Adam Nevill: Apartment 16

At a guess, when they eventually sold the place, neither she nor her mother would need to work for a long time, if ever again. They’d be rich. Just the word seemed incongruous, even silly, when applied to them. But there was no one else with a claim on the inheritance. Lillian died childless, and Apryl’s mother, like Apryl, was an only child. End of the line. And at twenty-eight, if she didn’t get a move on herself, the Beckford family would vanish with her. The last spinster.

‘It’s all a bit of a fairy tale. My mom is just gonna die when I tell her about this place. I mean you porters and everything. I could get used to this.’

Stephen nodded, his smile polite but stiff. He seemed weary, but also preoccupied by something, though not by the tattoos peeking from under the sleeves of her shirt. Reflected in the mirror of the elevator they looked like the open pages of comic books.

‘So you never knew your aunt Lillian?’ he asked warily, as if weighing up something awkward he would have to tell her.

‘No. My mom kind of remembers her, but not well. And Lillian wasn’t that close to Granny Marilyn either. They just kind of went their own ways during the war. Which I never got, being an only child. I’d have loved a sister. We just guessed Lillian died years ago. I mean, my grandmother’s been dead for fifteen years. And my mom was too busy raising me to find out about Lillian. I was quite a handful.’ She was rambling, she knew it, but was too excited to care.

Stephen bit his bottom lip, then sighed. ‘Your aunt wasn’t well, Apryl, I’m afraid. She was a lovely woman. Very kind. And I’m not just saying that. We were all very fond of her here. But she was old and her mental health hadn’t been good for a long time. Not for the ten years I’ve worked here, and my predecessor said as much. A few years ago we arranged to have meals delivered. And a carer visited her every week. The management used to cash her cheques and pay the bills on her behalf.’

‘I never knew. Must make us sound terrible.’

‘I didn’t mean to suggest anything. It happens all the time in this part of town. People become estranged from their families. Cut off. Money can do that. But Lillian’s state of mind was getting worse. A lot worse in the last few years before she passed away. She shouldn’t have been here really. But this was her home and we all pitched in — the porters and the cleaners — to make it possible for her to stay.’

‘That was very kind.’

‘Oh, it was nothing really. Just milk and bread and fetching things she needed from the shops. We do try and be helpful. But we were always concerned she might have fallen or’ — he paused to clear his throat — ‘become lost.’

‘Didn’t she have any friends?’

‘Not that I noticed. Not a single visitor since I’ve been here. You see. ’ He paused and rubbed at his mouth. ‘She was quite eccentric. That’s the politest way I can put it, and I mean no disrespect.’ He looked uncomfortable as he said it. Even his voice dropped. Crazy he meant.

But she wanted to know everything about the great-aunt who had left her and her mother a whole bunch of real estate in London. Once it was sold, she’d make sure those who’d made the old lady comfortable toward the end were rewarded in some way. Her mom wouldn’t object. She’d feel guilty too. Just like Apryl did right now. Though neither of them should. It was never wilful neglect on their behalf: Lillian had been a distant relative who lived on the other side of the earth.

‘Do you remember her husband? Reginald?’ asked Apryl. ‘I think he was a pilot in the war.’

Stephen looked away, his pale blue eyes flitting, glancing above and around her head as if he were inspecting the lights in the elevator, which were dim and cast a grubby shadow over the mahogany panels and brass trimmings. ‘Mmm, no. Passed away before my time here. But I would hazard a guess his death affected her greatly.’

‘Why do you say that?’

But then the elevator stopped with a wheeze followed by a clunk. The doors slid open and Stephen seemed eager to step through them.

She followed him onto the landing. It was carpeted in dark green, and the walls were decorated in the same restrained tone as the communal corridors downstairs. There was a radiator opposite the elevator, inside an ornamental covering that looked like a Victorian tomb. A broad, gilt-framed mirror glimmered above it and a staircase rose and fell on either side of the elevator shaft. On the walls of the staircase she could see prints in elegant frames. At each end of the landing was a wooden front door, numbered in brass.

‘Well, here we are. Number thirty-nine. Right at the top. Unfortunately, the heating isn’t so good up here, so I put portable radiators in Lillian’s bedroom and in the kitchen, the only two rooms I can ever remember her using. At some point I’ll need them back.’

‘Sure.’ Apryl watched the back of Stephen’s neat silver head as he rattled the fob to free the right key. Under the shiny grey waistcoat, she could see how strong his shoulders were. He exuded ex-military; the kind of authority she imagined was popular with the residents. Her great-aunt must have felt safe with Stephen around.

‘I’m afraid it’s quite a mess inside. She didn’t want a maid and wouldn’t let anyone move a thing. I doubt she threw anything away in sixty years. Anyway, here are the keys. We have another set in the safe downstairs — standard practice in case of emergency. I’ll have to dash off now. Contractors are coming to look at the satellite dishes on the roof. But call reception if there is anything you need. Piotr is on the desk until six thirty, and then Seth, the night man, will take over. I’ll be on site pretty much all day, every day. You can call the front desk from the phone in the kitchen. Just lift the handset and it’ll connect you.’

Stephen looked into her eyes. He could probably guess she didn’t want to be left alone in the apartment. ‘I’m afraid you’ve got your work cut out, Apryl. I doubt it’s been cleaned in years. And it’s the only apartment with the original bathroom still intact. If you are going to sell, it’ll need a lot of work. Maybe a complete renovation to get the right price.’ Stephen left her outside the open door and trotted down the stairs.

The drapes must have been drawn inside the apartment, for even though Stephen had reached inside the door and turned the hall light on, little was revealed beside a dowdy and cluttered hallway from a different age.

The very thought of entering made her feel vulnerable and guilty, like she was a trespasser. And the dross of age was reluctant to remain within the confines of its walls. Even outside on the landing the place smelled old. Real old. Like her grandmother’s bedroom in Jersey, which hadn’t altered one bit since the forties either. But this smell was a thousand times stronger. Like the windows had never been opened and everything inside was ancient and faded and dusty. The past contained and reluctant to leave. Like the rest of the place, if she were honest, now the excitement of her first impression had passed. Gloomy stairwells and dim hallways. It was like going back in time. Maybe the residents liked it that way. Traditional ambience or something.

She poked her head inside the door and felt a foolish urge to call out her aunt’s name. Because, curiously, the place didn’t feel empty.

The head porter wasn’t kidding: Lillian had been a shut-in. The hallway was choked with bundles of old newspapers, magazines and plastic bags, their shiny sides bulging taut. Apryl peered inside the bag nearest the coat stand. It was full of junk mail, colourful intrusions from the modern world standing no chance in here, but kept for some reason, imprisoned.