The Haunting of Ashburn House (5 page)

When Adrienne entered the sitting room with a new cup and saucer, Jayne had regained her poise save for a pink tinge that lingered on her ears. She thanked Adrienne as she took the fresh cup of tea and then nodded towards a plate on the coffee table. “We made up some scones for you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Thanks.” Adrienne took one and passed the plate to Beth on her other side. “You said Marion made the jam?”

Marion, the fringe-haired vet student, nodded. “Yep, first batch of the season.”

“Wow, it’s delicious.” Adrienne spoke around a mouthful of the warm scone. She wasn’t exaggerating; the jam was sugary and tart and tasted amazing.

Marion’s whole face lit up with pride. “Ha, thanks! It’s my nan’s recipe.”

The atmosphere was miles away from what it had been when they’d first sat down. The disaster with the teacup had broken the awkward formality of first introductions; she was no longer afraid of them, and they were no longer afraid of her. Adrienne found herself relaxing as she took another bite. “I really appreciate this, actually. Edith didn’t leave much food in the house, and I haven’t had a chance to go to town.”

“Did you know her well?” The question came from Beth, who was leaning forward in her chair.

“Not at all.” Adrienne wasn’t sure how much to share with her companions and settled on the simplest version of events. “I didn’t even know I had a great-aunt until she passed. I wish I’d been able to meet her while she was alive.”

The four ladies exchanged a glance but didn’t comment. Adrienne looked between them as curiosity bloomed inside of her. “Why? Did you know her?”

“We didn’t really
know
her.” Jayne spoke slowly and glanced at Beth, who gave her a small nod. “But we knew
of
her. The whole town did. I… I don’t want to be rude, but…”

“No, no, go on.” Adrienne set her scone on the edge of her plate and leaned forward.

Jayne gave an apologetic smile. “She was a bit eccentric.”

“
A bit.
” Beth snorted but sobered when Jayne shot her a glare. “Sorry.”

“Well, see, she wouldn’t let anyone into the house.” Jayne raised one shoulder in a shrug. “You probably saw the warning signs in the driveway. The last time anyone set foot in this building was when John McManus was brought in to repair her bathroom a decade ago. He says it took him two days, and Miss Ashburn stood in the doorway and watched him the whole time. Not speaking, not moving, just… watching.”

Tiny chills ran down Adrienne’s arms.

“That’s, uh, part of the reason we came today.” Jayne gave another apologetic smile. “Wow, you’re going to think we’re so unbelievably rude. We really did want to meet you, too—and I’m not just saying that—”

“But you wanted to see the house.” Adrienne allowed herself a smile as she released her breath. They had come to gawk after all, but she couldn’t blame them. If a notorious house in her town had fallen empty, she’d have been curious to explore it too.

“Hell yeah,” Beth said, her eyes blazing. “I wanted to see if there were really skulls decorating the hallways.”

“Beth,
please
,” Jayne hissed.

Adrienne snorted in laughter and had to cover her mouth so that she wouldn’t spit crumbs over the table. “Sorry, none that I’ve seen. Yet.”

Beth shrugged. “Oh well. I always thought that was one of the stupider stories.”

“There are a lot of rumours about Ashburn,” Marion said. “The kids in town love telling each other ghost stories about it. Heck, even we did when we were younger. It was like this holy grail of mystery. Edith came into town every day, but she never spoke to anyone except to do her shopping, and she always wore these huge, heavy black dresses, even in summer.”

Adrienne desperately wanted to know more about her mysterious great-aunt but took a detour into a more urgent issue. “She visited the town every day? How did she get there?”

“Walked,” Beth said. “Always first thing in the morning, too, so that she arrived in town just as the shops opened.”

“Wow, she must’ve been fit. It’s a long driveway.”

“There’s a shortcut.” Jayne pointed towards the window and the trees that blocked their view of the town. “Through the woods—it’s only about fifteen minutes as the crow flies. We call it Ashburn Walk because she was the only one who ever used it.”

Adrienne felt as though a weight had been lifted from her. Fifteen minutes was more than manageable. Provided she could find the walkway, she and Wolfgang would no longer be in danger of starving.

“What other rumours were there?” Adrienne asked. “You made it sound like people were scared of this place.”

Jayne shrugged. “Some were, I guess. Others said Edith was just eccentric. Mostly people avoided her because she avoided them. But yeah, there are some strange stories circulating about this house. I don’t know how true they are.”

Adrienne raised her eyebrows in a silent request for more information. Beth was more than happy to oblige.

“Not to brag, but I’m a bit of an Ashburn expert,” she said. “I used to inhale the stories when I was a kid, and I still keep an ear out now. The best-known mystery—and the only one that is undeniably true—is the Friday light.”

“We all saw it,” Marion continued as she helped herself to another scone. “Every Friday, just after sundown, a light was lit in Ashburn’s highest room. Because this place is on a hill, it was hard to miss. It looked a bit like a lighthouse.”

Adrienne’s mind flashed to the phrase carved into the dining table. IS IT FRIDAY LIGHT THE CANDLE. She suddenly felt cold despite the sunshine coming through the windows. “How long did that happen for?”

“Since way before our time.” Beth’s dark eyes shone as she leaned nearer. “Dad says it’s always happened—every Friday—since Miss Ashburn moved into the house. That’s how we knew she was dead. Friday came, and the light didn’t appear.”

“Oh.” Adrienne swallowed the unexpected nausea. She hadn’t expected to hear about her great-aunt’s death so soon.

Jayne glared at Beth again then gave Adrienne a small smile. “I’m so sorry. She’s not all that great at tact.”

“No, it’s okay. I want to know more about Edith.” Adrienne took a breath and returned the smile. “Do you know how… uh… how she passed?”

Glances were exchanged. Beth looked desperate to answer, but Jayne stepped in first, speaking carefully. “Well, she hadn’t been to town at all that week. It was a bit unusual but not unheard of; sometimes she skipped days if she was feeling unwell, so no one really paid attention. But when the Friday light didn’t come on, people started to talk about going up and checking on her. No one really wanted to approach Ashburn at night, so they agreed to wait until morning. Sure enough, she didn’t come to town again, so they sent out a search party a bit before lunch.” Jayne licked her lips and squeezed her hands together in her lap. “She was… significantly decayed when they found her, so the post-mortem couldn’t be completely accurate, but the doctor said it was most likely a seizure or an embolism. He didn’t think she suffered.”

“Okay.” Adrienne felt light-headed. “Uh, when you say significantly decayed—”

“Black ooze leaking ev-er-y-where.”

“Beth!
Please!
”

A hysterical laugh was boiling in Adrienne’s chest. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she struggled to keep herself collected. “Do you know—I mean, I guess it doesn’t really matter—I know it shouldn’t—but do you know where—?”

“Sorry.” Jayne shook her head. “I don’t know which room.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” She inhaled deeply and took her hand away from her face. “It shouldn’t really matter. As long as she didn’t suffer.” She didn’t want to think of Edith’s corpse slowly oozing black blood across the floor, so she dragged the subject back to slightly safer ground. “So the light was the best-known mystery. You said there were others?”

“Oh, heaps.” Beth, unrepentant, spoke around a mouthful of scone. “Kids would sometimes dare each other to go up Ashburn Walk and see how close they could get to the house before chickening out. A lot of them swear they saw a tall figure pacing back and forth, back and forth behind drawn curtains. Some say they heard manic laughter and hysterical screams. And of course, they all reckon the house is haunted. Terry said he was standing at the edge of the woods when he heard someone breathing behind him, but when he turned, there was no one there. And Michael claims he got right up to the porch when a ghostly face appeared in one of the windows then vanished before he could scream. Those could’ve been made up, though. Kids love to scare each other.”

“Not just kids.” Jayne glared daggers at her companion.

“I don’t think she was a bad person.” Marion was clearly trying hard to inject some lightness into the conversation. “A couple of months ago, I was volunteering at the vet’s clinic—I can earn extra credits in my course for practical experience—and Miss Ashburn came in carrying a dog she’d found. It’d been hit by a car and had a fractured leg. We were able to fix it up and find its owners, but it probably wouldn’t have survived if Edith hadn’t brought it to us, so… yeah. I think she liked animals.”

“She came into the library every week too,” Sarah said. It was the first time the thin-faced woman had spoken since entering the room, and she seemed to have trouble meeting their eyes. “She never really talked, but she always returned her books on time. I’m not supposed to tell you what she borrowed—we’ve got confidentiality rules—but they were usually classics.”

“Which is pretty much the entire extent of the library’s collection,” Beth said with an eye-roll.

Sarah pursed her lips. “We bought
three
new releases this month. But, um, yeah. We were founded on donated books, which were mostly old ones.”

“What was she like?” Adrienne couldn’t stop her curiosity. Her mental image of Edith Ashburn was gradually being filled in, like a jigsaw puzzle that became clearer with each piece of information. “She must have been quite old when she passed away.”

“Sure was,” Beth said. “At least ninety. No one’s really sure when she was born, but Dad thinks she was closer to a hundred.”

“And she lived alone?” The image of Edith walking the hallways, delirious or deranged as she carved messages into the walls, haunted Adrienne.

“She was
really
independent,” Jayne said. “Some people in town went out of their way to be friendly to her, especially as she got older. My mum actually invited her to have dinner with us one night, and Mrs Western tried to give her a basket of groceries a couple of months before she passed. But she always rejected the offers. And not in a
thank you I’m fine
sort of way. She mostly glared at you then walked away.”

“Like I said, she didn’t really talk much except when ordering groceries.” Beth finished her tea and slid the saucer onto the table with a gratified sigh. “It was like she had a finite number of words and didn’t want to waste any on you.”

“Huh.” The mental representation of Edith Ashburn was coalescing into something far less grandmotherly and far more severe than Adrienne had been hoping for. She glanced around at the furniture—rose-pattern chairs, dark timber tables and bookcases, and the antique patterned wallpaper—and tried to imagine the gaunt, tall, cold woman stalking through the house, occasionally pausing to gaze out of the windows or stoke the fire.

Then a new image interjected itself into her mind: Edith, dead, lying on the wood floor, her blank eyes staring at the ceiling and her mouth hanging open as she bloated and decayed and oozed.

Where did she die? Not her bedroom—the mattress was too clean. Was it the kitchen? The lounge room? Have I stood on the same floorboards that absorbed her rotting flesh?

Adrienne put her teacup onto the table with a decisive clink that made Jayne jump. She didn’t want to let the morbid images stew and grow, so she latched onto a change of subject that she thought her companions would enjoy. “Anyone want a tour of the house?”

Beth’s delighted gasp was all the answer she needed.

The idea of showing her guests around the house had been spur of the moment. As she led them out of the drawing room and into the dim hallway, Adrienne found herself hoping the choice wasn’t disrespectful towards her late great-aunt. Based on what Adrienne knew of her, Edith wouldn’t have welcomed tourists perusing her halls as if they were on some novelty tour.

But Ashburn legally belonged to Adrienne. She wanted to strike a balance between being respectful of Edith’s memory and feeling comfortable and confident in her own home.

The hallways and stairwells felt so cold and empty last night. Maybe some fresh feet and voices will chase out some of the starkness. I won’t show the whole house—and certainly not Edith’s bedroom—but some of the downstairs areas and the hallway of paintings should be okay, right?

She began by showing them to the lounge room she’d slept in, opening the door and stepping back so that they could enter. “This is where I’m living until I can sort out a proper bedroom. Sorry about the mess.”

Beth moved into the centre of the room, her eyes darting about as she absorbed the details. “No skulls, but Edith had a stuffed cat. That’s pretty cool.”

Adrienne followed her friend’s gaze towards the top of the bookcase and burst into laughter. “No, sorry, that one’s mine.”

Wolfgang, crouched in the narrow space between the top of the bookcase and the ceiling, blinked as though to prove he were actually flesh and blood.

“Oooh, he’s magnificent.” Marion, more interested in the cat than the room, approached Wolfgang and offered him her hand to smell. “He’s part Main Coon, right?”

“He was a stray, so I’m not really sure.” Adrienne gave a sheepish grin and shrugged. “Mum said he’s just fat.”

Wolfgang headbutted Marion’s hand in a blatant demand for petting. She was happy to oblige and cooed to him while she scratched around his chin and whiskers.

Beth scanned the books lining the lower shelves, and her mouth creased in disappointment. She seemed to have been hoping for volumes on the occult.

“There’s a message in the hallway wall and some paintings upstairs,” Adrienne said, knowing those things would give the chill factor the black-haired woman sought. She reopened the door and waited for them to file through. Marion reluctantly left her new friend, who gave a languid yawn and flopped onto his side.

Back in the hallway, they all stopped to read the message cut opposite the lounge room: NO MIRRORS. Light came through the open door and improved the contrast between the scratchings and the wood they were carved into. Sarah made a vaguely unhappy noise in the back of her throat, but the others looked enthralled.

“She’s written it all over the house.” Adrienne rubbed at the back of her neck. “Anywhere a mirror should logically go. I probably look a bit of a mess this morning because of it.”

“Naw, you’re fine.” Beth was bent over with her hands on her knees as she examined the scratches. “We don’t normally look this fancy. It’s just our stupid club rule this month.”

“Oh, you’re in a club?”

“Yeah, Jayne arranged it. She reckons we should do something to improve ourselves each month. In March we had to read a book a week. This month, we’re supposed to dress like city folk.”

That explained the upper-class clothes and hairstyles that were simultaneously glamorous and not quite right. Adrienne suspected they’d been taking their cues from TV shows and movies; almost no one in her old city had dressed as fancily as they did.

“I catch hell for it at the clinic.” Marion, grinning, was already turning towards the staircase. “But it’s kind of fun too.”

Adrienne waited until Beth had had her fill of the scratched message then beckoned them up the stairs. “That reminds me, Jayne—you told me what everyone else does but didn’t say what your job was.”

Beth lowered her voice to a deep, sinister whisper. “She works for the government.”

“Jeez.” Pink tinged Jayne’s ears again. “Don’t listen to Beth. She’d make you believe I’m with Interpol or something. No, I’m just admin for utilities.” She shot Adrienne a sideways glance. “By the way, give us a call in the next few weeks to set up your account, okay? I hooked you up with electricity and water, but I didn’t know any of your details, so the account’s currently under the name Jane Doe, who was born in the eighteen hundreds.”

“Utilities…”
Crap, that was something I should have set up before I moved in, right?
“Thank you—I didn’t even think—”

The red tinge spread from Jayne’s ears to her cheeks, and she waved the thanks away. “It’s nothing. I just heard from Bobby that Sam’s uncle heard you were moving in this weekend, so I got it connected for you. Nothing worse than trying to live in a place without power or water.”

“Thanks.” Adrienne was growing increasingly grateful that she’d opened the door when Jayne had knocked. Her first impression had been so wildly off the mark that she’d almost missed out on meeting the ladies.

Friends,
the voice in her head insisted, and Adrienne tried not to grin as she led them into the shadowy hallway. “Have a look at these.”

Beth whistled as she scanned the row of portraits. “There’s a lot of them.”

“And all of the same family,” Marion said, frowning. “That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

Good; I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds it strange.

“Maybe they were narcissists,” Jayne said.

Marion moved from one painting to another, squinting to make out the details in the low light. “Still, artwork this good would have been expensive. And the portraits look like they were done over just a handful of years—see the girl? Here she is as a toddler, and here again she looks about eight. But I can’t find any of her as a teenager.”

Beth’s eyes widened as she looked between her friends. “Wait, you don’t
know
?”

“Spill it, Beth,” Jayne said.

“Guys, this is Miss Ashburn’s family.” Beth waved a hand at the portraits. “Mr and Mrs Ashburn, Edith Ashburn as a child, and Mr Ashburn’s sister-in-law. The only member of the family not in the paintings is Mr Ashburn’s brother, Charles.”

She paused, palms held outwards and eyes wide, evidently waiting for a wave of amazement that never came.

Jayne looked about them and shrugged. “Okay?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re all uncultured swine!” Beth clasped her hands over her face in melodramatic despair. “Are you honestly telling me you’ve never heard of Charles Ashburn? The famous artist?”

“Oooh, yeah, I think my mum has one of his landscapes in her living room,” Marion said. “Are you saying he painted these?”

“Yes! And there’s a bunch more just like them hanging in the museum. How can you have not seen them?”

Marion scrunched her face up. “The museum smells like dead rats, and Mr Benson kicks you out if you talk too much.”

“Which is a small price to pay to personally view a deeply significant facet of our town’s history.” She was pacing as she ranted, and Adrienne had to step aside to avoid being bowled over. “Charles Ashburn wasn’t just Ipson famous—he was legitimately well known. He painted for a bunch of lords and such and travelled all over the place before he had a mental breakdown.” She stopped, breathing heavily, and stretched one hand towards the nearest image, which depicted Edith as a child. “He came back to live with his brother, Mr Ashburn, and began to obsessively paint his family. He completed close to ninety portraits before his death five years later. The museum has a dozen or so; it looks like the rest of them stayed here.”

Jayne was shaking her head as she grinned at her friend. “Wow. I knew you liked urban legends about Ashburn, but I had no idea you were so obsessive.”

“Dear, sweet Jayne. We’ve barely entered the rabbit hole yet.” Beth clasped her hands and fixed each of her companions with a deep, lingering stare. “Do you know
how
Charles Ashburn passed?”

“I heard the whole family died in a disaster.” Sarah, the quietest of the party, spoke for the second time that day. Her eyes were wide as saucers as they flittered over the images surrounding them. “Everyone except Edith Ashburn.”

“Glad to see
someone
here knows their history. Can you tell me what the disaster was?”

Sarah’s lips fluttered open, and she shot Adrienne a frightened glance before fixing her eyes on the floor. “M-m…”

“Yes?”

“Murder,” she whispered.

Prickles ran up Adrienne’s arms as she folded them over her chest. The portraits’ persistent stares no longer felt benign but desperate. Accusatory.

“That’s right.” Beth began pacing around the group, her voice low and sinister. “And you want to know the weirdest thing? No one knows who did it. Was it the artist Charles Ashburn, already mentally unstable, pushed past what he could endure? Was it his wife, so meek and quiet? Or possibly Mr or Mrs Ashburn, stressed to fracturing by their brother’s disorder? Or”—she held a finger up to bring their attention off the portraits and back onto her—“was it a stranger who broke into the house and murdered them in cold blood? We may never know.”

Adrienne tried to smile, but her cheek muscles felt stiff. “Well, surely—there must be a way to know. What did the police investigation say?”

Beth shrugged. “No one actually remembers. This was way before my time, remember. My granddad’s dad was just a little kid when it all went down, so anything I can tell you is coming at least fourth-hand. Some people say the family was hacked to death. Others claim it was a gun. Still others believe it wasn’t a murder at all but a disease that swept through the area and claimed almost all of the family. All we know is that Edith Ashburn was the only survivor. She went away for a while then came back as an adult and never left Ashburn again.”

“Wow.” Jayne looked pale. “I heard her family died, but I had no idea—wow. No wonder she was so strange. That sort of thing would mess anyone up.” She grimaced and added in a quieter tone, “I should’ve been kinder to her. We used to have that stupid rhyme we’d chant when she came into town.
Ashburn, Ashburn, burn Ashburn down.
Oh, wow. I hope she never heard us.”

“Eh, she was probably senile by then.” Beth seemed completely unconcerned with Edith’s well-being and turned back to the images. “She would’ve been a kid when the murder happened. Maybe she didn’t remember much.”

Marion abruptly swore, and they all jumped. “Sorry,” she squeaked and held up her phone with an apologetic smile. “It’s just—I didn’t realise we’d been here so long. I was supposed to start my shift at the vet ten minutes ago.”

“My fault,” Jayne said, turning towards the stairs. “I wasn’t watching the time. I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, Addy. Thank you for the tea and for showing us around.”

“Thanks for coming,” Adrienne said and found she meant it. “It was really nice to meet you. Come back sometime… if, uh, if you want.”

“That’d be great.” They’d reached the front door, and golden sunlight fell over Jayne’s silky blonde hair as she opened it. The others piled out towards the car, but she hesitated on the threshold and tilted her head to one side. “Hey, you said you needed to go shopping. Did you want a lift into town? I can show you where Ashburn Walk starts too.”

“Yes,” Adrienne said, already turning to fetch her bag from the lounge room. “Yes, please, that’d be great!”

Friends.