THE SMALL ROOM AT THE BACK

You had been looking to move house for a while, but lost faith that you would ever find the right place. You were messed around by sellers, saw houses at a great price and then on visiting found out why the price was so low, and smelled some things that still stay with you now.
When you saw the house with the red door all the enthusiasm came flooding back, as did the fear of losing what might be the house you really wanted. It sat slightly apart from its neighbours, near the end of a lane that wasn’t quite in the countryside but wasn’t quite in the town either.

You booked a visit as soon as possible, and arrived early on a sunny morning with your family so you could get a feel for the area. It was as good as you had hoped - better even. The lane was quiet, no cars flying around, and one friendly neighbour pruning a tree who smiled and said hello to you all. The house with the red door was surrounded on three sides by small fields, and the kids exploded with enthusiasm when they saw the small pony that ambled through one, hunting out the longest grass.

The door was answered by a small man with a broad smile and twinkly eyes, who could have been anything between sixty and ninety. You raised your eyebrow a little when he told you that he was selling the house because he had to go travelling, but age is just a number these days.
The house was well-kept, and everything that you could have hoped for. The man showed you around, and then said he’d make some tea, and you could all take your time and wander as you pleased. Your children made a beeline for the kitchen window because they could see the pony from it, and your partner went to take some measurements in what might be their home office.

You wandered the upstairs, liking everything that you saw, and before you went back downstairs stuck your head into the small room at the back, thinking it might make a nice spare room for when your mum visited. Then you stopped.
The small room at the back was above the kitchen and looked out over the fields and the pony. You know it did, because you had been in there when the man showed you round. 

But not now. You stared out of the window into a landscape dark under low clouds, lashed with rain. Somewhere in the distance, something seemed to move slowly in the murk, something that was impossibly big.
You walked backwards onto the landing, called for your partner, but when you both went back into the room there was just the sunshine, the fields, the pony.
The old man insisted that you all have tea, even though you wanted to go. The children chattered and made horse noises, and you held your cup so tight you thought it might shatter.
“It’s a beautiful house,” your partner said. “Lovely views.”
The old man smiled, and you did not like it. “I bought the house for the view,” he said, looking at you while he spoke, and you looked away and sipped at your tea and thought desperately about how you would persuade the family that you must never ever buy this house.