The House

Chapter 29 - Day 3: Stormy Terror

"This is really good," I tell David before I take another bite of savoury scrambled egg, cheese and toast. "Thank you so much for cooking."

I did not realise just how hungry I was until I took the first bite, and the flavour hit my taste buds, causing me to moan slightly. He'd made coffee too, and every time I drink his offerings, I grow even more ashamed of my terrible attempts earlier. How he could drink that dreg when he makes coffee this good is beyond me. He is probably just a very polite person.

"I'm glad you like it," he smiles and looking into his eyes, I am filled with joy about how extremely fortunate I am to be stranded here in the middle of nowhere in this weird-ass house with a gorgeous, kind specimen like him.

I could've been stranded here with Ron!

"Do you know Ron well?" I casually ask David, not really caring whether he does or doesn't, and he gives me a blank look which is a little confusing and, to tell the truth, also a bit unsettling.

"The caretaker?" I prompt.

"Oh, him! No, only my grandfather deals with him," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "I spoke to him on the phone once. Didn't really take to him much."

"Really? He is such a ray of sunshine!" I chuckle, and David flashes that brilliant smile of his.

Lightning zips with a bright flare too close to the house, followed by a deafening rumble I can feel vibrating right through me. The noise is making me feel decidedly nervous, and I try to smile at David with lips that are suddenly trembling a little.

"It's just sound, Belle; we're fine here. This house has survived hundreds of years of storms."

It's very dark outside now. When I woke up, the house had been wrapped in white mist, but now I see nothing but black, periodically brightened by lightning, but even then, I cannot make out the trees that I know must be thrashing in the screaming wind. It's as though the house has fallen into a black void, kept suspended by lightning, thunder, rain and wind.

"Don't you have a family to get home to?" He did say that his grandfather is in a retirement village, but he might have a wife and children. There is no way that a lovely man like him, in his early thirties, will be single... I'm never that lucky.

"No," he says, not elaborating at all, and now I'm wondering if there is a sad story in there somewhere. I'm not going to pry, though.

"I guess we're roomies then," I state, trying not to sound pleased that he is single, especially since that "no" didn't have a happy ring to it. "I can give you food and some toiletries, but I'm not sure if I could help you with clothes."

"Thanks, but I have a bag with essentials in my truck."

That is a surprise. Did he plan on spending the night here? 

"Oh," I say, and something in my voice must sound suspicious or surprised or hold the kind of emotion that would induce an explanation because he hurries to clarify.

"I come here often and work until quite late. Sometimes, I take a bath and change my clothes before I go home since it's quite a drive, and I have, on occasion, spent the night if the weather was bad or I wanted to be back here again early. I've never actually worked here when there's someone renting, of course. The bag is just there, re-packed after the last time, which was a couple of months ago."

"Oh," I say again. That does sound well prepared and logical, rather than suspicious, but I don't really know what to say to that.

"Look, Belle," he says, lowering his fork and levelling his eyes on me. "I know this is weird, and I can fully understand that you're not comfortable with this. If you don't mind, I'd like to use the bathroom to wash up and change out of these dirty clothes, but I'll sleep in the truck."