Bricking It Read Free

fact.’
    ‘Is it really?’
    ‘Yes. And I should know, I’m a teacher.’
    ‘Yes, but you’re very bad at your job, sis. Your pupils have all told me so.’
    ‘I can well believe you’ve spoken to a bunch of eight-year-olds, given that you are on the same intellectual level. Open the chuffing door, you twat.’
    This is a fine example of typical conversation between my brother and I, of a type that has been repeated ad nauseam over the years. These kinds of arguments are only possible between siblings. If you tried to speak to anyone else in the same way, you’d probably get a punch in the mouth.
    Danny doesn’t continue the quarrel. He knows I’ve always been better at the clever put-downs than him. He pushes the bathroom door open and we both take in the sights beyond with more than a little revulsion. In fact, it’s a wonder I don’t upchuck all over the faded landing carpet.
    ‘Well, that’d be where the smell is coming from then,’ Danny says helpfully.
    ‘Which one? The dead crow in the bathtub? Or the three decaying rat corpses on the floor?’
    ‘Either/or. Take your pick.’
    ‘Why the hell are there so many dead animals in here? They’re not anywhere else in the house. Not that we’ve seen anyway.’
    Danny pauses for a moment. ‘I’m going to suggest a scenario here. It might seem a little far-fetched, but stick with me.’
    ‘Go on,’ I reply carefully.
    Danny presses the fingers of both hands together under his chin. ‘I believe a fight to the death has taken place here. Crow versus rat. From the looks of things, the crow has managed to vanquish his ratty opponents, but not without suffering terminal injuries himself. He has then tried to flap away, only to get as far as the bathtub before expiring. It truly was a hero’s death.’
    ‘Face down with your beak stuck in a plughole?’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘You’re an idiot.’
    ‘Very probably.’
    I take a step back. ‘At some point, I may have to go into that bathroom, but it will not be today, Danny. I guarantee you that.’
    My brother nods. ‘I agree. Let’s just shut the door and not go back in until we’re wearing breathing apparatus and plastic boiler suits.’ Danny closes the door to the avian/rodent horror show and turns around.
    ‘That’s about it for upstairs, then,’ I point out. ‘Other than the bathroom, it’s not too bad.’
    Danny shakes his head. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    He slowly points upwards, a look of sheer terror crossing his face. I follow his finger up . . . and see the loft hatch above my head.
    ‘No! No fucking way. I’m not going up there,’ I state in a firm voice, folding my arms across my chest.
    ‘Chicken.’
    I flap my arms up and down a couple of times and make buck buck noises.
    Danny stares up at the loft hatch for a moment. ‘I’m going up there,’ he tells me.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because there might be treasure.’
    ‘Or a human corpse.’
    Danny shrugs his shoulders. ‘Either is fine by me.’
    Men.
    ‘How exactly do you plan on getting up there? I don’t see a ladder lying around anywhere.’
    ‘I can balance on the bannister and boost myself up.’
    I give the wooden bannister a long, hard look. I can’t see any immediate signs of woodworm, but am not taking that as an indication of its safety level. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ I say, underestimating things just a tad.
    Danny waves a hand. ‘It’ll be fine. Give me a shoulder.’
    And with that he places one hand on my shoulder blade, boosts himself quickly up onto the bannister and leans across the landing, bracing himself with one hand as he pushes the loft hatch up with the other.
    Danny pops his head into the open hatch. ‘Dark up here,’ he says.
    ‘You don’t say.’
    ‘Hang on.’ He produces his Zippo lighter from his front jeans pocket and lights it. ‘Christ, it’s big up here, too.’
    ‘Any spiders?’ I say with a catch in my voice. ‘I