Events at the Barker House: Booksie Anthology

Chapter 1. The Invitation.

Charles Greely inspected himself in the mirror. One last slick back of the hair and he was satisfied. He turned to face left, then right, focusing his gaze on his moustache. It had to be trimmed correctly; there was nothing so unkempt as an uneven moustache above one’s upper lip.

He’d picked his suit carefully. Not black, that would look like he was attending a funeral rather than a party. No, he’d gone for the next best thing, a suit of very dark charcoal grey. And instead of a white shirt he’d gone for the same sort of approach, a pearl grey silk. To finish off his outfit he’d picked a mid-grey tie, sort of half way between the two.

And he had to admit that he made a pretty impressive sight. Of course, Martha and Sebastian would not appreciate the finer points of his attire but the other guests were bound to be the type of people to notice and to appreciate ‘quality’!

He padded from his bedroom to his study, opened the door and locked it firmly behind him. This was his domain and his alone. No one was allowed to step foot inside the door except for himself.

The room had a curious musty odour, of old, slightly mouldy books. And indeed, several shelves were lined with them, all with old battered leather covers. One thing that they all had in common was their topic – the occult in some form or other. The desk had an old yellowed skull set in pride of place, right in the centre spot. There were all kinds of occult symbols drawn on the walls and all kinds of paraphernalia placed around the room. Everything had it’s own spot to which, if he moved an object, it would be returned to exactly.

Charles Greely was not the sort of man who would stoop to pick up a duster, or go round with a hoover. And his wife Martha would no more set foot in the room than she would step into a cage of starving tigers. And yet the room was dust-free; spotless, in fact. Should the curtains ever be opened to allow the sunlight to enter, not one dust mote would be spotted floating its way down towards the grey carpet.

Satisfied that all was as it should be, Charles walked over to his desk and picked up the invitation that lay waiting on top. The Barker Mansion! He was not familiar with the building but just the name sent shivers down his spine. At last someone had recognized his superior qualities and had singled him out. He carefully put the card into his top pocket, making sure no edge of card peeked out to spoil his appearance then he left the room, locking the door firmly behind him. He pocketed the key and started down the stairs.

As he neared the bottom stair he called out to his wife. “Martha! Have you got those shoes cleaned up for me like I told you to?”

“Yes, of course, Charles.” Where Charles saw himself as being smart and attractive, he viewed his wife as completely dowdy, verging on ugly. She was not, but because she knew that was how he viewed her she had let herself go, never bothering with either her clothes or her appearance. It wasn’t as if Charles would have let her spend money frivolously on herself anyway. She timidly approached him, thrusting the shiny black shoes out towards him.

“Hold them still, Martha! How do you expect me to inspect them if you keep moving them around?”

“Sorry, Charles.”

“Not quite up to scratch but they will do. I doubt the other guests will be paying too much attention to my feet. Now, put them on for me and do them up tightly but neatly.”

“Yes, Charles.” Martha knelt in front of her husband, manipulated the shoes on to his feet then expertly tied the laces.

“Just in time! I can hear a car coming.” Charles once more slicked back his hair and straightened his suit. Then looked out of the window, carefully so that none of the neighbours might notice. “Nice,” he said. “Very nice. Only to be expected, of course. The Barkers are not ones to spare expense for their exclusive guests.”

“No, Charles, I mean, yes, Charles. Oh....” But Martha needn’t have worried for her husband was completely ignoring her.

“Don’t wait up for me. I expect to be back very late. And do try to get Sebastian to spend at least a few minutes without his head stuck in one book or another.”

The ringing of the doorbell spared Martha from having to make any sort of answer. She moved towards her husband, preparing to give him a very chaste kiss, but he walked straight past her and out of the door. He did not pause to look back at her, otherwise he might have heard her sigh of relief.

The uniformed chauffeur was silently polite as he held open one of the rear doors of the limousine. Charles had half expected another guest or two to be already seated inside but the luxurious interior was empty. He settled himself comfortably into the padded seat. At last someone at least had noticed his true worth.

The door was shut and the car moved away. Charles turned to see if Martha was watching but found that he could see absolutely nothing through the blacked out car windows. Charles leaned back and stretched out across the seat – if he could not see out there was every chance that no one could see in either.

So he wouldn’t know where he was going! Charles Greely did not mind in the least. And when he spotted the mini-bar he cared even less. One little bottle after another made it’s way down his throat and by the time the limousine drew to a stop he was feeling.....not drunk, but pleasantly intoxicated and relaxed. Tonight’s party was sure to be one he would never ever want to forget!