“Isn’t that a photo of the House?”

Heather looked where Nikki was nodding, and saw it; a very similar image to the ones whytewitch had had in her album, only this looked much older. A long row of men and women in a variety of servant’s uniforms stood outside, lined up on the gravel path, and standing slightly awkwardly next to them, a handful of people dressed in old fashioned clothes. Heather guessed it was from the ’20s or ’30s, judging by the fashions and the rear end of an extremely antiquated car peeking into shot.

“Before it was invaded by the great unwashed,” murmured Heather. A moment later, Bert reappeared at the door carrying a tea tray loaded with a teapot and cups. Nikki jumped up and helped him to wrestle it onto the low coffee table. When they were settled, with cups of tea warming up chilled hands, Bert leaned forward, his voice suddenly much more direct.

“What is it you wanted to know?”

Heather sipped her tea and shrugged. “There was a commune here in the ’70s, wasn’t there? Did you know the place then?”

The old man nodded slowly, not looking at them, as if confirming something to himself.

“Oh aye, yes, I knew it. It was lively, very lively. I remember when it was at its peak, when things were really jumping.” He smiled again, baring his long teeth.

“Do you know who was living in the big house at the time?” Nikki smiled to lessen the baldness of her question. “It’s just interesting to think of the history of the place, you know, while we’re staying there.”

“In the big house, are you?” said Bert, and Heather had the strangest idea that he knew that was a lie. Nevertheless, she nodded. He rubbed his thumb over the handle of his tea cup, back and forth, back and forth. “I don’t rightly recall. It belonged to the same family for generations, but they dwindled, as big families sometimes do.” His free hand clutched at his knee convulsively, and something about the movement made Heather shiver; it reminded her of a crab, sidewinding its way across some barren stretch of beach. “There was a lot of gossip about them, that family, most of it quite vicious.” He grinned briefly, then it was gone. “Eventually the house was sold to the company that own it now, and I’m sure they were glad to be shot of it. It’s hard maintaining a place like that, you know.”

“What do you remember about the commune?”

He sniffed and nodded, leaning back in his chair. “A lot of noise, they made a lot of noise, and they got up to some strange things in the woods. Some of it would have turned my father’s hair white, but then we live in a different age now, don’t we? Quite different.” He looked toward the window, sunlight shining off of his scalp. “I don’t pretend I understood much of it, but I would help them where I could. Brought them groceries, sometimes, taught them which mushrooms were safe to eat.” He smiled. “Although some of them were interested in the less-than-safe varieties, if you get what I mean.”