The question came again, like a body rising from still water.
Do you think you’re a good pers—
A sound.
A soft, skittering sound.
My head jerked in the direction of it so hard my neck hurt.
Was it a rat? I scanned the room. It had sounded muted. Like it had come from within the walls. I peered at the wall opposite the stairs and the boiler. The paint in the basement smelt fresh. The floor was clean, like new. I looked closer.
As my eyes adjusted to the low light outside of the bulb’s immediate radius, I started to make out a set of faint lines in the wall. I followed them, tracking them to points and corners. My eyebrows raised as I realised what the shape was.
I put a hand over my mouth and stepped back.
A door.
A distinct plastered-over door shape in the wall.
A shiver ran up my back.
Why the hell was there a door in my basement?
I held the axe clenched in my fists, ears ringing with that high-pitched tone, glaring at the door like I was staring down a mountain lion.
The door shape was in the joining wall between 1a and 1b. Perhaps the Sgàthan Sìth cottages had been one house until some property developer had split it into two to double their profit. But then why no connecting doors elsewhere? I hadn’t seen anything like this in the living room or the bedroom. Only here in the basement.
I took a deep breath. There was no telling what had once been there. It could be a fireplace or a cupboard. And even if it was a door to 1a, it was clearly sealed up. No one could get in. I was fine. It was safe.
No monsters. Just neighbours.
I shuddered.
A bath! A bath would calm me. That’s what women like me did in films and TV. A bath. Something in the hot water settled our… waters? Whatever those were. Probably a uterus thing.
Uterus thing or not, a bath would fix everything.
I set the water tank of the boiler heating using the instructions on the side. Then I headed back up the stairs and turned off the light. But after closing the door at the top of the stairs, I wedged my axe under the handle to hold it shut.
Just in case.
CHAPTER 10
As I lay in the bath, I allowed myself another moment of pride. Hot steaming water, courtesy of my hands.
I hadn’t brought any bubble bath with me, so I could see my whole body under the surface, bloated by the hot water. I tried not to think about my body most of the time, or even about being in a body. I’d often thought I would have preferred not to have one at all if I’d had the choice. To be able to just exist, floating about the world, quietly observing, never being perceived.
But this was now a body that could chop wood and build fires.
A capable body. A strong body.
A sore body.
With a splash, I pulled up my foot and inspected the puncture wound. It had long since sealed itself. Now there was just a dark brown mark, a perfect circle, where the hole had been. The thick skin around the edge had turned white and puffy in the water. I pulled at the wound slightly to check nothing had got underneath. The little hole of puffy white skin elongated and pinched together under the strain, like a tiny sulking mouth. It didn’t look infected, thank God.
I’d have to check the basement again. I didn’t want loose splinters or nails lying about. Something about the discovery of the door made me feel even more uneasy about not knowing what had pricked me. I wanted to find it, not just to pick it up and throw it away, but to be sure it was a nail or a splinter and not something else.
I listened to the quiet of the house. I hadn’t heard anything from 1a since I’d got back. Even while I made dinner, thankful for the pasta and sauces I’d picked up on my way, I’d heard nothing. No cooking sounds of her own. No muffled footsteps like the day before. Not a peep. I started to wonder if maybe last night had been a one-off. I hoped so. It was probably a happy accident I hadn’t mentioned the noise when I’d spoken to— I still didn’t know her name.
