THE VISITER PART TWO
It was dole check Thursday. The best day of our fortnight. The day we had money in our pockets and things to do. The day we had direction and purpose. One day out of a fortnight when we would get up early, cash our money and go off into town to shop. We really made a day of it and enjoyed every little thing; even paying the bills was fun. We had coffee and a tea cake in our usual cafe and then hopped a bus homeward bound. We arrived home with bags full of shopping and lugged them up the seemingly endless stairs. We were foot saw and weary and dyeing for a drink and a sit down. Putting my bags down on the doorstep I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door to the flat, and pushed it open. It stopped, open only a little bit. I pushed again a little harder, it banged against something inside the hall but gave and opened a little more. I was puzzled. I had very little view but I could just make out through the crack I could see that the cupboard door was open. So that was what was preventing the front door from opening. I pushed again, pushing harder now that I knew what was obstructing the normal opening of my door. This time the door opened enough for me to squeeze in and gain access to the cupboard. Once in the cupboard I turned around and shut the front door allowing me to exit the cupboard and go into my hall. I then shut the cupboard door so allowing the front door to open fully for Kevin and the pile of bulging shopping bags to finally gain entrance to our home. The whole situation provided me with a certain amount of amusement. Kevin struggled into the hall with the shopping, grumbling complaints about people not shutting doors properly. I shrugged his complaints off; he was always grumpy when we came home from shopping. At least it made a change from his usual complaints about how little money we had left over and what he hadn't been able to get. We took the shopping down the hall and into the kitchen and dumped it down. I put the kettle on and busied my self putting the shopping away as it boiled away to it self. My task done I made the drinks and we sat down to recuperate with coffee and biscuits. Later I made us some tea and we settled down for a quiet night in with the telly. Apart from the cupboard door it had been a perfectly normal and uneventful dole check Thursday. As we settled down for the night we were blissfully unaware that our lives were soon going to change. We had no idea of what would shortly come to pass.
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Life continued in its normal routine. We would occasionally go to visit the family and some friends together. Sometimes when we came home the front door would open without a hitch, other times I'd have to go through the little ritual of squeezing into the cupboard, shutting its door and open the front door in order to gain access to the flat. It never failed to amuse me and never failed to raise a grumble from Kevin. Each time it happened he'd perform his own little ritual of checking the hinges, the handle and the catch. Each time he could find no reason why it should open by itself, and yet on a frequent basis it would defy all natural logic and open. This only happened when we were out and occasionally if only one of us went out. The occupant remaining in the flat was usually happily unaware of its opening until the other was trying to get in again. It defied logic but it didn't really matter it was only a little thing and it couldn't get us down.
It was early November and most evenings were spent huddled around the only heat source in the flat, the little wall mounted gas fire. Despite my initial thoughts that it would be ample enough heat, it was proving to be a long way from that. It was a cold flat, a very cold flat. The ancient metal window frames closed well enough but they created major amounts of condensation. This made every room feel colder and damper than it really was. Looking back on all my subsequent homes, I don't think I ever lived anywhere that was as cold and inhospitable as that flat. Even the old, draughty farm house, with its ill fitting doors, was warmer, in the winter we spent in it, than that flat. To help keep warm we would wrap ourselves in duvets while we sat round the fire, it was the only practical way. We were warming ourselves in this way on the evening I will tell you about now.
I was wrapped up cosily on the couch in my duvet, the telly playing away to it's self. Kevin and I were talking and making plans for the forth coming festive season. I was comfy and warm. I fancied a drink but the thought of braving the Arctic wasteland that was the kitchen really didn't appeal to me enough to make me thirsty. I heard a quiet click in the kitchen but took little notice; the fridge freezer was often prone to making its own peculiar noises. If Kevin had heard the noise he made no sign of it. Seconds later I could hear the hiss of boiling water and then the bubble and then another click. It sounded for all intent and purpose like the kettle had boiled and switched off. Kevin had heard it this time; he looked quizzically at me and turned in his seat looking towards the kitchen door. I shrugged my shoulders a little baffled.
"Fancy a drink?" I asked, not sure if I should mention that it seamed as though the kettle had read my mind and boiled, from cold in seconds flat, without the aid of either one of us actually switching it on. Kevin looked like he didn't want to talk about it anyway.
"Umm......yeah, a coffee would be nice", he replied lackadaisical a blank look on his face. I disentangled myself from the comforting warmth of my duvet and got up and headed for the kitchen. The Arctic blast hit me as I slid open the door, I shivered as I entered the kitchen. By god it was chilly in there. I flicked the kettle back on, it clicked. I busied myself setting up the drinks. The kettle hissed very quietly. I shrugged and left the kitchen stepping back into the warmth of the living room. I headed out into the hall heading for the loo. The cupboard door was open; I didn't think it odd any more it happened with such frequency. I went to the loo and when I had finished I pottered down the hall and shut the cupboard door. It wasn't as cold now that I was moving around a little but it was still chilly out there away from the fire and my lovely duvet. I pottered back down the hall thinking how if it got any colder we'd be living in the one room around the fire. The warmth rushed out of the living room door to greet me as I pushed it open and entered. Reluctantly I went back into the ice box kitchen; the kettle was just boiling as I entered. I shook my head at it a little puzzled at its boiling speed this time. I poured the boiling water into the mugs and left the icy wasteland, gladly sliding the door closed on the chill behind me.
"Had I heard the kettle boil?" I thought to myself "It certainly sounded like it and yet it took its usual time to boil from cold." I put Kevin's coffee on his table next to him and scuttled back to the warm comfort of my couch and duvet.
"Thanks love," Kevin drawled absently. Then under his breath, "must be hearing things." I shrugged again not feeling much like looking for answers. Kevin was such a sceptic person and besides, "weird" things made him prickly. We didn't mention it again that evening.
The kettle continued its odd behaviour over the next few weeks. Each time it apparently boiled itself the cupboard door would usually be found open at some point afterwards. Subsequent checks on both misbehaving items showed no reason for their errant behaviour. The kettle was always found to be cold and took its standard time to boil when we put it on ourselves. The cupboard continued to deny us access when we went out and I can only presume that the kettle also boiled itself when we were out. The kettle seamed to play tricks on us, waiting till one left the room before it clicked, boiled and clicked off in record time. We would call to each other.
"I'll have a cup if you're making one" was the regular comment. Followed swiftly by “I wasn't," from the other. We both suspected each other of the joke but said little on the subject preferring to humour each other. Apart from the door and the kettle quandary life was okay. We weren't about to let a silly joke create problems, it was fine. Well that was how it seamed on the surface. The tension underneath was building.
It started with little bickering, nothing much really. It's hard to remember now how it actually happened and in what order. I know we were happy enough before the door began its peculiar behaviour but after there was a new kind of tension in the air. It wasn't anything you could put your finger on, but still something wasn't quite right. The pressure was to show on Kevin first, but I was unaware of it all back then. With the benefit of hindsight I realize now I could have seen the signs if I'd looked a little harder. I know if I'd seen them I could have handled it all a little better but as I said back then I just didn't see it coming.
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