The train station was a shanty long hut, the panels of wood flaking from the structure. For a moment the hot greasy steam of a nearby train clouded my vision. Reaching my gloved hands up, I flattened out the curling edges of the town map. With my other hand, I pressed the letter of employment to the dank paper.
'Dear Edith Priory...Funeral home…45 Kinstott Road'
My finger traced over the thin ink trail of the street and ran off the side of the page. A scrawled arrow told me the street was beyond town limits. So much for following the map.
Disgruntled I hauled up my battered suit case. It hit against my hip and without my thick oversized coat it might have hurt a lot more. People started to flood the platform, my cue to leave.
The town was more destitute than the railway station. One wide street spanned the isolated environment. Some shops hadn't opened all day from the piles of snow outside their doors, while others poured out the promise of warm food and alcohol. If I had coins rattling in my pocket I might have investigated, instead I continued to make tracks towards the edge of town, peering down each side street for entertainment. The only upside was with every step I took the houses swelled with money of the elite. They were a little more polite when it came to casting a stare at an unaccompanied female. They also didn't spit when I walked past. I felt bad for any tourists that visited this area.
After passing three inns that were just about in my budget, the iron exit loomed up against the skyline of lacy trees.
'Sin will not hinder the working of God' the dark letters were crumbling with rust. I snorted in retort to the sign and passed under it. The snow got deeper. Soon the needles of frost numbed my nose and cheeks, the handle of my luggage fastened in my white knuckles.
Within the hour the faint tire tracks that had reliably guided me stopped as the woods huddled closer and the snow huddled higher further away from the last sign of humanity. The merry sound of the taverns which had travelled this far with me away from the town began to fade into memory. The dented tree trunk was the end of the line. Over and over in my head I repeated the address. When my mind became panicked with the loss of direction I began to quietly chant,
"Aickman Funeral Directors…Aickman Funeral Directors" my new found stubbornness bore me on into the lonesome wood. I comforted myself with the promise that if I didn't come across life within the hour I'd head back and reward my aches with a clean bed. Sitting on the benches of the train had stiffened my back.
Just when I began to walk myself through how to fend off a bear I heard the crunch of claws along bark. The tears the chill had ripped from my eyes made it difficult to see but I could just about make out a bag of patchy grey fur and bones. I suppose this was the something living.
A stray cat twitched it's head back as it heard me bristle my coat. It's mouth became wide to let out a feeble meow. I didn't know who looked worse. The ice in my brain melted and I began to question why I was here. I couldn't turn up with stiff fingers and expect to impress my employer if the piano sounded like this cat. I wasn't going to be taken seriously if my hair was wind torn and face a patchwork of white and blue. I guess I wasn't going to get there if I didn't get moving…
Shaking off the doubt, I strode forwards with my chattering jaw held higher.
The cat hissed.
Stumbling, I cursed the wretched creature and kicked a lump of snow in it's direction. I thought we had an understanding! The soft thud of its bounding sprints hurled to the left. It vanished in a flurry of snow.
I hated felines. No wonder people thought they were bad luck! Flicking my head to the left to scowl at where it had been, my eyes caught the horizon. I seen the glint of a light in an upstairs window followed by some off white cream panels. It was a large home. The afternoon sun was low so I quickened my irregular pace.
Drawing nearer I realised I had arrived at the house at an odd angle from the tree line. After scaling a small ditch in an undignified way, I wrestled to pull my blue suitcase from the grip of bramble thorns. A large tear cut the silence and bounced back into the woods.
Some of the items bulged out but only a photo was spat onto the ground. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I swiped up the crumpled picture and stuffed it away. He was the last person I wanted to see.
With fired spirits, I marched my way across the crisp lawn towards the elaborate structure. I didn't care if this was Aickman Funeral Directors or even if I had wondered into another state all together. I needed in.
The porch was swept clean of any drift but the red bricks had small fragments of moss between the joints. My bitten fingers lifted the lion head brass knocker to shoot three loud bangs through the red wood.
In the interim, I nestled my hands under my arms and imagined the family that must be inside. A kind older mother with a few kids playing upstairs. Maybe she had been preparing their lunch of vegetable soup and made a little extra for unexpected guests. They'd be one of those religious families, but not the bigoted type but the ones with overflowing charitable concern. They might even need a piano teacher for their three daughters, a governess position complete with a room, piping hot meals and Friday evenings and Sundays off. I could swoon at the thought.
Keys in the door rattled and the barrier gave way to a rush of warm air. I hope they had bread to go with the soup!
Desperate to meet the kind eyes of another human I was slightly confused when my brain couldn't process my own reflection. It was a fish eye view which stared back down on me. The warped magnification made me look small.
"Yes?" A monotone voice droned.
A nobbled hand reached up and adjusted the wire spectacles. My convex reflection shifted. Taking a respectful step back it gave me time to adjust to my crushed expectations.
"Are you here to schedule the grieving of a loved one? Or are you in search of a particular 'closure' Miss?" He inquired impatient with my reluctance.
"No" I blurted out repulsed by the sound of my own voice. I hadn't used it properly since buying a train ticket. "I've come from…" I struggled to find my footing in the conversation. "I was meant to be in an interview with Mr Aickman at…" My hand shot to my pocket, fumbling around for the letter.
"Ah yes" His voice rose in sombre recognition, "Edith Clarke wasn't it?" he asked while raising his nose. It seemed too big for the rest of his gaunt features. A prominent vein slithered down from his receding hairline over his right temple.
I fixed my dishevelled appearance by smoothing out my brown coat and plastered a beaming smile on my face. Let's hope Mr Aickman didn't see through the cracks.
"Yes, it is Sir" I said confidently hoping he'd be forgiving in his first judgement because from his tall leering perspective I must have presented as a charity case.
He grunted low in his throat.
"I sent my assistant to meet you at the station" He explained in a suspicious manner. "Most would fear to travel far on their own" he paused a minute as I clamped my jaw to prevent my teeth chattering. "Ah but please do come in, it's a little chilly out today"
I nearly caught his black polished boot as I hurried inside from the biting cold. The slight heat of the house began to dampen my skin as it melted the ice within me. I'm sure it certainly added to my orphaned appearance.
Mr Aickman kept his distance which was at least three and a half meters away. It seemed an awkward gap.
"Clarke? Did you say?" I hadn't said much at all really "You wouldn't be related to the Clarkes in town? The upholsters who have just lost their son?" Mr Aickman inquired with his hands laced behind his back.
"N-no sir!" I spluttered as my voice found itself, "I haven't any family here!" He gestured stiffly to the coat rack. "They're still in Wisconsin" I added.
One bushy grey speckled eyebrow arched and his back lengthened. At his full height Mr Aickman was at least six foot. But I was never good at judging anything over 5.6 feet, after that people were just tall.
"And does Wisconsin not appreciate classical music?" He replied.
"Oh, no that's not it, just there aren't many jobs for pianists back there" I chuckled awkwardly. I stood with my hands folded in front of my simple navy dress. At least I had remembered to iron the white collar before leaving. I shifted it slightly, well aware that it was too big for me.
"None the less I'm sure you'll add to the service we provide here. Silence is the worst for those in grief" he commented with solemn tone, as though his mind wondered to a past event. He soon snapped out of it "You'll just have some signing to do after you demonstrate you're capable of course"
I fought hard not to let my brow knit together in questioning. I hadn't travelled across seven states to be told to return!
Mr Aickman turned promptly on his heels. "You see we've had a violinist before you. Rather excited for the room but completely tone deaf" he disappeared into an archway to the right. I stumbled to follow.
"I have a few sheets in my suitcase if you'd care to…" I trailed off as the empty pews, a podium and display table greeted me. Mr Aickman didn't have a traceable presence and I certainly didn't know the house well enough to search it. This was starting to feel like a game of cat and mouse.
"Little rusty but nothing a polishing cloth won't fix" his voice stabbed my left ear while my feet flicked me around to face him. Mr Aickman ran his hand over the lower keys, forging a trail of white through the dull dust layer. The piano sang a few guttural notes.
My teeth crushed together. "A bit of fine tuning" I repeated just to fill the quiet left after the musical groan. His feet kicked out the stuffed wooden stool for me to sit.
I muffled a cough in my throat as he flicked open the crumbling music book. "Your input isn't necessary Miss Clarke, you'll simply be required to play from the eight songs provided unless otherwise told" He instructed formally "Hopefully you appreciate the works of Chopin" his hand hovered over one particular page.
I tried to recall what my school teacher said about preventing hypothermia because as I read over the note splattered lines I doubted I'd be getting a house tour. This piece wasn't exactly 'Baa Baa Black Sheep'
Five minutes later and the end of the song was nearing. 'Missed a note…or two. Is that an A minor or B sharp? How do I play this thing again? Oh, that doesn't sound right' reams of criticism tumbled in my brain. My smallest finger stretched for the last top key and it gave out a crippled clunk. The cord must have snapped inside. Just my luck.
I slid my hand from the piano and discretely tried to wipe off the dust that clumped to my fingertips. I gave Mr Aickman an apologetic smile.
He remained still for a moment, his hand resting on the piano lid. He looked haggard by scowl lines and hollow cheeks.
"Hm yes fine tuning..." was all he muttered more to himself than me. I braced myself for the cold trek I'd have back through the woods.
After a moment of silence in which he decided my fate he inhaled deeply, his brown waist coat expanding slightly.
"If you'd just follow me into the office Miss Clarke, just a few legal papers to fill" he said from under his beard.
That nearly bowled me over. I was going to sign myself into the room and continue an easy life of music. I'm sure I'd get used to the funerals, the dead were a regular part of my life.
Standing up abruptly I struggled to follow his quick pace as he darted across the hall. Swerving around my suitcase I pushed the swinging bottle tinted glass door.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. A fog seemed to hover the air or it was just dense dust particles.
"Sit Miss Clarke, we have much to discuss"
My desperation for a quiet life was enough to make me comply and do as I was told.
It was a firm leather arm chair, stuffed until the material couldn't sink under your weight. The very feel of this place told me that there would be little luxury.
"First of all. Congratulations, you've obtained the position" he said it in a hurried manner "Secondly we have some…conditions…pertaining to your time here"
His hand whipped across the table to place an official document of 'Stated residence' within my reach. An ink pen stood to attention in its fountain beside me. I couldn't lose face now with all this legal garbage. The town itself seemed pretty lawless, no one would be auditing this.
More documents were shoved my way as Mr Aickman decided to ring through his terms of living.
"You have a full sheet of guidelines but otherwise 1-3 are of upmost priority"
My eyes flicked between the shuffling papers and the piercing glare of Mr Aickman. I hadn't seen him blink once over those murky spectacles. He set his elbow on the table with the back of his pale slender hand facing me. His fist was clenched, the skin stretched over the nobbled knuckles.
"Firstly, This floor and the upstairs are free to roam within reason. You will not be required by any reason to venture into the basement" one bony flinger flicked up.
"Secondly, You will attend each funeral which are all held from early morning to late afternoon but never after 5pm" next his ring finger stood to attention. Seems he never married, no ring but also no indent where one might have been. Life of solitude I suppose, I could see myself heading in that direction also.
"Thirdly, if you intend on leaving the premise I must be informed prior" I suppose that was a reasonable request. My hand naturally scribbled along dotted lines watching the three slender twigs glare at me.
"The forth condition is simply a measure in... Confidentiality" the last finger unfolded "what goes on here, stays within these walls. The towns people are an intrusive prejudiced group and they would delight in nothing more than rumours of my establishment and those who use this service swimming around their little social circle"
His forth finger stood for a completely understandable term. It wouldn't be one I had to worry about, I didn't intend to talk to anyone nearby. I rarely got close with people. I had good reason not to, the distance provided the anonymity I needed. I was never truly alone.
"Finally, succeeding the forth, is a matter of security. Two books stand in the entrance, one is the standard guest book the other is a log book that is used to document anyone on the premises that is not Myself, my assistant or yourself. If someone is spoted, you write down time and a detailed description of their appearance. This is very important for our safety" his thumb extended. I frowned, the pen hovered over the last dotted line.
"Is there a particular threat around?" I asked. I had very good reason to as well. Despite wondering around these barren woods alone I realise that I had no knowledge of the area, knew no one or what kinds of people were situated here.
Mr Aickman didn't answer for a few moments. It nearly answered my question when he spoke, his voice louder than it had been previously.
"No…not from anyone who lives here" he replied his eyes lowered to the papers on the desk. I was prompted to place my name to it. No sooner had the last ink drop marked it surface was it snatched across the desk, leaving a long streak of navy ink.
"Perfect, the other conditions you can browse in your own time" he replied idly, not bothering to look up at me. There seemed to be a shift in the air.
"Congratulations Miss Clarke, your room is upstairs, closest to the far window" he instructed. After this it seemed that any questions I asked were met with an awkward silent or undignified grunt. In the end, I thought it best to leave the office and take my bags upstairs.
The dark wood door closed with a hollow thud. Leaving the interaction like that worried me, but I guess I had plenty of time to get to know Mr Aickman and his customs.
Turning around my hand automatically made a grab for the suitcase. I stumbled.
I thought I had missed but there was no solid brass handle to connect to. With no desire to search for it unaccompanied I ascended the stairs. It was quite a modern build, it was simply the furnishing and atmosphere that added years to the place.
At the end of a side corridor sat the pastel green door. The panels were dusty. The single pane window had a crack in the corner, letting icy air drift in. From this the metal handle was freezing to the touch. Someone had been in the room recently because there were finger prints where the metal had been heated.
Twisting the stiff handle, I budged the door open. I winced at the scratching of the door against the wooden floor, there were deep marks showing the fresher wood in the grey rotting boards. The bed was small but had at least two thin sheets and a clashing quilt draped carefully over the sinking end. I would have flopped right on it if it weren't for the battered suit case taking up half the space.
I noticed the items I had messily packed were now aligned neatly on the sheets. The crumpled photo lay flat exposing the face. I swiped the items to the side, burying that wretched being in the process
Finally flopping on the soft blankets, I pulled out the conditions of residence. I suppose as a responsible adult legal reading would be an ideal pass time. They certainly reflected Mr Aickman's personality. Some were quite specific.
Numbers 9-13 comprised of timed events. I personally hadn't stayed at one of those fancy hotels but from my work with previous clients it seemed something similar.
"No.9 - Personal hygiene can be attended to from 6:10am until 7:35am or, alternatively, 8:18pm until 9:47pm. Showers or baths cannot last any longer than 12 minutes at a time. Do not use the plumbing in the bathrooms at any other time"
Anything on the long list afterward just seemed minuscule and trivial details, nothing that anyone would lose their heads over.
"No. 24 – Any items taken from the pantry, the medical cupboard or tool shed must be documented, said file can be located in the office which must be accessed through the use of a key which is held at all times by head of household"
Seemed a lot of work for a biscuit.
The document was leaving a bad taste in my mouth, and so my solution was to stuff it under my pillow like I had done with most unpleasant things.
As the world had been steeped in a blank sky and wiped in snow I hadn't realised the time. Late evening had crept in and although my stomach was pained from hunger my eye's burnt from lack of sleep.
I chuckled. It was 8pm so apparently, I only had eighteen minutes to use the bathroom.
Finishing on time I stepped into the landing with my night dress and shawl. An unearthly breeze drifted through the house. I began to wonder if Mr Aickman had retired to bed as the house was in a dark slumber. I still hadn't seen this assistant who had vanished at the train station. Perhaps he had caught a ride out of this place.
Locking my door behind me, I turned to the mirror on the bedside table. It was speckled with dirt and had a crack or two scoring its dull surface.
"It's a nice place, Mr Aickman was very considerate giving me this position." I sighed shaking my head as I pulled the long rope of tied cloth from my bag. I hadn't the motivation to unpack. I began wrapping it tightly around my left wrist.
"You'll just have to be good!" I added to my reflection. "No wandering off without me, and remember, the basement is off limits. But you won't have to worry about that. You'll not be going far, I intend to make this work with or without your help" I stated smartly.
Tucking myself in I wrapped the remaining length of restraint around the banister. Tugging it a few times I was satisfied it was secure and I could sleep easier knowing I had this under control.
"It's been a long day…will you go to sleep" I yawned.
I drifted off as I felt the side of the bed sink like someone was sitting on the edge and heard the soft tap of feet on the wooden floor next to me.
I smiled. They weren't going anywhere.