The exes, p.1
The Exes, page 1
THE EXES
JANE LYTHELL
Copyright © 2023 Jane Lythell
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The right of Jane Lythell to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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First published in 2023 by Bloodhound Books.
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Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN: 978-1-5040-8526-7
Contents
Love best-selling fiction?
NOVEMBER 1999
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Holly’s Pea And Pesto Soup
Acknowledgements
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A note from the publisher
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To Gaia Banks, my wonderful agent, whose editorial input made this a far better book.
NOVEMBER 1999
PENUMBRA HOUSE, BRIGHTON
The soil around the trunk of the fig tree is spongy after days of rain and makes the digging easier, but the low, almost-horizontal, branches of the tree are an obstacle. He must duck down as he wields the shovel or else crack his head. Digging bent over is hard and dirty work, and it will take him hours to dig a channel deep enough to prevent a scavenging fox from unearthing anything buried here.
The wind buffets the thorn bushes by the wall, and they whistle against the bricks which constrain them and his shovel squelches as he excavates the saturated soil. The earth beneath the fig tree has lain undisturbed for years and is thick with small living roots and stones. He has propped her body against the trunk of the fig tree, wrapped in layers of black bin bags and sealed with duct tape. Her body sits stiff and erect, like a masked observer.
It is nearly two in the morning and there is no one on the street at the front of the house. The glow from the street lamp does not penetrate this dark corner of the garden at the back. But he noticed the tower block which overlooks the end of the garden. A single light still shines out from the block, a square of sodium yellow. Can he be seen from that high vantage point? He thinks he is shielded by the fig tree, but its branches are bare of leaves and a worm of anxiety gnaws his gut.
The trench is knee-deep when a twig snaps, sending out a small sharp noise and something moves close by. He freezes and stills the shovel for several minutes and listens intently. He hears only the sound of rain on fallen leaves and the whistle of the thorn bushes scratching the wall. It must have been a cat or a fox prowling the garden. No homeless person would seek shelter in this inhospitable place.
He is sweating hard, and he wipes his eyes and looks up and notices for the first time a figure standing by the lit window in the block of flats. He thinks it is a man, that silhouette with those wide shoulders must surely be male, and the man is standing there looking out into the night. How long has he been there? Watching. How much can he see in the dark garden below?
He inches towards the trunk of the fig tree and stands very still in its shadow looking up at the silhouetted figure. He must not move until the watching man retreats. A sudden gust of wind surges through the garden and the body by the trunk tips to one side and comes to a stop at a lopsided angle. Does the watching man see this? He curses the onlooker as sweat trickles under his armpits and down his torso but he dare not make a move to right the body against the tree trunk.
The figure moves away from the window. Has he gone to report suspicious activity in the garden of Penumbra House? Should he run for it? But he cannot risk dragging her body back to the car. Police may be on their way. His body tells him to run but his mind tells him to stay. Wait. Just wait. Panic and hasty action gets you caught.
Time passes. His sweat cools and he shivers. The light at the window goes out. After five more minutes, he moves away from the fig tree and resumes his digging.
At last, the trench is deep enough. There are several inches of water in the bottom and as he rolls the body into its last resting place, it makes a thump and a splash. Covering the corpse with soil and levelling the earth takes him far less time.
He knows the house is only visited once a year in April. Grass and weeds will have grown over by then and will disguise any sign of his digging. It is the ideal burial place, the forgotten garden of a near-abandoned house.
He walks down the side alley, onto the street and away. At last, he feels safe.
Chapter One
TWENTY YEARS LATER
JANUARY
PENUMBRA HOUSE, BRIGHTON
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‘A commune of your exes. Good luck with that!’ Laura says.
‘It’s not a commune,’ Holly protests.
‘They’re all moving in with you, sharing your house. Ray in your basement, for heaven’s sake.’
‘I thought you liked him. You said he made you laugh.’
‘In small doses. He was fine as your rebound relationship to get you out of your separation slump. But I think he’d be impossible to live with.’
‘He was more than a rebound relationship, Laura. And he’s very good at what he does. I trust him.’ Holly says this slightly too loudly.
‘Isn’t Spencer obsessive about his painting? He’ll be here day in, day out.’
‘Fine by me. What this house needs most is people living and working here, bringing it back to life. And Spencer’s only using the first floor during the day.’
‘What mystifies me the most is you agreeing to James moving in after the way he behaved.’
‘We went through a lot together. I prefer to get on with my exes.’
‘You’ve got a big heart.’
‘He asked if I’d do him a favour, just until he got established. It was hard to say no.’
‘I hope you’ll charge him rent.’
‘Don’t worry. I insisted on rent.’
Laura rolls her eyes. ‘I’m glad you’re being more assertive with him at last. Watch out he doesn’t try to take over. You know what he’s like. Or maybe he wants to get back with you.’
‘No way! The chances of James and me getting back together are zero. He used to take me to these fancy restaurants but then he’d be critical of the wine list, or the dish he’d chosen. I just wanted him to take pleasure in the meal and be nice to the waiter. But it was glass half empty with James; never glass half full. If I could give advice to my younger self, I’d say marry a man who is glass half full.’
Laura won’t let it go. ‘I can’t see James getting along with Ray.’
Holly’s worried too but wants her best friend’s support.
‘They’re your exes for a reason. I don’t get why you’re doing this, Holly. I really don’t. Most people can’t wait to get away from their exes and if it was possible to live with them, you’d still be with one of them.’
‘I won’t be living with them; not in that way.’
‘They’ll be a permanent fixture in your life.’
‘It’ll be great to have Ray close by when things go wrong in the house. He understands buildings.’
‘I think you’re paying far too high a price for that benefit.’
‘But look at the house! I need his help.’
‘Penumbra House, Penury House more like. You do know most building projects turn into bottomless pits.’ Laura has a habit of giving unflattering nicknames to people and places.
‘Which is why I need Ray.’
Holly regrets inviting Laura to walk through Penumbra House with her, the house she inherited three months ago from her reclusive aunt Lillian. Laura always says what she thinks in an unvarnished way and today this grates on Holly.
They are standing in the si tting room, which smells musty, like a cupboard unopened in decades. The house is dirty, creaky, and unloved, but underneath the neglect is a fine and substantial Victorian villa. The interior has magnificent proportions, high ceilings, massive rooms, generous windows, and the ground floor alone is twice the size of Holly’s one-bedroom London flat.
It’s her house now: the words give her a tingle. But from the moment Holly walked in, she’d experienced something uneasy in the air. Houses emanate their own unique atmosphere and Penumbra House is mournful and desolate. Her aunt Lillian only lived here one month a year, every April. Her main residence was in Brittany.
Holly knows she can’t renovate the house on her own. She’s a single woman with few practical skills. Sure, she can paint a wall and hang a picture. But, unlike her aunt Lillian, she’s not a brave person. It’s why she invited her ex-lover Ray, a builder, to live in the basement rent-free for the long term if he would manage the renovation. They’re no longer a couple, but he has all the project management skills and the contacts to make it happen.
‘Come on, let’s have a cuppa,’ Holly says, walking into the kitchen and hoping to change the subject.
She has brought a kettle and provisions with her. The kitchen is dirty. The fridge door has been wedged open and turned off, but it still smells of mould. Holly fills the kettle and recalls helping wash the dishes for her aunt in the large butler sink with its upright brass taps. The wooden draining board is mottled black with water damage and looks unsanitary. Holly fills the kettle as Laura plonks herself down at the kitchen table, looking at the cracked ceiling thoughtfully.
‘I’ve got a better plan to get your house done up. We’ll make a video of you going round and pitch it to that Channel Four programme. You know the one. They send in teams to transform problem homes.’
‘You’re not serious?’ Holly dunks tea bags into the boiling water in two mugs.
‘Why not? I make videos all the time and it’s a good story. Cash-strapped teacher is left a wreck of a large house by her aunt and seeks help to restore it to its former grandeur.’
‘It’s not exactly a wreck, is it?’
‘It’s near enough and they’ll love the fact it’s called Penumbra House.’
‘I looked up Penumbra. It means partial illumination during an eclipse, and also means something that shrouds or obscures. Odd choice of name for a house. Lillian told me the original owner was an astronomer, one of those Victorians who collected knowledge.’
‘And she never changed it.’
Holly passes Laura a mug of tea. ‘Lillian was a purist and if that was the name they gave the house in 1881, it would stay its name.’
It’s a cold and sunny afternoon and they start the shoot outside. Laura has jotted down some keywords for Holly to use.
‘Talk into the camera as if you’re telling a friend about the house,’ she says.
She starts the video camera on her phone and makes Holly walk up the front path. This is made of small black-and-white tiles which look elegant when they are all in place, but there are lots of tiles missing. Holly turns and stops in front of the red-brick façade which boasts ornamental flourishes and a wide front door.
‘Three months ago, to my astonishment, I inherited Penumbra House from my aunt Lillian, who lived in Brittany. She left me a short letter saying: I believe you have it in you to rise to the challenge of Penumbra House. Come inside and see for yourselves why it is a challenge and why I need your renovation team to help me restore what could be such a lovely house.’
‘Cut. Good words, but we’ll do it again and speak more slowly this time, Holly, especially when you say Penumbra House.’
They do the second take and Laura moves the camera up to shoot the name of the house which is painted in thick black letters on the fanlight. They head down to the basement. The entrance has a separate front door which sticks, and Holly has to push hard to get it open. Large flagstones cover the floors, and the rooms smell strongly of damp. There are three rooms and to one side is a scullery and a kitchen of sorts. The whole floor is empty and untouched for years. She wonders if her aunt ever came down here.
‘Not very interesting.’ Laura is decisive. ‘Let’s focus on the upper floors.’
‘Ray said he’ll put a shower in the old scullery and refit the kitchen.’ Holly’s glad he’s already thinking about the basement as his new home, but she won’t share her gladness with Laura.
‘Who wouldn’t. He’s getting it rent-free, isn’t he?’ Laura positions Holly in front of the enormous window of the sitting room and lifts her hand. ‘Action.’
‘See what a magnificent room this could be, but the skirting boards are warped, the walls are cracked, and the door frame is out of square,’ Holly says to camera.
Laura pans away from Holly to show the grand dimensions of the room and the cracks which disfigure it.
The women go up to the first floor. There are no carpets anywhere in the house and the bare floorboards make their passage echoey and forlorn. They enter Lillian’s bedroom and Holly stops in front of an ancient gas fire with a tap you turn on at the side.
‘My aunt only visited the house every April, and this is the room she slept in. The rest of the time she was in France while Penumbra House stood empty. I’m told this is a Kenmore gas heater, a period piece.’
The two rooms on the other side of the staircase have connecting doors which open to create a lovely long light-filled room, although cracks also zigzag down these walls. This is the space Holly has offered Spencer as a studio. Laura gets Holly to walk through these rooms to the window overlooking the garden.
‘Talk about the garden,’ she instructs Holly.
‘My aunt told me the garden is a hundred and twenty feet long, but sadly it has been neglected for years and is now an overgrown wilderness.’
Laura moves over to shoot from the window and signals with her hand for Holly to keep on talking.
‘A giant fig tree has taken over the top half of the garden. And look how the side wall is deep in brambles grown high and impenetrable, like Sleeping Beauty’s castle during her long sleep.’
‘Cut. Nice touch, poetic,’ Laura says.
On the top floor, the ceilings aren’t as high, and the rooms smell of dust and decay. There are two decent-sized rooms, a second kitchen and the small bathroom, which Holly remembers from her visits to see her aunt at the house every April. In the back room Holly points out the trail of amoeba-shaped brown blobs staining the ceiling.
‘Maybe we should film those stains, Laura. Ray said there are broken roof tiles and water is getting in.’
Laura moves her phone up and films the stains on the ceiling. She moves the camera back to Holly’s face. ‘Sum it up and ask for help,’ Laura says.
Holly takes a breath and looks into the phone’s camera lens.
‘I need your help. The house has stood empty for so long. It’s in a state and I’m totally out of my depth. Please help me restore Penumbra House.’
‘Good.’ Laura ends the recording. ‘I’ve got enough footage. I’ll edit it, and it should run under five minutes.’
