The Shadows of Sycamore Road

The rain kept falling. The wind blew it away from the window, but the incessant drip from the broken gutters made sure she knew it was not the time to head outside. There was no sign of the moon; if it was there, the thick clouds were keeping it from offering any kind of illumination to the sorry evening. She had never been to this house before. It had been something of a last-minute decision. A friend of a friend had recommended her, and when the usual babysitter had been unavailable, she had been a truly fortunate discovery. She found the house without any problem; everybody knew where Sycamore Road was—the houses were the biggest in town. Large detached symbols of Victorian wealth with their enormous gardens and three-story grandeur. She had always wanted to have a look around one of them and was excited by the request to look after the newly arrived Doctor’s two children.

There had been apologies for the state of the house as they had only been there a week and had a major modernization job on their hands, as well as dozens of unopened boxes scattered around it was very dusty. She had smiled and gushed about how wonderful the house looked, that they should not worry, and for them to have a wonderful night. She mentioned looking forward to trying the biscuits that had been left out for her. There had been no mention of any problems with the electrics in the old building, but now, as she stood listening to the wind outside in the dark, she regretted not asking where the fuse box was.

It was okay, though. She only had half an hour to wait, and the children hadn’t stirred once, until now.

She used the torch on her mobile phone to navigate from the large, high-ceilinged living room to the open hallway. Carefully making her way across the uncarpeted wooden floor, each step seemed to creak. The entire hallway and staircase area were even darker due to the wood panelling, which, while enhancing the character in the light, made it challenging to see in the dark. Above her at the top of the stairs, she could hear footsteps. One of the children must be awake. She steered herself around a couple of large and open boxes, and with one hand on the grand wooden banister, crept her way up the stairs. She heard another scuttle of small feet and a giggle as she climbed carefully up the steps. Which one was it, Toby or Leo? She hadn’t met either as they were asleep in their rooms when she arrived. As she reached the top of the first flight, she heard the telltale sounds of little bare feet and a door slam from down the corridor. She turned and flashed her torch, which did little to highlight the five doors. There was only one fully closed, so she softly walked up the corridor and to the room. She opened it and shone the torch onto the blackness of a room filled with towers of boxes. She swept it around and was about to turn when she heard a muffled giggle from behind one of the piles of boxes. She walked slowly towards the sound.

“I can hear you.”

There was a giggle and a flurry of footsteps behind her, and the door to the room slammed shut. She jumped in shock and spun around; her torchlight followed her, casting unnatural shadows around the room. Feeling uneasy, she lunged for the door and stepped out onto the landing, where she heard soft footsteps creeping up to the second floor. She scanned around to check all of the other doors were closed then made her way to the stairwell. As she tiptoed along, she could hear the telltale creaks as the little feet walked across the second-floor landing. She picked up her pace, taking care in the pitch darkness, and hurried up the stairs. At the top, she saw one door open. She strode forward into the small bedroom. In the torchlight, it was clearly in need of updating but fitting with the overall feel of the house. There was a small metal bed, a wardrobe, a small bookcase, and a bedside cabinet. There was a gap between the bed and the wall, just enough for a mischievous child to fit in. She crept up to the bed and looked down the side. There, looking up, was a small boy.

“Come on, you. Back to bed.”

She lifted the blanket and gestured for him to get in. He obliged, and without a word, put his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. She pulled the blanket over him, waited a moment until she thought he was asleep, and then left the room following her torch.

As she walked down the stairs to the first floor, she heard the grumbling of a baby stirring. She followed the sound to check on the other child and found a door on the first-floor corridor with a dim light coming through the gaps. She carefully opened it; there was a battery-operated nightlight giving the room a dim but warm orange hue. As her eyes adjusted, she looked properly into the room where she saw two cots. Above each were nameplates. Toby above one, Leo the other. Without warning, the nightlight cut out, plunging her into darkness, and from above, she heard footsteps patter across the floorboards.