The House on Cold Hill

21

Sometimes Caro nudged him gently, or touched his face, to let him know he was snoring. But tonight Ollie was wide awake, unable to sleep. He had watched the dial of his clock radio go from midnight to 00.30 a.m., 00.50 a.m., 1.24 a.m., 2.05 a.m. Now it was her who was snoring, as she lay face down, her arms wrapped round her pillow.

He was thinking about the photograph of Harry Walters. And the name O’Hare that he had seen in the graveyard. Why did that name seem familiar? He heard the hoot of an owl somewhere out in the darkness. Then the terrible squeal of something dying. A rabbit caught by a fox? The food chain. Nature.

Then another sound.

Running water.

He frowned. Where was it coming from? Had he left a tap running in the bathroom?

He slipped out of bed, naked, as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Caro, and crossed the bare floorboards to the en-suite bathroom, the sound of running water getting louder. He slipped in past the door which was ajar, pulled it shut behind him and switched on the light. And then saw the water gushing from both the hot and cold taps into both of the twin basins.

He strode over to them and turned the taps off. Still the sound of running water continued, loudly. He turned and looked at the bathtub. Both taps there were gushing out water. He turned them off too. Still he heard the sound, and realized the shower was running as well.

He turned that off. Then stood still. There was no way — no way at all they could have left all these on.

‘Dad! Mum!’

It was Jade crying out.

He grabbed his dressing gown off the bathroom door, hurried back in the darkness across the bedroom and heard Caro stir.

‘Wasser?’ she murmured.

‘S’OK, darling.’

He slipped out into the corridor, closed the bedroom door, fumbled for the landing light and switched it on.

‘Dad! Mum!’

He ran down the landing and into Jade’s room. Her bedside light was on and she was standing, in her T-shirt and shorts, in the doorway of her en-suite bathroom. He could hear the sound of gushing water.

She turned to him with terror in her eyes. ‘Dad, look!’

He pushed past her and stopped. Water was brimming over the top of the huge bathtub and the floor was awash. Both taps were spewing water.

He went over to them, sloshing through the puddles on the floor, and turned them off. But he could still hear water.

It was coming from the shower.

He yanked open the door and turned the tap off.

‘I turned them off, Dad, I did, before I went to bed! I had a bath and then brushed my teeth.’

He stroked her head. ‘I know you did, my lovely.’ He grabbed the towels off the rail and dumped them on the floor to mop up the water. ‘I’ll get you some fresh ones.’

‘I did turn them off.’

Down on his knees, trying to mop it up before it went through the ceiling below, he nodded. ‘The plumber was here earlier. He must have left a valve open or something.’

His words were enough to calm Jade. But not himself.

And he could still, faintly, hear running water.

His heart pounding, he kissed his daughter goodnight, switched off her light, then rushed downstairs and into the kitchen. Both taps there were going full blast. He turned them off and went through into the scullery where the taps on the butler’s sink were gushing water. He turned those off. And could now hear running water outside.

His brain was a maelstrom of confusion. He turned the ancient key in the huge lock on the door to the rear garden, pushed it open and stepped outside into the cool, damp air. The sky was clear and cloudless. A quarter moon was shining above the top of Cold Hill, and the sky was like a black velvet cloth sprinkled with sparkling gemstones.

Something felt totally surreal.

He heard running water even louder now.

He grabbed the torch on the edge of the draining board, switched it on and shone the powerful beam out into the garden. Something in the distance — too far away to tell whether a fox or a badger, perhaps — hurried away. Then he saw the source of the water. It was an outside tap, pelting out water.

He turned it off and yet, as he went back into the house, he could again hear running water.

He locked the door, hurried through the kitchen and atrium and into the downstairs toilet, where both taps were gushing.

I’ll kill that sodding plumber! he thought, turning them off. But he could still hear water coming from somewhere.

He ran back upstairs and into one of the spare rooms, which had a washbasin. Again, the taps were running full blast. He turned them off then went into the yellow room, and through into the bathroom. Again, the taps were spewing water.

As he screwed them tight shut he was trying to think rationally through his tiredness. The idiot plumber must have turned on every tap in the house to test the water system, then left without turning them off.

It was the only explanation he could come up with.

He went around the entire house again, to check that every tap was tightly off. Then, before returning to bed, he remembered there was one more bathroom, up in the attic, next to a tiny spare room with an old, very ornate wrought-iron bedstead in it, which was in much better condition than the rest of the house. It looked as if the property development company, which had started renovating the house before going bust, had begun at the top. There was a modern bathroom up here, an electric shower and a marine electric flush toilet.

The sink was bone dry, as was the shower tray, which relieved him. Because of the height of these attic rooms, they were on a different water system to the rest of the house, he seemed to remember being told.

He went back downstairs and crept into bed. This time, Caro did not even stir; she seemed to have slept through the whole thing. He switched off the torch and laid it, gently, onto the floor beside him.

As he did so he heard the sound of running water again. Then it stopped.