The Tenant in Erskine’s basement

It was generally deemed impolite to ask about another man’s basement. Every house had one, of course, that was standard design, but what the basement was used for and what was kept ‘down there’ was always considered  a matter of utmost privacy.

 

Which is not to say that basements were NEVER discussed. Indeed, when Peterson had a washing machine and drier installed in his basement the matter was discussed at some length, and not just by the O’Grady brothers who Peterson had asked to sort out the plumbing. The innovation is said to have started  something of a trend, with a number of households following the washing machine in basement fashion, though how widespread this trend actually was, is impossible to determine.

 

Erskine’s basement had often come up in conversation. It was a matter of common knowledge that he had someone living in it, although who the person was remained a mystery. Erskine had never been seen entering or leaving the house with anyone other than his wife, and it certainly wasn’t her in the basement.

 

However, in spite of the gossip, the tenant in Erskine’s basement was tolerated. After all, a man’s basement is the most private of places and if he wished to keep a tenant there, then that was his business.

 

Or at least that WAS the opinion. However, things began to change after the party.

 

“Did you hear it?” Matlock said to Grosvenor one morning. “Music blaring out of Erskine’s basement until way past midnight.”

 

“Oh, I heard it alright. If you call it music. There was certainly a noise.”

 

“Not just music,” added Tempest, “I distinctly heard voices. I’m pretty sure there was singing at one point.”

 

“Do you think we should say something to Erskine?” Dewhurst suggested.

 

It proved a controversial suggestion. It was generally agreed that whatever the inconvenience caused, it was his basement, and if a man wishes to make a noise in his basement then so be it.

 

Thus on this occasion nothing was said, which made it all the harder to say anything when another party was held barely a year later.

 

In fact, if it wasn’t for the ‘strange incidents’ it is highly likely that nothing would have been said to Erskine at all.

 

The first incident occurred when Peterson had to call out the O’Grady’s because of a leak in his washing machine. They fixed the problem, but during the procedure retook the measurements of the room, only to find that the entire basement had shrunk. The claim was dismissed as bad builders making
excuses for a shoddy job.

 

However, this proved to be by no means the last odd incident in a basement. Indeed, it marked the start of a disturbing trend.

 

The next day Matlock discovered that wine was missing from his basement cellar. The following day Tempest found that his basement-based rubber chicken factory had been sabotaged and just the day after that Ingold did the washing in his basement, only to find that the dial on the machine had been twiddled with and all of his sensitive clothing had shrunk and turned pink in the wash.

 

Peterson, Matlock, Ingold and Tempest all had houses on the four sides of Erskine’s house. In other words, the four basement incidents all involved basements adjacent to Erskine’s.

 

There was no choice but to raise the matter with Erskine. A delegation was set up to carry out the task. Most of the town volunteered to take part. Visitors from neighbouring towns also joined the posse.

 

Erskine listened politely to the issues raised, which took the best part of two hours, but then amazed everyone by claiming that he didn’t have a basement.

 

“But you must have a basement,” Grosvenor said, “It’s a standard fitting.”

 

“I assure you sir I don’t,” Erskine said, and led the delegation to the place where the basement door ought to have been. Sure enough there was no door there.

 

“Maybe you have a door in a non-standard location,” suggested Butterfield.

 

“You’re welcome to look,” said Erskine, “but I’ve lived in this house twenty years and I’ve never seen it.”

 

And so the delegation became a search party.  No effort was spared, rugs were lifted, cupboards were searched, even the outhouse was inspected for secret exits, but no means to the basement was discovered.

 

“How queer,” everyone agreed, but the queerness didn’t end there. Peterson’s basement continued to shrink, as did Ingold’s, Matlocks and Tempests’. Within the decade all four basement’s had been completely taken over and all four chose to have their basement doors sealed up.

 

The mystery of Erskine’s basement was never solved.

 

Of course, these events occurred many, many years ago. Erskine’s house is no longer standing, neither is Ingold’s, Peterson’s, Matlocks nor Tempest’s. Indeed the whole town has long fallen to ruin, with barely a brick remaining.

 

It is said, though, that if you go to the site that was once Erskine’s house and place your ear to the ground, you can still hear the mysterious tenant in the basement. And once a year, without having sought permission from nor invited a single neighbour, there is a party so loud it can be heard nearly two streets away.