The Tragedy of Eden's Gate

2 - Enjoy Your Stay

Unfortunately, Oliver the cheerful attorney has a home with central heating and hot water to get back to, and the moment his business with us is concluded, he leaves us alone to settle in.

I don't blame him, to be honest. I'd quite like to leave, as well.

The rumble of his car's engine slowly fades into obscurity and, for a while, all is quiet except the insistent tap of raindrops on the windows. Mum and I are sat at the breakfast table, paperwork strewn between us. The house creaks and moans, as though the place takes deep, laboured breaths.

A particularly jarring wail catches my attention; a scream, almost.

"House-settling noises," mum dismisses when I send her a lightly horrified glance. She gathers the files into a neat pile.

I blow out a deep breath and cross my arms, gazing out at the unruly garden and wondering how in all hell this is going to work. "Welcome home."

"Alright," she says suddenly, rubbing her hands together and surveying the kitchen. The light of determination sparks behind her eyes. "Plan of action for the old, creepy house. Give me some phases, Theo."

"Phase one," I begin, looking out at the car longingly, thinking of all the thick jumpers I've got packed away. "Bring our stuff in."

"Phase two— check out all the rooms."

That'll be for my benefit, mostly, given I was five the last time I was here and my memory is severely lacking. Even still, we'll have to check if the place is watertight, decide which rooms are liveable and which are the sort we close the door on and ignore until some money falls into our laps.

"Phase three— find something to eat," I decide.

On cue, my stomach growls its complaint at being forgotten about all day— though I highly doubt we'll find anything even remotely edible here.

I try anyway. I get up and wander over to the fridge. Empty, of course. Oliver told us all of my gran's possessions had been left alone, and the furniture covered with sheets to dissuade any potential burglars, but they must've cleared out the perishable food, too. I throw an exasperated glance over my shoulder at my mum.

"I'll find a shop," she tells me. "We're going to need some cleaning supplies, anyway. And if we tackle one room at a time, we'll be just fine."

Ever the pragmatist, my mum.

She very pointedly neglects to mention the rather important fact that, starting tomorrow morning, she'll be busy finding herself a job at the local hospital just one town over. Or at the doctor's office or pharmacy or whatever place in this forsaken town that'll accept her references and degree and offer her a job helping the sick.

It will be me who tackles the rooms, the cleaning, and the general upkeep whilst she gets back on her feet.

Not that I'll be completely free of time— being eighteen, and at the start of an impromptu gap year, I need to sort out some money and job references before starting university once we're more settled. I think of the library we passed on the way up to the house. I have to admit, it's as good a place to start as any for employment.

Besides, any place with hoards of books I can lose myself in can't be all that bad. It'll keep me entertained, anyhow.

Despite being inside and out of the rain, the house has a chilly bite to it. The heating hasn't been on in a while, and it seems the house has forgotten how to stay warm.

"Phase four— figure out how the heating works," I say with a frown. "Hey, should that be phase two? Can we move the phases round?"

"That defeats the purpose of the phases." She stands and stretches. After the long drive, we're both a little stiff. My mum offers me a bright, assuring smile and says, "Come on, then. The sooner we get everything done, the sooner we can go to bed."