Slowing the car, I peered down the empty road ahead of me. The sharp and sudden decline and blanket of thick fog made it seem as though the way had simply ended, so I pulled over. Bumping up the curb, the crackle of stones under tires was loud in my ears, the squeak of the breaks louder, and I felt an odd dread settle over my chest. My radio had been nothing but static for the past twenty minutes, eventually inducing me to turn it off entirely and driving in silence, and my SatNav had been utterly useless since I tried to program my destination into it earlier that morning. I was glad now for the map that had been included in the envelope last week, along with the letter of acceptance for employment.

The letter had been a surprise, but a welcome one. I’d sent out so many applications, been rejected so many times by so many places, I’d almost given up hope of getting out of my home, let alone pursuing my chosen career path. Finding work had been hard, nearly impossible, and it had been pure luck that I’d managed to secure some advertising deals for my blog, enough to keep me going for a little while, along with my savings.

The black envelope had dropped through my letterbox, nothing written on it, no postage stamp, and at first I hadn’t been sure if it even was for me. For a while I’d entertained the idea that it might be some kind of death threat, probably due to the pitch colour of the envelope. I’d certainly had those in the past, and it had sat on my kitchen side for three days before I finally became irritated and tore the thing open.

It was for me, and there was nothing inside it but good news. It was from the editor-in-chief of a small newspaper, a Mrs Marilyn Strange, who had apparently read my blog and wanted to offer me work at their publication on the south coast. The town, Blackcliffe, was small, and while she informed me that the job was not particularly well paid, it came with the benefit of a financially subsidised flat. It was like a dream come true! I had no real experience, no qualifications save for the GCSE’s and A-Levels I had managed to scrape together despite the horrors of senior school and sixth form, and here I was being offered a chance for a fresh start doing a job I had always dreamed of.

It was such a wonderful offer, I briefly believed it to be a hoax. How had they found my address, for one thing? For another, the letter hadn’t been through Royal Mail, and so had been hand delivered. There was a web address at the top of the letter, and a telephone number. I decided to try the website first, suspicion a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach as I fought not to get my hopes up. I was comforted to find the site professional and active. The newspaper itself, The Blackcliffe Echo, had been running for forty-nine years, started by Marilyn Strange herself, who I realised now must be really quite old. It had a lot of external links, a busy forum, and a beautiful collection of black and white photographs of the town itself.

Feeling reassured, I had called the phone number. I spoke to a woman called Samantha Bellows, who had sounded middle aged and friendly, questioned me mildly on my professional history (or lack of it), then assured me that Madam Strange considered the position filled if I was willing. I accepted instantly, and now here I was, parked in a lay-by at the top of an incredibly steep road, all of my worldly possessions crammed into the back of my beat up old car, and feeling as though I was perched on the brink of Hell.

The map clearly showed that Blackcliffe was at the end of this road, and that this road was, in fact, the only road in or out of the seaside town. The fog roiled strangely, like choppy water almost, and I stared at it for a long time. Geographically, the town was surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides, making it practically a hole in the ground, but that wasn’t so strange for the Purbeck seaside. Even the dense mist was something I knew I would have to become accustomed to if I planned to live here, rolling off the ocean thickly. Still, it made me nervous to drive blind into an unknown place, and carefully folding the map back up, I placed it on the empty passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel.

No, it wasn’t just that. I realised all at once that it wasn’t the weather or the geography that I was afraid of, but the prospect of a new life. Interacting with people, something I hadn’t done for a long time. I had lived in veritable seclusion since my family disowned me two years ago. Here, no one knew me, and while I would be careful about just how much they ever found out, it was a frightening thought. I didn’t want to be guarded, I wanted to make a life for myself. I had a great opportunity laid out before me, but I knew it was going to be hard.

Taking a very deep breath to calm my nerves, I closed my eyes for a moment and forced my body to relax. I could do this. No one knew me here. I could start over and live a normal, happy life. This was going to be the beginning of something wonderful for me.

Smiling slightly, I opened my eyes again, and slowly, cautiously, drove down the steep road into Blackcliffe.

*

‘Hi, I’m Rupesh Dalal,’ I introduced myself to the woman behind the reception desk, digging through my bag for the letter. ‘I’m here about a job offer from Mrs Strange.’

Finding the black envelope at last, I went to hand it to the smiling woman, looking at her properly for the first time. A chill went down my spine. She was smiling back, but there was something… something horrific about her face. Something almost inhuman. Her skin was taut and shiny, pulled back like tough old leather, making her eyes half-mad and unblinking. Her mouth was pulled back too, smiling manically, and showing, I was sure, far too many teeth for a normal person. I could do little more than gape.

‘Oh, Mr Dalal, of course!’ she continued to grin in that crazed way. ‘We spoke on the phone? I’m Samantha Bellows.’

I couldn’t seem to speak, continuing to watch her. Perhaps she had just had a lot of facial surgery, or it had gone badly wrong?

‘We weren’t wholly sure you would come. Madam Strange will be so pleased you decided to join our little enterprise after all,’ she continued, apparently oblivious to my staring, her voice friendly. ‘She was so very impressed by that piece you did on outcasts of society, let me tell you. We all were. Very thoughtful. Very well written.’

I remembered the piece she was talking about, and it immediately brought me out of my stupor. I felt my face heat up in embarrassment as I realised I’d just been doing exactly what I myself had written was so horrific little over six months ago. I was making a spectacle of someone who appeared different, and I knew better. I briefly wondered if she’d referenced that one specifically to remind me of my own words, but quickly pushed it aside, realising that either way it didn’t matter. I wasn’t in any situation to judge people by the way they looked.

‘Madam Strange has been most kind to offer me such an opportunity.’ I smiled a little awkwardly, unsure if I should be using the honorific or not. Samantha’s wide, toothy smile didn’t alter, but something seemed to warm in her unblinking eyes.

‘I’m sure you’re going to fit in beautifully,’ she said. ‘Now, Madam Strange is busy for most of today, but if you give me a moment, I’ll call her granddaughter. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to show you around and take you to your new home.’

The fact that Samantha chose the word home rather than flat made something twist inside me. I wasn’t certain if it was an unpleasant sensation or not, so chose to ignore it. ‘Oh, her granddaughter works here, too?’

‘You’ll like Ida, everyone does,’ she assured me, picking up the old style telephone and dialling in a number. I noticed her long, scarlet painted nails when she used a pencil instead to do the task. ‘She’s the paper’s photographer.’

I remembered the beautiful pictures on the website, and almost said as much, but refrained when I saw Samantha with the receiver pressed to her ear. I didn’t want to come off as even ruder than I probably already had, so took a step back from the desk and looked around curiously.  It was all so old fashioned, the building and the décor, and even though it looked like it could do with a spruce up and a lick of paint, I found myself oddly attracted to the peculiar interior. I’d always had a bit of a soft spot of art deco, truth be told. It was dark, and the lights flickered slightly, but the weather was poor so I assumed that made it seem like the light wasn’t all that bright considering the time of day.

As I’d driven down the road into Blackcliffe, the mist had been like an odd blanket, hovering like some kind of low cloud, but clearing up once you got beneath it. I’d lived inland and I had only read a bit into sea mists, but this had seemed strange to me. The lower I’d driven, the more it felt like Blackcliffe had its own personal sky, the mist hovering like a kind of atmosphere. It was also a peculiar colour for mist or fog, rather than grey or white as I’d expected, it was more of a blue tint. Not really sky blue, or I might have supposed it had simply cleared up, but a dark blue, almost violet in places. Whirling strangely above the buildings, making the town seem even more self-contained than it already did, closed off on all sides save for the open sea, by this odd weather and the high cliffs on all sides.

The cliffs had been something to behold, as well. I remembered how all of the photos I had seen had been in black and white, making it appear perfectly normal. As I’d tried to find the newspaper office, it had struck me that the cliffs literally had been black. Pitch black. I knew that a little further down the coast the earth was a deep red, but this region, the Purbecks, was supposed to be mostly white chalk. The stark black had surprised me, and coupled with the dark, foggy sky, it gave an overall impression of bleakness that had almost made me turn around again. It made me feel stifled and claustrophobic.

‘Hello dear! Could you come to the front desk? Mr Dalal has joined us.’

Samantha’s cheerful voice, so at odds with the manic expression on her tight face, pulled me back to the present again. The rising sense of terror began to recede and I felt silly for letting it bother me so. I was just projecting my own insecurities on the place, and that was no way to go about settling in. I smiled, again awkwardly at Samantha, who beamed back. The expression was clearly permanent, but I found myself feeling less and less bothered by it.

‘He’s lovely. A little nervous though, I think.’

I started at that, realising the person on the other end of the phone had asked about me. It was habitual for me to brace myself, the smile fading from my face almost instantly.

‘Absolutely!’ she exclaimed, looking at me as she said it, her face giving absolutely no indication of what context the word had been used. ‘Oh, you little tease. No dear, that’s fine. Yes, I’ll send him up now. Okay. Yes. Bye dear!’

My palms were sweaty and I could feel how forced my smile had become. I was sure I looked exactly like Samantha right now, stretched to an almost grimace, so I stopped. I tried to appear neutral as she put the old-fashioned dial phone down with a quiet click and ring.

‘Ida says to go on up,’ she told me, indicating to the large, double doors just behind and to the left of the reception desk. ‘She has your keys and contract ready, and she’s so excited to meet you!’

‘Thank you,’ I replied. My voice was strained as I wondered and worried about just what this Ida person knew about me, and what she had been teasing about. Perhaps it was nothing? Perhaps something totally unrelated? I tried to force myself to calm down, feeling ill, and picking up my bag, headed towards the door. I was about to leave, when Samantha placed a hand on my arm to stop me. I started, and turned to the odd woman.

‘Now dear, don’t be nervous,’ she sounded sympathetic and oddly bracing as, completely ignoring personal space, she straightened my tie and smoothed my jacket at the shoulders. ‘Everyone here at the office are all very much in the same boat. We’re like a little family, and Ida will take very good care of you. She takes care of all of us, just like her Grandma always has. It’s hard moving to a new place, I’m sure, but you’ll grow used to us. Just be yourself and you’ll fit right in.’

It seemed a slightly peculiar thing to say somehow, but I felt comforted anyway. When I smiled, it wasn’t forced. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

‘You’re more than welcome. If you need anything at all, you can always come to me dear, okay? I’m on the same floor as you, so we’re neighbours as well as colleagues!’

‘The same… floor?’ I repeated stupidly. She laughed and gave me a playful push.

‘The flats, silly! We all live in the same building.’ the tone she used implied that I should somehow have known this already, but I didn’t mind. Despite her unconventional appearance, she had been kind to me. The first person to be so for a very long time. I smiled, and with one last tweak of my shirt collar, she ushered me towards the doors and stairwell. ‘Go on now, Ida is waiting!’