The Pawnbroker

Chapter One: The Old House

Chapter One: The Old HouseThe present…

The two boys cycled up to the brow of the hill and stopped. They had been riding their bikes for a long time and both were almost out of breath. Perhaps, if they had turned their bikes around at that point, their lives would have been very different. Perhaps. But a dark and malevolent force was already at work, insidious and evil, utterly irrepressible and irresistible, making any independent decision unlikely, if not impossible.

Ignorant of any of this, for the time being at least, Jamie, the bigger of the two, looked at his friend. “I think we're lost,” he said, his voice cracking with concern. “We'll never find our way home.”

Tim, his friend, gave Jamie a look, eyes creased up, mouth pulled tight in a mocking smile. “What's the matter? Scared?”

“No,” said Jamie, defensively, not able to return Tim's unwavering stare. “I'm not scared.”

“Sure?”

“We've been riding for ages and I think we're lost.” He did his level best not to reveal to Tim the worries flitting around inside him; worries which had been building for the last hour or so as he became aware of various features he felt sure they had ridden past more than once. “The woods… following the trail… it didn't seem right. Couldn't you feel it?”

Everything had started out fine. They had followed the main road that ran the length of the old wood, then Tim had spotted a gate that was almost hidden amongst the thickly overgrown gorse flanking it on either side. “Let's explore!” he had cried and, without waiting, he had rushed headlong through the entrance and along the path.

Jamie sighed. This was so typical of Tim, he thought; always impulsive, never stopping to think or consider the rights and wrongs of a situation. Jamie was so much more cautious. Well, that's how he saw it. A lot of his schoolmates would replace 'cautious' with 'boring'. He didn't want to appear like this to anyone, especially not Tim, so Jamie reluctantly followed, eying the old gate, half-hanging from its rusted hinges. Why had Tim brought him to this spot? And why had he just plunged on, regardless of any danger that might be lurking ahead? Jamie accepted he wasn't as adventurous as Tim, even though he was much older and bigger. Somehow, he just never seemed able to climb as well as Tim, or swim as well, or, more importantly, fight as well. Tim could do anything. Or at least that's how it all seemed to Jamie as he pushed forward, dismissing his fears.

Jamie knew he was lucky to have a friend like Tim. When most of the other boys at school called him names or simply ignored him, Tim remained his faithful companion. So Jamie tagged along, doing everything that Tim wanted to do. Even coming on this bike ride, to goodness only knew where.

After no more than fifty paces, the path narrowed, hyphenated by fallen branches and clumps of tangled bracken, forcing the boys to dismount. With his eyes glued on every step he took, Jamie felt the presence of the trees on either side, looming dark and dangerous, like a living thing, simmering hot within the press of undergrowth and soaring tree-trunks. Sweat lathered Jamie's face, his shirt clung to his back and his wet hands slipped from the handle-bars. Looking up briefly, he saw Tim's back as his friend strode resolutely on, and wished he could possess the same courage.

“I'm not sure about this,” he said at last. “We said we'd be home by four.” Looking at his watch, he raised his voice. “It's now nearly half-past.” The idea of Mum being angry or, worse still, worried, was more of a concern for Jamie than the threat of Tim's displeasure.

Tim's voice, when he stopped and glared at him, seemed to echo Jamie's thoughts. “Half an hour late? Is that all you're worried about?”

“But it won't be half an hour by the time we get back, will it? It'll be more like an hour and a half.”

Tim let out a long sigh, a scowl developing on his hard face. “If you're so bothered about what your mum will say, why don't you go home right now?”

Jamie's feeble resistance disappeared and he looked away, miserably admitting defeat.

“Besides,” added Tim, “there's something ahead through here. Notice the way the trees thin out as if it's the beginning of a lawn or something? Let's go and have a quick look.”

So they pushed on, emerging from the wood to stand in what might once have been a large, ornamental garden. The deliberate planting of big bushes here and there seemed to confirm this suspicion, but everything appeared tired and bedraggled, with weeds sprouting everywhere. Whoever had laid out the shrubs had long ceased tending them.

“If this is a garden,” said Jamie, stepping up next to his companion, “that means it's private property and we're trespassing.”

The garden's state of abandonment gave the surroundings a sinister air which, coupled with the almost complete and total silence of the woods, made Jamie feel uncomfortable, out of control, like a little, lost child. But before Jamie could offer an objection, Tim pressed on, ignoring him, stepping out from the darkness of the trees to take in more of the surroundings.

Jamie came up behind him and only just managed to stop before he crashed into Tim's back. Both boys stared at the house standing silent and enormous before them.

Tim whistled through his teeth.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Jamie.

The house loomed large and rambling, its great black and white walls towering upwards. It was built in a Tudor style, with large, panoramic windows that allowed those within to gaze upon the sprawling gardens. At some point in its history, this must have been a magnificent dwelling, throbbing with the comings and goings of important guests, a small army of servants dashing through its many rooms and corridors, the entire place alive with noise and expectation. Jamie wasn't sure how old it might be, but it certainly seemed in need of extensive repair; many of its windows appeared cracked, some of the timbers rotten. A lonely house, Jamie thought, not much sign of life, its grandeur nothing but a distant memory. It reminded him of something from a corny horror film and he didn't like it. He shuddered.

“Let's go and explore!” shouted Tim and, without waiting, he rushed forward, leaving his bike behind, racing across the unkempt lawn towards the main entrance.

Jamie raised his voice, calling, “Just a minute, Tim,” but it was no use; Tim's mind was made up. Jamie shrugged, admitting defeat once again. He sighed and, pushing his bicycle, followed his friend.

A small hill ran up to the house. There was no sign of any fence or wall separating the grounds from the little wood out of which the two boys had emerged. Then Jamie realised – the boundary had been the gate they had gone through earlier. There had been no signs, at least none that he could remember, proclaiming that this was private property, so surely they wouldn't get into trouble simply because they were curious? But, as he approached the main doors, Jamie grew more uncertain, the awful thought they were trespassing pressing down upon him.

The closer he got, the bigger the house seemed, like some slumbering prehistoric beast. Its huge walls rose up to tower overhead, its great leaded windows peering down, all-seeing eyes watching their every move. Nevertheless, there were no apparent signs of life and when Tim pressed his face up against a window to look inside, Jamie followed.

There was nothing, just empty rooms. No furniture, no sign of habitation. Bare white walls, a sprinkling of broken plaster across the stripped wooden floors. “No one's lived in here for years,” said Tim.

They moved on, keeping close to the building, Tim leading the way, all the way around to the far side of the house.

As they turned the corner, they stopped, and gasped. Before them lay a huge, open expanse of lawn stretching on into the distance. An impressive set of stone steps led down from a broad stone patio onto vast ornamental gardens, laid out in neat, geometric patterns, punctuated with several fountains in the midst of man-made lakes. Putting down his bike, Jamie edged forward as if in a trance and gazed out at the sprawling vista before him. The atmosphere of abandonment was acute, everything oddly empty, more like a still, lifeless photograph than actual reality. There was no sign of it having been looked after. In fact, it looked quite the opposite. No gardener had tended the lawns for many, many months, possibly years. Ornamental fountains stood silent, the lakes, which must have once been so crystal clear and sweet-smelling, were now stagnant and sterile. It was a depressing sight, made all the more so by the curious silence that hung heavy and threatening all around.

There was something about the fountain which beckoned Jamie to move forward; an irresistible force, urging him to investigate still further. He descended the wide steps, gaze fixed upon the sad, forlorn fountain decorated with three nymphs embracing one another, arms reaching skywards, faces alive with expectation.

“What are you doing, Jamie?”

Jamie shivered, dragging himself from his disturbing thoughts and turned to see Tim standing there, hands on hips. Jamie shrugged, the moment broken, and ran back to join his friend.

Together again, they both stood and stared, taking in the wide frontage of this magnificent edifice, in the centre of which loomed enormous double-doors, black with age, with an impossibly huge brass door knocker set in the middle. Waiting. But for what?

Massive, leaded windows flanked the huge entrance. The two boys exchanged a look. Tim licked his dry lips and then, seeming to reach some decision within himself, took a deep breath and curled his fingers around the metal handle.

“What are you going to do?” whispered Jamie frantically.

Tim smiled back at him, a mocking smile full of contempt. “Knock at the door, idiot.”

Jamie looked about him. Nothing stirred, either from the garden or from the tree-line, yet that sense of somebody watching crept over him again and he shivered. The entire place was just too creepy for words.

He started as Tim rapped the heavy metal knocker against the door.

The sound boomed through the house.

They waited, hearts thumping.

There was no answer.

“Let's go,” said Jamie quickly, his voice barely a whisper.

Tim grinned. “Don't be soft,” he mocked, “I'll give it another go.” And he did, a harder, louder knock this time.

Again they waited, listening intently to the gradually fading sound echoing throughout the huge interior.

Nothing.

Tim turned to his friend and shrugged his shoulders. “No one in.”

Jamie closed his eyes, releasing a long sigh of relief. “Oh, that's good. Let's go home now. At least we won't get in any trouble from the owners.”

Tim shook his head. “What are you on about now?”

“Well, it's obvious, isn't it? That gate we came through, it must have been the entrance to this place.”

“Well, of course it was, you potato head.”

“Yes, and no one stopped us because no one is in.” Jamie struck a pose, hands on hips, chin jutting out, looking smug. “So, let's go home before they get back.”

“Why? What could they do?”

“Er… get us arrested?”

Tim ignored the sarcasm in Jamie's voice. “I'm going to try the door, see if it's open.”

As his fingers closed again around the huge, bulbous door handle, Jamie, gripped by an irresistible impulse, jumped forward and tore Tim's hand away.

“No,” he said, his voice cracking with fear, “no, Tim. You mustn't.”

“You're such a wimp,” said Tim, sounding angry. He gave Jamie a sharp push in the chest, sending him staggering backwards. He landed awkwardly on the ground, too shocked to feel any pain, more embarrassed and surprised at his friend's unexpected show of force. The fact Tim could turn like that made him question other things, too. His friend appeared determined not only to explore, but to break in. But then, as Jamie climbed slowly to his feet, he noticed Tim had frozen in the act of turning the handle. All thoughts of the injustice he felt at Tim's assault dwindled away, replaced by a strange tingling at the base of his neck. There was something wrong. “What's the matter?” he whispered, hardly daring to speak.

Tim turned and looked at him, his eyes wide. “It's unlocked,” he gasped and then, without a moment's hesitation, he pushed the huge door open and stepped inside.