The Haunting of Ashburn House (11 page)

Jayne had been considerate enough to leave a small jar of nails and a spool of wire in the bottom of the box, and Adrienne spent an hour fixing her new mirrors about the house. Most of them were placed directly over the NO MIRRORS inscriptions, not because she intended it that way but because they naturally tended to be the most appropriate places to hang the frames.

She fastened one onto the wall opposite the lounge room’s door. One went into the bathroom in the space above the sink and another onto the bureau in Adrienne’s room. A smaller mirror sat on the mantel, and a gilt frame fit perfectly into the larger guest room.

The last mirror—the largest in the box and framed with heavy, dark wood—gave Adrienne some trouble over its placement. Initially, she put it in the kitchen, but it didn’t feel natural there. It would have blended perfectly into Edith’s bedroom, but while she was okay with hanging mirrors through the rest of the house, she felt it would be rude to install one in Edith’s domain. She was hesitating in the upstairs hallway, glancing up and down its length with the mirror clutched to her chest, when it struck her that the dark wood frame would blend amongst the family portraits perfectly.

She hung it halfway along the hall, where there was a bit of a gap between a painting of Edith’s parents and one of Edith as a child. When she stood back, it almost looked as though it were a painting of her. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection, laughed, then returned downstairs.

The paintings had disturbed her when she’d first seen them, but she was gradually growing accustomed to their presence. The eyes continued to follow her, and the repetition still unnerved her, but it was becoming easier to walk past them without noticing they were there.

Morning was edging towards midday by the time Adrienne put the empty box away and stretched. It was her fourth day in Ashburn, and she was starting to feel guilty about how little she’d accomplished. The laptop waited for her in the lounge room, so she went to it, intending to spend a few hours on the incomplete project before walking to town in search of Wi-Fi.

She opened the lid, pressed the power button, and felt her good mood wither as the computer failed to respond.

“C’mon.” She checked the cord where it connected to the laptop and the power socket. “Even if you didn’t charge yesterday, you had plenty of time this morning!”

She pressed the power button again but got the same result: the screen stayed dead. Even the little light that normally winked to tell her the battery was charging remained black.

Adrienne began muttering as she tried pressing more buttons, tapping the touchpad, and pressing her ear to the keyboard to see if she could hear the fan. Nothing worked. She slumped back in the chair, pressed her hands to her face, and groaned. Her laptop was dead.

“This can’t be happening.” Her mind was already jumping through every incomplete task and document that hadn’t been backed up as she tried to assess how big of a disaster it was. She couldn’t contact her outstanding clients, and if they didn’t pay of their own volition, she’d be facing an empty cupboard in about five days. Her work-in-progress document wasn’t due for a week but would amount to about forty hours of lost work if she couldn’t retrieve the partially completed file.

And of course, she had no money for repairs or for a new laptop.

She groaned.
Whatever knocked the power out must have killed the laptop. Thank goodness I don’t have any projects due in the next couple of days… but I really, really could have done without this.

She unplugged the laptop, snapped its lid closed, and tucked it inside its carry bag. The best she could do was ask around town to see if anyone would repair it for a trade—she could edit any website or offer do to manual labour such as gardening. Or maybe they would even take an IOU.

She was halfway to the door when an idea came to her. Jayne had said Marion was back home. She should visit, not just to check on how she was but also to thank her for the basket of food. Adrienne dropped the laptop bag on the side table and ducked into the kitchen. She sorted through the cupboard and grinned when she realised the fresh eggs, milk, and jam Marion had brought the day before could be combined with Edith’s flour and sugar to make a small, basic cake.

It took less than forty minutes to mix and bake the cake then another half hour for it to cool while Adrienne cleaned up. She wished she had some icing sugar to decorate it, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so she wrapped the cake in a towel and placed it in the basket Marion’s supplies had come in. Then she returned to the hallway, took up the laptop, and stepped outside.

The midday sun was warm and bright, and Adrienne had to tie her jacket around her waist before she’d reached the forest’s edge. Descending into town was a lot more fun than climbing away from it had been. Sunlight came through the canopy in dappled spots, and as she moved lower and began to cross into the greener, healthier woods, the bird chatter and hum of insects increased. She was breathless but happier by the time she reached the street. The walk had shaken off her morning grumpiness and even erased some of the stress caused by the broken computer.

She didn’t know Marion’s address but knew she volunteered at the local veterinary clinic. Her hope was that one of the staff there might give directions to Marion’s house or at least agree to pass the cake on to her.

The vet was surprisingly easy to find. It was on the main street a little past the town’s only bank and advertised itself with a big white sign that held silhouettes of a rabbit, cat, dog, and horse arranged in a row.

The building had been a house before being converted into a clinic. As Adrienne entered the small waiting room, the screen door squealed. An elderly woman sat in one of the two chairs, an overweight pug held in her lap, and a frizzy-haired receptionist was tapping at the computer behind the front desk. She turned a toothy, eager smile on Adrienne. “Good morning!”

“Hi.” Adrienne shuffled to the desk, leaned close, and briefly explained her reason for the visit. To her surprise, the receptionist grabbed a notepad and had begun scribbling an address before she’d even finished her story.

“Here we go. Tell her Peggy said hi, okay?”

“Oh.” She felt a little stunned as she took the messy street address. Peggy had kindly included directions on how to reach it from the clinic. Adrienne hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Thank you!”

“No worries!” Peggy’s smile stretched a little wider, showing her gums. “Anything else I can help with?”

Adrienne hesitated then glanced towards her laptop bag. “Actually, yeah. Do you know anyone around here who can repair laptops? Mine died this morning.”

Peggy looked as though her day had been made. She stretched her hands towards the bag. “Yeah, my brother’s visiting this week. He works in tech; I’ll get him to have a look for you.”

The bag was out of Adrienne’s hands before she knew what was happening. Her first impulse was to ask for it back—to fear for her computer’s safety in the hands of a stranger—but she had to stop herself. This wasn’t the city, and Peggy had already demonstrated that Ipson had a high trust threshold. Adrienne let the bag go.

“Okay, that would be great.” She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice so that the pug’s owner wouldn’t overhear. “I, uh, I can’t afford much right now, but would he let me pay him back over the next month?”

“He will if I tell him to.” Peggy tucked the bag under the desk. “I’ll see if he can have a look at it tonight. Pop back in tomorrow if you like.”

“Great. Thank you.” Adrienne picked up the basket with the cake and turned towards the door. “Uh, I’m Adrienne—”

“From old Miss Ashburn’s house—of course.” Peggy’s grin was so unguarded and free that Adrienne couldn’t help but return it. “Nice to meet you at last, Adrienne.”

“Ha. You too, Peggy.”

Adrienne left the clinic, walked twenty paces, and had to stop to get her bearings. The whole exchange had been so rapid that she felt dizzy. But—and she hoped this wasn’t a one-sided impression—she felt as though she might have just met another friend.

Marion’s house was easy to find. It was a neat suburban two-story property just a block off the main street with an unruly garden spilling over the fence.

A broad, muscly woman answered Adrienne’s knocks. She seemed relieved that Adrienne had come to visit.

“Maybe you can talk her ’round.” The woman—who’d introduced herself as Marion’s mother, Kris—led Adrienne up the stairs to the second floor. A little like the garden, the house felt overfull and disorganised but in a homey sort of way. “She’s been moping about all morning. Acting like that crash was the worst thing ever. I even told her she could borrow my car until hers is fixed,
but
…” She punctuated the last word with an eye-roll and knocked on the first door at the top of the stairs. “Well, maybe she’ll cheer up with some company. Oy, Mar, that girl from Edith’s house has come to visit.”

Kris turned and started down the stairs without waiting for a response from either Adrienne or her daughter. The door remained closed. Adrienne dawdled in the hallway, feeling uncomfortable, but when a minute had passed without any sounds suggesting she was going to be let in, she turned the handle and nudged the door open. “Marion?”

The room was dim. A pink-tinted lamp beside the bed was on, but the curtains were drawn, blocking out all natural light. The space was a little neater than the rest of the house but still filled with a plethora of clearly loved possessions. Two mismatched dressers were pressed against one wall, above which hung a cluster of posters and animal-healthcare charts. Colourful scarves were thrown over the wardrobe, and the bed’s quilt didn’t match the pillowcase.

A figure sat in front of the window, facing away from the door and staring at the closed curtains. Adrienne cleared her throat, gently shut the door, and stepped towards the woman. “Hey, Marion? It’s Addy. I came to see how you were.”

There was no response. Adrienne’s skin began to prickle, but she tried not to let her discomfort show.
She’s not long come home from hospital, and the doctors said she had shock. She probably doesn’t feel well.

“I wanted to thank you for the food basket you made. That was incredibly sweet of you.” She moved to stand at the other woman’s side. Marion didn’t look well; the waxy pallor she’d had at the gravesite lingered, and dark circles under her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept. She didn’t look at Adrienne but kept her attention focussed ahead, seeming to watch something intently despite the drawn curtain.

Adrienne didn’t know what to do. Her instincts were telling her to get out of there, that something was very clearly wrong, but she didn’t want to leave Marion if she needed help. She carefully placed the basket on the ground beside the chair and tried to smile. “And—and the mirrors as well. Jayne said that was your idea. Thank you.”

Marion twisted to face Adrienne, and the blank expression contorted into shock and anger. “She gave them to you?” she asked, her voice raw and cracked. “I told her to bury them.”

“I…” Adrienne glanced towards the door, wishing Kris would return, but no one came.

Marion held the gaze for a minute, then her features relaxed as her eyes slid back towards the curtains. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. She was in the box when I saw her. But I don’t think she’s still there.”

Adrienne tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. “I don’t understand, Marion. Do you feel sick? Would you like me to call the doctor?”

“She was in the box, covered in dirt.” Marion spoke slowly, her words slurring, as her eyes glazed over. “I saw her in my mirror. Made me swerve. Hit a tree. But I don’t think she’s there now.”

“I’m going to get your mother, okay?” Adrienne hated how high her voice was. She began to back towards the door, but Marion’s next words froze her.

“Do you want to know what Jayne said?” She turned in her chair as a humourless smile tugged at her lips. “I know you saw us laughing when you passed us in that taxi. D’you want to know what she said?”

Adrienne shook her head. Her heart was thumping against her ribcage, and she felt as if she might be sick. The room was stuffy, and stress was digging into her mind, compromising her ability to reason.

“She said, ‘That’ll be Ashburn’s new owner.’” Marion’s body began to shake with silent laughter as her eyes, flat and dead, arrested Adrienne. “‘I wonder how long it’ll be before she goes mad, too.’”

“I have to go.” Adrienne felt behind her for the doorknob. She didn’t want to take her eyes off the other woman or turn and make her back vulnerable. Marion remained in her seat, hands held limply in her lap, her lips frozen into a lifeless smile.

Adrienne found the doorhandle and turned it. She ducked through and made a final attempt at conversation. “I made you a cake. I-I hope you l-like it.”

No answer, but the joyless smile twitched a little larger.

Adrienne closed the door and stepped back from it. Her heart thundered as though she’d been running, and a high, ringing pitch filled her ears. She took the stairs carefully, her legs feeling too tense to move smoothly, and found Kris blocking the hallway leading to the front door.

“Well, how was she?” The older woman was drying her hands on a dishcloth and looked weary. “Did she show any signs of coming out of that lair?”

“I think she needs a doctor.” The words spilt out of Adrienne in a rush. “I don’t think she’s well.”

Kris’s tight smile collapsed into a scowl, and she flipped the cloth over her shoulder. “Nonsense. She only got a little scab from the crash. She’s making a fuss over nothing.”

“I think something’s wrong.” Adrienne glanced over her shoulder, towards the stairs and the closed door at their top. “She wasn’t like this a couple of days ago.”

“You haven’t been upsetting her, have you?” Kris looked disgusted. “She needs to move on, not dwell on it like some shrinking violet. I already told that Jayne girl not to keep harping on about the accident.”

“I’m sorry.” Adrienne didn’t know what she was apologising for as she edged around the irate woman, but she felt partially responsible for what had happened to her friend. “I need to go.”

Kris huffed but didn’t stop Adrienne as she hurried to the front door and let herself out.

The sun was still bright and hot, but it did very little to warm Adrienne’s clammy skin. Her arms felt empty and useless now that she didn’t have the basket or the laptop to carry, so she wrapped them around herself as she hurried back towards the street that would lead to Ashburn Walk.

— § —

At least it explains why Jayne didn’t want to come back here.

Adrienne had stopped just inside on the house’s threshold and stared down the length of the hallway as she organised the thoughts that had been swirling through her mind during the walk home. The house was silent around her, almost as though it were holding its breath to let her think.
She’s not upset because her friend crashed here. She’s upset because Marion has been acting strangely ever since.

The grey tabby, silent and elegant as a shadow, slipped out of the kitchen, fixed his sea-green eyes on her, then turned to climb the staircase. Adrienne watched his fluffy feather-duster tail bob with each step until it disappeared from view. She wondered where he was headed. He might have found a warm spot with a good view of the yard, or perhaps he was in the mood to explore more.

Is Marion still in shock? It shouldn’t last this long, should it? And if it did, the doctors wouldn’t have discharged her from hospital…

The house was at least ten degrees colder than the outside. Adrienne pushed away from the door and went into the kitchen to turn the kettle on.

IS IT FRIDAY

LIGHT THE CANDLE

She stared at the words for a long moment then exhaled. Wolfgang had knocked the cloth off the table again. She picked it up, shook it out, and replaced it. There was an empty glass vase in one of the higher cupboard shelves, and Adrienne half filled it with water then placed it on the table to act as a weight. It looked odd without flowers.

The kettle finished boiling, but Adrienne left the room without touching it.
If it’s not shock, then what’s wrong with her? Depression? Bipolar disorder? She was so bright and cheerful when she came to visit. And so proud of the jam she’d made.

Adrienne collected the empty kindling bucket from the lounge room and carried it outside. There were still a few hours until sunset, but she didn’t ever want to be caught without light again. She turned and circled the house before approaching the woods. Dry sticks littered the ground, and she was able to let her thoughts wander as she filled the bucket.

Jayne said Marion had donated her mirrors to me. But it sounds like that was a sanitised spin on what actually happened; Marion asked for help disposing of her mirrors, and Jayne decided to pass them on to me.

It didn’t take long for the bucket to grow heavy. A flowering vine ran up one of the trees nearby, and Adrienne picked a few of its blossoming tendrils to fill the kitchen vase then turned back to the house.

Marion said something about seeing a woman in her mirror before the crash. She must have meant her car’s rear-view mirror. But who did she see?

Something crunched under Adrienne’s boot as she crossed the porch, and she stepped back to see what it was. Clumps of dirt littered the surface. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts during the walk home that she hadn’t noticed them.

Must have come from the kids who scared me last night.

She scuffed the larger clumps off the porch’s edge with her sneaker then backed into the house. It was growing dimmer as the sun lowered, so she turned the hallway light on and sighed at how little it helped.

As she carried the bucket of wood towards the lounge room, she turned to look at her own reflection in the hallway mirror she’d hung the day before. She looked pale and unhappy and tried to smile at her visage. In the reflection, it looked more like a grimace. She turned into the lounge room, placed the bucket in its space beside the fireplace, then gathered the flowers and returned to the hallway.

Why did Marion want to throw away her mirrors? Why didn’t Edith have any in her home? How likely is it that those two choices are connected?

Adrienne stopped in the kitchen doorway and let the flowers fall from her hands. The off-white cloth lay in a heap at the end of the table, its creases sagging as it soaked up the water from the smashed vase.