The author t j blake, p.1
The-Author T. J. Blake, page 1
T. J. Blake was born in Guildford, England and
is currently living in Surrey.
The Author is Blake’s second novel.
His first novel is Endurance.
To keep updated and find out more about T. J.
Blake, visit his personal blog page:
http://tjblakeauthor.wordpress.com/
The Author
T. J. Blake
Copyright © 2014 T. J. Blake
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1492930202
ISBN-13: 978-1492930204
The Author
The Move
Today’s the day, the big day, the move.
It’s finally arrived. Here I am, with only my
rucksack of clothes and my laptop bag. I
begin making my way up the drive, trudging
along the dust smothered gravel path. The
disturbed dust creates a haze that hovers an
inch above the crunching gravel and clings to
my brown leather shoes.
The bricks are dark red; the polished windows
catch my attention but the reflection of the
sun shines straight into my eyes. I look away
from the glare, to the sparkling maroon door
in the porch.
As I stand on the slope in front of my new
home, I shuffle on the spot, looking at my
new surroundings - a quiet cul –de- sac in
Surrey called ‘Mulberry Lane’.
I look around and spot the house opposite
mine which is painted white. The lawn looks
well-maintained, as do the bushes and the ivy
which grows around the outline of one of the
upstairs windows. A black Audi sits on the
patchy wet concrete drive.
To the left is another house, similar to the
first. Next to that, is the last house at the end
of the road, which looks smaller than those
that surround it. Its lawn is overgrown, the
windows are stained by green mould and the
curtains look like they’re kitchen tea towels.
I look away from the grimiest house in the
cul-de-sac and turn to examine the other
houses on the slope alongside my new home.
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They all look the same as mine; same bricks
and same architecture.
To my right; the trees muffle the sounds of a
park. The swings creak and children giggle,
accompanied by an occasional roar of laughter
from adults.
The house to the right of mine looks empty,
with no movement within and no car on the
drive. I guess they’re away on holiday.
My surroundings are different to what I’m
used to. My wife, Tanya, and I, and our two
children, Sammy and Alex - used to live a few
miles from here. That house was much
bigger, with an extra bedroom, conservatory
and a swimming pool. It was also surrounded
by a seven-foot wall with electric gates at the
front. Obviously I don’t have that here, which
makes me feel uncomfortable and slightly
insecure.
As I turn to enter, I hear a noise inside. I
pause to listen again. Silence. I take the key to
the front door from my pocket and slowly
unlock the door. I gently push it, which creaks
the more it opens.
Then I listen again; nothing. I shrug it off and
step inside, the house is freezing.
I silently close the door; place my rucksack
and laptop on the floor and begin to look at
the layout of the house.
To my left is the dining room and through
the doorway I spot a wooden table with six
chairs.
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Directly in front of me are stairs with a door
on the side, which leads down into the
basement.
To the left of the staircase is the kitchen and
opposite is the entrance to the garage. The
décor in this open hallway and in the sitting
room looks like it hasn’t been changed in
years. The ornaments, chairs and tables are all
old-fashioned, wooden and varnished, just like
the floor.
A forty – something man used to lived here, I
can never remember his name. He must’ve
liked his antiques.
I step cautiously on the tips of my toes as I
continue my tour around the house. I poke
my head round the sitting room door but all I
see is a green sofa, an armchair and a TV in
the corner of the room.
I go back to the front door, put the latch on
and lock it. If anyone’s in here they’re not
escaping without a fight.
I head towards the garage, it’s locked. Surely,
no one’s gona be in there then?
As I make my way to the kitchen, the door
under the stairs catches my attention. It’s
standing ajar. It creaks and I stare as I walk
slowly towards it. The handle is cool to the
touch. I yank open the door and for a minute
I could’ve sworn a shadowy figure appeared in
front of me. It disintegrates into thin air. I
step under the stairs and look down at the
wooden stairs that lead into darkness. My
body feels numb with fear as my eyes search
the shadows. The hairs on the back of my
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neck stand up. I do not like the feeling of this
basement; it could be a good place to film a
horror movie.
I back out and shut the door firmly. It latches
and I step back. I stare at the door handle,
waiting for it to move and the door to fly
open, but it doesn’t. It’s funny what the mind
can do.
I open it with more confidence this time. I
stand at the top of the stairs for a moment
and then walk down. I stare straight into the
darkness and it feels like its staring back at
me. I look at my feet and step cautiously
down to the fifth step from the bottom. Deja
vu strikes, it feels like I’ve done this loads of
times before.
I spot a light switch to my right, I press it and
wait for the lights to flicker on and reveal the
basement. My nerves simmer down and I can
breathe easier now I can look around at the
layout and see what’s in here. I go down the
last few steps and walk into the centre of the
dusty atmosphere. As I step onto the
concrete, there’s that sense of familiarity
again. It feels as if I’ve been here before, done
this before. I’ve only been down here once,
and that was when I viewed the house.
Machinery hangs on the back wall opposite
the stairs, and to the left is a metal stand with
more machinery, like tools and books on
mechanics. The rest of the basement holds
old toys that are covered in dust and a rocking
horse that sits in the corner, casting a shadow
on the wall. Small bikes on the ground have
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stabilisers still attached. There’s a bucket of
toys with a small brown teddy bear sitting on
the top, staring at me. One eye and an ear are
missing. Its paws rest either side of it as it sits
upright, its eye staring into mine. There’s a
pink plastic table under the wooden stairs,
with four pink plastic chairs placed around it.
As I look around at my surroundings, I hear
footsteps from above. I freeze where I’m
standing and hold my breath. I can hear a
faint whistling sound, like a kettle being
boiled. I look up from the bottom of the
stairs but I can’t see anyone.
I walk out of the basement, switching the
light off as I walk past. When I reach the top,
I shut the door firmly behind me.
The temperature is so different up here, it’s
so much colder. I hope the central heating
kicks in quickly. Standing outside the kitchen
door, I listen carefully but only hear the kettle
continuing to whistle.
I gently push open the door and poke my
head in. The kitchen is modern compared to
the sitting room, with black tiled walls and
matching black and white flooring. I look to
the white surfaces that run along the walls and
spot the kettle. The steam coming from the
kettle swirls into different shapes that curl at
the top and disappear. Two mugs are placed
in front of the kettle; one empty and one with
a tea bag in it.
“I’ve been expecting you, Mr Milligan.” A
voi ce booms from behind me. I jump and
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turn so quickly that I over-balance. My
breathing speeds up and my hands shake.
“Sorry to startle you. I’m Simon Cann, you
can call me Simon.”
“Why are you in here?” I sound abrupt and
rude. Simon looks at me, wide-eyed.
I start again. “Sorry, you just frightened me,
that’s all. I’m Ryan, Ryan Milligan. It’s good to
meet you.” I put my hand out to him and
Simon smiles and shakes my hand.
“Good to meet you, Ryan. I’m here because
I’ve maintained the house since Andrew left.
You know, doing a bit of gardening here and
there, trying to update the house a little.”
“So Andrew was the guy living here before,
then?” I thought his name might be Andrew
but better double check.
“Yeah that’s right, Andrew Myers. He was a
good friend to me, been pals for years.”
“So why did he leave? Did he not like the
area?”
“To be honest, I don’t know why he left,
that’s if he left. The police searched for ages
trying to find him. They searched the area,
this house, his work, everywhere, but they
never found him. They pronounced him dead
and called off the search after seven years.
Andy had written a will, he left me a set of
keys to this place and another set to someone
else. He also wanted that person to receive the
money from the house when it was sold.
Andy was a nice guy. Anyway, no one’s
moved in the house since. I don’t know why,
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it’s a real nice place. The estate agent, Mike,
you met Mike, right?”
“Yeah I did, he showed me around the house
once, very quickly.”
“Yeah, well, Mike said every time someone
came into the house, they stared at the
basement door. Then after showing them
around, he’d show them the basement and
they would never want to see it. They would
always reject the house before even going
down there. Not sure why, maybe it’s the
basement door.” I look confused.
“It’s a bit dodgy, sometimes it locks and you
can’t open it, but after you leave it for a while,
it opens.” Simon chuckles and then continues.
“To be honest, I do feel odd when I come
into this house. Maybe it’s the spirit of Andy.
Anyway, what do you like, Tea? Coffee?”
“Tea, two sugars please.”
“Brilliant, same as me. Make yourself at home
Ryan; it is your home after all.”
I nod to Simon and go over to the wooden
table next to the wall. There are black leather
cup and plate mats and a fruit bowl sits in the
centre with no fruit in it. The kitchen is the
same as any other, a fridge freezer, a sink, a
dishwasher, and cupboards all around the
walls. I have time to study Simon. He’s not
the most fashionable guy. He wears white
Umbro trainers, denim jeans and a dark green
jumper. His scalp is balding at the back and
his grey and brown patchy hair is receding. I
suppose I can hardly talk, I wear a blazer, shirt
and tie every day. My black hair and stubble
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has recently attracted the grey, so that my hair
has a smattering of silver within the black.
Simon brings the mugs over, the steam rises,
creating condensation to hang around the rim
of the mugs.
“It’s a bit hot.” Simon says.
“I can see that, thank you.”
Simon places the mugs on the coasters and
sits down. He takes a sip from the mug and
gasps. “That is bloody hot.”
I let out a chuckle and bring the mug toward
my face and begin to blow gently into it.
Simon’s phone rings and he answers it,
leaving me to sit in silence, drinking my
scalding tea. After a couple minutes on the
phone, he continues talking to me and drinks
his tea quickly.
“Sorry about that Ryan, it was work. Anyway,
when Andy left, Mike’s estate agents took the
house. Mike asked me to help him out; he’s
busy all the time with work. He has two jobs
and a family to look after, so I offered to
maintain the house for him and when
someone eventually moved in, to help them
out and show them the ropes. That’s why I’m
here. As I said earlier, me and Andy were
really good friends, so I was doing it for him
too, you know, in case he decided to return.
You okay with that, Ryan?”
What if I wasn’t okay with it, I wonder what he’d
say? “Yes I am; I need help with this place.”
“Okay. Well you have the keys you need; the
garage key is in the cupboard above the kettle,
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hanging on the nail. I’m sure you’ve lived in a
house before right?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I used to live in a house a
few miles from here, more like a mansion
though, double the size of this.” Hope that
didn’t sound like I was boasting.
“Oh, right, okay. I would stay and chat
longer, but I’ve got things to do, places to be.
I’m sure you have things to do, unpack your
stuff, yes?”
No, not really. “Yeah, I do.”
“Okay. Well, I live across the road; my house
is the one opposite with the Audi parked on
the drive. So, if you need any help, knock on
my door. I live there with my wife; she’s there
pretty much all the time. I’ll get her to come
round to introduce herself soon.”
“Okay; that sounds great.” I stand up in sync
with Simon, and we shake hands again. “Was
nice to meet you, Simon.”
“You too Ryan, hope to see you again soon.
Before I forget, all of Andrew’s stuff was left
here, so you might find some things of his.
It’s up to you what you do with it. All of
upstairs is boxed up. Someone will come buy
to get rid of it, if not me, then probably Mike.
Don’t worry, we won’t just let ourselves in
like we have done the last few years, you
won’t be startled again”
“Okay, thank you.”
“So, here are the spare keys that we had.”
Simon puts the keys into my hand. “See you
around. Remember, I’m only across the road.”
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“Well, thanks for your help, I really
appreciate it, looks like you’ve done a great
job here.”
We walk to the front door; I unlock it and
open it. We shake hands again and he walks
out and down the path. I shut the door and
hear the gravel crunching under his footsteps.
I go back into the kitchen and finish my tea,
ugh it’s cold. My throat tightens in disgust as I
swallow it down. I place my mug next to the
kettle and put Simon’s in the dishwasher.
I look out onto the garden from the kitchen
window, it’s much smaller than my last, but at
least it backs onto woodland. The trees line
the fence, reminding me of a barricade to
protect my home.
I boil the kettle, make myself another cup of
tea and continue my tour of the house. I go to
the stairs and up the first two steps. I turn
right with the small landing and continue
climbing up carefully, trying not to spill my
tea. I pause halfway up to take some slurps
from my mug, so it’s less likely to spill. It
burns my tongue.
I get to the top of the stairs, walk past one of
the windows which looks out on the front of
the house and see a door to my right; one of
the bedrooms.
There’s a bed to the right, a window straight
in front of me and a desk beside it.
I turn right out of the room, along the
