Jane
Jane drives up the hill to the farm house. Clearly tired. Red eyed and unhappy. She has on a city person’s idea of farm gear. With penny loafers.
There is no one there to met her. She walks to the front door of the house trying to avoid the mud and tries the door knob. It is locked. She starts to walk around the house looking in the windows to see who is there. She can’t see anyone. The windows are caked with grim. She looks towards the barn and walks toward it. It is muddy and raining. She doesn’t have the right shoes on and she is getting dirty.
She approaches the barn. Then, changes her mind and walks to the metal shed. She turns and door knob and walks in.
Turns on the light.
Just a tractor and some old broken toboggans. Old paint tins, varsol. She stops to examine a spider web and brushes it off. She thinks the spider has gone down her neck and is desperately swatting the back of her neck when she is startled by a hand that hits her back. She jumps and spins.
An older woman is standing in the shed with her. Indifferently, the older woman stomps the spider on the ground with a muddy boot. She looks at Jane slowly, deadpan.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you…. I think I got it.” She grinds the dead insect with the toe of her boot.
“It’s already raining, so it’s not like it can do more harm to kill it…” She smirks at her own joke. “I meant to clean up before you came. I haven’t had the chance. What with the rain and all.”
“I didn’t hear you come up the hill… Miss… Mrs….???”
“Oh… No… Right…. My car got stuck at the bottom of the hill. You know how treacherous that hill can be. You need a four wheel drive, especially at this time of the year.” Slowly extending her gloved and limp hand, she speaks in a flat, hard tone.
“Danvers. Mrs. Danvers. I’m the caretaker… of sorts. I drop by every now and then, just to make sure the vandals haven’t broken in again.”
As she talks, Mrs. Danvers is wandering around in the shed… placing items on the shelves.
“Last year someone broke in twice. Made off with the TV set. Not much else to take, really. Guess they were a bit pissed off. They broke some dishes and left a terrible mess.”
Mrs. Danvers pauses and walks to the back of the shed…. picks something up and puts it in her pocket. She glances up at the ceiling and notices the rain dripping and follows it down to the floor where there is a puddle.
Next to the puddle there are dried red splatters on the cement floor.
Mrs Danvers looks at these and then looks back to Jane to see if she notices.
Jane doesn’t. Too busy trying to clean the mess off her shoes.
Mrs Danvers places one boot over the blood and points up at the rain dripping. Diverting Jane’s attention.
“I knew the previous owners. Actually… Strictly speaking there was just the one owner… because the old man died a long time ago. Then… she moved into town… I pretty much take care of the place, now…. Not used to seeing folks on the property.. I hear it might get sold. Talk of someone coming to look around. Real estate agent. Guess that would be you?”
Jane looks non-committal. She stares at Mrs. Danvers, warily. Unwilling to give out any information.
Mrs Danvers is calmly waiting for a response and saying nothing. Slowly removing one glove, she examines the hand used to shake Jane’s hand.
Then, Mrs. Danvers slowly rubs her hand down the side of her pants, as if to clean it. All the while, she is watching Jane. Detached. She turns and to starts out the exit.
“Well… I’ll leave you to it. I guess you know where the front key is kept…”
Jane is watching Mrs. Danvers leave.
She is almost out the door when Jane calls out to her.
“No… where is it kept?”
Without responding, Mrs. Danvers walks out. Jane moves to the door quickly stumbling over the mousetrap, which slams shut, just missing her mud caked loafers.
“Jesus Christ! …..Hold on a second…”
Jane runs out to the soggy driveway and sees Mrs. Danvers striding down the hill. Jane runs after her…..sliding in a puddle. Almost falling, she struggles to keep her balance as she yells after Mrs. Danvers.
“Hey! I don’t know where they keep the key. Hey! Where do they keep the key?”
Mrs Danvers, part way down the hill, stops.
She turns her entire body around to look at Jane running toward her. Mrs. Danver’s face is hard. Her eyebrows raise a bit. Without responding, she turns and continues down the hill.
Running up, Jane grasps at Mrs Danver’s sleeve. They both stop. Mrs. Danvers turns her head to respond in the same disinterested tone.
“Yes? The key? Same place it always was. Under the flower pot.”
Mrs. Danvers continues down the hill.
Jane is left standing alone. Angry.
Wet. Tired.
Jane plods up the hill and heads over to the flower pot, at the front door of the house. She searches and finds nothing.
Jane walks to the front door and tries to open it again. The same door she tried earlier. Slowly, it swings open.
She steps in.