Beyond the Dresser

When Ali bought the villa, he had no reason to examine the walls closely. He had looked around, got a sense for this being a home for him, and moved in shortly after the necessary deal had been made.

He'd liked that fact that it had been there a long time, the villa. It felt part of a wider history than his. It was sturdy, its stone walls testament to that, having survived earthquakes and conflicts. By its very nature, it was defiant, a solid dwelling on a landscape now scarce of them. He had looked forward to not having neighbours.

Placing his furniture in the space he now owned was bringing him a lot of joy. When he'd been married, these details had been considered the domain of Juliana, his wife and she had guarded them possessively, resenting his input on anything, raising her eyebrow at his suggestion and supporting it with a sneer of disdain.

"What would a man know about home-making?" she would say and he would think, "A lot more than you," but never utter it out loud. He would look at a room that she had put together and know that he could transform it into something welcoming but still stylish rather than the austere, precisely placed installation for show that she had composed.

It was while he was moving a particularly large dresser in his villa that Ali discovered the true extent of the property he had bought. The dresser was oak, a dark solid piece that had been difficult to lift onto a truck, requiring 4 people on each corner. He had been ambitious in thinking that he could walk it over a stone-flagged floor into a position against a wall without some mishap taking place. He had anticipated said mishap being a hernia, some overstretch in his ageing physique that would pull him up sharply as it twanged at the exertion it was being put through. But his body remained resolute to the task, perhaps a little too much as it was one overexuberant shove to get the dresser into position which caused it to topple into the wall.

"Oh!" He shouted from the other side of the dresser as he felt it fall away from him. He couldn't stop it without hurting himself so he allowed it to fall, knowing that the dresser was solidly built but the wall was stone and could take the hit. He doubted that the dresser would have left a mark on the wall although marks on the dresser may well be a different factor.

He was wrong.

Ali had landed on his knees, the momentum taking his balance as it went with the dresser. "It shouldn't be at that angle," he thought to himself as he leaned on the dresser and felt it giving a little under his weight, like a seesaw. "The wall should've stopped it."

A shot of adrenaline went through him as he realised that something wasn't right here. Why was the dresser moving? It was like it had hit air or a space? But how could that be when he had been pushing it towards a solid stone wall?

Now on his feet, he manoeuvred himself slowly around the dresser.

What he saw was incredibly surprising and it took him a moment for his brain to take in what his eyes were transmitting.

"Good God," he stated, in a loud whisper, his shock audible to himself and sending another frisson through him as he evaluated the scene before him.

The dresser had gone through the wall. It was rather precariously balanced over what could only be described as a void. The wall was not stone at all but plaster masquerading as something more solid. The weight of the dresser falling on it had made it cave in, into...what? Ali was almost too scared to look.

Tentatively, he moved closer, his trepidation thudding in his ears, reminding him to be careful. He hoped the floor was okay. Gingerly, stepping forward, he was relieved to note that his foot felt sure. He had imagined briefly an Indiana Jones-style slip as his weight displaced a trick stone and he tumbled to his doom into some bizarre sinkhole onto which his villa had been built.

He took his phone out of his pocket and shined its torch into the space beyond the dresser. Dust motes cascaded and swirled in the artificial light, the dust of ages. He could see the outside stone wall of his villa ahead of him. He shone his torch to the left and saw that there was a bigger space than just a cubby. It was like a landing area and as he pointed the torch downwards, being careful not to lean on the dresser for support, he could see stairs descending, under where the dresser was currently hanging, and beyond.

If he was to see what was down there, Ali would have to move the dresser or try to crawl under it. He was not an old man but he was not agile and the thought of the dresser crushing him, with a wrong move by himself on this ancient staircase - well, it filled him with dread. No, he would have to try and pull the dresser back up. But something told him that he shouldn't ask for help to do this. Not yet. Some instinct told him that he should see what had been uncovered for himself before letting other eyes in here. It was, after all, his home and he was reluctant to have to live with unnecessary upheaval. He'd just freed himself of one restraint with the completion of his divorce from Juliana; he didn't want to be beholden to others before he was ready.

It was some hours later that he finally got the dresser upright having inched it to a standing position through an arduous process of supporting it by degrees by placing items under it where he could. Slowly, it lifted. With each small increment, Ali gradually eased the dresser onto its base. He was relieved that nothing had come from the stairs while he was doing it.

Getting a drink, he surveyed the fruits of his furniture hefting labours.

The entry into the hole in the plaster was accessible. Now that access had been made, Ali was almost reluctant to explore. Sipping his drink, he was encompassed by a nervous anticipation, one which both excited and frightened him. He'd never envisioned himself as a tomb raider or intrepid explorer. He was a semi-retired accountant. Admittedly, he had a love for history but he was most comfortable with an audio guide at a maintained site than being at the front end of discovery. But the thought of someone else going down there before him made him feel envious and so, he stood up straight and gave himself a stern talking to.

"Ali, you can do this. You are a brave man, who loves history. You have been given a gift today. Something unique has been presented to you and you must pursue it!"

Ali picked up his phone again and shined the torch into the hole, urging himself towards courage.

"You can do this, Ali. You are not a wimp!" And he clambered over the plaster into the void beyond. He could see more now the dresser was out of the way.

"You are a tomb raider. You are Ranulph Fiennes. You are brave." Ali kept up random mutterings as he placed his feet where the plaster had not landed for sure footing on a staircase which headed underground.

The quiet was different from that above ground. He stopped muttering, wary now of making noise, just in case he disturbed "something". He tried not to think too imaginatively about what those "somethings" might be as he inched downwards. He looked back up to the top of the stairs, to the light, almost wistfully.

"Perhaps I should tell someone so that they know where to look if something happens to me," Ali thought to himself but again, he dismissed the idea, his pride overruling his caution. No, he wanted this to himself, just for now. He would just need to be very careful and take his time.

And this is what he did, step by cautious step, down deeper into the earth, into the space below his villa, into the dark, breathing dustier and staler air.

Eventually, the stairs stopped and ahead of Ali lay a corridor. His heart was pounding now. The corridor was narrow; the light from the plaster hole had diminished; he had his phone only now, no natural light. He felt claustrophobic and had to beat down his fear with rational thought.

"No-one is down here, Ali. Just you. You're just exploring your villa, that's all." He whispered this softly to himself like a mantra, rounding a corner in the corridor.

The ceiling, which had barely cleared Ali's head, opened up and Ali was no longer in a dusty corridor. What he saw before him beggared belief.

"Oh my word," he said softly and with reverence.

He was in a cave. No, he wasn't, it was more than that. He was in a series of caves. No, that wasn't right either. His mouth agape as he shone his torch around, he thought "I am in a city of caves!"

He wished there was a light switch to provide the means to penetrate the shadows because his torch's spotlight barely showed anything at all, just a glimpse here and a glimpse there. But what it did show was something immense.

A network of caverns and openings stretched before him. Ancient dwellings clustered either side of stairways and walkways which linked them all. It was a vast underground city, chiselled from the rock and laid out before him.

Ali stood in this ancient space and marvelled. His villa. His villa! His villa was built around a gateway to an ancient city. You could, in fact, call it a gatehouse. He wondered if the previous owner had known and guessed not. He would have paid a lot more for it if he had. No, he wouldn't have been about to buy it at all as it would surely be a national monument! He thought about the wonder of what he'd found and the serendipitous way in which he'd found it and was astonished at where his afternoon had taken him.

"Who knew?" he whispered. He continued to look around from his vantage point on the landing and realised that he would have to explore more, he just had to! But without light, it would be limited.

He needed a plan and a semi-retired accountant was just the sort of man to form one. He also realised as he headed back to the surface to make a list of equipment needed to light up this ancient city that he would be able to fulfil his ambition of having an extensive wine collection, having just discovered the perfect cellar.