Page 58 of Right Place, Right Time
I switch on the torch on my phone now as well, shining it over the walls.
‘There’s another door!’ The light falls on a panelled wooden door at the end of the room. ‘Shall we see what’s in there?’
‘Wait,’ Adam says as I take a step forward. ‘We need to wedge this heavy door open first. Otherwise, we could be trapped if it swings shut.’
‘Or if someone tries to shut us in!’ I joke in a silly ghostly voice. ‘That’s what always happens inscaaarymovies.’
‘You’re making this sound like an episode ofScooby-Doo,’ Adam says seriously. ‘Do you want to be trapped in a building with – as far as we’re concerned right now – no other way out than this door?’
‘All right, Velma.’ I grin at Adam, but then I remember. ‘Oh, God,’ I say in an anguished voice. ‘I’m so sorry. Is this difficult for you – the dark and the chance we might get trapped? I didn’t mean to make a joke out of it. After everything you’ve just told me, too. I’m such an idiot.’
Adam smiles. ‘Thanks for having my back – I appreciate it. But really, I’m absolutely fine. Do I like the dark – not particularly, especially if it’s teamed with a confined space. But I’m just being sensible, that’s all.’
‘Oh, good.’ I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t believe I’ve been so thoughtless. I’m so touched that Adam shared what he had with me outside that I want him to know I understand. I’m just so used to making light of everything with him. This feels like new ground between us. ‘I’m glad you’re OK.’
‘Right, then, let’s wedge the door open first,’ Adam says. ‘Then we can be those meddling kids and explore a little further …’
We prop the metal door open with a couple of cardboard boxes filled with books and then, still using our phone torches to light our way, step back inside the room. The space is completely empty, devoid of any fixtures or fittings that might originally have been a part of an old shop or even a home. Except for some old wallpaper peeling away from the walls, there is nothing inside to date it to any particular year as we make our way slowly towards the heavily varnished wooden door on the far wall.
‘Do you want to open it or shall I?’ Adam asks, holding his phone in my face.
‘Careful.’ I hold my hand over my eyes. ‘You’ll blind me. You go.’
‘Sorry,’ Adam says, turning back towards the door. He reaches for the black doorknob, again turning it agonisingly slowly as he carefully pulls the door towards him.
‘Can you see anything?’ I ask from behind him.
‘No, it’s dark again.’ He feels around on the wall next to the door and I hear the click of another old light switch. This time the bulb works, and the yellow light that fills the area is slightly diffused by a single old-fashioned lampshade hanging over the bulb.
‘It’s a staircase,’ I say unnecessarily as we both see wooden steps descending down into more darkness. ‘Shall we go down?’
‘I guess we’d better.’
‘You go first,’ I say, standing back a little.
‘Thanks,’ Adam says, looking back at me. ‘That’s good of you. What happened to ladies first?’
‘I believe in equal opportunities,’ I say, grinning at him.
Adam rolls his eyes, but he begins to take the stairs slowly, with me following close behind.
When we get to the bottom, Adam shines his torch around the walls and we find yet another black light switch. Adam flicks the switch down and another single bulb lights the room in front of us, but this time the bulb is covered in a green glass lampshade.
But it’s not the lampshade that interests us as we gaze around in amazement.
‘What is all this stuff?’ I ask as we both step fully down into the room.
‘I have no idea.’ Adam spins around so he can take everything in.
Although there are again no windows, this room is definitely not empty. The walls are covered in old maps, and next to them, cork pinboards with brass drawing pins hold up sheafs of both typed paper and handwritten notes.
Underneath the pinboards, two wooden chairs sit behind two solid wooden desks. On top of the desks are blotting pads, an old typewriter, pots with pencils in, and fountain pens sitting neatly next to tiny bottles of black ink. On the same wall as the stairs there are two large olive-green metal filing cabinets.
It’s like we’ve walked into a museum, the sort where they stage rooms to look like they would have in a certain era – and the era we’ve stumbled into is very definitely the 1940s, of that I have no doubt. One of the desks still has a cardboard box with a gas mask half falling out of it.
‘It’s like time stood still here.’ Adam walks around trying to look at everything at once.
‘In the forties by the look of it,’ I say, standing in one spot but still trying to take everything in. ‘All the furniture fits, the typewriter, even the gas mask over there.’
