Let Me Out

Thud, thud, thud. There it was again, the noise from the attic.

‘Did you hear that?,’ Amber asked her husband, not for the first time.

‘It’ll be the pipes knocking,’ Andy always said, ‘because of all the long, lazy baths you have when I’m not here.’

Although she’d tried to convince herself he was right, and even though over time she’d almost taught herself to ignore it, Amber couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief that their time in the old cottage was almost up. Just a few boxes left to pack…just one more night…

‘Well, that’s the attic empty,’ said Andy. ‘You’re right, it is a bit spooky in there. That tiny window barely lets in any light.’ He rubbed the top of head. ‘And I whacked myself on the door frame as I came out.’

Amber handed him a cup of tea, taking the box from him and stacking it with the others in the corner of the tiny dining room.

‘All the windows in this house are too small,’ she said. ‘Can you imagine what it must have been like when it was only lit by candles?’

Andy shuddered. ‘Yeah, all those creepy shadows… Can’t wait to get to the new place. Six months here has been more than long enough.’

It had seemed idyllic at first, the village with its higgledy-piggledy stone houses, nestled in the middle of the countryside, completely different from the hustle and bustle of the city that they had been desperate to escape. But it hadn’t taken long for the novelty to wear off. The houses were mainly owned by commuters or second-home owners, so there wasn’t the feeling of being part of a true community, and the eighteenth-century house was draughty and claustrophobic. Even their cat hadn’t settled in, spending all her time either in the garden or round at the neighbour’s.

‘I wonder if we’ll manage to get Tabby to leave with us,’ mused Amber. ‘I’ve hardly seen her lately.’

‘We’ll kidnap her,’ Andy joked, glancing over at the clock. ‘Gosh, look at the time.’ He gulped down the last of his tea and headed for the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he was at the back door, overnight bag in hand.

‘Don’t leave me,’ Amber pleaded, half serious, as she stood on the back doorstep.

Andy laughed and squeezed her hard. ‘It’s one night, that’s all, and I’ll be back first thing with the removal van. Believe me, if I could get out of this stag do, I would. I barely know the guy.’

Amber watched Andy’s car disappear round the bend, before taking a deep breath and going back inside to tackle what remained of the packing. She had a long soak in the bath first, then put on a comfy old nightdress that she intended to throw away once she’d left this awful place.

When the last of their things were neatly parcelled and labelled, and with the hazy autumn day fading to dusk, the familiar thuds began upstairs. Amber jumped and flicked on all the lights, telling herself to keep calm. It was just the pipes, like Andy always said, even if she hadn’t turned on any taps. One, two, three. Pause. One, two, three. Regular and insistent. The sound of the cat flap swinging distracted Amber momentarily, and she laughed out loud to herself. ‘The cat’s home!,’ she thought. ‘At least I’ll have some company.’ Indeed, she could hear soft footsteps now, coming from upstairs, so she ran up to grab Tabby in case she disappeared into the attic. There was no way she wanted to go in there at this time of night, or ever for that matter.

But it seemed she had no choice. There was no sign of the cat in the bare bedroom, just the sound of her pacing around in the eerie space beyond the open attic door. Reaching in her back pocket for her phone and flicking on its torch, Amber steeled herself. Scanning the attic from the safety of the door proved useless. The light only reached a metre or so, and although the space was empty of their possessions, a big box that had been there when they moved in remained, which they had tucked right in the back corner. Perhaps Tabby was behind it.

Amber couldn’t help but curse as she bent over and made her way towards the box. And then she saw something and froze, the blood draining from her face. A dark form, a person, sitting against the side of the box, knees drawn up. Amber gasped out loud and dropped her phone, the torch going out at the same time as the attic door slammed firmly behind her. She scrabbled around on the floor, desperately trying to locate the phone, the sound of her heartbeat pumping in her ears. She looked up and saw it clearly then, the figure, looming above her, a skeleton of a woman with straggly hair and sunken, bloodshot eyes that bored into hers. And the unearthly smell…a repulsive mixture of everything that was rotten. Amber tried to move but couldn’t get her body to respond, at once horrified and mesmerised. The woman leaned in closer and closer, her mouth opening unnaturally wide, until Amber felt she’d almost been consumed by her. And after that? A blur.

It must have been morning when Amber came round, roused by a shaft of sunlight piercing the dirty attic window. The air she was struggling to inhale felt humid and stale, and her nightdress clung to her clammy skin. She rubbed her eyes and tried to recall what had happened. A wave of panic washed over her as she dragged herself to standing, hardly able to control her weak limbs. Eventually making it to the door, she tried to twist the knob, but couldn’t get hold of it properly. It felt slippery, beyond her grasp, like her hand was almost passing through it. Her phone was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any sign of the nightmarish figure that had enveloped her the previous night.

Then a voice came drifting up from outside. Even though it sounded like he was underwater, she knew straight away that it was Andy. He was home. Amber sighed with relief and shuffled over to the window, standing on her tiptoes to get a better view, banging her fists, though her hands felt heavy and ineffectual, like they were moving in slow motion. It was then that she saw the removal van, and Andy loading up the last of the boxes before pulling down the rolling door and padlocking it. She hammered on the window again, screaming at the top of her voice, but he didn’t look up. Instead she saw him smiling warmly as a woman walked towards him. It was her, Amber, smiling back at him. But how…? In one hand she held a mobile phone, and in the other, the cat basket with Tabby locked safely inside. ‘No, no!,’ she screamed, as Andy kissed the woman and laughed.

‘You’re like a different person now we’re getting out of here!,’ she heard him say, before he scooted into the driver’s seat.

The woman opened the passenger door and then paused, looking back at the cottage. Her gaze drifted up towards the attic, where she caught sight of Amber at the window with tears streaming down her face. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed to her, before turning away and settling into the passenger seat.

Amber watched the van move away, taking with it her whole life—her husband, her possessions, her identity, her body. She slid down the damp wall and closed her eyes, drifting off into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, hoping that this was all a bad dream, yet strangely certain that it wasn’t.

An unquantifiable amount of time later, the sound of another vehicle outside broke into Amber’s consciousness, and she dragged herself up, scraping her bedraggled hair away from her face. A car pulled onto the drive and a woman got out, a removal van taking the spot behind her. The rattle of keys and the familiar creak of the front door made Amber jump to her senses, and she began thudding on the attic door.

‘Hello?,’ called the woman.

‘I’m up here! Let me out!,’ cried Amber, her voice no louder than a hoarse whisper.

A man’s voice now. ‘It’s a bit gloomy, isn’t it?,’ he said. ‘And who were you shouting to?’

The woman laughed. ‘Oh, I heard a knocking sound,’ she said, ‘coming from the roof space I think.’

Amber banged again with all the force she could muster.

‘Can’t hear anything,’ the man said. ‘But unless it’s the resident ghost then it must be the pipes or something. That’s old houses for you.’ 

‘Perhaps it is,’ Amber heard the woman say, ‘but you’ll definitely never catch me going into the attic!’