The hangers in the hallway were empty. They brought their coats, Anna thought. Wait! All of them? Tiny ones with elephants on them, Anna remembered having seen the day she had arrived. They had a fluffy white fur around the collar and she remembered having wondered why anyone would buy both their children the exact same coat, only in a different size.
Stop it!
Befallen by thoughts, she shook her head, because now nothing she thought about even mattered. They were gone. All of them. The coats of the children and those of the parents, too.
Mrs. Murphy´s tailored cardigan, the olive color of which didn´t suit a white blonde woman like her, and Mr. Murphy´s down coat, at least in a color that suited everyone, because it was not a color: inconspicious black. Appropiate for Mr. Murphy, as much as he liked to hide away. In the shadows, in the fog, in the night, in the crowd, and in his black down coat, because what he had been doing behind his family´s back had always been meant to stay a secret. Anna´s breath got suffocated on the way from her mouth to her lungs. Maybe Mr. Murphy´s secrets were why the family was gone!
Nobody knew about them. Aside from Anna, and that she knew Mr. Murphy didn´t know.
How could he, when he didn´t even really know her, either?
She hadn´t exactly volunteered to know his deepest, darkest secrets, but had just happened to be there for the acts that had turned into such. Had she ever thought about going upstairs and revealing them? God, no! To be honest, Anna couldn´t have cared less. About Mr. Murphy and his terrible doings, about Mrs. Murphy and her terrible coat, and about their two daughters, eight and four, who were being forced to turn into one with the exat same coat on. Now, though, standing in the hallway in front of empty hangers and across from a deserted living room that was radiating an oppressive flair of death, Anna was slowly starting to care. Not about any of the Murphys, in particular, but about her future here.
What if something terrible has happened to the Murphys?
What if anyone is going to come to the house, looking for them, just to find Anna there? She was not supposed to be in this house.
Hopefully the Murphys are okay, she thinks, swallowing. Hopefully they are, not for their own sake, but for hers. She would be investiagated first if somebody has taken them, hurt them or, even worse, killed them, and if the police were to find her here.
She walks into the living room. The fluffy grey carpet feels like clouds. Dirty clouds.
If Mrs. Murphy had known that she wouldn´t return home, she would never have left the house in a state like this.
Dirty plates in the kitchen on the other side of the hall, toys scattered over the living room floor, and the carpet couldn´t have been hoovered before they left. It looks a mess, hair everywhere and they don´t even have pets.
Anna would usually hear Mrs. Murphy hoovering at least once a day and sometimes twice, before work and after. OCD, she would have called it. Now it is how she knows that Mrs. Murphy mustn´t have had a clue that she wouldn´t get back home. If I die today, Mrs. Murphy would probably have thought before she left the house, then I don´t want the police or anyone else to think our house wasn´t looked after and clean.