The Vault

7 - Lost Portrait

At three in the afternoon William and I collected Ryder from his new school. Ryder left the gates, smiling and talking to another boy. As soon as he saw me he returned back to the old grumpy state like he was before I left him. Maybe he remembered what I said to him in the morning about Mum, but I wasn't going to apologies for stating my opinion.

We got in the car and I was silent for most of the journey back. William was the one asking Ryder the typical 'how was your day, did you make friends and were people nice to you' questions, questions that I should have asked, instead I was obsessed to go home, write to Oscar and discover the past.

William gave us a lift back to the Ashford Estate and headed back to his house. Before departing he promised Dad he'd pop back tomorrow and help out with anything. When William left I rolled my eyes at Dad as he had that look on his face.

"So," Dad began in amusement as he switched the electric box on. "Are you and William friends or -"

Suddenly the lights came back to life; Bob had done a great job. The hall that was once dark was now full of life. There was a lot to do: clean the dust of the old fashion furniture, reviving the walls and adding sparkle into the windows.

"He's just an acquaintance Dad. Plus I don't have time to waste to fall madly in love and stuff like that."

Dad laughed as he stood beside an armchair draped with a white dust sheet. "Well some of this furniture has to go. Not much use here."

I looked horrified. I couldn't let Dad get rid of Oscar's family's furniture. "Dad that's the last thing we'll do. You never know this antique furniture could add character to the new hotel."

Dad thought for a moment. "I like the way you think Freya. But the ones that are broken they will have to go."

I sighed in annoyance but with a hint of relief. Dad wasn't going to throw the furniture away and that bought me time, but time for what? If Dad got rid of the furniture now then would that have any effect in Oscar's current world?

"Darlin' you look lost. Are you OK?"

"Huh?" I looked up at Dad, who had his hand resting on my shoulder. "Oh I'm good."

Dad reached into his pocket and retrieved an old fashion rusted key. "Here's the key to the basement. You asked about it so here you go." I took the key off him and the flash light. "Just be careful and make sure your walkie-talkie is working."

I nodded as Dad called for Ryder. "How was his day?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "You know Dad, same old. I'm guessing OK. Hey you can ask him now."

I walked away as Dad took Ryder to the kitchen. Even as Ryder walked past me, he didn't even look or speak to me. Seriously he was being childish or was I. By night fall Ryder and I would be talking - siblings right.

With enthusiasm surging through me I skipped towards the back of the hall and through another long corridor. By the fifth door lay the basement and I was about to unlock the door but I stopped. A shiver went through me and I started to have wild imaginations of what could be lying behind the door. Could Oscar be playing the civil gentleman to me and behind close doors could be a manic killer?

There was only one way to find out.

I opened the door slowly, just in case I awoke something that should be hidden in the darkness. I held my breath as a gust of warm, stale and dusty air waft past me. I turned on the flash and with a slight shake to my hands I climbed down the creaky basement stairs. I looked to the sides and found the light switch. With a click of a button I saw everything in dim light.

The size of the basement was everlasting, huger than the cemetery. All round me, years and years of ancient packed wooden boxes collecting dust stacked on top, like a city of many towers. As I moved along a make shift path way I coughed at the stale stench. A dim light from the bard windows casted slit like shadows against the concrete walls. I saw portraits, lots of single portraits of wealthy people, hanging and slightly discoloured with age, probably the older ancestors of the Ashford's.

I went deeper into the basement and I noticed a massive portrait that stood out from all the rest. It read 'The Ashford's 1856' at the bottom of the family portrait. I flashed the torch-light upon it. It was as if the family was split into two; the light and the dark side. I had to guess who were the members were as there was no names mentioned at the bottom.

An old man, white haired, wrinkly like a tortoise perhaps in his seventies, sat in the middle of a classic grand looking settee. Two women sat on both sides of him; one had platinum blond curly hair and the other had brunette straight hair. They could have been the old man [I'm guessing the Grandfather] daughters, but I guess they had to be his daughter-in-laws, because behind the two women stood two men who looked remarkably like a younger version of the Grandfather. The two men had similar shades to their wives' hair but darker; a mousy brown and black. The family portrait grew because the two couples had children of their own. The blond family, with their curls and rosy cheeks had one son who was outstandingly handsome. The dark hair family, with their ill withering complexion, had a son and a daughter who sat in her mother's lap. The two sons, who stood by their fathers, looked similar in age, maybe they could have been my age and the little dark hair girl appeared to be five years old.

I stared at the extended family portrait for a while, like I had done with the angel in the Ashford cemetery. The year 1856 provided me with proof that this had to be Oscar's family. Oscar had to be either the blond or the dark hair one. I stared at the younger males for a moment and they were in contrast; there was no way that they could have been related. Maybe Oscar was the healthy blond looking one, or I could surprise myself and say that he's the pale looking dark hair one. But at least I had a rough idea to what he could possibly look like.

I coughed for a bit as I made my way back upstairs. I closed the door, turned the key to find Ryder at the end of the corridor.

"I was calling you." He moaned as he walked slowly towards me. "Why didn't you answer you walkie-talkie?"

"You did?" I said. I glanced at it and realised that I hadn't turned it on. "Silly me."

"Are you coming then?" he asked impatiently.

I wiped the dust off myself as I walked alongside Ryder.

"By the way have you seen my iPod?" he asked.

I gazed at him, confused. "Your iPod? Didn't that get burnt?"

"Yeah about that," he said. "That was the only thing I had when you chucked me outta the window. I put it in the vault in my room and now I can't seem to find it."

I was surprised. "You got a vault in your room?"

"Yeah," he replied. "All the bedrooms have it."

I thought for a moment. Could he's vault be as magical as mine?

"When did you do that?"

"This morning."

"Have you put anything else in?"

"No," he said. "What's with the questions?"

"Just wondering, I guess." I paused. "Why don't you check everywhere else, like the cupboard or something? Look I'm sure it will turn up."

Ryder looked suspiciously at me. "How can you say that with such confidence?"

I turned to him before going into the kitchen. "Just trust me. It'll turn up. Lost items always find their way back."