No dogs in the bedroom.
Please.
We hope you enjoy your stay.
The word ‘please’ seems like an afterthought and a little passive-aggressive on a new line all by itself, but perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Bob sniffs the bed, wags his tail, and sits down contentedly as though it were his own. My dog doesn’t suffer from separation anxiety the way I do, and – unlike me – he can sleep anywhere, anytime.
‘Well, that’s him taken care of. Didn’t the note earlier say that one of the bedrooms had been made up for us?’ Adam says.
‘Yes, but I can’t remember which.’
‘Only one way to find out.’
He tries each of the available doors, which are all locked, until the final one opens with a dramatic creak to match the soundtrack of the stairs. Along with the howling wind outside, it’s enough to give anyone a dose of the heebie-jeebies.
‘This place could really do with some WD-40,’ Adam says turning on the light, and I follow him inside the room.
I’m shocked by what I see.
The bedroom looks just like ours at home. Not a carbon copy – the furniture is different – but the bed is covered with the same pillows, blankets and throws. And the walls have been painted in the exact same shade: Mole’s Breath by Farrow and Ball. I redecorated as a surprise a couple of years ago, and I’ll never forget how much Adam hated it.
We both stand and stare for a moment.
‘I don’t understand what I’m seeing,’ I whisper.
‘I suppose it does look a bit like ours—’
‘A bit?’
‘Well, we don’t have stained-glass windows in London.’
‘This is too strange.’
‘We don’t have a grandfather clock either,’ he says, and that’s true. The antique-looking clock in the corner of the room is completely out of place, and the sound of it ticking seems to get louder in my ears.
‘Adam, I’m serious. Don’t you think this is all a bit weird?’
‘Yes and no. They probably just got the idea from the same place as you. Didn’t you buy everything in our bedroom from one company because you got a fifty per cent discount in the sale? You fell in love with a picture of a bedroom in their brochure, and literally bought it all. I definitely remember the credit card bill. Maybe whoever owns this place did the same?’
What he’s saying is true. I did fall in love with a picture of a bedroom in a brochure, and I did buy almost everything in it, despite the ridiculous price tags. I suppose it isn’t beyond the realms of possibility that whoever renovated the chapel has similar taste. The place has been beautifully decorated, despite every surface being covered in dust. Which makes me notice that – unlike the rest of the property – the bedroom is spotless. I can even smell furniture polish.
‘It’s clean,’ I say.
‘Surely that’s a good thing?’
‘All the other rooms were dusty and—’
‘Maybe we should replace our table lamps with these at home?’ Adam says, interrupting me and lighting one of the old-fashioned candlestick holders by the bed. He had a box of matches in his pocket, like he knew they would be here. As they start to flicker and cast shadows around the room, I can’t help thinking that they look borrowed from the set of A Christmas Carol. ‘They’ve still got the price stuck to the bottom. They look so old, but they must be new,’ he says, lifting one.
‘It all feels so… unauthentic, as if we’re in a film of our lives, and someone just dressed the set with cheap replicas of the originals.’
‘I think they’re cool.’
‘I think they’re a fire hazard.’
I open another door and find a bathroom that looks nothing like ours at home. Everything is genuinely old, and there are marks on the wall and floor where I’m guessing a claw-foot bath used to be. It was the same in the restroom downstairs – no bath, just an empty space where one clearly once stood. There is mildew on the wall tiles and sink. When I turn on the taps, there is a strange sound but nothing happens.
‘I suspect the pipes might be frozen,’ Adam says from the bedroom.
‘Great. I was hoping to take a hot shower,’ I reply coming out to join him. The room is now only lit with candlelight, and it does feel cosier. I notice that he’s opened the wine and poured two glasses. I want to enjoy it this time, so go to pull the blinds, still a little creeped out that someone might have been outside watching us earlier. There is an old radiator below the window, but it’s freezing cold which explains why I am.