"Echoes" by Andy Holberry

Echoes

by Andy Holberry

“And here is the second floor.”

He swept his arm out, encompassing the next floor; open-plan, unusual for a property like this one.

“Three bedrooms.”

They dutifully popped heads around frames to see inside.

Not bad.

Mike nodded his approval.

Behind him Brenda looked on impassively.

“The biggest has the master bathroom, and the other two…connected with the second.”

The agent opened doors so they could walk through.

Mike was happy with the way it was going.

The house had been on the market for months. He was surprised nobody had snapped it up yet.

There had to be something the agent wasn't telling them.

He decided to ask the question he knew they were all thinking.

“What's the catch?”

The agent's smile dipped a little; an action that happened so quickly, Mike couldn't be sure he saw it at all.

“I'm sorry? Catch?”

The smile was back, full wattage.

Forced.

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “You know? What happened here? Price is very good for the property? There's always a catch.”

The agents chuckled quietly.

“Oh nothing untoward I assure you.

I am obliged to answer any question that you ask… to the best of my knowledge.”

Mike frowned.

That last part. The phrase sounded strange to him. He would see how truthful the guy was by the end of the tour.

They were headed back to the stairs when they passed another door.

Strange Mike thought. 

Was there a door there before?

“Where does this go?”

The agent hummed low in his throat and turned. 

That's when the smile slipped from his face.

“Oh, that's nothing. Just a locked door; an entrance to the attic.”

Mike's head tilted.

“The house was listed as two floors only. There was no mention of an Attic?”

He could see the agent trying to think of something to say. Could almost hear the cogs and gears spinning in his head.

In the end he saw a resignation cross the man's face.

“The advertisement was right, the house does, in fact, only have two floors. But.”

He paused for a moment.

“But, sometimes, it doesn't.”

He looked at Mike and the man looked straight back.

“What the hell does that mean?”

The man had lost all his swagger, looked five-years older.

He walked to the door and gently, almost cautiously reached out to touch it as if to prove to himself it existed.

His fingertips stopped just short and he bunched them into a fist.

“When the house was built, it originally had 3 floors. There was a fire, you see?

The owner and his wife…both their children were up in the Attic. The door slammed and they became trapped..”

He looked at the door as if he could see through it.

“Relatives rebuilt but only up to this floor.

From the outside you will only ever see two floors. But this.” He indicated the door with a twitch of his head. “It comes back now and again.”

He turned and looked at the couple.

“It sounds crazy. But  as long as you don't try and open the door, it just comes and goes. Nobody is any the wiser.

It's just a door.

It doesn't need to be opened.”

Some composure came back to him then.

“Anyway, we have no key. The door is locked and we've never been able to open it.”

His shoulders slumped a little with the truth, knowing he had lost this sale.

“I'll see you out.”

Turning at the stairs to leave, he stopped as Mike's hand reached out and rested on his shoulder.

A quick look to his wife who offered a small nod.

“We’ll take it,” he said.

***

Brenda stood facing the wall, waiting.

She had been there at the same time every day for the last week.

Waiting, always waiting.

“Anything?”

Mike appeared behind her, a cup of coffee in his hand.

Slowly she shook her head.

He sighed.

“It'll come back. You know how much we can make if we document this thing.”

It wasn't a question, more a statement of fact.

He handed over the coffee and turned at the top step.

Her hand snaked out and brushed against his cheek.

He held it for a moment feeling the smoothness of her skin then went downstairs.

Brenda awoke, unaware that she had nodded off.

She sat bolt upright; the door was there.

It was open.

Beyond was a small staircase.

She stood and took a step towards them.

Stretching out a hand, her fingers went over a threshold that shouldn't be there.

Darkness lay at the top, obscuring the last couple of steps.

She took another pace forwards.

One foot inside.

Both.

She placed her foot on the bottom step, the smell of old burned meat coming to her nostrils.

She was certain she heard whispers drifting down from above.

She was not aware of the door as it closed silently behind her.

***

“Hon? Are you there?”

Mike stepped onto the landing. He saw the discarded coffee cup…the blank wall where the door had appeared.

”Babe?”

Still no answer.

He wandered through the rooms, checking everywhere until he realised what had happened.

He found himself back at the wall. 

Placing a palm against it, he thought he could feel lingering heat; traces of flames long gone.

He sat where his wife had been sitting and waited.

Waited for the door that wasn't there.

Waiting for it to come back.

Hoping his wife would be behind it when it did.