The House

There's a house on my street that fascinates me.

I couldn't tell you why it does, where the strange appeal of the place lies. To look at it, it's unremarkable -- a detached, red-brick house like pretty much any of the others. I couldn't tell you anything about the people that live there, just like I couldn't with almost any house on my road.

I know the house has two -- or maybe more -- Siamese cats, and that they are often in the street or standing by the metal gate to the back garden. It's a personality quirk of mine that I remember places with the cats associated with them, but the fact that this house has Siamese cats makes it remarkable. The cats have a certain mystery to them.

As mentioned, I know nothing of the people that live there. If I think about it, I can say that at least two people live there -- adults, in middle age, and they appear reasonably well-off since I think I have seen a Mercedes or some luxury car on their drive. There are also ornaments on some window sills that suggest to me exotic holidays. This makes me think maybe they are a childless couple. Contrastingly though, I also have a feeling that a strange boy that I sometimes see in the street might live there.

I don't really know where he lives, how old he is, or even when I last saw him -- but I remember him as a fair-haired boy that would often be riding a bike in the street. I describe him as strange because I seem to remember he'd talk to strangers, not just me, but other people have commented on it. I could be completely wrong about the boy, I've never seen him entering or leaving the house. Then again, I don't think I've ever seen anyone enter or leave.

I remember one day, maybe 10 years ago now, I saw some graffiti that had been written on the wall of the house, it looked like it had been half washed-off. Now this strikes me as strange, why only half? Who would leave the job half-finished? Would you give up halfway through, go back indoors to have a beer and watch the football? I wouldn't be able to relax doing anything else. I don't know for certain, but I think the writing said "a drunk driver lives here". I remember remarking on seeing it to my brother, and he'd said obliquely that there was "a story behind" the house. Why I never asked him what the story was, I don't know. I wonder if he knew himself.

How long the graffiti stayed visible for, again, I don't remember. Sometimes now I still try and see if I can make the words out -- like the house over the road, where for years, despite numerous coats of paint, you could still make out the black streak where the Dad had been painting the guttering when his ladder started slipping out from under him. That was a strange house, too, for many years. Not any more, though, that family moved. And the family that moved in, in their place, brought cats.

I doubt I will ever know what makes this one house so fascinating. It featured in a dream I had the other night -- probably because I'd noticed it up for sale -- and this has just made me even more fascinated. I might try contacting the estate agent and ask if I can look at the house...