They ran out into the hall and through into the living room, looking up at the ceiling again. ‘Subsidence,’ he mouthed, almost silently.
‘What?’
‘Subsidence, there’s something wrong with the foundations. The builders have fucked up with the foundations. Something’s seriously not right.’
‘It’s not subsidence, Jason, is it? You know it isn’t. It is not subsidence.’
He continued staring at the ceiling. His voice trembling, he said, ‘I don’t think ghosts break windows or make cracks in ceilings.’
‘Or smoke cigars out in the street? Or turn up disguised as vicars?’
A sharp, malevolent, female voice rang out from the kitchen.
‘Nor speak from a command box that’s been unplugged!’
They froze.
Emily looked at him, her face the colour of ice. ‘Wh-what was that?’
Cautioning her with his hand to stay where she was, he walked back to the kitchen. As he entered, he heard a man say, in a northern accent, ‘It’s not unplugged, Lulu, you daft bitch!’
To his surprise the television was on. A young couple, in a modern kitchen, were both staring at an identical command box to their own.
‘I unplugged the bloody thing, I’m certain I did, Ray, to stop the alarm waking us every morning.’
‘At what time would you like an alarm call?’ the device spoke in a commanding female voice.
‘I don’t want a bloody alarm call.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand your request.’
The man on the screen looked, exasperated, at the woman.
There was a close-up of the device, clearly plugged in.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I unplugged it!’
‘Yeah, right, so it just plugged itself back in?’
Jason felt Emily’s arms around him. ‘At least we have one rational explanation,’ she said.
‘Except I didn’t turn the television on, and nor did you.’
‘Maybe one of us touched the remote?’
‘I’ll take that, for now.’ Jason looked at the very-definitely unplugged device on the table.
‘So will I.’ Emily shot a glance at the ceiling again.
He picked up the remote and turned off the television. ‘I’ll call Paul Jordan first thing – we need to get a surveyor, urgently.’
‘Where are we going to find one in Christmas week? The agency’s probably shut until after the holidays.’
‘I have his mobile number.’
‘You do? Call him now? I don’t think we should risk staying here tonight.’
‘Em, this place was built by one of the UK’s best-known developers. They must know what they’re doing. There’s a bit of subsidence, but it’s not falling down.’
‘Absolutely, they know what they’re doing – like killing one of their site workers?’
‘That was a tragic accident.’
‘I don’t want to be another tragic accident, OK? Call him now.’
Reluctantly, Jason scrolled through his contacts list, then hit the estate agent’s name.
Jordan answered on the fourth ring. He sounded totally pissed. ‘Jason, my friend! Happy Boxing Day! You know – to you and your lovely wife. I trust Santa Claus did you both proud – even though he might have had difficulties finding you on the new estate, unless he has a very up-to-date satnav!’
A baby was screaming in the background.
‘I hope you had a good Christmas, too,’ Jason said politely.
‘Oh, we did, still going on! You have no idea how – how . . .’ His voice tailed off.
‘Hello?’ Jason said, wondering if he had lost the connection.
‘Have you seen it? Bloody brilliant, just brilliant.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Die Hard. Bruce Willis. Incredible film!’
‘Paul, we have a problem – a very serious problem.’
‘Bruce Willis has one too – terrorists, but really they are robbers – it’s just brilliant.’
‘Maybe he can sort out our problem, Paul, if he’s that brilliant?’
‘I’ll send him over, pal! Anything else I can do for you?’
‘Actually, yes. I think our house is falling down.’
‘Can it wait until tomorrow?’
Jason covered the mic on his phone and looked, helplessly, at Emily. ‘He’s completely shitfaced.’
‘He has to do something.’
‘He’s going to send Bruce Willis over.’
‘That’s not funny.’
Jason looked up again at the ceiling. ‘Paul, we have a very serious problem, we need urgent help.’
There was no reply.
‘Paul!’ he said, loudly. ‘Paul!’
A faint voice said, ‘I’ve dropped my phone. Anyone see it?’
Angry and frustrated, Jason ended the call. ‘We’re not going to get any sense out of him.’
‘Maybe we should bail out and spend the night in a hotel?’ Emily suggested.
‘We’ve both drunk too much to drive.’
‘We could call a taxi.’
‘It’s Boxing Day night, Em – there won’t be an empty hotel room in the county.’
‘We could go and stay with my parents.’
‘Thank God this didn’t happen yesterday when your parents were here. I can imagine what your dad would have said.’
‘Dad wouldn’t have let us spend another night here until it was all sorted. He’d have insisted we go and stay with them.’
‘And he’d have twisted it all around, so it was somehow my fault for not having the place properly checked out or something. You know how he grabs any chance to get a dig in.’
‘Jason, that is so not fair. We had a very happy day with them.’
He didn’t respond.
‘Come on, we did!’
‘Were you and I in the same house yesterday? Your father criticized the champagne, saying it was too young, and that I should know to keep it at least two years before opening it. Then he had a go at me for not leaving the foil on the neck of the white burgundy because it makes the bottle look more elegant. And then he told me I’d served quite the wrong red with the turkey and I shouldn’t have decanted the bottle because it wasn’t of a quality or an age that needed it. Oh, and when I cut him a piece of Cheddar he yelled at me, “ne coupez le bec”, because I apparently cut it from the pointed end, which must have ruined everyone’s Christmas.’
‘He’s very fussy about his wines, you know that.’
‘I did my bloody best. Next time I’m sodding serving him some of Mrs P-W’s bargain prosecco. Can I actually do anything right for him?’
‘He means well; as I’ve said before, it’s just his blunt way.’
He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. ‘Look, babes, I’m sorry, we’re both rattled; let’s cool it. This house is not falling down. We have a problem with subsidence and there’s been a tiny bit of movement, that’s all. There’re some hairline cracks in the ceilings and some cracked windows.’
‘Some? Every ceiling, window and mirror in the house. Why are you in denial about it?’
‘I don’t think it’s dangerous,’ he said, flatly. ‘And I don’t think a ghost did it. Ghosts might be damned spooky, but I doubt they have the power to cause subsidence!’
‘So everything is fine, is it?’
‘I’m not saying that, I know it’s creepy, but there has to be an explanation – this is an architect-designed house and the build quality is very high.’
‘Oh, really, that’s why it’s falling down, is it?’
‘It’s not falling down. New buildings often move from subsidence – or settlement – which has put everything out of alignment, causing the walls to twist a fraction. That’s all it would need to do to create the cracks; just the tiniest movement. They all twisted a little and that caused the windows – and the fixed mirrors – to crack. That doesn’t mean the place is falling down.’
‘Is that what you’re going to tell me when we wake up, crushed and trapped inside fallen masonry? If we wake up?’