This is part one of quite a longish short story I wrote and I'm thinking even this bits too long and I should chop the piece into three sections instead. I've got a concern about whether the plot hangs together credibly but this isn't really evident until you read the second part so until then feed back and highlighted spelling and punctuation naughties are appreciated.

He followed the directions on the hastily scribbled piece of paper and squinted into the sun washed lane. The summer afternoon grew sultry, the heat hanging heavily about the car. The village was now far behind him as he eased the vehicle onto the narrow, confined lane and pushed through clouds of midges and exhausted branches hanging at the side of the road.
 

After yet another snaking curve the house appeared before him imposing and isolated. The sparsely gravelled lay-by at its front danced with churned up dust as he parked.

Its Edwardian façade was charming and parochial but the full-blooded brickwork had faded to a sickly, insipid amber, the window frames chipped, the panes begrimed and myopic. Enclosing the front garden a rotted picket fence sagged at an angle, jutting outwards like trolls teeth. Nettles and tall weeds boiled from its confines.

A restless silence drifted through the window as he cut the engine. Across the road, sun-bleached blonde meadows shimmered in the heat. He climbed from the car, loosening the tie at his neck and undoing the top button of his shirt; it was too hot for formality.

He flicked three brisk raps from the rusted brass knocker and waited. Itchy, moist heat wafted across the back of his neck.

It took a few minutes before she answered. Startling blue eyes peered out from between the narrow gap.

‘Mrs Guthry?’ He beamed his customer friendly smile.

A frown creased an already wrinkled brow crowned by a halo of hair as soft and white as cumulus. The eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Yes!’

‘Si Williams,’ he announced. ‘From Williams Properties. We spoke on the phone.’

Her eyes widened in disbelief. She placed a hand to her cheek. ‘Mr Williams!’ she gasped. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve come all this way?’ Her voice was reedy yet clear, a slight tremor at the end of her statement.

He beamed wider and crinkled his eyes endearingly. ’Absolutely no trouble at all, I was in the area and decided to drop by on the off chance. What a beautiful house!’ he exclaimed looking around, resisting the temptation to sneer.

The door opened wider. Behind her he spied a long hallway draped in shadow, rickety stairs clothed in faded carpet.

‘Come in please, come in.’ She stepped aside. ’You must be dying of thirst driving in this heat. You need a drink.’

He stepped inside, pulling at his collar and sticking his tongue out in caricature. ’Well thank God for the air conditioning in the car but I could do with one.’

‘Such a long way to come just to see a silly old lady,’ she trilled.

The drawing room was cavernous but jumbled, the décor typical for her age. Dark heavy furniture cluttered the space. Lace doilies on an occasional table hemmed in by two wing backed chairs and a matching sofa all rested on a faded, patterned rug. Along one wall loomed a large sideboard smothered with old sepia photos. He saw no evidence of recent technology, not even a TV. Everything smelt old, the heat stifling despite the heavy velvet drapes pulled shut against the glare.

‘Make yourself comfortable.’ She bustled about re-arranging cushions and clearing discarded books from the sofa. ‘You’ve caught me on the hop I’m afraid, I wasn’t expecting company. I never expect company.’

He opened his mouth to re-assure her but she had already disappeared into the hall again. A second later he heard the chink of cups from the kitchen somewhere in the back of the house. He drew a long breath of the tired air.It was a telling fact that she demanded to see no proof of identity before letting him enter.

He took a long grateful quaff. ‘I needed that!’ he announced with no little satisfaction, putting the glass on the table. ‘Homemade as well?’ He resisted the automatic response to belch, swallowing the air back down.

‘I have so few opportunities to let people try it out.’ For a moment she gazed at him with disbelieving wonder, an Aztec watching silver conquistadors striding from the surf. He felt slightly bemused.

‘I’m sorry to gawp,’ she apologised. ‘But it’s so rare to meet new people these days. She settled herself in the chair opposite and began arranging the teacups. ’Milk and sugar?’

‘Two please.’ He had to admit that, despite the mausoleum like decor, she herself was not the decrepit wreck he’d expected. Looking very trim and smart in a crisp linen skirt and short-sleeved lavender blouse there was not a wisp of hair out of place. He’d pictured some rambling old crone, stubborn and crotchety with borderline dementia, although, as he’d been warned, she did seem a bit odd.

A sloshing china cup and saucer was placed on the doily in front of him; she perched on the edge of the chair opposite eyes twinkling. ‘Well Mr Williams,’ she began. ‘We’ve spoken on the phone and now we meet face to face.

‘Please call me Si.’

‘Such a nice informal name.’

‘It’ll do!’ He responded truthfully.

‘So what brings a successful property developer all the way from London just to see me?’

Si gave a wry grin, wagging a playful finger in her direction. ‘Now come on Mrs Guthry let‘s not play games.’

‘Games!’ She echoed guilessly.

‘I thought as I was passing I might as well let you see what you were turning down.’

He leant over, opening the briefcase by the side of his chair and pulled out a shiny laminate folder. It showed an artistic rendering of a pristine red brick apartment complex nestling amidst landscaped gardens that overlooked a serene river. He placed it before her and sat back expectantly.

She picked up the folder, pausing to read the blurb on the inside of the cover.

‘St Thomas Bay Retirement Apartments!’ She spoke the name softly, turning the pages.

‘Thirty-Six two bed luxury developments set in beautiful parkland with river views, on sight security, live in warden, a social club.’… he winked. ‘Even a gym and swimming pool if you have the energy.’

She raised her eyes, a look of amusement on her features. ‘Sheltered accommodation.’

Si shook his head gravely. ’Not at all, this is a new concept in living for the elderly, independence with all the benefits of twenty-four hour care and support.’

She sighed and pursed her lips. ‘I hate for you to go to all this trouble.’ Shaking her head she placed the folder back on the table. ‘I couldn’t possibly afford a place like that. This is for the very affluent.’

‘If you sold this house and this land you would be very affluent This is one of the most sought after areas in the country,’ he shot back promptly. ‘


‘It looks very nice!’ She smiled, a touch of wistfulness in her eyes.

Si shrugged theatrically. ‘So what’s to stop you?’

‘ Shuckie?’ The reply was distracted, almost whispered and not really directed at him.

‘Shuckie?’ He replied dumbfounded.

‘My dog. I can’t leave him.’ Mrs Guthry muttered.

Si looked around for any sign of the creature, there was nothing, no rubber bone or ball, chewed up and discarded on the floor.

‘Oh he disappears off for most of the day, normally in the woods out back! He wont return until this evening.’

He pictured some yapping creature, peeing everywhere and perching on her lap. ‘We can bend the rules. It’s no problem,’ he offered enthusiastically. Lots of old people are very attached to their pets.’

‘You really are very accommodating,’ she seemed to shudder as she spoke. ‘But I wouldn’t presume.’

‘You’re on your own, the village is a good two miles away.’ He inclined his head to the window behind him. ‘With all due respect it’s pretty obvious you can’t keep up regular maintenance and at your age that’s no slur. It’s no place for an elderly lady to live. You need company, support. Where’s your nearest neighbour, do they pop in to lend a hand.’

She shook her head sadly. I haven’t really spoken to my neighbours in years; the nearest one’s a mile away. People in the village are polite, the local store delivers my shopping once a week but they all keep a distance.’

He feigned a look of shock and sadness at how isolated and neglected the old were these days even though he was already well aware of her situation.

‘Mr Williams,’ she began.

‘Si,’ he prompted.

She paused and smiled politely. ‘Si,’ she amended. ’This is a very complex situation, you have no idea how complex.’

He leant forward, his features arranged earnestly. ‘Why don’t you show me around this beautiful place.’

Mrs Guthry frowned. For a moment silence fell on the dark cluttered room punctuated only by the ponderous ticking of the mantelpiece clock. Placing her cup down, she stood and beckoned him to follow.

The house was even more spacious than he’d imagined. Downstairs a dining room and study cum library led off the narrow hallway, while a large, cavernous kitchen ran the width of the back of the building. Upstairs three bedrooms, a bathroom plus a huge attic spread out across the second and third storeys. Despite the uniform dilapidation all were large and spacious.
 

As they went she pointed out old framed photographs on the wall. Various family members striking formal poses.

‘This was Mother and father on their wedding day. My brother Thomas in uniform, he was killed in the Normandy landings.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that!’ Good-looking family, he decided. All possessed the clear-eyed symmetrical features that Mrs Guthry, despite her age had clearly inherited. Even the faded, black and white prints couldn’t dim their beauty.

Most of my family died early.’ She replied tersely. Mother took her own life while I was still a baby. Father lasted till he was quite elderly though. Typical!’

He picked up on the latent hostility; wondering what skeletons were rattling in this particular family closet. At the top of the stairs another picture took pride of place. A young woman beaming out from an ornately carved but chipped wooden frame.

He whistled appreciatively. ‘That’s you!’ He exclaimed in recognition.

She gave an amused chuckle. ‘Yes wasn’t I a honey!’

‘Very much so and you’ve kept your looks very well I must say!’ He added silkily.

She answered with another amused laugh.

‘No pictures of the late Mr Guthry!’

For a moment she became sombre. ‘I never married.’ She turned and began descending the stairs.

He followed her into the garden, like everything else large and tumbledown. Massed ranks of brambles spread spidery legs from the edges of the overgrown lawn. A rotted shed sagged in one corner, a tall boundary fence at the gardens end held back densely ranked woodland, its leafy canopy foaming above the house.

‘Most of the land is very beautiful but needs maintenance,’ she added ruefully. ‘The storms last winter brought down a lot of the older trees. The fields at the front of the house could be put to better use too but…’ she finished, shrugging lamely.
 

‘I can understand why you wouldn’t want to leave such a beautiful place.’ He murmured with rabid insincerity.

She regarded him for a moment. ‘We’re a very old family Mr Williams. Guthrys’ have lived here for a very long time, long before this house was built…long before,’ she repeated with a half sigh. ‘We acquired certain ‘responsibilities’ passed down over the generations. I am the last of the line, when I am gone there’s nobody else.

They sat at a small wrought iron table on the cracked patio. The late afternoon sun had ripened and flushed as it sunk lower, distorted shadows crept from the trees but the glare in his eyes was still strong. He thought to himself that he really should be cracking on.
 

Mrs Guthry gazed around for a moment then sighing she turned to him. ‘Mr Williams…I must ask…how did you come to find out about this place?’

Si hesitated, blinked. ‘Oh I was just passing through one day,’ he lied blandly. ‘I found out completely by chance, it was…’

‘But the phone number how did you get that?’ she interrupted. ‘No ones supposed to have that. No one!’ She sat back her eyes clouding in thought, gnawing the edge of her thumb querulously.
 

He frowned, puzzled by the strange words. Silence descended save for the soft chiding of a pigeon somewhere in the woods. Then Mrs Guthry began rambling.
 

‘As much as I want to I cannot turn my back on my obligations, it would be irresponsible, criminally so. Once I’m dead then it is out of my hands but while I live.’ She shrugged helplessly and gazed unseeing at the cracked flagstones at her feet. ‘I cannot move from here Mr Williams…not ever!’

The combination of heat and glare caused a small pulse of pain to throb at his temples.

Managing a tight smile he held his hands up in a calming gesture. ‘ OK Mrs Guthry, OK! I realise your mind is set.’

‘You do?’ She seemed somewhat startled by his sudden acquisition.

Si merely nodded.

‘I am so very sorry.’ She looked up at the sky, the sun sinking ever lower. ‘You’ll have to leave soon,’ she added fretfully. ‘I always lock up before nightfall.’ The previous welcoming manner was now conspicuous by its absence.

Still a good hour before sunset. Silly bitch! But he managed to muster some of his former bonhomie. He rose from the chair. ‘Like I said it’s your choice.’ He nodded in the direction of the house. ‘I need to get my case then I’ll be on my way.’


He could see she was anxious, impatient for him to leave. The heat inside seemed to have grown yet more stale and oppressive.
 

As he picked up his case from beside the couch he turned to her hovering in the doorway. ‘Could I just trouble you for a drink of water before I leave.’ He smiled brightly. ‘Fortify me for the drive home.’

For a moment she regarded him levelly as though weighing something up. ‘Of course it’s the least I can do, after all your efforts.’ She turned and hurried off towards the kitchen.

He opened the case and reached inside, then crossed to the window, parting the drapes gently. The lane was as dusty and silent as when he’d first arrived.

She entered the room carrying a tall glass of still cool water. ‘Here we are I hope y….’

She gave the briefest exclamation of surprise as the hammer hit the top of her head with a wet, splintery thud, then crumpled unresisting to the floor the glass still clutched in her hand. The liquid spilled across the worn rug, casting a dark circle, diluting the spray of blood. He inflicted five more blows, hard and vicious. The apron and gloves extracted from the case while she was out of the room spared his clothes from the worst splashes.