Ash Cottage: Part 6

 “Ooooh, you’re going back a bit there,” said Darren, his curly hair thinning and cut into the shape of a mullet. Alice did not know if that was the style these days. It seemed like an odd choice, but with his stud earring and jovial manner Darren could pull off almost any look.

“It’s that old?”

Alice had asked about the history of Ash Cottage. She knew it had been around a while, but the estate agent had not been very forthcoming and she had not cared much when the surveys were done. She just needed a place she could move into quickly, somewhere that was not about to fall down around her.

“Ooooh yeah,” said Darren enthusiastically. “One of the oldest buildings in the village.”

Alice shifted slightly. The canvas bag she used for shopping was heavy and starting to hurt her hand. She moved it to the other one, her leg stiff.

“Been around ages. Always seems to be someone moving in and then doing it up, mind.”

She had been heading back from the shops when Darren had run into her. He lived in the house up the road, the nearest one before the dirt track that led to Ash Cottage.

“Practically neighbors,” he had said.

She had used the introduction to ask about the history of her new home. The event with the typewriter had left her curious, and she wanted to find out more.

“Yeah…” he continued. “There were the Jameses. They were a nice family. They were the last ones before you. Stayed for a few months, but they didn’t like the place. Something about it, the dad said to me once.”

“Did he say what?” asked Alice.

“Not so much. They were fine for a while and then just up and disappeared. Still, after Mrs Law we were surprised anyone bought the place.”

His expression turned serious.

“Mrs Law?”

“Tragic. Accident. Terrible.” Darren looked both upset and morbidly intrigued.

“Poor old dear, they found her…”

“No. Let’s not,” said Alice, raising her hand. She did not want the gory details.

“Well…” huffed Darren. “Then there was Mr Young. Didn’t really care for him much. Miserable old…”

Darren paused and crossed himself.

“Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” he whispered, as if some spiritual interloper might hear them.

“So there’s a history at Ash Cottage?” asked Alice.

Darren nodded.

“Between the deaths and the disappearances, some people avoid the place. Say it’s haunted.”

Darren paused for a moment.

“You be careful now,” he said at last, a look of genuine concern on his face.