The Haunting of Ashburn House Page 4

  Adrienne looked away from the door and towards the row of dark dresses. They surprised her, and she set the lamp onto the floor before pulling one of them out to get a clearer look at it. The gown could have come out of the props department in a Victorian-era film. Heavy black silk with lace detailing, a low hem, and a high neckline must have created a startling effect when worn. Adrienne blinked, and all of a sudden she was back in the car, her mother’s frantic breaths echoing in her ears, as she watched Ashburn’s door glide open. A tall figure, dressed in black, moved to stand in the opening, and Adrienne had an impression of a pale, long face and glittering black eyes before the memory faded and she found herself back in Edith’s bedroom.

  She sagged away from the wardrobe, breathing quickly. She was suddenly acutely aware of the gown’s length. Adrienne wasn’t short, but in order to keep the skirts from brushing the ground, she had to hold the dress so high that the lace gathered at the neck was at her eye level. She licked her lips as the new information coalesced with her existing knowledge of Edith and transformed the elderly woman in her mind’s eye into a tall, gaunt, black-clothed wraith.

  She couldn’t help her height. The long, pale face from her memory burnt itself into the back of her eyes. And she probably wore black in mourning. Doesn’t stop her from being a good, kind person.

  The dress was hung back amongst its companions, and Adrienne reverently closed the wardrobe doors. Her fingers were trembling, and she balled them into fists to keep them still.

  It was stupid to come up here on my first night. I should’ve stayed with Wolf and saved the exploring until morning.

  A pipe in the walls behind her rattled, startling her, and she snatched up the lamp and hurried to the door. As she slipped through the gap, a dozen pairs of eyes arrested her. She stayed rooted to the spot for a second, scanning the row of portraits, then followed the hallway to the stairs and hurried down them.

  She hadn’t noticed it before, but the family in the portraits all wore Victorian-style clothes not unlike the ones she’d found in Edith’s wardrobe.

  Were they her family? Could she be the child in the paintings, perhaps?

  The grandfather clock began chiming as she took the stair’s corner. She tried to count the off-note clangs, but her mind was still buzzing with the new familiarity with Edith, and she lost count. It was either ten or eleven at night; either way, time for bed.

  Wolfgang still lay on the rug in front of the fire but had rolled onto his back so that his four paws stuck up into the air and his belly was exposed. Except that one eye lazily drifted open at her entrance, he could have passed for roadkill. Adrienne laughed at the sight, and the unease created by the upstairs rooms melted away.

  The fire was burning low, so she added two new logs and placed the kettle back over the flames to reheat. Then she pulled her sheets and pillow out of the travel case and looked about the room.

  Other than the fireside chair, there were two lounge chairs. One had well-squished cushions, but the second seemed infrequently used. She chose the latter, draping one sheet over the cushions and arranging the second on top. She hadn’t brought any proper blankets but had a thick shawl that would do until she could find out if Edith had a guest bedroom or similar.

  “Want any more food, buddy?” she asked Wolfgang as she passed him on the way to the kettle. He followed her progress with the one open eye, but a low, rumbling purr told her he would be staying right where he was.

  Adrienne reused the teabag from her earlier cup to make a fresh brew then retrieved the book from the suitcase, turned the light off, and snuggled into her makeshift bed fully clothed.

  She’d intended to read by firelight for an hour or two before sleeping, but the day had worn on her more than she’d expected, and she soon let the book sag so that she could watch the dancing flames and her fluffy pet. The fire’s light caught in gaps between the floorboards, making them look like black lines scoring the floor.

  “We’re going to be okay here,” she told him as she tried to ignore the eerie sensation that the long, pale face could be watching her from one of the corners where the shadows gathered thickest.

  7

  Guests

  A hundred thousand tiny scratches had cut into the wood, but it still wasn’t enough. Her fingers kept scrabbling. Their nails had been chipped down to nothing, the skin scabbed and cracked; her bleached-white eyes stared sightlessly, and her breathing was a low, rhythmic grating as her fingers kept working. She wouldn’t rest. Not when she was so close.

  The scrabbling echoed in the tiny, cramped space, seeming to drown her.

  So close.

  More splinters broke off under her fingers, raining onto her white cheeks and black dress. She was so close to breaking through the wood and reaching the heavy, moist, dirt packed above her.

  — § —

  Adrienne started awake. A heavy weight pressed onto her chest, suffocating her, and she’d raised her hands with a panicked cry to fight it off. Then she felt it shift and realised what it was.

  Sometime during the night, Wolfgang had migrated from the hearthside rug to sleep on top of her. The fire must have burnt down to the point where her body was the warmer haven.

  He was heavy enough to be uncomfortable, though, and Adrienne carefully moved the cat off so that he lay beside her. He yawned, stretched, and settled down for a longer nap.

  I had a dream. What was it? Something about not being able to breathe… being trapped… trying to claw my way out…

  She looked down at her fingers. They were whole and her stubby nails intact. She blinked, trying to recall the dream, but the effort was like trying to chase water while it soaked into the ground.

  Morning was well underway. Sunlight, muted by the grime, washed through the windows and painted patterns over the carpet and furniture. The room was still reasonably warm, but she could sense it was quickly growing colder as frosty outside air ate away at the lingering heat from the fire.

  She slipped out of the makeshift bed, being careful not to disturb Wolfgang any more than she had to, and shimmied into a jacket.

  First full day in our new house. What do we need to do? Getting food is a priority—but even before I figure out a way to the town, I need a shower.

  She hadn’t brushed her teeth the night before, and her mouth tasted like something had died in it. She grimaced and ran her hands through her hair, trying to keep the loose strands out of her face, and then poured out fresh food for Wolfgang. His apathy vanished at the sound of rattling kibble, and he had his face planted in the bowl before she’d finished pouring.

  “Calm down; you’re not going to starve.” She scratched the top of his head, put the cat food onto a shelf, and took her towel and toiletries out of the suitcase before returning to the hallway.

  The lamp waited on the little table at the base of the stairs, but she left it there. The morning sun was strong enough to light the narrow steps and the rooms above. She took the climb quickly and found herself back in the painting-lined hallway.

  The portraits were clearer in the daylight, and even Adrienne, who lacked any kind of artistic ability, could tell the painter had considerable talent. The portraits were detailed and the subjects artfully posed, and many of the paintings were so realistic that she could feel eyes on her back as she moved along the hallway and peeked into rooms.

  The first two doors she tried opened into storage areas full of cardboard boxes, shrouded furniture, and musty crates. The third was an office of sorts, and Adrienne entered it to get a closer look at the ornately carved desk below the window. The view looked over the wood-clothed hill that ran towards town. Thin fog wove among the trees and over Ipson’s streets, lending them an otherworldly quality. The view was spectacular.

  This would be a great place to write. She ran her fingertips along the dark-wood surface. It would be okay, wouldn’t it? I don’t want to be disrespectful by using Edith’s private room and favourite desk.

  She wiped a finger over t
he table. It was slightly dusty but not enough to assume it had been neglected. Despite that, the room had the feeling of a space infrequently used. The bookcase was too neatly stacked and the desk too clear for Adrienne to imagine the room had been touched except for cleaning within the last few years. Maybe it belonged to Edith’s husband.

  Adrienne backed away from the desk and tried not to scrunch her face up. For some reason, the idea of Edith being married felt wrong. She still knew almost nothing about her benefactor, but something told her Edith Ashburn had stayed single.

  She left the office and passed the next door. She remembered its carved designs from the night before. She wasn’t eager to examine the indent on Edith’s bed or the rows of ornate black dresses again.

  To her delight, the door past Edith’s opened into a spacious and relatively clean bathroom. Unlike the rest of the house, which was predominately decorated in old-fashioned rose patterns, the bathroom was clean white with subtle sea-green accents. It looked modern, too, as though it had been installed within the past decade. A bathtub was set into the back wall with a showerhead poised above it and a spacious sink at its side.

  Adrienne turned on the shower’s water. Pipes rattled through the house, grinding and clanging for what felt like an eternity before the liquid spat out of the showerhead. While she waited for the hot water to flow through, Adrienne brushed her teeth and stared at the empty space above the sink where a mirror would normally sit. She wasn’t surprised to see her reflection replaced by the now-familiar phrase, NO MIRRORS.

  Looks like she’s removed every mirror in the house. That’s a pain; I didn’t bring any with me. I’ll probably look like a fright when I turn up in town today. No makeup, sweaty from the climb, probably twigs sticking out of my matted hair… it’ll give them something to talk about.

  She gave a wry grin then undressed and showered. The water was beautifully hot, but the room didn’t have a fan, and condensation glistened on every surface by the time she turned the taps off. She searched for some way to aerate the room, but the only option was the large frosted window behind the shower. She never would have dared open it in the city, but kilometres from town and with no neighbours, she felt remote enough to unlock the clasp and crack one of the panes open.

  Icy outside air rushed through the opening. Adrienne spluttered and raced to dry and dress herself before she froze. She was still pulling her jeans on when the sound of a motor disturbed her. She hesitated, one leg in its pant and the other one raised awkwardly in the air, and listened. I didn’t think I was close enough to the main road to hear any traffic.

  The motor grew in volume, and soon the crunch of small rocks being ground under tyres confirmed her suspicion. Someone had come to visit.

  She pulled the jeans on the rest of the way, stuck her feet into the sneakers, and crossed to the bathroom window. A tidy sedan was rolling to a halt near the edge of the path. The driver had turned the vehicle around so that it faced the exit, as though preparing for a quick escape, and that unnerved Adrienne.

  A lot of possibilities ran through her mind, none of them pleasant. She pictured one of Edith’s friends or relatives becoming enraged that the house had been left to a stranger rather than them. Or someone who thought she didn’t deserve the property and had come to vandalise it in retaliation. Or thieves, knowing she would be alone and sensing easy prey…

  She pulled the jacket on while she raced along the hallway and flew downstairs. The front door had frosted-glass panes at its sides, and she pressed close to one of them to catch a glimpse of her visitors.

  Four figures, huddled closely together, were crossing the yard. Two of them had their arms full with indistinguishable bundles. As they neared, Adrienne drew a breath. She thought she recognised them; they were the four fashionable ladies she’d seen outside the café. The tall one with shoulder-length blonde hair led her companions in a beeline towards Ashburn House’s porch.

  Adrienne drew back. Her heart was pounding, but she didn’t know why. She doubted those glamorous women had come to vandalise, thieve, or intimidate her, which was good, but it left their actual motives an unknown factor. They’d been laughing at her taxi when she passed them the day before, and that didn’t sit well with her. Had they come to gawk, perhaps?

  Don’t be paranoid. Maybe they’re here to welcome you to town or invite you to join their book club or something. They could be friendly.

  Her brain seized on that phrase and refused to let it go. Friends. They could be your friends.

  Voices reached her as the group climbed the porch stairs. One, quiet and anxious, said, “I don’t think I want to do this.”

  “Oh, come on, we’re already here! If you didn’t want to, you should’ve said so back in town.”

  “Shh, both of you. She might hear.” The third voice used a theatre whisper that carried through the door. “Sarah, you can stay in the car if you want. But this might be our only chance to see Ashburn.”

  There was quiet for a moment then a muted, “Okay.”

  So they’ve come to gawk at the house after all. A bitter taste filled Adrienne’s mouth, and she drew away from the door. I could stay quiet. Make them think I’ve gone out. They’d have to leave eventually.

  The voice in the back of her head kept chanting: friends, friends, they could be friends. She was a little disgusted at her desperation but then remembered how small the town was. If she wanted companionship, the gawkers might be her only option.

  One of the ladies gave three brisk raps with the knocker. The sound boomed through the hallway and made the wood shiver.

  Adrienne kept still, frozen in indecision. Let them in or turn them away? Risk humiliation or face isolation?

  “Hello?” The woman one who’d told Sarah she could stay in the car spoke loudly enough that it would be heard throughout the building. “Sorry for dropping by uninvited, but we wanted to welcome you to Ipson.”

  Adrienne crossed her arms over her chest and kept quiet. Her heart thumped against her ribs like a trapped bird as her mind continued to play tug of war over whether or not to answer.

  A beat of silence passed, then the voice continued, bright and loud. “We brought some scones and jam and cream. Marion made the jam from raspberries she grew herself. It’s really good.”

  That made the decision a cinch. She was hungry and had nothing in her cupboard except a tin of sardines and cat food. If letting a group of shallow, gossiping voyeurs into her house was the price she had to pay for scones, well, she could live with that.

  She backed up the hallway silently then walked toward the door, making her footfalls slightly louder than normal so that the ladies wouldn’t suspect she’d been lurking a few feet away from them. Swallowing her nervousness was painful and not entirely effective, but she hoped she’d managed to fix a natural smile onto her face as she turned the knob and opened the door.

  8

  Masks

  The blonde-haired leader stood closest, her arms full of a cloth-covered basket and a bright smile stretching her red lips. Her three companions—a shorter, stockier lady with bobbed black hair, a tall, serious-looking woman with a long face, and a pale-skinned woman with a straight fringe—all lingered a step behind.

  “It’s so nice to meet you!” The leader extended the basket as though the peace offering would save her from rejection—which, Adrienne supposed, wasn’t too far from the truth. “It’s been too long since we’ve had anyone new in town. I’m Jayne.”

  “Adrienne.” She impulsively extended her hand to shake Jayne’s, but the other woman’s were occupied with holding the basket, so she squeezed her fingers into a fist and dropped it back at her side with a nervous laugh. “Um, would you like to come in?”

  She felt completely out of her element as she stepped to one side and allowed the glamorous women to enter. The only visitors they’d had at her mother’s home had been close friends, and she had no idea what was expected of her when she was welcoming strangers. The anxiety wasn’t helped
when she thought about how unkempt she must look with her crumpled second-day clothes and damp hair.

  She turned to lead them into her lounge room then stopped. The blankets and pillows were still strewn over the couch, and she didn’t know how Wolfgang would react to strangers. So instead, she opened the door to the sitting room—the cleaner, fancier space that overlooked the front garden—and ushered them inside.

  Sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing the floral-print lounges and dark wood fittings into sharp relief. Her guests made vaguely appreciative noises as they looked around the space, and Jayne placed the basket on the coffee table that sat between the lounge chairs.

  “I didn’t bring any plates, I’m afraid.” Her teeth looked startlingly white in the sunlight, and golden highlights caught in her hair. Adrienne felt a twinge of jealousy. No amount of expensive salon products could make her hair that perfectly glossy.

  “No problem, it’s fine.” She waved at the chairs. “Um, have a seat. I’ll make some tea and get some plates too. Just a minute.”

  She managed to repress the urge to run as she left the room. Her breath came out in a rush as she closed the door and pressed her back to the wood. This was a terrible decision. They’re going to judge the heck out of you! You look a mess thanks to Edith’s no-mirrors policy, and you don’t even know if there’s a teapot in this house. You’ll be the town’s hottest joke by evening.

  A voice floated through the closed door. It sounded faintly surprised. “I didn’t think she’d be so young.”

  Adrienne pushed away from the wood and hurried into the kitchen to fill the electric kettle and put it on to boil. She opened every cupboard and drawer in the room, searching for a set of modern mugs, but eventually had to resign herself to serving their tea in the overly ornate fine china. Edith owned a teapot, at least. Adrienne found a tray and stacked the plates, teacups, saucers, and sugar onto it, but she didn’t have any milk. They’ll have to make do with black.