her live rent free in one of the properties that they owned around London, and her income from her teaching job was more than sufficient. She wished that Michael would take more enjoyment from his success and financial rewards, but he held on to the money that he earned grimly and with white knuckles.
The SUV slowed down and stopped outside of one of the larger houses on the street; both Emily and Michael assumed that they must be pausing for some secondary purpose.
“Here we are, folks,” Casper said. “Home sweet home,” he added sincerely.
Michael looked at Emily speechless; this couldn’t be theirs, could it? They both slid out of the car on shaky legs.
“Michael?” Emily asked in a soft whisper. “This can’t be ours, can it?”
Michael could only stare up at the house; it seemed to dwarf their puny frames as they stood before it and stared up to the heavens. The house seemed to Michael to be all sloping, pointed roofs. English houses tended to be rectangular boxes with a single level pitched roof. The mansion before them was more than they could have ever dreamed of; a vast weight slid from his shoulders when he looked at Emily’s eyes as they filled with tired emotion.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, in a hushed and awed tone.
The winding driveway was a deep red brick color; beyond the sides were immaculate lawns of the deepest richest green, and conifer trees stood pruned and pretty in the grounds. Grounds, thought Michael, that’s what we have now; not a garden, but grounds. The front of the house was covered in light stone cladding that glistened brightly in the sunshine. The deep, rich slate roof was spotless and the house windows gleamed proudly. Small bulb lamps stood to attention down the driveway, ready to light their way home after dark.
&
nbsp; “It’s actually nicer on the inside,” Casper’s amused voice interrupted their collective thoughts.
Michael and Emily linked arms as much for physical support as love, and they walked on unsteady legs up the driveway. The front door was massive at over eight feet tall and around five feet wide. It was built of sturdy oak and it pushed open easily as Emily twisted the handle.
“It’s not locked?” she exclaimed, worriedly.
“This is Eden, my dear,” Casper smiled as if that explained all.
“Heaven on earth and twice as nice,” Michael said approvingly.
“Quite right, Michael; shall we?” Casper invited with an urbane sweep of his right arm.
If the outside was impressive, the inside was majestic. The entrance opened onto a large airy atrium. A sweeping staircase dominated the space as it wound its way to the top. The ceiling immediately over them reached all the way to the roof, sending natural light cascading down.
For the next hour, the large home echoed with squeals of delight and shouts of amazement as they regressed to children on a Christmas morning. Every corner of the house revealed more and more secrets as it opened itself up to the new owners, teasing and tantalizing. Eventually, they both near collapsed into breakfast bar stools in the large open kitchen as the light shone through the patio doors that framed the rear gardens. Michael could see the exquisite landscaping towards the outdoor pool, but wisely decided that neither of them could handle any more delights without having a sit down first.
Emily found the electricity was on and working. She discovered a kettle on the gas hob and proceeded to christen the house with tea, as is the English way.
“So what do you think?” asked Casper as they sat.
“Well, I was hoping for a big house,” Emily teased.
“Oh, I assure you, Mrs. Torrance, this is one of the nicest properties on the market. Fairfax is one of our premier areas,” Casper blustered, not picking up on the English sense of humor.
“She was joking, Casper,” soothed Michael. “It's perfect, beyond our wildest dreams, I promise you.”
A car horn blasted from outside. “Oh that’ll be your things,” Casper said. “I had them brought over from the office; apparently, the rental car and trailer were picked up earlier.”
“That was very thoughtful of you, Casper,” Emily answered. “All I want do now is sleep for about a week.”
“Well then, let’s hustle up a little help, and get you both settled in,” Casper said
Michael and Emily followed him wearily back to the front door and onto the driveway. A 4x4 truck towing a trailer, similar to the U-Haul one that they’d rented, sat on the road. It was all gleaming chrome and blue metallic paint, with a logo that read “Darnell’s” on the side.
“That’s Kevin Darnell, local handyman and fixit merchant; he handles all of the maintenance for the lease houses,” Casper informed them. “I hope that you won’t have a need to see much of him,” he joked.
A couple of faces poked out of the large house next door to them, and Casper immediately waved them over. “Let me introduce,” he said as they approached, “Chris and Janet Beaumont, your new neighbors and good friends, I’m sure.”
Michael surveyed the approaching couple; Chris was around six feet tall, and he was lean and toned with the healthy glow of an outdoor enthusiast. His hair was cropped neatly short and peppery silver. Michael put his age at around mid forties; he wore a fitted polo shirt and ironed cargo shorts. His wife looked a little younger, and held the air of a woman whose profession was to grace her husband’s arm. She was about five foot six; her hair was a skillfully-shaded blonde. She wore a short fitted polo shirt, and her long brown legs swished seductively under a short tennis skirt. Michael was admiring the approaching legs when a swift elbowed dig in his ribs told him that his admiration had not gone unnoticed. He grinned back sheepishly towards Emily’s scowl. He soon found his hand being pumped enthusiastically once again as Chris’ iron golf grip took hold.
“We’re so pleased to meet you,” Chris drawled eagerly, his face stretched into a genuine smile.
“Seconded,” Janet said as she smacked his cheek with a hearty kiss, before hugging Emily with gusto.
“You need anything, anything at all, just hop on over,” Chris said warmly.
“Thank you,” Michael answered.
“Oooh, I just love that accent,” Janet squealed. “Say something else.”
“Now, now Janet,” Casper warned. “Let’s give these nice folks a little breathing space, before we smother them to death.”
“Quite right, Casper,” Chris said. “First things first, how can we help?”
“We’ve got a trailer full of belongings that need to get from outside to in.” Casper pointed to the trailer behind Darnell’s truck.
Over the next hour, they were moved into their new home with barely lifting a finger. Every time that Emily tried to help, she was shooed away with hospitality and kindness.
They had obviously only been able to bring a limited amount of items from across the pond, and what they brought was mainly personal. There were clothes, some books, files, some of Michael’s harder to find DVD collection and sports memorabilia. The only piece of furniture that she had managed to bring was an old oak writing desk that had been handed down to her by her grandmother. Michael had fought hard against her, as the extra weight was a significant expense, but she could not bear to part with it.
The new house was furnished, and part of the agreement had been that they were only able to lease the house for a twelve month period. It had seemed a very sensible option on both sides. They would not be tied to a house in a new country if they discovered that they wished to leave, and the real estate company would not have to find a new buyer if they did. After the twelve months were up, they would have the option to purchase the property outright. Looking at their mansion, she could not ever see herself wanting to live anywhere else.
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Michael was sweating after he and Chris had lugged the heavy writing desk up the main staircase to the second floor, and into what Emily had decided would be her den. The desk was a major pain in the ass, and he would have happily set the damn thing on fire. In their small apartment, it had consistently managed to catch him in the shins as he walked past and he’d always viewed the desk with suspicion and malice.
“Go for a cold one, Mike?” Chris asked, shaking him from his wandering thoughts.
“Cold what?” he asked genuinely.
“Beer, my friend; it’d just about hit the spot about now?”
“Sounds good,” he said, thinking that they hadn’t even thought about shopping for groceries yet.
“Here you go, fellas,” Janet’s voice surprised him from behind as she entered the room carrying a couple of heavenly moisture-dripping cans.
“Babe, you read my mind,” Chris greeted her.
“It ain’t hard, sugar,” she purred, winking at Michael.
The cold beer was bliss. The taste was sweeter and weaker than what he was used to, but not being much of a drinker it tasted just fine.
“I can’t thank you guys enough,” Michael said. “Everyone has just been so welcoming and friendly, it’s a little…” he paused.
“Overwhelming?” offered Chris.
“Yeah,” Michael said, embarrassed.
“Hey, look buddy, I’m sort of a quiet kind of guy myself, and when we first moved here I thought that it would drive me nuts you know, so I can only imagine what a couple of Brits must make of all this.”
“Pretty bonkers to be honest.”
“Bonkers!” Janet squealed in delight. “What’s bonkers?” she quizzed, running her tongue around the strange word.
“Uh, a little mad,” Michael translated.
“Bonkers,” Janet repeated committing the word to memory.
“We’ll grab Casper and get out of your hair,” Chris said, tugging his petite wife out of the room and down the stairs. “We’ll get together this week.
How about a BBQ at our place tomorrow? Nothing formal, just a couple of steaks and a few beers.”
“Sounds great,” Michael agreed and waved as they left. The weariness was overtaking him at a rate of knots now; all of the travelling and the stress of moving half way around the world was starting to hit him hard.
Emily was staring out of the kitchen patio doors, her tired mind drifting on the warm breeze.
“I wondered if I could trouble you for just a moment, Emily?” Casper surprised her from behind.
She turned, too tired to jump. “Of course Casper, what can I do for you?” she asked, jadedly.
“I just needed a signature on a lease document,” he said as he walked to the kitchen counter, producing a stapled sheet of papers as he marched. “I’m afraid that the originals were misplaced in our office; nothing to worry about,” he raised a comforting hand to her worried face. “These are copies of the originals that you signed over in the UK. If you could just give us a quick signature then I’ll grab Michael’s and get out of your hair.”
Emily took the offered pen and looked at the contract; she remembered the originals and the first couple of pages that she leafed through looked identical. Her eyes blurred with tiredness and she yawned loudly, giving up the ghost. She flipped to the last page and scrawled a weary signature.
“That’s wonderful, my dear,” Casper said as the contract vanished from sight into his inner jacket pocket with a magician’s sweep. “I shall leave you in peace.”
With that, he was gone. Emily wandered up the staircase looking for Michael. Suddenly left alone, the house felt cavernous. She found Michael curled up on a sofa in what was to be her den, the writing desk sitting happily ensconced under a large bay window. She curled up beside Michael on the sofa; he absently wrapped his arm around her, and they snuggled.
“Bloody desk,” he muttered softly under his breath and with that, they both slept a first night in their new home.