Letters in the Attic Read online

  The removal van left halfway through the afternoon. I saw them off and then stood on the grass with my arms folded, looking up at this new stranger that I had to get to know. The house was slouching in the weak afternoon sun, its roof tiles heavy with moss, ivy and other climbers reaching up against the outside walls, like the earth was pulling it down to claim it. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Time to get up, I thought.

  Inside was a mess. Furniture stood oddly organized around the room, and some of the pieces belonged somewhere else, but at least the biggest pieces were at the right ends of the staircase. It saved me a whole lot of headache. I patted myself on the back for at least making sure they’d organized my bedroom the way I wanted. I needed a space like that where I could escape to when there was chaos everywhere else, and the boxes and things would take no time to sort out. It helped to travel light. The only disadvantage I saw now was that this big house was almost naked due to lack of furniture to fill up the space. More naked, it seemed, than when it was completely empty.

  The modern couches and end tables looked out of place now against the silvery wood, and took very little floor space. It had matched the previous house so well, but that, of course, had been since I’d fixed everything up properly. These old houses always made me think of puzzles that had some pieces missing. Or chewed on.

  The dining table and chair only took up half the space under the balcony’s overhang. It made me wish I had something dramatic like a buffet to fill up the space behind it. The few plants in pots were still all huddled together in the foyer, looking timid, almost afraid to claim a spot in a space that hadn’t been occupied for so long. How long had it been since someone lived here? I had been too sucked into the atmosphere, and into ignoring the likes of him, to ask Mr. Serious, who would of course never have offered such valuable information by himself.

  I tried to decide where to start first; and what was most important. The day was dragging on. With moves in the past, I’d always felt so on top of it all, with everything neatly organized and priorities straight: something to eat with my feet up after the chaos of the removal men, unpack the important boxes, arrange a comfortable living space. But the dull ache in my chest was still there. Damn you, Mike, for rendering me useless when I’ve always been good with my hands, efficient, tidy.

  The energy returned. I was angry now, and I could deal with anger. Sadness made me feel lethargic, but anger was best dealt with through hard work, and there was more than enough for me to take it out on.

  The kitchen was through a door that looked like the paneling at the foot of the stairs, and it was quite obvious it wasn't meant for the inhabitants, but rather for servants. I’d discovered it almost at the same time the men started bringing everything inside. Until then I’d been panicking about where to put the fridge if I didn’t have a kitchen. The door, of course, wasn’t meant to draw the eye.

  It was cold and unwelcoming inside, with a stone floor and counter tops, a darker grey than the front room and bedrooms, and without the silver touch to it. It seemed unforgiving and relentless, fighting any warmth with slate and somber colors. I knew straight away this was my least favorite room, and it was a pity because I enjoyed spending time baking. It was a good thing this wasn’t the room I saw when I saw the house first. It dampened the rest of it, labeled it wrong, and it would have tainted my perception of the rest of the place, which deserved every second chance it could get.

  An old hearth in the corner still had pieces of log in it. It was a good place to start. The only way to warm anything up was to kill the cold. After a bit of hunting I found the right boxes scattered across the house, and moved them into the kitchen where they belonged.

  I lit the fire and it crackled to life, orange flames dancing across the old wood, warming everything close by immediately. Someone had put the cooler box next to the back door, and I found the frozen lasagna, carefully prepared the night before.

  The modern double-door fridge was squeezed snugly into the space that had more recently been made in between the pantry and the back door, and I’d gotten one of the movers to screw brackets into the wall for the microwave. I felt quite proud about thinking of all these things, until I realized there was no power.

  It took some searching, but I ended up finding it in a storage space under the stairs, hidden by a paneled door the same way as the kitchen. It was easier now that I knew what to look for. It looked like everything was still intact, and when I flipped the main switch the house shuddered around me, and then came to life. With the power on, the light bulb hanging from the low ceiling also flickered on, and I looked around me. It looked to be a closet, with rails for coat hangers and a low shelf, for shoes, perhaps. A small pile of books lay in the corner, covered in dust. I went back to the angry kitchen and set my meal to defrost in the microwave. I opened a tap while I waited, and brown water spat and spluttered into the basin for a while before it turned into a clear trickle. With my finger under the little stream I counted, and after what felt almost too long it started getting warmer. That was a relief; I would have a warm bath tonight. A roof over my head, warm water and electricity; this was now officially home.

  I decided the kitchen needed some color therapy. One of the plants from the foyer had the same colored pot as the cabinets so I placed it on one of the counters. Bright green curtains to match worked around the windows, and with the log fire still happily crackling in the corner, the kitchen seemed a little more forgiving.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ian

  I stepped out of the bus onto the curb and started trudging home. Trudging was the perfect word. I was tired and in a foul mood, and the sun was almost completely hidden behind the horizon, casting long spiny shadows all over the show. That ridiculous woman insisted on meeting all the way on the other side of town, and my car was broken. Again. Fixing it had to be postponed; I just didn’t have that kind of money right now. I looked at my watch and my mood grew darker. I would have been home two hours ago if it wasn’t for stubborn clients. At least I’d made that sale; I would be paid a little commission for that and I could use the money.

  The porch light was off. It wasn’t meant to be off. It took me a moment’s fumbling to find the right key for the security gate, and it turned with a rusty click. The lounge was almost completely dark too. Where the hell was Will?

  In the kitchen the dishes were stacked, and fast food packets littered the little table where we ate our meals. Rubbish peaked out from underneath the lid on the bin.

  “Will!” I shouted.

  “I’m busy!” a muffled answer came back.

  “Now, Will!”

  I could hear his low mumbling, a bad habit of his, as he shuffled down the passage, and then his head popped around the door post. His hair was a mess.

  “What’s all this?” I pointed at the rubbish on the table.

  “Take aways.”

  “We don’t have money for this, Will.”

  “Butch bought us.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes, “I wish you would stop hanging out with that guy.”

  “Hey, you can’t choose your family but you can choose your friends.”

  That stung. Will was slouching against the door post, his hands deep in pockets. He looked almost bored. Almost, it was a good act.

  “Anything else?” he asked, looking at me with defiance.

  “No, go away.” I turned my back to him and heard him shuffle back down the passage. Laughter rolled from the bedroom a moment later. I didn’t feel up to a fight tonight, not while Will had friends over. He was a different kid around them, trying to prove himself and be all big about it. He didn’t have any sense when it came down to it. I would have to sit down with him later, and have another talk. It had been happening often lately, and I didn’t like it. We got stuck so often now. I missed the days when we were just brothers, and responsibility didn’t get in the middle of that.

  I took my blazer off and neatly folded it over the back of a chair, then rolled up m
y sleeves. Someone was going to have to clean this place up, and it wouldn’t be Will tonight.

  I wished Will would get a job already. He was old enough, 19, and we needed the money, and we weren’t getting by. It wouldn’t be anything grand, just enough to help us get through. There just wasn’t money for a proper education, not enough money for proper dreaming. But he could do something like I was doing. Be an estate agent. I’d managed to get into it without any qualifications, and it wasn’t a waste of time, I’d been paying the bills all these years, haven’t I? But I knew Will would object. It wasn’t cool enough. He needed something that would give him a title, gain him some respect around the hoodlums he hung out with. I tried to imagine what exactly that would be.

  My thoughts skipped back to the car. It was still the old one dad drove. I didn’t know what was wrong with it, but I’d have to get it to a real mechanic. Friends only knew so much. I pulled open the fridge door. It was empty. No wonder the guys got take away. The familiar iron fist of worry clutched at my innards again. I really needed to figure something out for money. I wasn’t getting paid until the end of the month and that was over three weeks away. I’d just gotten paid the other day, but it was all gone already. It was never really enough. Will needed to start helping out if we wanted to stay in this house. It had been bad to lose the one mom and dad had bought, it would be terrible to lose this one too. There wasn’t anywhere else we could go. Will always seemed to have money for things though. He kept on telling me Butch bought it, but I’d checked his wallet the other night, and he’d had cold hard cash in there. It had taken self-control not to take some of it, but I wasn’t sure where he’d gotten it. I didn’t like to think about it. And taking it from him wouldn’t make my any kind of good.

  I went to the lounge but ended up staring at the television. I never followed what happened on the screen anyway. How would it be if mom and dad were still here? They could be the ones dealing with Will then, and losing sleep over where he spent all his time and where he got all that money. I was tired of having to carry it all, and Will didn’t even seem to care. He might have been studying now, gone out to games with friends, picked up a nice girl instead of that good-for-nothing Butch he kept going out with. Will was a good kid.

  I wished I could have given him more; wished I could have given him better. But this was all there was. Didn’t he notice I was missing out on my life too? I would have been much better off than this if things hadn’t been the way they were. An architect, maybe. That old place I’d shown to the ‘crazy’ really was something special. I’d been showing it for months, and never had the money to buy it. That old place that sat on the grass, proud even under all the filth. I didn’t think anyone in their right mind would consider it; so many people took one look and turned it down. It was a mess, a wreck, and it needed so much attention. That woman with her silly skirt and that mass of red fire on her head, she’d looked at that house like she was in an architectural wonder, like I’d shown her around one of the upstate houses and not the groaning pile of planks it really was. Her eyes had been all light green and dreamy. Well, until she looked at me. Then it turned a little stormy. She was an artsy type. Crazy.

  Will let out his friends after midnight. There were three; I didn’t recognize two of them. They all looked like they were trouble and I didn’t like it. I wished he would come to his senses. He turned around after locking up, looked at me like he only saw me now, and shrugged.

  “Sorry about the dishes,” he said.

  “I can’t do it all by myself Will.”

  “I know. I said I was sorry, okay?”

  “Come sit down, kiddo. I’ve hardly seen you lately. What’s been happening?”

  “You’re the one working all the time.”

  “We need the money.”

  “Why is this always about money?” Will’s eyes were dark in the dim light from the lamp.

  “It’s not about money, I’m just trying to have a chat, catch up a bit.”

  “You said we need money.”

  “Just because you talked about me working all the time, which, by the way, I can use some help with. You need to start looking for a job.”

  “Doing what? Huh, Ian? I’m not going to be a waiter in some slum just so you can keep tabs on me.”

  “This is not about keeping tabs on you. Your being irresponsible isn’t even being discussed right now. We need the money, and you’re doing nothing to get it. I’m not going to kick you out, because you’re my brother, but you’re old enough to lift your ass and help me out.”

  “I won’t do something I hate!” He was shouting now.

  “Well what do you think I’m doing every day?” I was now shouting too . “I didn’t lie in bed and dream of selling great houses to rich people and come back to a slum, you know. This was not my idea of a happy ending. But unfortunately someone had to look after you, and even though you’re not my favorite person in the world right now, you’re my brother. So you’re just going to have to suck it up with me in this little hell hole until the sun comes up for us one day.” I got up. I wasn’t going to shout at him all night, again. I reached my door and seethed, “And wash the damn dishes next time while you’re at it.”

  I slammed my door like an unruly adolescent, and let the darkness envelope me. I tried to calm my breathing down; my chest was heaving, and all sorts of emotions that I didn’t like started bubbling towards the surface. I fought to push them away, I couldn’t break now. Moments later I heard Will shuffle past the door to his own bedroom, and his door slammed too. We were like little kids sometimes, fighting and then being sent to our rooms, sulking. But no one was there to banish us to our rooms anymore. No one was there to bring us together after we’d calmed down and force us to fix it, so that we could play again the next day like nothing had ever threatened the bond between us. No, it was just me and Will now, left to sort out the mess by ourselves .

  The inside of my eyelids colored bright red, and when I opened them the sun fell directly into them through the mesh curtain in front of my window. I could never sleep in after sunrise; my body was just programmed that way. I could, however, lie in for a couple of minutes, and I dozed for a bit, relishing the opportunity to relax. And then the fight we had last night crept back into my memory and brought feelings along with it that pushed down on hard my chest, no matter how hard I pushed back. I got up, and made the bed.

  In the kitchen, Will was already at the table with a bowl of cereal. He looked up when I came in, and swallowed.

  “Hey,” he said casually.

  “Morning,” I answered, not making eye contact. I picked up the cereal box and poured the last of the contents into a bowl. “We’re out of cereal now too. It will be a while before I get paid again.” I kept my eyes on my cereal. Why was I the one acting like I’d been wrong? I hated fights.

  “Yeah. Uhm… I guess I can see if I can make a plan, maybe get some groceries into the house.”

  I looked up at him, trying to gauge his change in attitude.

  “Hey, don’t give me that look. And don’t expect anything fancy, I mean like bread and eggs maybe, you know, to pull us through.” Will looked away, uncomfortable.

  “That will help. Thanks.”

  I sat down at the table and poured milk. We sat there in silence, our chewing irregular. It was almost pleasant for a while.

  “So…” Will broke the silence, “made a sale then huh?”

  “Yeah, finally. Big place on the other side of town. Nice.”

  “So I was wondering… you know that old house you were telling me about? Butch and I are starting up a sort of business, only beginning stages, of course, but we wanted to know if we could use that place for meetings and stuff.”

  “This is the first I’m hearing of it? What business are you starting?”

  “It’s a sort of… delivery thing.”

  “Delivering what?”

  “Ah, we’re still working on that. So what do you say?”

  “The old ho
use has been sold. Why don’t you guys do the meetings here?”

  Will’s face went a little pale.

  “What do you mean the old house has been sold? I thought you said no one wanted it. You complained about it for months.”

  “I know, but I found a buyer. A week or so ago. That’s where my last paycheck came from. You can have your meetings here, I won’t mind. Your friends are always hanging out here anyway.”

  Will didn’t answer. He looked at the milky slush left of his cereal, pushing it around in the bowl with his spoon. I waited for a moment, and then shrugged and rinsed my bowl in the sink.