“Good morning, my darling. I've got the kettle on,” Rose called to her. She smiled and disappeared into the darkness of the house.
Harmony approached the garden gate and pushed it aside as she stepped through. At first glance the garden looked like a wild meadow. The fenced area was filled with a garbled patchwork of flowers; bluebells, lavender, poppies, roses, chrysanthemums and sunflowers to name but a few.
The staggering variety grew in scattered colonies; fighting for dominance. As she walked she discovered a plethora of strange objects lay discarded in the undergrowth; most of which looked broken or damaged beyond any real use.
An overturned cauldron had rusted away to allow a yellow-flowered shrub to grow from its demise. Just beyond the stricken pot she located half a cart wheel. The wooden spokes were home to a rose bush, toe-sized thorns glistening in the sun.
Harmony shook her head. Why would anyone collect so much junk? She was still pondering the answer as she spotted a large oak tree in the corner of the garden.
“Ah ha, Meme I presume?” she noted.
The tree was host to a rather spectacular honeysuckle plant, each flower head in full bloom. The great oak loaned another of its gigantic bows to an ancient and rather dangerous looking swing.
With a knot at the bottom, the top wrapped several times around the branch, the swing had pretence of security. Harmony knew better than to trust appearance. The rope itself was green and black with mould. Even from across the garden it looked rotten and decidedly treacherous. This air of danger was added to by the patch of brambles covering the ground beneath it.
Harmony questioned the sanity of anyone wishing to swing on such an obvious death trap. However, she trusted that it had been a lot safer when Rose played on it as a girl.
She quickly traversed the rest of the path, unavoidably stepping on the pieces of smashed crockery that were violently strewn across the threshold. The variability of colour and pattern reminded her of flower petals scattered before a bride.
Harmony reached the empty doorway and tentatively entered the darkness of the cottage. Perhaps she wouldn’t have done so if she’d know what lay within
***
The dim light of the interior did little to hide the devastation she found. A floral-patterned sofa and accompanying armchairs lay ruined. Their frames had been smashed beyond repair. The once plump cushions were ravaged by mould and animals. The stuffing they once contained was strewn around the room to produce a nightmarish scene.
Torn books and smashed plates were spread across the filthy, shredded rugs. Harmony, gifted with a keen sense of observation, noted one thing; for a single person living alone in the woods Nova certainly had a lot of crockery.
Using her detective skills Harmony surmised that an intruder had been searching for something. The seeker had foraged through every cupboard, shelf, hidey hole, nook and cranny. Their search had been so thorough that no stone was left unturned.
It was clear to her that the house had been open to the elements for some time. She acutely discerned this due to the rampant ivy which had grown up from beneath the floor boards. The invasive foliage, its nimble stems clinging onto the mould-sullied walls, had already instigated a claim on the unoccupied house.
All of these things were bad enough but the most horrific thing that caught Harmony's attention was the graffiti painted on the walls. Huge runic-symbols and bizarre words, scrawled in child-like handwriting, covered any patches that the ivy hadn't monopolised. Worst of all the words were painted in what looked like blood.
It was then that Harmony wished her great aunt had left the cottage to someone else. “Love my home and treat it well. Do this and I promise you will be protected from the dangers ahead,” she recalled from the letter. “Not very well by the looks of things,” Harmony muttered as misery took hold of her.
“Bit of a mess isn't it? Never mind, though. It’s nothing we can't clean up,” Rose encouraged. Her head appeared in the doorway that led into the kitchen. She smiled and beckoned for Harmony to follow her.
Harmony carefully picked her way through the debris and entered the heart of the home. The sun, bright and revealing, streamed in through the glassless window frames that dominated one long wall.
Rose had already begun to tidy the mess. What remained of the large dining table stood in the centre of the flagstone floor. The two surviving chairs accompanied it. Next to the cracked sink Rose had swept up a pile of broken glass, spilt spices and several other ingredients that looked suspiciously like dried frogs. Amidst the detritus torn books peppered the bulk.
“What’s going on with the weather?” Harmony asked.
“Oh it’s a gorgeous day, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Harmony agreed. “It’s a beautiful summer’s day. But this is spring, not summer.”
“Are you really complaining that the weather is too nice?” Rose commented shaking her head.
“Not complaining, just observing,” Harmony countered. “I suppose the heatwave may explain why all the flowers are in bloom. Though, it is exceedingly odd all the same.”
“Honestly, you’re never happy. Maybe I should start calling you Goldilocks.”
Harmony didn’t respond. Her eyes drawn to another symbol, etched in blood, on the wall. The peculiar shape was formed of three, woven bands which encircled a large paw-print.
“This is unbelievable. Who did all these scribblings? Who would come all the way out here to graffiti an old woman's house?” Harmony wondered aloud while she took a seat and sipped from the steaming-hot cup of Earl Grey tea Rose handed to her.
“I don't know love, but I hope they found what they were looking for. I don’t know what I’d do if they came back,” she worried, shuddering at the thought of defending the cottage from burglars.
Harmony looked around and made a mental note that nothing seemed to be of worth. In her opinion the intruders were welcome to take anything they fancied. She wouldn’t stop them. With more thought she decided it might actually be helpful if they did come back and take some of the junk away.
“Any ideas what these words and symbols mean?” Harmony said, pointing a finger at one of the offending artworks.
‘WER IZIT’ was scrawled in huge letters on what remained of the chimney breast.
Rose scanned the area Harmony was pointing to, shrugging her shoulders and tilting her head in a thoughtful manner.
“No idea love. They don't seem to make much sense though do they? Then again when does gibberish ever make sense?”
Harmony sipped her tea again, trying to glean some logic from the chaos. All of a sudden a disturbing thought crossed her mind. The very idea made her skin crawl with unease.
“You don't think she died here do you? I mean this place looks like a murder scene.”
At this suggestion Rose froze, the tea cup pressed to her lips mid-sip, with only her eyes visible above the rim. Her gaze slowly moved from side to side checking for a potential killer, still lurking in the corner, waiting to pounce.
Rose shook her head. “No. Well. I hope not anyway. Besides, I’m very sensitive to those kinds of energies. I would have picked up on a negative vibe the instant I arrived. Also I’m sure the police would have sealed the house had she snuffed-it here.”
Rose said this in her reassuringly-omniscient way. Harmony heard the doubt in her tone. Clearly she was trying to convince herself more than anything else.
“Oh I just wondered if that axe-wielding man had anything to do with it,” Harmony joked.
Her words instantly shattered her mother’s calm demeanour and caused her to spit tea across the table. Rose quickly span round in her chair to see where Harmony was indicating.
“That's not funny, Harmony! My poor nerves,” Rose scolded. She stood up and snatched a rag to mop up the spillage.
Sodden, she threw the rag onto the heap of junk and put her hands on her hips. This was never a good sign. Rose tu
rned around and scowled at Harmony’s continued amusement. Her brow creased in frustration.
“Sorry Mum, but you should see the look on your face,” she said, apologetically. Her remorse was difficult to convey. Try as she might she just couldn’t force the smile from her lips.
“Apology accepted. Now, on that note, I’m going to try and find a shop, or something like one, in Bellflower. So why don't you stay here and start clearing the rubbish out,” Rose replied with a smile. “Now you should see the look on your face,” she continued with a laugh as she winked at Harmony and picked up the keys for the ambulance.
“You’re not serious. You want me to stay here...alone? What if I have an accident? Or...or I get crushed by something? Or...or the burglars come back? Or what if something happened to you? No-one would know I was here. You can’t leave me all alone. What if I have to defend the house from intruders? You’d never forgive yourself if I were savaged to death by wild animals. Do you really want that on your conscience?” Harmony warned in a panicked voice. She was desperately searching for valid reasons to go with Rose.
The thought of being here alone filled her with fear. She wished for the second time that Nova had left the cottage to some other unsuspecting, long-lost relative.
“I'm quite confident that you'll handle any interloper or ferocious beasts that come by. You are obviously very mature now and that should be rewarded with some extra responsibility,” Rose stated, tough her tone implied she was being sarcastic.
“If I get mauled to death you’re gonna feel so guilty.”
Rose adopted her ‘this is happening so don't even try’ manner. Harmony decided to not argue. Staying in the cottage was preferable tohaving another ‘go with the flow’ lecture.
Rose smiled and kissed her lovingly on the forehead. Then she turned and in seconds had swept out of the kitchen door.
Harmony heard her tutting and chattering to herself as she headed down the path. The swift exit, another of her mother’s characteristics, left her feeling annoyed. Rose really couldn’t take a joke.
Harmony sat alone in the dishevelled and tattered remnants of her unwanted inheritance.
CHAPTER 6
The death trap and the door
The picturesque hamlet of Bellflower resided at the mouth of a long, narrow valley. The village was dwarfed on both sides by the huge, forest covered mountains.
Bellflower was perched on the edge of a vast lake; the endless shimmer stretched off into the muted distance and the water’s calm mirror-like surface reflected the cornflower blue sky and verdant valley walls.
A little over forty houses made up Bellflower. A handful of the dwellings were sat along the lake edge and formed a petite dock where a few boats were moored. The rest of the village occupied a single street; aptly named Lone Road.
The houses along Lone Road were painted in co-ordinated colours. At the top, the buildings were white. These were followed by purple, blue, green, yellow, orange and finally red, at the lake’s edge.
The purple ambulance, which had never looked more at home, made its way down the street and parked outside one of the green buildings. Rose climbed out of the driver’s seat and locked the door before heading down the street to find a shop.
The lane was empty except for a man and woman who were dressed in matching raincoats. The couple were stooped over a map and loudly discussing which way they should go. Rose considered offering to help, though she quickly decided that her incredibly-sparse knowledge of the surrounding area may prove to be more of a hindrance. Besides, it was never a good idea to get involved in a lover’s quarrel.
Rose smiled and nodded at the lost couple as she passed by. The man stared at her in return with barely concealed distain. He did not rescind his glowering until she had ventured at least twenty feet away. Then he turned to the woman once again and continued their impassioned conversation.
The only shop in Bellflower was located at the harbour end of the street. After a short sweep round its cluttered shelves Rose emerged with heavy bags full of food and cleaning essentials. The thin, plastic carries hung from her arms threatening to burst.
As she made her way back to the ambulance she crossed the road to avoid the couple who were now talking to a rather rotund woman. The newcomer was dressed in a green waxed-jacket and tweed skirt. She had grey hair gathered into an immaculate bun on the top of her head. She did not look pleased as the man in the raincoat shook his head and disagreed with where she was pointing on the map.
Rose was so engrossed with the increasingly heated argument, which was rapidly escalating to the point of shouting, that she didn't see the man getting out of the little, green van. His door swung open and collided with Rose knocking her backwards. Her arms flailed in the air as she recoiled from the impact and she accidentally let go of the bags.
As the carrier bags sailed upwards they burst under the pressure of flight. Like highly domesticated fireworks each bag erupted into an explosion of sponges and milk, flour and eggs, toilet rolls and jam. Having reached the apex of their potential, gravity took over and the groceries began racing towards the ground.
Rose watched in horror as the contents of her bags descended toward her. She covered her face and curled into the foetal position, trying to protect herself as best she could, as she waited for the barrage of groceries to hit.
Something very heavy landed on Rose, covering her, as the first sounds of glass hitting the ground and shattering echoed down the street with a deafening crack. She let out a squeal of terror and curled up tighter under the heavy shelter.
After a few more crashes and bangs the noises subsided, but Rose stayed still.
“Are you OK?” a voice whispered softly into her ear.
“I think so,” she replied.
The weight lifted and revealed itself to be a handsome man. His strong, masculine face was youthful and line-free. Despite his youthful appearance it was his eyes, dark and framed with black lashes, which showed his true age and maturity. He was roughly the same age as her. His warm smile, easily as beautiful as Rose's, spread across his face.
“I'm so sorry for knocking you over. I just didn't see you...though I’m not sure how I could have missed such a beautiful woman. You sure you're OK?” he asked.
“You're bleeding!” Rose gasped breathlessly, sounding not at all unlike a Jane Austen character.
She thrust her hand into a pocket and removed a clean tissue. With a delicate touch she wiped the blood from his forehead and stared into his eyes; once again mesmerized by their depth.
Rose mumbled. “Actually, I think it might be ketchup.”
***
Harmony listened to the sound of the ambulance driving away. She looked around tentatively as the fear of being alone in the house mounted to an almost overwhelming degree. She wanted to run after her mother and beg to be taken along with her but pride would not allow her to behave like that. In truth it would be nice to have a break from Rose; she just wished it could have happened in more comfortable surroundings.
She decided to use a lesson her mother had taught her when she was scared at night: “Feel the fear for ten seconds...then do something about it,” was Rose's advice when she had woken from a bad dream.
With that in mind she sat and allowed herself to be scared for ten seconds. Then she summoned up her courage and shrugged off the bad feelings. Sitting here wasn’t going to make her feel any better. No, she needed a distraction from the icky and all-encompassing shroud that fear draped around her shoulders. She got to her feet and looked around for something to do.
“Well. I may as well start somewhere,” she said aloud, as she surveyed the devastated kitchen. She walked over to the big stone sink and, with some difficulty, wrenched open the little door beneath.
Inside she found a large shovel and an old rubber plunger. The plunger would be of little use until the sink was replaced but the shovel could at least help to gather some of th
e debris up. As she removed the shovel something glinted in the shadowed corner of the cupboard and caught her eye. She reached into the back corner feeling around for the object. Her hand touched something cold, round and hard. She gripped the ball shape and pulled it out.
In her hand was a small, golden doorknob. She turned it over and found two words delicately carved into the shining, metal surface; Latro Gradus.
Harmony stared at the words and shook her head. Nothing that had happened in the last two days had made any sense. The letter, the fog, the ruined cottage, the dream, the illiterate vandals...all of it was farcical.
So she was not at all surprised that there was a golden doorknob, with bizarre words scratched into it, hidden at the back of a cupboard in a derelict cottage.
“I guess that finding the door this opens will be a far better distraction than cleaning,” she said, to the empty room. Little did she know, the room wholeheartedly agreed.
***
Rose got to her feet and gave a coy smile to her saviour. She delicately extended her hand to meet his out-stretched one; a rush of excitement shared between them as their skin connected. Rose silently thanked The Universe for delivering her into this moment. She redoubled her thanks as she glanced at his free hand and noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.
“Joseph King. Nice to meet you,” he said.
“Rose Ryder. Nice to meet you too,” she replied, not wanting to let go of his hand but relinquishing it with a dazzling smile and a bashful flutter of her lashes.
Joseph smiled back and then bent down. He began to collect the salvageable groceries from the pavement. Rose, who practically floated down to the pavement, joined him and they soon had all the mess in one bag and the items that could be saved bundled into Rose's arms.
“I really am very sorry, for knocking you over I mean,” Joseph apologised again.
“It's fine. Don't worry about it. It's my fault really. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking,” she admitted, flipping her hair in a flirtatious manner. Despite her best efforts the hair-toss resulted in most of her hair covering her face.
“If there's anything I can do to make it up to you...”