Free The Unquiet House by Alison Littlewood Page A

good,
right
even, and they drew in closer, his arms around her after all, his hand grasping at her shoulder. She felt the coldness of his skin through her clothes and she opened her eyes and saw that his were open too and he was looking right back at her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Emma lay awake, thinking of Charlie sleeping at the other side of the wall. He had taken the bedroom next to hers. He couldn’t have stayed in the other room, the one where he’d woken at daybreak. Now he was only a short distance away.
    She pulled the covers tighter and bit her lip. Soon he would leave: he would pretend to be sleeping one morning when she left for work and when she got back he would be gone. He probably wouldn’t even leave a note. He’d go back to wherever he’d come from and she would never see him again.
    His arms around her had been so warm, his touch on her shoulder so cold. He hadn’t acted embarrassed when they pulled away from their kiss and cool air filled the space between them. She told herself it was all right. Everybody needed someone, didn’t they? And they were connected – they were all that remained of family lines that had been joined at some time in the distant past, before they were even born. She reminded herself that they were not so closely bound as to make it wrong. She didn’t have to be alone, not all of the time. She felt her lips pulling into a smile as she remembered their kiss.
    When they’d turned in she’d stepped towards him, stretching onto tiptoe and kissing his cheek, just brushing the corner of hislips. She’d poured glasses of iron-smelling water for them to take up. The stairs were hard under her feet, the sound of their steps loud against the silence. She imagined having his arm around her while she slept – warm, solid,
there
– and she pushed the idea away.
    He had taken the room next to hers
. She wondered now if that meant anything. But Charlie had needed a place where he could sleep without being woken by the sunrise. He’d looked into the other rooms before he’d made his choice.
    And then she’d entered her own room and closed the door. She’d looked towards the place she’d been avoiding – the one opposite the foot of her bed – and she’d taken a deep breath and gone towards it, stepping deliberately into the space. There was nothing, no sudden chill, no sense of anyone watching, no breath. Nothing there at all.
    But when she’d seen him last, the old man had been outside. She walked to the window. The lawn was a silvered patch of moonlight, the shadows of trees reaching their spindly arms across it. There was no figure standing among them. Now that her back was turned to the room, though, she could feel the shadows gathering behind her; it felt as if the air were coalescing into some more solid shape, taking on form, hands and limbs and eyes; eyes that looked at her from dark hollows.
    She turned and the room was empty. Of course it was empty: she was alone. There was no one in the house but her and Charlie. And then a thought struck her and her mouth twitched. He had taken
the room next to hers
. Charlie had the master bedroom after all. Of course it didn’t mean anything. Sometimes things were simply what they were. For now she had a comfortable bed, warm covers and a whole night in which to sleep before she rose and saw him again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Emma raised her head from the pillow. She didn’t know if she was dreaming or waking or half-asleep but she could hear a sound. It meandered through the air, almost like words, almost taking form before drifting again. It felt like something from the distant past that had never left; the house had stood through the years and now she felt the things within it had lingered too, not just solid things but memories.
    She shifted, trying to find a cool place on her pillow. The air on her cheek was cold but everything else felt hot. She knew that she was dreaming when she got out of bed and found herself in the corridor,