***
Lena had gone further than just loaning some bedding and had offered Edie a bed for the night, which she had accepted gratefully and had appreciated fully when the bathroom had also offered a shower. The squalor and oppression of Number 17 had been washed away in an instant under the pelting hot water, and a night between clean white sheets that oozed the aroma of fresh air and sunshine (even if it had come from a packet of soap powder) had eased any reservations that remained. With the help of Lena’s kindness Edie had the best night’s sleep she had experienced in an age.
She descended the stairs refreshed and reinvigorated, to be met by the smell of bacon, a fresh cup of tea and Sam, sitting at the table and smirking at her over his breakfast. ‘You moving in then?’
‘Not quite, just taking advantage of your mother’s hospitality and cadging a bed for the night. I’ll buy some bedding today and make do next door.’
‘You will not.’ Lena said as she placed a huge plateful of fried food in front of her. ‘You can stay here as long as you like, it’s the least I can do. Ignore him, he’s always been a sarky bugger. I would have offered you a room straight off, but I didn’t know quite how bad it was next door.’
‘I do really appreciate it Lena, it’s pretty depressing in there. I honestly don’t know where to start. I made a dent in the kitchen the day I arrived, but it’s hard to believe how much stuff they hoarded.’ Edie said, eyeing the breakfast and surprised to find that she actually had an appetite for it. She hadn’t bothered with breakfast for years.
‘I’ll give you a hand if you like, I’ve got nothing on today.’ Sam said.
‘Would you? It’s pretty bad mind, you might want to bring some rubber gloves.’ Edie said, mildly embarrassed by the comparison between Dolly’s home and Lena’s immaculate haven. Or was she embarrassed by the prospect of finding his company desirable? Not that it mattered. She wasn’t Rose. She was the annoying one.
‘No problem, I’ve seen worse. Finish your breakfast and we’ll crack on with it.’ he said, leaning over and stealing a piece of toast from Edie’s plate.
Lena frowned at him and poured them all more tea.
Edie led Sam into the dingy front room with its dusty tat and old-fashioned furniture. Ugly old cabinets bulged with kitsch china objects d’art, and bookshelves bowed under the weight of mouldering magazines and foxed hardbacks. ‘I thought we’d start in here, it seems the least sullied.’
Sam scanned the room. ‘Don’t you want to get the worst over with first?’
Edie shook her head. ‘I did that yesterday; the kitchen was an absolute biohazard. I probably should have donated it to science as a research project. Besides, I have to build myself up to face the rest of it.’
Sam smiled at her. ‘Where do you want to start?’
Edie patted a cushion, releasing a cloud of dust and fluff into the musty room. ‘With a dust mask?’ she suggested.
Sam laughed and pulled a huge handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Your wish is my command, I came prepared.’ He moved towards her and folded the fabric into a triangle, ‘Here, I’ll tie it on for you.’
Edie almost stepped back, but didn’t and submitted, grateful that the handkerchief was covering her glowing cheeks. She hadn’t been in such close proximity to a man in some time, and was ashamed of how she was reacting. At forty-six she thought she might be over such silliness but Sam had grown up rather nicely, better than she had. There was little of the gawky boy left in the man and his unexpected proximity was having a strange and unguarded effect on her.
‘There, sorted. You look like a bandit.’ he said, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking at her. He was at least six inches taller than she was and she was forced to look up.
‘What about you?’ Edie asked, aware that she was blushing like a loon under her mask.
‘Thought of that, I pinched this from Mum.’ He pulled a tea towel out from his back pocket and tied it around his own face. ‘There, ready for action. Shall I start with the books?’
Edie nodded and turned to one of the cabinets, glad of the distraction. ‘I’ll fetch some black bags. Most of this looks like rubbish.’
After an hour it looked like they had made more mess than they had started with. Sam was insistent that some of the books were worth money and he had pointed out that several of the ornaments that Edie had been throwing away with conscious malcontent might be worth something. ‘How am I supposed to tell the difference? It all looks hideous to me.’ she said. It did, but not just because it was old and tacky. Each piece felt like a few ounces of recrimination. For every ornament she held in her hands an equal weight of guilt settled in her heart. She had not cared about the people who had lived in the house; she had let them die. One by one, alone and neglected.
Sam climbed down from the chair he had been using to reach the top shelves and knelt down beside her. He took the ugly china spaniel from her hands and turned it over. ‘Look, this is Staffordshire, you can see by the mark.’ He pointed to the base of the object. ‘People collect this stuff, they pay good money for it.’
‘Lord knows why, it’s horrible.’ Edie said, grimacing at the creature’s painted gaze.
‘I agree, but horses for courses. Who are we to argue if people want to part with their cash? The object of the exercise is to raise as much money as possible, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose.’ Edie said. ‘You’re right, but I just want to get it over with as quickly as I can.’
Sam pulled off his impromptu mask and sat back on his heels. ‘I can see that, it’s not the most stimulating task, raking through other people’s belongings, is it? Why don’t you make us a drink and I’ll sort through the rest and pick out anything that might be worth keeping.’
Edie was glad of the reprieve, every time Sam came within a foot of her she started to feel like an overheated teenager and it was making her feel both stupid and uncomfortable. Even the smell of his damned handkerchief was making her feel queer, she pulled it down and let it settle around her neck while she tried to get a grip on herself and make the drinks.
When she returned to the front room Sam was pulling something out of the bottom of the china dog’s twin. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘I don’t know, it looks like a scarf. Someone must have poked it inside.’ He pulled the fabric out as if he were performing a low budget magic trick.
‘Who on earth would do something like that?’ she asked.
‘No idea, someone who wanted to hide something?’
‘Why hide a scarf?’ The strip of fabric lay creased and colourful on the dirty carpet.
Sam shrugged and picked it up. ‘Who knows? I hate to say it but your relatives were a strange bunch at the best of times.’
Edie took the scarf from him and threw it into the box where she had been collecting the smaller ornaments that she figured were probably worthless. She thought about the wooden heads upstairs wearing their scalped hair and of Dickie’s strange inventions. ‘Yep, they were an odd lot.’ She passed Sam his tea and wandered towards the window, moving the grimy net curtain aside to get a view of the street. The murder tourists were back, congregating around the drain, eager to hear its grisly history.
Sam came up behind her and draped an arm casually about her shoulder, leaning forward to follow her gaze. ‘I see the ghouls are out in force.’
Edie was acutely aware of the weight of his arm. ‘Doesn’t it bother you, that they do this right outside the house?’
‘Not a lot we can do about it, they are all legal, it’s a perfectly legitimate business. No one cares about the morality of it.’ he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze