The Haunting of Ashburn House (6 page)

Jayne dropped Marion off outside the vet clinic then showed Adrienne the narrow opening in the edge of the forest that led to Ashburn Walk before driving them into the town’s centre.

“I’d offer to take you out for a coffee or something,” she said sheepishly, “but I begged Jerry to cover for me at the utilities centre so that I could come and see Ashburn. I really need to get back before the end of my shift, but maybe another time?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.” Adrienne unbuckled her seatbelt as Jayne eased the car into an empty parking space. “Give me a call when—oh, wait, I don’t know Ashburn’s number. I don’t suppose you’d have a way to find it?”

Jayne shook her head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Ashburn doesn’t
have
a number. You might want to get a mobile. The coverage up there’s probably going to be dodgy, but putting in a landline would cost a small fortune.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” Adrienne had cancelled her mobile rental the month before. She thought of the lone twenty-dollar bill living in her handbag and how many necessities were clamouring for its favour.
A new phone will have to go on the buy-when-I’m-rich list.
“Until then, visit anytime. You’re always welcome.”

She slipped out of the car and waved as it eased back onto the main street. She waited until Jayne and her companions had turned the corner before looking at her surroundings.

Ipson truly was tiny, she realised as she rotated in a circle and discovered she could see every shop in both directions.
A hairdresser’s… the library… a couple of clothing stores… a second-hand store… a petrol station…

She fixed on the convenience store not far from her drop-off spot. It was a charming, jumbled sort of shop with more stock than floor space. The shelves were stacked high and deep, and crates and pallets were strategically placed along the narrow aisles. The bell above the door rang as Adrienne entered, and she tried not to pay attention as the other shoppers turned to stare at her.

Everyone here must know each other.
She picked up a basket from the stack beside the door and tried not to look as self-conscious as she felt.
I must stick out like a peacock in a pigeon display.

She edged into the closest aisle and tried to make sense of its order. Dusting cloths were stacked next to the biscuits, and a little beyond them sat a crate of fresh apples.
Is it arranged alphabetically or something?

“Need any help, dear?”

The voice was so unexpected that Adrienne jumped. She swivelled and tried to smile at the plump woman with steel-grey hair and a chin that dimpled when she smiled. The name tag pinned to her faded blue blouse introduced her as June Thompson, co-manager.

“Yeah, thank you. I’m just looking for your cat food.”

June’s smile widened, and bunches of wrinkles formed around her eyes. “’Course you are, honey. Just this way.”

Adrienne tried not to notice how June kept shooting her furtive glances as she led her into an aisle that held, among other oddities, tinned beetroot, Chinese finger traps, and watering cans. “Right here, sweetheart. We have a couple of brands. Own a cat, do you?”

“A huge one.” Adrienne glanced between the bags. They didn’t have the brand Wolfgang preferred, so she picked up one and began examining the ingredients list. She was prepared to compromise on a lot of things, but her cat’s protein intake wasn’t one of them. “He’s got the appetite of a lion.”

“How sweet. I’ve got dogs myself.” June tapped her manicured nails on the edge of the shelf, a shining example of indifference, then swivelled towards Adrienne and blurted the questions she’d clearly been trying to repress. “You moved into Ashburn House, didn’t you? Is it true there’s bloodstains all over the walls?”

That set the tone for the rest of her shopping expedition. June, who appeared to be one of the town’s biggest gossips, was desperately curious about the house on the hill. For her part, Adrienne was able to glean fresh nuggets of knowledge about her great-aunt. Apparently, Edith had done all of her shopping in that grocery store. “She never went anywhere else,” June said proudly. “Not even the hairdresser. I’d guess her hair must have been down to her thighs at least, but she always bundled it up on top of her head, so it’s hard to know.”

“Did you talk to her much?” Adrienne asked while trying to calculate how many cups of instant noodles would push her over her budget.

“Ooh, no, not at all.” June’s expression fell, and she shook her head sadly, her grey perm swishing with the motion. “Not for want of trying, I promise you. She never talked to anyone except to complain if we didn’t have the papers in yet. She bought the paper every day, you see. The rest of her shopping seemed to be on whims—some days she’d get vegetables, other days biscuits, or sometimes just a carton of eggs—but she always, without fail, bought the paper.”

Adrienne poked around the story of the Ashburn family’s deaths as discreetly as she could but was disappointed to find June knew even less about it than Beth.

“That must’ve been close to a hundred years back, sweetheart.” They were checking out by that point, June scanning the items at a glacial speed to prolong the conversation. “I heard there was a big police investigation, but I don’t think anyone went to jail over it. I don’t know of anyone who remembers the story now. It’s like that game the kids play—telephone, I think it’s called. One person tells their friend the story, maybe embellishes a tiny bit or forgets some details. That friend then passes their own version on to someone else, and so on, until it’s thoroughly garbled. By this point, anything you hear is probably going to be just as much myth as fact.”

Adrienne was pausing to admire how insightful this was when June leaned closer, the back of one hand pressed beside her mouth, and stage whispered, “Though if you’re curious, I’m partial to Stephen’s version where the Ashburns had a second child they kept locked in the attic, and the little darling went insane and killed them in their sleep.”

“Oh, wow.” Adrienne tried to think of an appropriate way to respond to that. “Uh… wow. That sounds awful.”

“Sure does. Twenty-one ninety-three. Thanks, honey.”

Adrienne froze as she heard the total, her twenty-dollar note already held towards the checkout. Heat flooded her face. “Oh, uh, better take a couple of the noodles off—”

“Never mind that.” June took the money with a grandmotherly smile and pushed the paper bags towards Adrienne. “Welcome to Ipson, honey. I hope you like it here.”

I think I will.
Spouting awkward thanks, Adrienne took her bags and backed out of the store. The bell jingled at her exit, and once again, glances were shot her way. She knew many of the shoppers had followed her and June around the store, staying an aisle over or lingering a few feet behind, and listened in on the conversation. But the attention didn’t feel as unwelcome as Adrienne would have expected it to. It wasn’t hostile, and she wasn’t being excluded from the tiny community. Instead, she felt sucked into its embrace.

Keeping that happy thought at the front of her mind, Adrienne made a point of nodding and smiling at anyone who made eye contact with her on the walk towards the woods. Most smiled in return, and a few greeted her. Only a couple—mostly wide-eyed children—gawked.

The main street was short, and there was only a brief row of residential properties between it and where the mountainside collided with the flats. She followed Jayne’s directions for locating Ashburn Walk—just beyond the blue house with the tyre swing in the front yard—and was soon stepping into the trees’ shadows.

The dirt path was narrow. It looked as though it didn’t have any regular maintenance but was kept clear of grass and plants simply by virtue of being used twice each day. It took a few twists around large trunks but was mostly straight.
As the crow flies,
Jayne had said. Sure enough, in the infrequent moments when the trees thinned enough for her to see through their boughs, Ashburn always loomed ahead. Only the roof was visible, but the dark wood and its remaining flecks of grey-white paint were impossible to overlook. Ashburn had a presence, she realised, which had probably helped cement its identity as a local fascination. It didn’t just look like a house but like a living entity crouched on the hill, glowering over the occupants below.

She shook herself free of the thought and increased her pace. The incline was steep enough to make her breathing laboured but not so bad that she needed a break. She thought it would be easier if her baggage weren’t so heavy. Edith’s daily walk into town might be a habit she should adopt; that way she would only need to buy what she planned to eat that day.

The path took a sharp turn around a tree, and Adrienne found herself facing a row of zigzagging steps leading up a nearly vertical incline. The stairs were lined with stones but uneven and narrow enough that she had to watch her feet as she ascended. She was thoroughly winded by the time she reached the top of the cliff and returned to following the gentler pathway.

Edith must have been fit to take those stairs every day. Maybe the cardio workout helped prolong her life.

The trees had grown darker and spindlier. When she looked over her shoulder, she could still see the lush emerald greens that grew near the town. It was a striking contrast to the dark-grey woods surrounding her.

The path took one final bend, and Adrienne found herself facing Ashburn House. She hadn’t expected to reach it so soon. Jayne’s estimation had been right; even at a leisurely pace, the walk hadn’t taken much more than fifteen minutes.

When she bumped the front door open, she found two glimmering green eyes in her path. Her heart lurched unpleasantly, then the eyes blinked, and Adrienne laughed as she slumped against the wall. She’d accidentally left the living room door open, and Wolfgang had emerged from his sanctuary.

“Well, I guess you were about ready to see more of Ashburn, anyway,” she said as she nudged the front door closed with her foot. “Don’t worry—I got more food. Not that you need it, tubbo.” She bent to give his ears a friendly scratch then turned toward the kitchen to unpack her haul.

Nearly half of Adrienne’s twenty dollars had gone to cat food. She didn’t know how soon she was likely to be paid, but it would be less painful to go hungry herself than to see Wolfgang sitting by an empty food bowl.

She’d spent the rest as frugally as she could: six cups of instant noodles, thanks to a buy-two-get-one-free special, plus a bag of rice and a packet of lentils for protein. The cupboard looked less pitiful than it had, but it hardly held a stockpile. Adrienne sighed and returned to the lounge room. She’d sent an invoice reminder to both of her outstanding accounts just two days before, but things were dire enough that she was prepared to dip into aggressive territory and send another.

She sat on the lounge chair, which was still covered in blankets from the night before, and opened her laptop. An angry red “no Wi-Fi” emblem appeared in the toolbar.

“Oh, crap.” Adrienne opened the settings. Her laptop was supposed to be its own mobile hotspot, but the unhelpful diagnosis tool told her there wasn’t coverage in her area and to call support if she needed additional help.

She snapped the laptop closed, glowered at the cold fireplace opposite, then slid off the chair and returned to the hallway. The Wi-Fi would have a greater chance of working in town, but she was tired and hungry from the walk, and she didn’t want to have to retrace her steps so soon.
Besides, sundown is only a few hours away. I should try to figure out a bedroom; I’d rather not sleep on the lounge chair again if I can help it.

Adrienne fetched herself a cup of instant noodles. Wolfgang followed her into the kitchen, and she watched him nose about the dusty corners as she waited for the kettle to boil and poured the water into the Styrofoam cup. She considered sitting at the head of the table—it was closest to the benches and faced the window—but felt uneasy about occupying Edith’s seat. Instead, Adrienne sunk into the chair at the table’s side.

IS IT FRIDAY

LIGHT THE CANDLE

She tried not to read the phrase carved into the tabletop, but her eyes wandered back to it anytime she wasn’t consciously focussing elsewhere.

I could sandpaper them out if they were shallow, but some of those scratches look too deep. Maybe I could cover them with a tablecloth… when I can afford one. Unless—

She put her fork down and crossed to the drawers she’d looked through when searching for cups the day before. Adrienne gave a small hum of triumph when she found the cloths stacked neatly in the cupboard beside the fridge. She took the top one out and flipped it open. Age had sapped away its sharp white hue, and it was too long to fit the table properly, but Adrienne still draped it over the wood.

It’s a shame to cover furniture this nice, but I don’t think I can live with that phrase staring at me every time I want to eat.

“Better, right?” she asked Wolfgang. He’d risen up on his back legs to sniff at a stain on the wall and turned to give her a dispassionate stare when she spoke to him.

Adrienne finished her lunch, washed the fork, and returned to the hallway. The sun was already edging close to the treetops, and she wanted to find somewhere to sleep before it became so dark that she needed the lamp.

As she climbed the stairs, Adrienne ran through the possibilities. She was certain she didn’t want to move into Edith’s room. She’d given it some thought during the walk back from town and had decided it would be best to leave the space untouched as a sort of memorial to the strange, controversial great-aunt she’d never known. She was only one person living in a huge house, after all; it wasn’t as though space was in short supply.

But would there be any other bedrooms? If the townspeople’s reports were accurate, Edith had never allowed guests into her home, which reduced the chance of a guest bedroom to almost nil.

However, there was a chance that Edith had preserved one or more of her deceased family’s bedchambers. If she had, that would create a new dilemma. The family had been killed. She didn’t know how, where, and by whom, but Adrienne had to face the possibility that they’d died in their beds. Could she sleep on a mattress where another person had been murdered?

She’d reached the top of the stairs and began opening doors under the paintings’ watchful eyes. She’d already looked into several of the rooms when looking for the shower but checked again just to be certain. Storage room, storage room, Edith’s bedroom, the office—which looked glorious with the heavy golden late-afternoon light streaming over the desk—the bathroom, empty room, empty room.

Only one door remained at the end of the hallway, next to the flight of stairs that led to the attic. Adrienne expected another empty space and was shocked by what she found when she looked inside: a clean and unexpectedly modern bedroom. Unlike the rest of the building, the walls were covered in eggwhite paint rather than wallpaper. A plush, clean rug filled the centre of the room, and a single bed with a blue-and-purple bedspread sat below the window.

“Wow.” Adrienne stepped farther into the room and blinked at the empty bookcase and wardrobe. A bureau was propped against one wall, and although it didn’t have a mirror, there were no scratches on the wall behind it. Only a fine layer of dust lay over the surfaces, which meant they must have been cleaned not long before Edith’s death. She had found the guest room she’d convinced herself wouldn’t exist.

Most mind-boggling was how modern the furniture seemed. Everything else in Ashburn was vintage, possibly dating to as far back as when Edith’s parents had occupied the house. But the bedspread was a modern cotton blend, the desk looked expensive but streamlined, and the rug had a pattern that couldn’t have been more than a decade old.

A surreal sensation washed over Adrienne. She felt as though she’d stepped into a different world as she floated about the room, examining the fixtures and trying to tell herself it was too good to be true.

A white square stood out against the pillowcase, and Adrienne approached it. The shape turned out to be a piece of paper that had been scrawled on with a shaky but elegant hand. Her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch as she read the brief note.

Adrienne,

I hope you like your room.

Aunt Edith