The Quiet House

The Quiet House

  By Barnaby King

  Copyright 2013 Barnaby King

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law

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  www.polarbeargamer.wordpress.com

 

  I crossed the quiet London side street and approached the narrow house. Joe’s text had been quite insistent that I see him as soon as possible. I didn’t mind, it wasn’t a long trip across the city and I hadn’t seen much of him since he moved into his new flat. Joe and I had gone to university together but while I was still stuck at home he had managed to land himself a job with a post-production company less than a month after graduating. Since then, I had heard nothing from him.

  The flat was a narrow sliver of rooms attached to similar flats along a long stretch of road. A short flight of steps led up to the front door. I took them two at a time and knocked sharply on the slightly corroded lion’s head knocker. It was some time before Joe answered, peering out with a glance behind him, as though he were listening out for something.

  He ushered me inside with only the smallest of greetings and shut the door quickly behind me. I gave him an appraising look. His dark hair was messy and he somehow managed to look even skinnier than he used to. There was a layer of stubble on his face and his eyes were oddly puffy. I tried to ignore his dishevelled appearance and look over the flat. It was the first time I’d seen it and I said as much.

  “Come on through to the living room.” Joe said, apparently ignoring my slightly hurt tone. He led me through the little corridor and into a living room, which was cosy despite its stained wallpaper and patchy carpet. The furniture had a very old fashioned design and looked well used. Joe sat on the chair and offered me the sofa.

  “Are you ok, Joe? What’s up?” I asked, taking my seat. Joe took off his glasses and started cleaning them with great diligence, a nervous habit of his.

  “It’s complicated.” He began. “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken recently. I’ve been having some trouble.”

  My heart sank. What sort of trouble could he mean? Before I could ask he was standing up. “Would you like some tea? I think we might be some time.”

  I agreed, slightly annoyed at the delay to his explanation. I asked him if I could use his toilet. I noticed a slight pained look on his face but nevertheless he took me to the room beside front door.

  While I relieved myself I couldn’t help but notice a faint but irritating hum in the bathroom. I thought initially that it might be the bare light bulb but I could hear it even after I’d washed my hands and turned out the light. The boiler then, it must be somewhere nearby.

  We reconvened in the living room, Joe putting two cups of tea down onto a glass table between the sofa and chair with a little clink. We sipped the boiling hot drinks in silence for a moment before Joe, cupping his hands around the cheap, white mug, began to tell his story.

  “I know there’ll be bits of this that don’t make sense, so just let me tell the whole thing. I don’t want to be rude and say ‘don’t interrupt’ but... don’t interrupt. Sorry, but this is important. I started work about three weeks ago and I’m really enjoying myself there, I really am. I wanted to move out of my parents’ house as quickly as possible, it’s a much better location here and, you know, independence. I was really lucky in finding this place as quickly as I did. It’s not amazingly cheap but I knew that I’d never get anything particularly cheap in London.

  “The guy who showed me around didn’t seem to know much about it other than where the rooms were and that it was currently empty. But it suited me just fine so I took it. I spoke with the agency and before long I had the keys and all my stuff outside in boxes.

  “Mum and dad helped me move so there wasn’t a problem there. Mum was worried about me living alone but she was going to overreact whatever I did so I just shrugged it off. It’s a really quiet house. You just can’t hear the main road. I don’t know how it does it but it just seems to block the sound. It was actually tricky at first. I’m not used to it being this quiet. I kept hearing this hum too and I didn’t know if it was the lights, the boiler, or just my ears playing tricks because of the silence.

  “I started to get into the habit of leaving radios or my music on just to have some noise in the place. The first few days I wasn’t about enough for it to really be a problem, what with work. But when the weekend came I started having some… difficulties.”