Chapter 14

Claire had called everyone she could think of, but had only succeeded in making things worse. Jim's friends, that she knew of, had not seemed too worried. They told her that he had always been moody and prone to going off by himself. He disappeared early on every night out with them, so his random absences and lack of communication were nothing new. Typical men. His parents, however, were beside themselves with worry and asked more questions than she had. She ended up passing over the details of the police officer from earlier along with the police reference number and they were planning on calling him to offer their help. They were such lovely people, Jim's parents, she felt bad for them. Jim was not the best son. He rarely kept in touch, and usually went round to see them only when Claire suggested it. She did not know why he was so averse to it, but assumed it was just part of his anti-social personality. Nevertheless, his parents were always checking up on him, making sure he had enough money, buying things for his flat. He was almost rude in his lack of gratitude. She wished her parents were as generous to her as his were to him.

Claire considered posting something on Facebook, but decided better of it. Rather than genuine concern and help, it would probably just be an opportunity for people to say the usual niceties and then gossip instead of being productive. Any opportunity to watch a car crash in progress was a human addiction. People she barely knew would secretly relish the distraction from their own meaningless lives and turn it into a joke when Jim inevitably turned up safe and well.

Sitting at home made Claire feel useless. Jim was obviously somewhere, and she was more than a little angry at him for making her feel this way. He had driven out there for a reason and she needed to know why. Determined to get the answer and feeling aggrieved somehow, anger forced her into action. Before thinking of a real plan, Claire was back in her car and heading to the A369 for the second time that day.

The journey was much quicker this time around. The rain had stopped and the roads were clear of traffic. Claire had no clue what she was really planning to do, but just moving alleviated the anxiety a little. Pulling up behind Jim's car, Claire realised she had really not thought this through. She had no torch, no coat, no map, no signal and no clue what she was doing here. The car's doors were all locked and she could see no magical handwritten sign inside telling her where to look next. Two minutes staring into the local, admittedly beautiful, countryside allowed Claire's eyes to adjust to the darkness. There were a lot of trees around here, she realised, as if that was somehow useful. What was useful, to her surprise, was the realisation that trees were not the only large, inanimate objects in the area. There was a house. A massive bloody house! How had she not see it earlier? Torrential rain and almost no visibility was the answer to that question, but the truth did not diminish her frustration. Claire started walking towards the imposing structure, positive that this was definitely 'a good idea'.

The gate being locked put a slight dent in Claire's positivity, but only for as long as it took her to straddle the barrier and drop to the other side. The crunch of gravel sounded incredibly loud in the dark. The depth of darkness surprised her. It was unusual to have an absolute absence of light pollution. Looking up, she saw countless stars and realised that she had not noticed a sky this clear in years. This was the cost of modern comfort and perpetual visibility.

Unknowingly following in Jain's earlier footsteps, Claire moved onto the grass for a quieter approach. She could not really explain to herself why silence seemed the best choice, but the gravel sounded almost aggressive; truthfully, it was knowing that she had no legitimate reason to be trespassing. Undeterred, she made it to the all-gravel semi-circular driveway framing the front of the massive house. She looked up at the windows trying to detect a hint of light. Nothing obvious. She walked to the far left edge of the lawn and around to the building's western side. More windows wrapped their way around, and all were equally black. Creeping as slowly and quietly as the ground allowed, Claire reached the edge of the nearest window. She peered inside but could see nothing except an empty room; Illuminated in tiny portions by the sliver of moon overhead, it was just about possible to make out the shape of a door frame in the room beyond. There appeared to be nothing else, not even a single piece of furniture. Claire's heart sank. This place looked abandoned.

As if responding to her sudden hopelessness, a sound emanated from somewhere inside. It sounded like the thud of a bag being dropped onto a wooden floor. Then, a quick, rhythmic tapping, as if a tiny tin drummer was beating his drum. Claire's pupils were now so dilated through lack of light that she began to make out more shapes from inside. The door frame was still there, but now she could see past it into an open hallway. The first step of an upward-leading staircase was at its centre, but where it lead was blocked from view by the near room's wall. The tapping sound stopped suddenly, and the only noise that remained was the rustle of branches from nearby trees. The window was locked from the inside and so, presumably, were all the others. Claire saw no reason to break into the house but was overcome with the urge to do something.

She walked to the rear of the building and looked around. More dark windows, grass and trees. She looked across the open space, admiring the silhouettes of the farthest trees against the moonlit backdrop. It was so peaceful. Many of those trees had stood their ground longer than most humans on the planet had lived. This excursion had been a total waste of time. She walked along the rear of the building, heading to the east wing. Seeing herself in the darkened reflection of each window, her opaque twin resembled a cat-burglar. It did not take long to reach the opposite edge of the house. Reaching down into the filing cabinets of her brain, looking for an answer to the question, 'what next?', Claire drew a blank.