Albert studies Quinn’s outstretched hand for a moment or two before he takes it, his wild white brows pulling into an expression of concentration like he hasn’t shaken hands with anyone for a while. And his voice, when he speaks, comes out as a croak at first, like he hasn’t had to use that for a while either.
‘Yes.’ He has to try a few times before the word is audible. ‘I was told you would be coming today. The man I spoke to said you had some questions I might be able to answer.’ He laughs, but it’s a strange sound– something more like a rattle. ‘It’s funny, I haven’t been useful to anyone for such a long time. Please, sit.’
He gestures to the small sofa against the adjacent wall of the room and we sit, disturbing what feels like must be a decade’s worth of dust, maybe more. I hold my breath so the particles don’t irritate me, but Quinn doesn’t have that luxury. He sneezes three times in quick succession, which makes Albert’s face fall.
‘I’m sorry about the state of this place,’ he says, clearly embarrassed. ‘I’ve been so tired lately that I haven’t really had the energy to clean up.’ He smiles, but even that small movement seems laboured. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’ Albert asks. ‘Though I don’t have fresh supplies, I’m afraid.’
‘I’ll get them,’ I say, popping to my feet.
Albert nods slowly, that faint smile still on his face. ‘You’re a dear. The kitchen is the last door on the left. There should be tea and sugar in the cupboard next to the window. The mugs are to the right of that.’
I nod. ‘Can I get you anything, Albert?’
‘Oh no, thank you.’ His smile broadens, just the tiniest amount. ‘I’ve no need for that, now.’
Unsure how to respond to that, I just nod again and smile at them both before heading out of the room.
Albert’s kitchen is a good fifty years out of date. The cabinets look to be a faded shade of orange underneath the layers of dust, with worn terracotta tiles on the walls and the floor. I remember some of the appliances from the cottage I rented in northern Wales in the 1970s. They were past their best, even then.
Ageing hinges squeal at me as I open the cupboard next to the window. Just as Albert said, there’s a box of teabags in there, along with a small jar of sugar and four mugs. I check the expiry date on the teabag box out of interest.
December 1993.
Hmmm. I try the sugar and find it’s fused into a solid block which comes up with the spoon when I lift it.
Perhaps tea isn’t a great idea.
Instead, I run the tap and rinse out one of the mugs, filling it up with fresh water. I notice the water has left a trail of bright stainless steel that peeps through the dust in the basin, and it makes me stop a moment. Then I take the dishcloth draped over the tap and scrub the whole sink until it’s clean.
Both men look up at me as I walk back into the living room, and I feel Albert’s eyes flit to the mug in my hand before I pass it to Quinn.
‘You didn’t make yourself anything to drink?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m fine.’
He hums, like I’ve answered a question for him. ‘You’re like me,’ he says, and I’m not sure if he means undead, or just not a tea person. Either way, the answer is the same.
‘Yes.’
I sit back down beside Quinn just in time to hear his tiny grunt of surprise as he gulps from his mug.
‘Just water?’ he asks, in a whisper so quiet I’d probably miss it if I still had human hearing. I bite back a smile.
‘I think you’re too mortal for Albert’s teabags,’ I whisper back. ‘They expired before you were born.’
He’s about a second away from choking on his water, but he manages to swallow it just in time. I catch his eye and he smiles, a small, conspiratorial grin that’s meant just for us. I can’t say why that catches at my throat in quite the way that it does.
‘Anyway,’ he says, dragging his eyes away from mine. ‘Albert was just getting started with his story.’
ChapterTwenty-Four
QUINN
When I woke up this morning I was in a great mood.
It’s fair to say that I was optimistic about the meeting with Albert. I thought– Ihoped– he’d give me some insight into my situation and tell me exactly what I need to do to fix it. But that’s not really what’s happening.
I should have known from the moment we walked into this house. The outside is pretty quaint, with that cute little yard and the path lined with gnomes. But the moment we stepped inside, the energy changed in an instant. This house is like those pictures you see of old, abandoned hospitals and water parks, eerie and forgotten, silently gathering dust while the outside world goes on about its business.