The House on Rectory Lane

by Stuart James

  house.

  ‘Shit, not again,’ said Jake.

  ‘Jake, don’t get wound up, babe. It’ll be back on in a minute.’

  Paul asked him, ‘Does it happen often?’

  ‘Well, we’ve been here a few days, and it’s happened now two night’s running.’ Jake was thinking to himself. He hoped Punchy Man hadn’t seen him. Sean was a young

  child. He’d never made up stories. Yes, he thought he was Superman. Spiderman. The Hulk. Sometimes Wonder Woman, which was a little worrying. But he never made up stories. Ever. If he says a

  man was at the gate, then a man was at the gate.

  Jake made his way to the junction box in the hall. Again, the switch was up. On. Lights still

  off. Jake ran out through the front door. The drink making him braver than he should be. The alcohol had turned him into a vigilante. The gates were shut, so he pressed the fob, and they opened.

  When he reached the lane, Jake sprinted up the hill. The torch dimly lit the way a few yards in front

  of him. He turned and ran back the other way. Nothing. As he returned to the house, the lights were

  back on.

  ∞∞∞∞ After another hour, the guests slowly filtered out, couple by couple. Marge was the last to go, promising to return the favour very soon. She thanked them both for a great night and headed off in the taxi. ‘Well, what a top night,’ said Kate.

  ‘Most of it.’ ‘Oh, babe, you’re talking about the power cut. We’re in the country. These things are as normal as seeing cows in a field. It happens.’

  ‘And the man at the gate?’

  ‘Sean’s a kid. We all saw shadows at that age. You know what tricks the imagination can play.’

  Jake wanted to tell her. Aching to share what he’d seen. The house. The garden. Hugo. The body in the pit. He was sure it was Punchy Man. He may have seen Jake and followed him down. Now he knew about Jake, his family and where they lived. He was too tired to get into it tonight.

  ∞∞∞∞ The following morning while he was drinking coffee in the kitchen, Jake’s phone rang. It was only 7.10 a.m. ‘Hi, sorry to trouble you, I’m DI Reynolds from Ramsbury Police Station. We understand you called in last night with concerns of a house on Rectory Lane? I’m just following up on my way to the office.’

  Damn, I should have called from a payphone.

  ‘Yes, that was me, Officer.’ ‘Great. To give you a quick update, my partner and I checked over the property after you called. We spoke with the owner and had no reason to be suspicious.’

  ‘Fine, I’m glad you checked it out. Listen, I don’t want my name or address given out, I hope you can understand.’

  ‘Sir, anything you say is in the strictest of confidence. We may need you to come over and give a brief statement though. Would that be all right with you?’

  ‘Yes, anything to help.’

  ‘Sir, can I ask, is everything all right?’

  ‘Huh, oh, yeah, fine. I’m just a little stressed is all. We’ve just moved here from London.’

  ‘Very nice. I’ve never been there myself; it’s on my bucket list though.’

  ‘Yeah. Ramsbury was on mine.’

  The officer laughed. ‘Listen. Sorry I didn’t catch your name?’

  ‘Jake. Jake Morley.’

  ‘OK, Jake. I need you to understand. Call me if you ever need to. Ramsbury is a beautiful place to live. The community is close-knit. We all look out for each other here.’

  ‘That’s reassuring to know.’

  They finished the call, and the phone rang again a couple of minutes later.

  ‘Jake Morley speaking.’ An elderly lady on the other end.

  ‘Is that the plumber?’ He nearly dropped the phone with excitement.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Oh, good dear. I have water coming through my ceiling.’

  Jake wrote her name and address on the back of his hand, and when the call had finished, he punched the air. ‘Yes! Bingo! First job baby. Things are looking up.’

  ∞∞∞∞ The sack had been brought back inside. He’d quickly shovelled over the mud to cover the blood. It was too close this time. The floor in the kitchen was smeared. Stained red. An awful stench had started to fester in the house. His clothes were covered in it too. Even after they’d been washed. The first fly got it; rolled-up newspaper – splat. He hadn’t accounted for this many. He struggled to see, batting backwards and forwards. Buzzing. Lucky the front door had only been slightly ajar last night. He opened the cellar door and dropped the sack into it. Hugo was barking right beside him. He bent down. ‘I’m sorry, boy, but you nearly gave me away.’

  ∞∞∞∞

  Reynolds and Marsden arrived at the police station around the same time. It was his turn to grab the lattes on the way in. ‘Morning, Reynolds, there ya go.’

  ‘Diamond. Nothing short of it,’ she said as she grabbed her drink. She removed her coat and popped it on the stand. Marsden sipped his latte, burning the roof of his mouth, ‘Ouch. Shit.’ Some of it spilled from the cup.

  ‘Could we start looking into where we left off last night?’

  ‘Good with me.’

  ‘What did you think of him?’ She asked.

  ‘You mean aside from being a total weirdo?’

  She ran a check on the computer as soon as it booted up. Removing her notepad, Reynolds called up the police database. She inserted the name, Roger White. No file found. Then the address on Rectory Lane. Again, the same result.

  ‘Nothing.’ She looked at Marsden. ‘Do we pay him another visit?’

  Marsden thought about it.

  ‘On what grounds? We can’t go over without probable cause.’

  Reynolds chewed it over. He was right. They could easily be done for harassment. She hadn’t been in Ramsbury long. When Marsden followed, she had a hard job convincing the chief to let them work together assuring him they were only partners in work, nothing else. He warned them both the force didn’t take kindly to officers partnering up. The main reason being if, God forbid, a fatality happened, and they were both killed in the line of duty. Kids left without parents.

  The other reason was a risk of bullying. Yes, it was a great place to work. Pension. Security. But there was always the smart arse. A Jack the lad, making a name for himself at the expense of others. They became best friends having worked a case together. A serial killer who preyed on the sick and vulnerable. He’d murdered a string of elderly residents in two care homes. He had been caught once but had slipped the net. They had worked tirelessly until the evil bastard had been caged and had received the highest honour possible, by the chief commissioner for outstanding bravery. Reynolds looked at Marsden. ‘No harm in taking a drive by now is there?’

  ∞∞∞∞ Jake was just finishing up having found a leak under the bath caused by the trap working lose. Mrs Silverman had laid out a tray next to him with tea served in a small, China cup and an array of biscuits. Hobnobs, ginger nuts, and chocolate fingers – which he hadn’t had for years and a couple of Irish biscuits, Kimberley’s. Once finished, he filled the bath, let it go and tested everything. Satisfied, he gathered his tools in one hand and balanced the tray in the other.

  ‘OK, all done, my love.’

  Mrs Silverman clasped her hands together.

  ‘Oh, thank you so much, Ken.’

  Jake didn’t correct her. He didn’t want to seem rude.

  ‘I’m on my own see. My Eddie used to do all the manly things around the house.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Silverman.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It was so long ago now. I’m just glad of the company. You’ll have another

  tea dear, two sugars.’

  ‘Go on then.’ He could feel it may be a long morning.

  ∞∞∞∞ Kate woke and noticed the time. It was gone nine thirty. Sean was up and already racing up and down the hall. She pushed the cover back, got up and looked in the mirror. Her hair was like candy floss. All she needed was the stick. Wine lips. That dark
stain across her teeth. A smidgen of mascara cast shadows around her eyes. Her head was throbbing. One of those you feel no amount of tablets will clear up. She didn’t like what stared back at her. Kate headed into the bathroom and ran the shower. She stood at the window looking out the front. A police car was slowly making its way down the lane. Something she never expected around these parts. She shivered and jumped in the shower.

  ∞∞∞∞ Jake arrived home around ten thirty. He made his way into the kitchen and was pleased to see his wife and son out in the garden. Kate was sipping a coffee and Sean riding a small buggy up and down the path. Her hair was wet; she had a thick nightgown around her and flip flops. Jake noticed how incredibly hot she looked.

  ‘Hey, babe, how was your run? I was getting a little worried.’

  ‘I had my first job.’

  ‘No way? That’s excellent news.’

  He grabbed a glass of water from the fridge and perched up next to her. He was tea’d out. ‘So, how did it go?’

  He explained the morning and charging her half the bill, being his first customer and all.

  ∞∞∞∞ Jake knew he needed to talk to Kate, but it never seemed like the right time. They’d only just moved and already, so much had happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Knowing what he saw. Then the officer rang him this morning, saying they had found nothing. Had he imagined it? No. He knew he hadn’t. How was the garden empty?

  The guy at the gates last night. He worried that Punchy might have seen him. Followed him home. Knew where he lived. Were his family in danger? Was he out there now? Watching? Waiting?

  ‘Jake?’

  ‘Sorry. What?’

  ‘Did you book anywhere for tomorrow night?’

  ‘Shit. No.’ He walked inside and grabbed the laptop.

  ‘What do you fancy?’ He asked.

  ‘What’s the choices?’

  He searched restaurants in Ramsbury.

  ‘Pizza?’

  ‘No, not romantic enough.’

  ‘I can ask them to set candles out,’ he laughed and continued searching. He found a Mexican

  restaurant with a list of great reviews. Again, Kate declined. He came across the Indian. ‘Ramsbury Tandoori?’

  Her face lit up.

  ‘Now you’re talking.’

  Jake carried on reading, Come and dine at the best curry house in town. We have an extensive menu, serving dishes from around the world. Our chefs use only the freshest ingredients to make your night one to remember. Further down the page, the food served, pictures, reviews, and a note to book before arriving.

  ‘Right. I’ll call and reserve a table.’

  ∞∞∞∞

  The following evening, Jake called the babysitter. He wanted to make sure she was still coming and had the address. ‘It’s the house halfway down Rectory Lane with the big wooden gates.’ She clarified the taxi was booked and that she’d be arriving around seven.

  ‘Great. Thank you. See you then.’

  Sean had already had his bath and was in the kitchen munching on a bowl of strawberries.

  ‘Jake, we need these boxes shifting.’

  ‘Right. I’m on it.’ It was the last of the clutter from the move. There were four of them. Labelled as odds and sods. Jake saw that as junk. ‘Where do you want them?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. We haven’t got the room for them down here. Stick them in the loft for now.’

  He grabbed one of the boxes and placed it on his shoulder. At the top of the stairs, he placed the box on the floor and pushed the hatch of the loft with the metal stick. It released with a clunk and slid open. The ladder came down with ease, and Jake unclipped the sliding bolts to bring it down to the floor. He balanced the box while climbing the ladder. Jake was pleased that the light still worked. It was huge. The storage space was incredible. Thick wooden beams played a part in the roof’s structure. Loads of headroom. It would be perfect for an extension one day. A loft room. Jake had always wanted one of them. His own man-cave. Pool table. One armed bandit. His and Sean’s escape for the footy. Flat screen, maybe even a pinball machine. He’d tried to get Sean into football several times, but he wasn’t interested. Kate always said to let him decide. If he doesn’t like it, fine. Jake pulled the box to the end of the room. He fought the cobwebs as he moved. It was ice cold up there. He could see his breath. Another job on the list. As he got to the back, he placed the box in the corner. As he crouched, he noticed there was an old video recorder there. One of the first models to come out back in the eighties. He remembered them well. You pressed a button, and the top slowly rose open. Then a black rectangle video tape would be inserted. Often, if played too much, the stringy coil would work loose. That would be the end of it. Jake even remembered the first ever film he and his dad watched on theirs: An American Werewolf in London. He rooted around some more, finding the cables in a bag next to it. Also, inside, was a DVD. Jake blew the dust off the top and slid it out of its cover. The title struck him, Our home.

  ∞∞∞∞ They still had a few hours before the babysitter arrived. Kate was sat in the living room with Sean watching a Disney film. He showed little interest and was running around the room. ‘Where do you get the energy little man?’ Kate asked, not expecting an answer.

  Jake came down all excited. He showed Kate the DVD. She held it up, seeing the title. ‘Wow. Where did you find that?’ He placed it down by the telly and continued to set it up. The smart telly instantly tuned in. A grey screen appeared with white noise. Jake slid it into the player and was shocked to see it working. A title came up. Our Home by the Prescotts. A gap of around twenty seconds and then a man appeared. It was grainy. The sound cut in and out in places. He announced his name. ‘I’m Mark Prescott. This is our film.’

  ‘No way, Jake! The people who lived here before us.’ Kids were running around in the background. It went blank for a minute and then a woman appeared.

  ‘Go on, love. Just say who you are.’

  ‘Is it recording?’

  ‘Yes, just say your name.’

  Laughter could be heard.

  ‘I’m Julie Prescott. Erh, proud mother of Tim and Shauna.’ The two children were jumping in the background trying to be seen. The tape jumped to the garden. Their garden. They saw the bench they had sat on that morning.

  ‘It must be pretty recent then,’ said Jake. The only difference they could make out was a slide. The children had some friends over. They were queuing in line waiting impatiently.

  ‘It’s my turn, Maddie. You’ve already had a go.’

  ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘I’m not your friend anymore.’

  A ball was being kicked around. The mother was sat watching. Mr Prescott filming. The tape again went blank. A minute later, the living room. The fire crackling. Kate noticed it was exactly the same decor. Silence. The father filming them watching telly. His wife was asking him to turn it off. Covering her face. ‘Do your dance.’ Directed at the children.

  ‘Dad. Come on.’

  ‘Mark. Turn it off. They’re not dancing.’

  White noise. ‘Shit.’ Jake noticed the time. ‘The sitter will be here soon. I need a shower.’ He turned the recorder off, removed the DVD, placing it under his arm and raced upstairs to get ready.

  ∞∞∞∞ He returned half an hour later to find Kate was in the living room with Jessica, the babysitter. ‘This is my husband, Jake.’

  ‘Hello, good to meet you,’ he said.

  ‘Likewise.’ Kate noticed how dashing Jake looked. Effortless. He wore smart jeans, a tight

  white cotton shirt and smart shoes. He was clean-shaven, and his aftershave smelt of lemon with a mix of vanilla.

  ‘OK. Do you have everything you need?’ He asked.

  ‘Yes. Don’t worry. Have a good time.’

  The taxi rang on the buzzer. Kissing Sean, they left, shouting instructions to Jessica to call if she needed them.

  ∞∞∞∞

  The Indian restaurant was righ
t in the heart of the village. It was a busy Friday night with youngsters crammed into the few pubs scattered along the High Street. Couples walking hand in hand. It had a good feeling about it. The taxi pulled up outside the restaurant, Jake paid him, and they headed in. Bollywood music played softly in the background. Half of the tables were already taken as a waiter showed them to their seats and took their drinks order. Jake had a pint of lager and Kate a large red wine. ‘This is nice,’ she said as they made themselves comfortable. Jake needed to talk to her. It was now or never. She had to know what had happened over the last few days. How do you like the place now we’ve been here for a week? Oh, did I mention? The old guy on the road. He was right to warn us. The house at the top of the lane. The argument. Screams. The dead body in the pit. Punchy Man is coming. He’s gonna get us, Kate. Knows where we live. Sean’s seen him. You will too. Bang. The Bubble. Explosion.

  ‘Jake.’

  ‘Yes, babe.’

  ‘What are you ordering?’

  ‘Sorry. I was miles away.’

  The waiter returned, and they told him what they would like to eat. He looked at them after he’d finished writing. ‘I know you, don’t I?’ Kate looked up at the waiter.

  ‘I’m not sure. We’re new here.’

  ‘Where have you both come from?’

  ‘North London,’ she said.

  ‘But I grew up on the east side. I used to eat a lot in Brick Lane.’

  ‘That’s it. I worked there years ago. I never forget a face.’

  Kate studied him. She didn’t recognise the waiter. He went back to the kitchen to give the order to the chefs.

  ‘Wow. That’s impressive. I haven’t been to Brick Lane since my early twenties. How the heck did he remember me?’

  ‘Who wouldn’t,’ Jake returned. ‘Kate. I need to talk to you.’

  The front door opened and in stepped Pete and Laura. Their neighbours from down the lane. ‘Great,’ Jake thought to himself.

  ∞∞∞∞ Jessica was lying on the sofa in the living room. The fire had died out, but she couldn’t be arsed to add any more logs to it. She had taken to Sean; he had brought her his books and read them to him over and over again until he fell asleep on her lap. She followed the strict rules left for her. She brought him up, tucked him in, then returned to the sofa. She flicked through the channels and found herself watching rubbish for the sake of it. One of those thirty-minute makeover programs came on with a Z list celebrity trying to look ten years younger.