Interlopers From Hell

Chapter 2-1

2

Waiting outside Eddy’s house, Richard had the feeling that he stood on the brink of a very different, very strange world. The building itself was a huge, sprawling monstrosity of three floors. Red-bricked, austere, it could easily have formed the centrepiece for a ghoulish and grim horror film from the nineteen-thirties. An ancient, crumbling facade, windows black with grime, layers of thickly applied paint peeling from the woodwork. A sad, lonely place, a coldness emanating from every c***k and broken piece of masonry. If this was night time, he would steer well clear, but even now, in the weak sun of early evening, it sent a cold chill running through him.

“It could be described as a tribute to the garish and outlandish ideals of those Victorian rich, who built these houses,” said Eddy, sounding like a guide on a museum visit. “Intent on making their mark on posterity, they had already made their fortune from the Slave Trade. This was their status symbol, their declaration to everyone that they had made it, secured their place. Many such rambling mansions stood upon this promenade. In days gone by, the owners could look out across the river to the Liverpool docks at the comings and goings of the great black ships that plied their obscene trade during the period when Britannia ruled the waves. They owned those ships, and these buildings were their symbols of success. Now, many of them have fallen into disrepair, sad reflections of their former, resplendent selves.”

Richard listened in awe, amazed at Eddy’s descriptive use of language, the way he recounted this potted history with expert insight. He had some knowledge of it himself, having studied the Slave Trade at school, but Eddy’s explanation went far deeper than anything he’d read in textbooks. He looked up, noting the grimy net curtains masking the very top, attic room and could clearly see that the house had long since passed its prime. Along with its neighbours, it was dull and drab, windows blackened with the dust of ages, brickwork chipped and cracked, roof sagging. If these houses were people, Richard mused, they would be receiving medication to help with depression.

Eddy seemed to be reading his thoughts. “Inside, it really is very different, Richard. It has many original features. I think you’ll like it.”

Richard grunted. He doubted that very much. He went to speak when suddenly the front door opened and a bright, cheery-looking woman appeared, her full, open face beaming broadly. She rushed out and threw her arms around Eddy and hugged him. “Welcome home, my darling!”

Richard couldn’t help but smile. The woman, perhaps relieved at Eddy making it through his first day, acted as if she was welcoming him home after a prolonged absence, not merely a day at school. Not wishing to cause any concerns, Richard thought it best if he made no mention of Eddy’s dealings with Stanmore.

The woman’s gaze now latched onto Richard and a forced, unnatural smile set on her mouth. “And who is this, pray tell?”

“This is Richard, Mama,” said Eddy, snuggling into his mother as she put her arm protectively around his shoulder. “He’s my friend.”

Richard was about to step forward to introduce himself when an ominous, brooding shadow fell over everyone. Dropping her arm as if scalded, the woman gave a tiny, strangulated cry whilst Eddy, clinging to her, shied away as the atmosphere grew chilly.

From within the gloom of the house, a man, endlessly tall and dressed in a charcoal-coloured suit, emerged. A hard-looking, angular shaped head jutted from out of his starched collars, skin the colour of death. Huge eyes surveyed those before him, but it was the nose which held most of Richard’s attention. A great, hooked beak, it cast its own shadow over the lower part of his face, almost obscuring a thin, cruel-looking mouth. Great bear-like hands dangled limply from out of his cuffs, and his shoulders were square, solid and strong. If Richard had been able, he may have estimated the man’s height at somewhere near six foot six inches. But he was not able. Under some sort of hypnotic state from sheer terror created by the intensity of the man’s bulging eyes, Richard was seized by a peculiar sensation. Frozen rigid, he felt as if all his thoughts were being analysed, his secrets revealed. Powerless to resist, his eyelids grew heavy, desperate for sleep.

“Richard?” the man said from a long way off, voice a dull rumble.

Richard, lost in a seductive, warm, enticing daze, smiled meekly.

The woman, her own voice a welcome cry of angels amidst the dark and foreboding presence of the long man, cried, “Richard, yes, do please come inside, and tell us all about yourself.”

Blinking himself back into the present, Richard gazed and saw the woman’s smiling face. All at once, spirits lifted, he moved closer. The long man barely moved to allow Richard access into the hallway. Richard didn’t dare match the man’s gaze, but he could feel those eyes boring into him, so deep, opening up his hidden self, laying everything bare and vulnerable.

An unbearable desire to turn and flee consumed him. Fighting against it, the woman’s soft, reassuring voice, helped him to somehow find the strength to go inside. Towering over him, his presence a dark shroud of loathing, the long man’s eyes never moved. Richard had never experienced such resentment from another human being, such suspicion. For reasons Richard could not fathom, the man had taken an instant dislike to him. Perhaps he saw him as a threat, but a threat to what?

As soon as he stepped over the threshold, Richard gagged as the pungent smell of damp and wet dogs caught the back of his throat. Feeling suddenly giddy, he pressed his left hand against the hallway wall and waited, breathing shallow, eyes battling to find something solid to focus on in the all-pervading gloom. With his free hand stretched out before him, he groped his way slowly forward. He turned to look again at the way he had come, but there was nothing there. The man, together with the grey daylight beyond, had gone. He stifled a cry and snapped his head towards a slight creaking sound. A door, further along the hallway, inched open, and a sickly yellow light oozed from within, aiding him to navigate his way down the remaining few feet.

Relieved, he stepped into a vast, open sitting room, the sunlight managing to penetrate the fog of smoky air through a large bay window. The grey smudge of the river dominated the view, the Liver Buildings drawing his gaze. Solid and black. Black? Richard squeezed his eyes shut. It must be the smoke. Pipe smoke, coal smoke. Too much smoke. The Liver Buildings were not black. They were cleaned some years back now, the grime of the years sand-blasted into memory. He opened his eyes and saw the building gleaming grey-white, pristine, and he smiled.

“Please sit, Richard.”

The room was crammed with furniture, so much of it there was barely room to squeeze past each item. Eddy stood beaming in the centre, motioning Richard to take a place on a sumptuous chintz sofa. As he carefully lowered himself into the plump cushions, the woman busied herself rearranging various tea cups and saucers on a table already prepared for afternoon tea. She smiled across at Richard.

“Richard? You will take tea?”

“Er – yes, please.”

She smiled again. “I shall go and fetch it. Please, try and relax, Richard.” She then glided out of the room, and Richard allowed himself a long sigh. “She seems nice, your mum.”

“Thank you, Richard. Mama always keeps a well-ordered household.”

Richard sat back in his seat and watched Eddy pull down a large book from the bookcase in the corner.

“Eddy, who was that man, the very tall one?”

Eddy smiled. “That is my grandfather, Richard.”

“Your…” Richard shook his head. “Sorry, I thought he might be—”

“Might be what? Servant, butler?” He shook his head. “We do not keep servants, not now. My grandfather tends to everything other than the domestic chores. Did he frighten you? He usually does frighten people.”

“He seems a bit, you know, intense.”

“He is very suspicious of strangers, Richard. But he is a good man.”

Richard ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’m sure. He didn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Like I say, he is suspicious of strangers, but he will come round. Once he accepts that you are my friend, grandfather will reveal his true personality.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Richard. I’d like you to know something of my family history, if I may. It will help you to understand us a little more.” Hefting the book in his hands, Eddy came and sat down next to Richard.

The book, like everything else, was very grand and looked expensive. Bound in red leather, its pages were edged in gold leaf, the front cover dominated by an intricately designed crest. As Eddy handed it over, Richard felt the great weight of the volume and blinked in surprise. “Wow, this is some book, Eddy.”

“It’s our family bible, Richard, as well as our history. We are a very old and very proud family. Some people think of us as strange, and that is why we often find ourselves in trouble.”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

Eddy shrugged. “It comes in all sorts, usually borne out of people’s ignorance and mistrust. They see us and they think they know who we are, without ever taking the trouble to discover the truth.”

“Yeah, well, just like your grandad, people are often suspicious of strangers.”

“But grandfather’s suspicions are almost always justified. Those who meet us, Richard, they develop more than mere suspicion. People dislike us. Intensely.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“Like that braggard at school. He never so much as spent a single minute to find out who I am before he took it upon himself to belittle me.”

“Stanmore? But Stanmore’s a prat, Eddy. You don’t want to take any notice of him.”

“Oh, I don’t, Richard. I have already forgotten his name.”

Richard looked around the room. “People just need to get to know you, like you said. I mean, look at this – you have a beautiful home; it’s full of amazing things.” He pointed to a painting on the far wall. It showed a scene from what looked like the Scottish Highlands, a tiny boat moored against a rickety jetty with a backdrop of snow-covered mountains. A man in shirt sleeves was bending across the far gunwale, placing a bundle in the bottom of the boat. “It’s very, you know, different.”

“But that is because you’re different, Richard.” Eddy sat down beside him. “I realized that about you almost as soon as we met. When you offered to be my friend, I was so happy!”

“Well…” The heat rose up over his cheeks, finding such praise difficult to respond to. He gave a brief, strangulated laugh. “I thought you looked as though you needed a friend, that’s all. I know I did when I started there.”

“Yes. You haven’t been at the school for very long, have you?”

Richard stopped. How did Eddy know that? He didn’t press the point but continued in a slower, more cautious tone. “Just over a year. My family’s always moving around. A bit like yours, I guess.”

Eddy smiled knowingly. “Oh, I doubt that your family is anything like mine, Richard. I doubt that very much.”

Richard was about to continue when the woman returned bearing a tray stacked with sandwiches, cakes, and biscuits. In the centre sat a stout teapot encased in a woollen tea cosy. She placed it on the dining table and turned to the two boys. “I’ve been very rude, Richard,” she gushed. “I’m Edwin’s mother. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

She held out her hand, and Richard took it and shook gently. Her eyes settled on the bible in his lap and she stiffened slightly, pulling her hand away from his grip. “Edwin. Can you put the family bible back in its proper place, please?”

“But mother, I was hoping that Richard might be interested―”

A deep growl made them all jump, but no animal had made the sound. The long man, Eddy’s grandfather, strode into the room and snatched up the great book as if it weighed no more than a single sheet of paper. “Do as your mother tells you, Edwin!”