Behind a locked door

Tiff and Alex stood outside the Victorian house gazing up at the first-floor balcony.

Tiff remembered running in and out of the rooms and playing in the back garden here, at Green Villa, when her mother dropped her off at weekends.

Alex, who was standing behind his wife, placed his arms around her shoulders. “Why now? We could have done so much to this place. Made so many memories.” His voice broke with emotion and he continued in a whisper, “I can’t imagine life without you.”

Tiff turned to face him. “We said we wouldn’t mention that today. No hospitals, tests… chemo.” She turned back to face the house and took Alex’s hand. “Great Aunt Sophie has given us a wonderful fortieth Wedding Anniversary gift. I’ve always dreamed of living here.”

They walked up the wooden steps onto the veranda. Tiff pushed the front door. It should have been locked but someone had left it ajar.

“Well, so much for collecting the key,” Alex said, dropping it back in his jacket pocket. “The door doesn’t look forced. Hope no one’s inside.”

Tiffany had been left the large Victorian house in her Great Aunt’s will. No one had seen the old lady since she vanished almost a decade before. Now legally dead, her probate had come into effect and Tiff was the sole heir. There would be more than enough money left after paying death duties to effect any repairs to the house and provide for the middle-aged couple for the rest of their lives.

They stepped inside and glanced around the spacious living room. Both felt as if they were stepping back into a time of elegance when ladies took afternoon tea and walked through the house their long dresses sweeping the floor.

Long, thick curtains framed the old yellowed lace window screens. These had been popular in Sophie’s time. They stopped nosy people peering through the generous windows although Tiff doubted many people would walk this far into the Shropshire countryside.

Sophie had been an eccentric old lady who neither married nor had children. She kept to herself and often disappeared for months at a time without explanation. Once she was gone for three years. The family suspected she might have been visiting a lover overseas.

After her final disappearance, the house stood abandoned. Once a month, a lady from the nearby town came in to clean, dust, and air the property out. She was well paid and worked as if she expected her employer to return any day.

Tiff had received a call from Sophie’s solicitor six months previously. He had been working to have Sophie declared legally dead, as per the instructions the old lady had left with him.

Tiffany walked across the polished parquet flooring and stood on an Egyptian rug looking at the life-size oil painting of her great aunt. In her early twenties, slim, with long brown hair, Sophie wore a white mid-calf dress gathered at her waist and held a solitary red rose. Behind her, a gentle breeze blew the leaves of a nearby tree. Tiff hadn’t seen this painting before and wondered why her Great Aunt had had it painted showing a tear running down her cheek. An inscription in the long grass on the bottom left corner of the painting read, ‘Sophie, my love always—Edward’.

The ambiance of the house and the various items around it brought back many long forgotten memories: the white, marble fireplace where Tiff and Sophie sat toasting marshmallows on cold winter evenings; the polished oak dining table where they ate roast dinners; the chess game set up on a coffee table in the bay window. Sophie had once beaten her in three moves.

Tiff ran her fingers over the ornamental teapot standing on the bureau where she had once sat to do her homework. Her Aunt could afford the best of everything. The antique, bone china tea-set was white with gold flowers delicately painted on the handle and spout. Tiff smiled as she remembered sitting on the veranda eating scones covered in copious amounts of strawberry jam and cream whilst Aunt Sophie poured the tea from the same teapot.

So many memories she thought. How could they have lain hidden until now?

Her eyes lowered to the expensive floor rug leading past the drawing room and along the wide hallway to the kitchen. Tiff could almost smell Aunt Sophie’s home baked cookies and fruit pies.

Tall bookcases loaded far beyond capacity lined the walls of Sophie’s reading room. Each morning, after her mid-morning tea and obligatory slice of homemade fruit cake, the old lady would sit on the velvet padded seat to read. There was never any television in the house. Sophie didn’t believe in it. She called it the Devil’s glass eye. Instead, she listened to a large 1950’s radiogram and kept up to date with world events and the latest movements on the stock market listed in the weekly newspaper. She was savvy with the business market and had made a fortune.

Alex joined Tiff in the reading room. He had always thought himself most fortunate to have married her. His brothers told him she was well out of his league, although he was considered a good catch by the girls in his hometown. Now retired from a responsible job in local government, he was still a snappy dresser and preferred wearing suits to casual wear. He stood a little over six feet tall, was lean, with a long face and eyes set a little close together. Tiff had told him he was handsome, and this is what first attracted her to him, but he didn’t see it. He considered himself far less attractive than his wife.

He gazed at her from across the room. Although now in her early sixties, she was still pretty and slim, even after having four sons. Apart from his small indiscretion when the children were small, they had enjoyed a happy marriage. Weekends were spent hiking, visiting their sons, or tending their garden, and they took foreign holidays twice a year. Alex swallowed and looked away. Tiff didn’t have long. At least the boys were grown and leading their own lives.

As if reading his thoughts, she walked over and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. “It will be all right.” He covered her hand with his and bit his lip. How could everything be all right? How could anything be all right ever again? He swallowed hard and took her in his arms.

The couple stood in the dimly lit room in silence for several minutes until Alex spoke. “Shall we have a look upstairs… if you’re feeling strong enough.”

Tiff nodded and led him by the hand up the sweeping staircase.

“I always considered the old girl a little eccentric,” he said.  “But I didn’t think she’d leave you her whole estate.”

“She told me I was the closest thing she had to a daughter.”

Like the rooms downstairs, the rooms upstairs were a throwback to a previous era: high ceilings, ornate cornicing, heavily patterned floral wallpaper.  

“I used to lie here on the top step and stare at that chandelier.” Tiff laughed. “Aunt Sophie had a man in to clean it twice a year. He had crooked teeth and one time nearly fell off the stepladder.” 

They stepped into the master bedroom. Decorated with golden, flock wallpaper and a cream, deep pile carpet, her Aunt’s favourite room was large and housed a four-poster bed and white furniture. The decor of the remaining four bedrooms was modest. Tiff only glanced inside them from the doorways. 

At the end of the hallway was another door. Alex tried the handle. It was locked. A key hung next to the door frame.

He took it off the hook and paused for a moment. “Is this locked to keep us out or is someone else in there?”

Tiff smiled and gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Don’t tease. It was to keep me out when I was small. I loved playing in the attic but wasn’t allowed up there without my Aunt.” Alex unlocked the door and stepped inside the dark hallway leaving the door open so they could see to climb the stairs.

The attic room was smaller than Tiff remembered and smelled of antique furniture and old books. Tables, dining chairs, a sideboard, and several bookshelves that had once graced the ground floor rooms lined three of the walls and covered much of the floor space.

To their right, a stained-glass window let in a shaft of light and cast a long, coloured pattern of a red rose onto the floorboards. 

Alex ran a finger over a polished table which stood next to several matching chairs and a wooden piano stool embroidered with the same rose pattern as the window. 

“No dust,” he said. “You Aunt’s cleaner must come up here too.

Tiff gasped. “The children’s bed. I’d forgotten this.” She stepped forward and touched the counterpane. “When I was five or six, I pleaded with Aunt Sophie to let me sleep on here. It would have been an exact fit, but she said it would break if I lay on it. It’s very old. Look, the sheets are yellowed with age.”

Alex was more interested in a stack of 12-inch bakelite records and a wind-up gramophone. He contemplated starting it up but changed his mind when he noticed Tiff look at him and shake her head. Instead, he settled for picking up a leather-bound book off a bookcase and leafing through its pages.

“Tiff,” he said, after a few moments. “Look at this.” Tiff walked across the room to her husband and took a sealed white envelope out of his hand. “I found it on the table. It has your name on the front.”

Tiff frowned. “Strange, I’m sure it wasn’t there a moment ago.”

She took the envelope over to the window where the light was better and held up the letter. “It’s from Aunt Sophie.” She read it aloud so Alex could hear:

“Dearest Tiffany, I can’t wait to see you one last time. Don’t worry, dear, I know I can trust you with my secret. You knew it years ago, but time stole it from you. Do you remember the strawberry fields and our lodge by the lake? How about the market where we bought what you called silly fruit?”

A gentle breeze whispered past Tiff’s ear and she brushed a strand of shoulder length blond hair from her face. She seemed to accept this as normal, even though there was no obvious place where the breeze could have originated.

“Oh.” She said, wide-eyed. “I remember sitting on the beach eating silly fruit.”

“Silly fruit?”

“I called it that because it was purple on the outside and orange on the inside, and it tasted of peach but didn’t have a stone.”

She continued reading the letter:

“Tiffany, you said you wanted to live here forever and play with the other children. They are grown now but still remember you. You have a big decision to make. I won’t blame you if you decide not to come, but, if you do, you will have a wonderful life.” Tiff looked at her husband.

He frowned. “So, the old dear’s still alive? You know where she is?”

Tiff nodded and placed the letter back on the table. While they had been talking, the sun had moved a little and the reflected rose pattern had edged towards a wall to ceiling tapestry. “We don’t have long.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“The old lady’ll be a hundred if she’s a day.” 

“A hundred and five,” Tiff corrected him.

“I don’t understand.”

She took a deep breath. “I often walked around the lake with Aunt Sophie. Mum said she was much older than her. But when we were at the lake Sophie always appeared young… like in the oil painting downstairs.”

Alex smiled, “Time plays tricks on our memories, especially those we gain as small children.”

The car journey over and the excitement of being at Green Villa had drained Tiff’s strength. She placed a hand on a nearby sideboard to steady herself and sat on a chair. “And there was the time I fell and hurt my leg, really hurt it, but Sophie carried me to the boathouse and while we were still a good way off my leg healed and I ran the rest of the way.” Tiff’s eyes widened as the rest of her memories of that time flooded back. She brought her hands up to her face and took several large breaths.

Alex knelt in front of her. “You’ve done too much today.”

She looked her husband in the eye. “Help me up. I need to do something. The rose shadow is touching the tapestry.”

Alex thought his wife looked pale. He wanted to tell her to stay where she was until she felt stronger, but he knew how determined she could be, so he stood up, took her hands in his, and gently helped her to her feet. She walked to the tapestry and pulled it back revealing a wooden door. A bright light shone from beneath it. This must have been where the breeze had originated.

“Curious,” Alex said. “That’s an outside wall and we’re on the second floor.” Tiff turned the handle and pulled it open a little way. He placed a hand on her arm. “Careful. I don’t want you falling into the backyard.”

The door opened revealing a grassy bank and a grove of fruit trees all on the same level as the attic room. The young woman from the painting was walking towards them through the long grass.

As she approached, she looked at Tiff and smiled. “It’s been so long. You’re all grown up.” She frowned and tilted her head to one side. “Oh. You’re not well.”

Tiffany turned to Alex. “This is Great Aunt Sophie.”

Alex opened and closed his mouth. None of this was possible. He stared at the young woman standing before them.

“Less of the Great Aunt part,” she said. “Sophie will do.” She addressed her great niece. “Have you made a decision?”

Tiff pressed her lips together and shook her head slowly. “I can’t leave the boys. Stephen and his new wife are expecting their first child. They’ll need me.”

Sophie stepped into the attic and touched Tiff on the arm. “Sweetie, you know you won’t be around for that. I wish it weren’t so, and I’m not trying to push you into anything… If you come with me, you’ll live a long life―”

Alex cut in. “Wait a minute. You’re upsetting her.”

Sophie withdrew her arm and turned to face Alex. “I don’t mean to. I wasn’t aware of your wife’s medical condition ’til just then. But it’s simple. If she comes with me, the growth will shrink and die. If she stays here…”

Alex stepped forward and placed his arm around his wife’s shoulder. He drew her into his chest so she was facing him and spoke gently, her hair brushing his lips. “This is impossible. Are we dreaming?”

Tiff shook her head. “It’s real. More real than the world we live in. The doorway is a portal to another dimension… there’s no sickness there because the air is infused with life. You breathe it in.”

Alex drew back and took his wife’s hands in his. “He looked into her eyes. “Then you must go,” and as if reading her mind added, “The boys will be all right. I’ll be all right.” He turned to Sophie. Fine age-lines had appeared under her eyes and her hair looked a little thinner. “So, you can’t stay here?”

“Not anymore, I will age and die. No one lives to be two hundred and twenty in this world.”

Tiff frowned and looked at her aunt.

The older lady smiled. “I lied about my age, a little. Don’t you remember me saying I was your great, great, great… great Aunt… Well, you get the picture. I’ve forgotten exactly how many greats.” She walked back towards the doorway and turned to face Alex. “You can come too, if you would like to.” 

Her face lost its smile as memories of long ago replayed in her mind. “My Edward didn’t come with me. He promised to join me one day. He was an artist. He painted that picture of me holding the red rose. His parting gift. I never saw him again. I waited for him, but he was killed in action. In the Great War.  I’ve missed him for more than eighty years.”

Tiff had made up her mind. “Please come with us,” she said to Alex.

Alex turned to face Sophie. Her hair was now white, and her face appeared older than anyone he had ever seen.

“We can’t just disappear?” he said. “Our family… They… No one will know what happened to us. Can we come back to see them?”

Sophie shook her head. “You can never come back.”

Alex nodded and stepped through the portal with the two women. He shut the door behind them and soon all three were walking through the fruit tree grove and on towards the lake-side lodge, each looking as young and fresh-faced as teenagers.

Over time, the police stopped searching for Tiff and Alex. Sophie’s estate was divided between their four sons who always wondered what became of their parents… until one day when Stephen, their youngest son and now a pensioner, visited Green Villa and found the old door behind the attic tapestry.