Part 1 of 4
Spinner
A woman trapped in an abusive relationship during lockdown investigates a malevolent supernatural force in her basement.
‘Is that your second slice of toast?’
It seemed a harmless inquiry, but Isabel caught the undertone of her boyfriend’s question. Tyler was concerned about her stomach. Too much bread made her feel ill, and she had to be reminded. Isabel nodded, and put the remaining uneaten toast with strawberry jam back on her plate, knowing that creeping guilt would spoil the taste if she persisted.
‘I thought so,’ said Tyler. ‘Sweetheart, you need to be careful. You know what too much bread can do to you, and we don’t want you feeling lousy on our anniversary, do we?’
‘No,’ said Isabel. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’
‘I sometimes wonder how you managed to survive so long without me. I suppose your mother did the best she could, mingled with her lunatic religious views, of course.’
‘Tyler, I wish you wouldn’t talk about her like that.’
‘Why shouldn’t I? You’ve always said she was batshit crazy. You were the one who wanted to get out of there and move in with me. I love how much that pissed her off, thinking of us living together, living in sin…’
‘Tyler, don’t! Please.’
‘You’re always saying what a crazy bitch she is, so why can’t I? Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?’
‘It just feels different when I talk about her that way, to when you do it.’
‘That makes no sense.’
‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I ought to be less hypocritical.’
Isabel drank a sip of tea, feeling doubly guilty. Not only had she eaten extra toast (which she’d hoped Tyler wouldn’t notice), but now she had started thinking about her mother, and how angry and upset she had been on the day she moved out of her family home to live with Tyler.
‘Another day of thrilling quarantine,’ Tyler muttered. He glanced at his watch. ‘I ought to get to work.’
‘Shall I bring your usual coffee to the study at about eleven?’
‘Make it half-past. I’ve got a conference call at eleven.’
Tyler got up, kissed Isabel on the forehead, and left the room. Isabel lingered in the kitchen and dining area of their house, staring around at the remaining boxes that had yet to be unpacked. They had moved into 23 Queen Street just six days earlier, immediately before the government had announced the near lockdown they were now adjusting to, due to the threat of the Covid-19 coronavirus pandemic.
Being trapped in their house for the foreseeable future wasn’t a prospect Isabel relished. She enjoyed her job as a freelance graphic designer, and often that meant working at home in any case. But in between all that, she enjoyed going for long walks on Dartmoor, or along the coastal paths. This vital alone time helped clear her head and provide inspiration. Now she had Tyler present all the time, and it felt like an unwelcome intrusion. Her boyfriend was handsome and often charming, but also had a way of eating up the space that made her feel crushed. She would never admit as much to him of course. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Isabel stared at the uneaten toast and jam. Tyler had left the room. Feeling mournful at the prospect of throwing the toast in the bin, she began to eat it regardless, risking a stomach-ache later.
Tyler had retired upstairs to the second bedroom, which had been designated his study. Already she could hear his muffled voice in some kind of conference call. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he sounded angry. Sales had been down in his advertising agency business, which was hardly surprising given the present pandemic.
Opening her laptop, Isabel tried to concentrate on her current graphic design project, a commission from a children’s book publisher. She worked for a couple of hours, but her eyes drifted to the sunshine outside, and she longed for one of her walks along the coast. From where she lived on the outskirts of Plymouth, it would involve a short drive, but drives to beauty spots were strongly discouraged under emergency regulations. Besides, Tyler’s letter-of-the-law mentality would doubtless prevent such an escape.
At 11:30, Isabel made some coffee and took a mug upstairs to Tyler in his study. His ranting voice echoed down, so she paused mid staircase, not wanting to interrupt an important Skype meeting.
‘…Charles, we’ll just have to let her go.’
‘But we’re in the middle of this virus lockdown,’ Charlie’s voice replied over Skype. ‘It isn’t fair Mr Ronson.’
Mr Ronson.
Isabel couldn’t understand why Tyler insisted his employees address him that way, as though he were a schoolteacher.
‘It isn’t just Jenny’s sales figures that are down,’ Charles continued. ‘Everyone’s sales figures are down.’
‘Hers are down more than most. She’s not been hitting her targets for a while. You can’t just blame this on the virus. We need to let her go.’
‘Mr Ronson, if you let her go, it isn’t as though she can just waltz into another job straight away. With this lockdown, it will be extremely difficult to find jobs.’
‘I’m sorry… How is any of that my problem? I’m running a business, not a charity. My business exists to make money, and right now I can’t afford slackers.’
‘Actually, to be fair, profits look fairly solid. You could afford to keep Jenny on for another six months at least, at lower than her current sales rate, before you see any significant cutting into profits.’
‘Charles, you’re hired as my Head of Sales, not as my conscience. If people don’t make their sales targets, we let them go.’
‘But the virus…’
‘I don’t care if the world is ending. Business is business. Get rid of her.’
‘She has a husband who is out of work and is supporting both him and two small children. I really think we should show some compassion. The government are offering assistance to businesses, and have said we shouldn’t let people go.’
‘Is it the law that we can’t fire staff who don’t do their jobs?’
‘No, but…’
‘Well, until it’s the law, we abide by the current law, which states I can fire whomever I damn well please if they aren’t doing their jobs properly. Let Jenny go Charles. I don’t want to hear her name mentioned again. Now, what else have we got to discuss?’
Charles sighed. ‘Well, some of our sales team have experienced difficulties with the laptops we’ve issued them for working at home…’
Isabel took the change of subject as a cue that she could safely head upstairs to Tyler’s study, and present him with the coffee. She had been slightly disturbed at her boyfriend’s heartlessness over his employees, but it wasn’t worth challenging him on his attitude. In the past, when she had raised the tiniest of questions about one of his decisions to fire a particular employee, he had raged at her as knowing nothing about the pressures he was under at work, and told her to mind her own business, since his money put a roof over her head. She could still picture the fury on his face. Needless to say, she had backed down. He had apologised later though, and they had kissed and made up. On reflection, she had realised she didn’t walk in his shoes, and it wasn’t her place to question how he ran his business.
The door to the study was open. Isabel placed the mug of coffee on Tyler’s desk and smiled. He frowned, but she knew he wasn’t frowning at her. He was deep in thought about the laptop issues presently under discussion.
Slipping away, Isabel left Tyler to his work and returned to hers. She continued for another hour or so, working on the children’s illustrations. Sunshine taunted her through the windows, and she eventually decided to go and sit in the back garden.
Outside, she drank in the sunlight. Trees and bushes were beginning to bud, and daffodils had emerged in the flowerbeds. Although cooler than it looked from indoors, the slight breeze felt refreshing beneath the clear skies. Isabel sat back in a garden chair on the patio next to the lawn and continued to read the horror novel she was currently halfway through, Black Mass on Dartmoor. Isabel loved horror stories, though she often read them in secret, as Tyler thought they played on her imagination too much.
After reading a chapter, Isabel closed her eyes for a minute, enjoying the fresh air, and the warm silence. Picturing herself on one of her favourite coastal paths, she imagined rugged cliffs, crashing waves, and a cool sea breeze.
After about ten minutes, the sun went in. Isabel felt colder, so returned inside. She resumed her work for a short time and began to think about lunch. Perhaps she could make something nice for Tyler. Perhaps it would calm him, and he’d fire fewer employees who weren’t hitting sales targets.
Thinking to make an omelette, Isabel searched the kitchen for ingredients but discovered her favourite frying pan had yet to be unpacked following the move. Wondering where the appropriate box had gone, she searched downstairs a little, and eventually realised the box in question could have been erroneously placed in the basement.
Having a basement had been one of the things that had initially drawn Tyler to the house, as he wanted to have a wine cellar. However, at this point, they had neither wine racks, nor bottles to stack there, and the basement had been mostly used to store boxes that they had yet to unpack. Isabel had been indifferent to the idea of a wine cellar, much preferring to drink real ales. However, she rarely got the chance these days. Tyler disapproved of her drinking beer for reasons he couldn’t properly articulate, other than muttering something about his mother drinking beer, and it therefore being unsexy.
Isabel descended into the basement, switching on the single naked bulb that lit the large underground room. Aside from the neatly stacked boxes to the right of the wooden staircase, the basement contained little more than concrete walls, cobwebs, gas and electricity meters, and a fuse box. A few piles of dusty newspapers and magazines left by the previous owners lay scattered on the floor.
Glancing at the labelling on the boxes, Isabel locating her favourite frying pan with relative ease. She had been about to return to the kitchen when a shadowy movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye.
Isabel turned to the area of the basement where she had seen the movement. Perhaps it has just been a large spider scuttling across the wall. A shudder passed through her as she stepped forward to investigate. She didn’t much like spiders.
But although there were plenty of cobwebs, Isabel couldn’t see any spiders in the area where she had noticed movement. The lightbulb began to flicker a little. The light grew dimmer, casting further shadows in an already poorly lit basement. An icy chill sent shivers down Isabel’s spine, and her hair began to tingle.
‘Is someone there?’
Isabel’s voice sounded muffled, falling flat in the gloom. She felt very foolish, talking to thin air. What a ridiculous thing to say. What had possessed her to think there was someone else present?
She turned to head back to the staircase, but as she did, Isabel noticed the corner of what appeared to be an envelope, sticking out from among the pile of newspapers in the basement. Something about the way it poked out felt deliberate, as though someone wanted it to stand out. To be noticed.
Curious, Isabel took the envelope and examined it. It looked quite new and had been sealed. In handwritten capital letters, the envelope had been addressed to THE NEW HOMEOWNER.
Isabel put down the frying pan on the steps and opened the envelope. A carefully folded piece of lined A4 paper had been placed inside. After removing the paper, Isabel examined it, discovering a short, handwritten statement.
A dream will reveal the truth to whoever opens this envelope.
Another shiver passed through Isabel as she read the enigmatic words, but she disregarded the prickling unease. Instead, she pocketed the letter and headed back upstairs with the frying pan.
Whilst making the omelettes, Isabel thought over what she had discovered in the basement. The letter had obviously been left by the previous occupant, but why? They had bought the house from an elderly woman, Maud Spinner, whose family had decided it was best to place her in a retirement home. Most of the sale had been handled by Ivan Spinner, Maud’s son, and Tyler was the one who had dealt with the details. Had this letter been left by Maud Spinner?
Over lunch, Isabel decided to ask Tyler a few questions about the house sale.
‘When we were exchanging contracts, did you ever speak with Maud Spinner?’
Tyler frowned. ‘The old woman who used to live here? No. The sale was handled by her son.’
‘So you never saw her at all?’
‘Well, I did see her briefly, one time at the solicitor.’
‘What was she like?’
Tyler shrugged. ‘Just a generic old woman really. Seemed in a world of her own, and completely ignored me. I just spoke to her son. Why are you asking?’
‘Oh… No reason. I suppose I was just thinking about how she probably lived here for years, quite happily, and must have hated having to go away and live in a retirement home. People in those places are now particularly vulnerable to the virus, so it’s doubly horrible really. She probably would have been better off if she’d stayed.’
‘Well, that’s not what her son said. Ivan Spinner was very clear that his mother couldn’t look after herself anymore, and needed help. What he did was for the best, I’m sure. Why this sudden interest in the previous owners?’
‘Like I said, no real reason…’
Tyler frowned. ‘I think you’re lying.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘I don’t know. What is it you don’t want me to find out?’
Isabel’s insides began to squirm. ‘There’s nothing. How’s your omelette?’
‘Delicious as usual. What are you hiding?’
‘Nothing. How’s work going? Did you have a good morning?’
Tyler fixed Isabel with a dark stare. ‘You’re definitely hiding something. You know I can tell when you’re lying, and you know I hate it when you lie.’
‘I know… I’m sorry, I…’
Isabel looked away, feeling flustered.
‘Just tell me the truth, Isabel. What provoked these questions about Maud and Ivan Spinner?’
Trying to gather her thoughts, Isabel couldn’t understand why she felt so reluctant to tell Tyler about the envelope and paper she had discovered in the basement. But he knew she was holding something back, so she’d have to make something up, and make it sound convincing. It would need to contain an element of truth, or he’d know she was lying.
‘All right, well… It just seems so insignificant and silly that I didn’t want to mention it, but… I was in the basement earlier, trying to find the frying pan to make omelettes, and I began to think about Maud, and… Well, I thought I sensed something down there. A kind of presence. Like she was still there. It was really strange.’
To Isabel’s relief, Tyler laughed. ‘You think the old biddy is haunting this place? As far as I know, she isn’t dead yet.’
‘I told you it was silly.’
‘Yeah, well you’re jumping at shadows. Perhaps you shouldn’t go into the basement. I need to fix the light in there, for one thing.’
Isabel nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’
‘Is that everything?’
‘Yes.’
Tyler frowned. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Sure.’
Isabel stared back at her boyfriend, refusing to break eye contact. If she looked away, she’d look guilty, and he would know she was still hiding something.
‘Very well,’ Tyler said eventually. ‘As I said, I suggest you stay out of the basement for now. It’s causing that over-active imagination of yours to run riot.’
‘I suppose she isn’t dead, is she?’ Isabel said.
Tyler shrugged. ‘Who knows? Perhaps she caught the virus in that retirement home and is already dead.’
‘That’s a horrible thought.’
Tyler laughed. ‘I’m just messing with you! I’m sure Maud Spinner is alive and well.’
‘I wonder how she felt about leaving this place.’
‘Who knows?’
‘Her son perhaps?’
‘He didn’t mention anything to me at all. He just said it was the best thing for her, and that knowing she was safe would be a weight off his mind.’
‘I hate the idea of nursing homes. I think I’d rather be dead than end up there.’
Isabel continued to eat her omelette, all the while thinking of the mysterious paper in her pocket. Why had Maud Spinner left it, and what did it mean?
A dream will reveal the truth to whoever opens this envelope.
What truth?
Why was she so reluctant to show the paper to Tyler?
Author’s Note: Check out my other short stories on Medium here.
