Legacy of Lies- The Haunting of Hilda

by Netta Newbound

  I glanced at Charlotte, my eyebrows raised, but, once again, Charlotte didn’t notice things weren’t quite right. “Where’s Dad?” I asked.

  “Hmm? Oh, he must be working late.”

  “And he didn’t tell you?”

  “No, Hilda. Now will you drop it, please?”

  After dinner, Charlotte and I continued with the jigsaw puzzle while Mum went into the snug talking on the phone in hushed whispers.

  That night, I heard the strange moaning and tapping once again. I buried my head underneath the pillow, desperate for sleep.

  Mum looked terrible when she woke us up the following morning—her eyes were red-rimmed, as though she’d been crying all night, and her slim, pale face reminded me of a skeleton.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked once again.

  “Listen girls, I won’t lie to you. Your dad has vanished. He didn’t show up for work yesterday and nobody’s seen him.”

  Charlotte began to cry. “Has he left us?”

  Mum pulled Charlotte into her arms and stroked her curls. “No. Daddy would never just leave us.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. If he doesn’t turn up today, I’ll call the police.”

  “Why don’t you call them now?”

  “I did yesterday, but they won’t do anything until he’s been missing for over twenty-four hours.”

  I pulled out a chair from underneath the table and sat down, relieved she’d finally told us the truth. I’d known something was terribly wrong. But it was far worse than I’d imagined—what had happened to Dad?

  The day at school dragged. I couldn’t shake the heaviness I felt every time I thought about my poor dad. At the back of my mind, I hoped he’d be relaxing in his armchair smoking his cancer sticks by the time we arrived home, but the expression on our mother’s face when she arrived to pick us up confirmed my worst fears—he still hadn’t turned up.

  “What did the police say?” I asked once we were in the little red Austin Metro.

  “They’re looking into it, but they’re not worried right now. They think he’s probably gone away on business and just forgot to tell us.”

  “Maybe he has?” I said a spark of hope in my voice.

  She nodded. “Maybe he has.” However, her eyes said different.

  Chapter 3

  Nothing changed in the next two days. But at least the police seemed to be taking Dad’s disappearance seriously at last.

  Wendy and her husband Neil seemed to be at our house a lot, supporting Mum, who wasn’t coping at all.

  On the fifth day, Wendy picked us up from school again, and as she drove into our driveway, two police cars pulled up behind us.

  Wendy settled me and Charlotte into the snug before rushing off to find out what was happening.

  A pretty, dark-haired police woman came in and sat beside us on the sofa. She asked a series of questions, pretending to be friendly, but I knew it was all just part of her job.

  Charlotte couldn’t help herself—within minutes she was telling her all about how Dad was always grumpy and how he and Mum would fight all the time.

  I nudged her in the ribs trying to shut her up when a terrifying scream made us all freeze for a split second, and then we all leapt to our feet.

  The three of us ran through Uncle Declan’s doorway towards the front of the house.

  The screams were coming from Uncle Declan’s double-sized living room on the left-hand-side of the hallway.

  When a hairy old policeman saw me and Charlotte, he jumped forwards, barring our way.

  I could see Mum just inside the door. She was crying and being comforted by Wendy, whose own face looked gaunt.

  “Mummy?” Charlotte cried, sensing something awful had happened.

  I pulled my sister into my arms. “What’s happened?” I asked the cop, startled how panicked my own voice sounded.

  “Go back to the sitting room please, girls,” the policewoman said, stepping back into the hallway.

  “Is it Dad?” I pressed.

  “Daddy?” Charlotte sobbed, as we were led back to the other side of the house.

  Conscious of Charlotte, I waited until she was settled on the sofa and then I followed the policewoman back out to the hallway. “Tell me,” I said. “It’s Dad, isn’t it?”

  “I really can’t say anything. Go back inside and somebody will come and speak to you soon.”

  “I’m not going anywhere till you tell me. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “I think so.” The woman nodded, her eyes welling up. “I’m so very sorry.”

  I was stunned. Although I’d suspected something terrible had happened to my dad, I honestly didn’t expect him to be dead. “You mean he’s been here all along?”

  “Seems that way.” She steadied me as I had a slight wobble. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

  I shook my head, walked back into the snug and curled up on the seat next to Charlotte. I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Nervously I fidgeted, unable to control my chattering teeth.

  The sound of more people arriving a few minutes later was followed by raised voices. I was frozen to the spot, too scared to find out what was actually going on in the front of the house.

  Charlotte hugged herself and rocked backwards and forwards, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  The policewoman, who had returned to sit with us, excused herself again, closing the door securely behind her.

  After what felt like hours, Wendy came in. “Okay, girls. I’ll need you to gather a few things together. You’re coming to stay with me tonight.”

  Charlotte scrambled to her feet and linked her arm through mine, without saying a word. I could tell she was close to tears once again.

  “Where’s Mum?” Trying to keep my voice calm, I angrily wiped my face as silent tears spilled from my eyes.

  “The police need her help right now, but she’s okay.”

  “Is she in trouble?”

  Wendy gave a feeble attempt at a laugh. “Don’t be so silly. Don’t be silly. Why would she be in trouble?” She walked us to our bedroom.

  Once there, Charlotte did nothing but lie on her bed.

  I packed our night dresses and clean underwear for tomorrow. Then I ran to the bathroom and grabbed our toothbrushes. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s go.”

  I had so much I intended to say to Wendy, but I wanted to wait until Charlotte was out of earshot. I didn’t see the point in upsetting her any more than she already was.

  Wendy showed us to her spare bedroom. “You’ll have to share the bed, I’m afraid, but you should be very comfortable.”

  Charlotte sat on the bed and I noticed dark circles had formed under her usually bright blue eyes.

  “Wait there,” I said, and followed Wendy down the hall. “I know Dad’s dead.”

  Wendy gasped, her hand flying to her throat. Her eyes sought out her husband who had appeared beside us in the hall.

  “It’s okay. The policewoman told me. What happened to him?”

  “It’s too early to tell, Hilda,” Neil said, placing an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

  “And Mum? Has she been arrested?”

  “No!” Wendy said.

  Neil shook his head, his lips in a tight thin line. “She needs the truth, Wendy.”

  My stomach was doing somersaults. Although I stood tall and looked them right in the eye, my insides had turned to mush.

  Neil cleared his throat noisily. “Your mother has been arrested for killing your father.”

  Chapter 4

  Present day

  “Come on, Hilda. We’re gonna miss our bloody flight at this rate,” my husband, Pete, said from the back seat of the taxi.

  I laughed and hugged my sister’s neck one last time. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “Give Mum a big kiss from me. Tell her I love her.”

  “I will do, Charlie. You just look after your
self and these kiddies—you hear me?”

  Charlotte nodded, and I kissed her on the forehead.

  “Hilda!” Pete yelled.

  Reluctantly, I got into the seat beside him.

  “Manchester Airport, mate,” Pete said to the driver.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Charlotte’s face until the taxi turned the corner.

  Since arriving in the UK as kids, we hadn’t lived more than five minutes’ walk away from each other. Now I was heading to the other side of the world—in fact I couldn’t get any further if I tried.

  “It won’t be forever, you silly sausage.” Pete smiled at me, his hazel eyes crinkling in the corners, and pulled me across the back seat into his arms.

  “I know. I’ll be okay in a minute. I just hate goodbyes is all.”

  “Don’t think about the goodbyes. Think about seeing your mum again after all this time.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I can’t wait. But what if she doesn’t recognise me? The guy on the phone said she has dementia—he said she doesn’t even know her own name some days.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, sweetheart.”

  He was right. There was no point fretting—I’d know soon enough. It would be weird to be back in New Zealand after all this time. Once Mum had been charged, Charlotte and I had been shipped off to stay with Mum’s sister in Manchester, UK. Auntie Jean had been wonderful to us, considering we were strangers. She’d welcomed us with open arms and loved us as her own until the day she died, three years ago. I’d often wondered what would happen once Mum was released. Charlotte had married young and already had three children, the youngest just two weeks old.

  I’d never been blessed in the kiddie department. Pete and I met four years ago and, after a whirlwind courtship, we married and had been trying for a baby ever since.

  The call about Mum came at the right time. Pete, a property developer, was finishing one project and looking for another. He seemed keen for us to spend a year in New Zealand and try our luck with an old wooden villa. I’d left my job in the library soon after marrying Pete. He needed another pair of hands and I was it. We loved working together. So the plan was to buy a property in New Zealand, do it up, and sell it on. By then we’d know what we had to do regarding Mum—either take her back to the UK with us or leave her in a nursing home.

  We settled on the plane facing an eight-hour flight to Dubai. Although the plane was pretty full, I was thrilled once the doors had closed and we still didn’t have anybody in the window seat beside us.

  Once we’d taken off, Pete excitedly began to scroll through all the new movies.

  “Maybe we should’ve arranged a few days stopover?” I mumbled, dreading the next twenty-four hours.

  “I suggested that and you said you would prefer to fly straight through. I’m sure we can change our flights, if you want to?”

  I smiled at Pete. Nothing fazed him—ever. “No, it’s okay. I just get irritable on long flights.”

  “I intend to watch a couple of movies and then sleep the rest of the way.” He grinned, making me chuckle at his obvious delight.

  “Not if I’m digging you in the ribs, you won’t.” I gave him a sample elbow in his side.

  “Ah, like that, is it?” He had an adorable smile, which always put me at ease—this time was no different. His hair, although never neat and tidy, seemed extra tousled today, with his mop of dark brown curls most women would kill for.

  “I might have a couple of brandies—that should knock me out,” I said.

  “Or have you giving a rendition of Hey Big Spender up and down the aisle.”

  Another dig in the ribs had him doubled over with laughter. “That was once—and for your eyes only,” I hissed.

  “Maybe you should wait till the second flight before you hit the bottle. How long is it?”

  “Dubai to Australia is fourteen hours.”

  “Shit!”

  “I told you.”

  “I know you mentioned fourteen hours, but I thought that was the total flying time.”

  I rolled my eyes, shaking my head, exasperated. “I knew you weren’t listening.”

  “Does that mean I can’t have a cigarette for over fourteen hours?”

  I nodded, feeling the grin spread across my face. “At least! You may as well just give up now if you can go that long.”

  He placed his headphones on and turned away, cocking a deaf ear like he did every time I mentioned his smoking habit.

  I made as if to dig him once more and he grabbed my arm. We both collapsed in another fit of the giggles, much to the disgust of the elderly lady at the other side of the aisle to us, which made us laugh even harder.

  “Tell me about your mother,” Pete said as he stirred sugar into his latte at Dubai airport.

  “I’ve told you, already.”

  “You told me she was convicted of murdering your dad, but you haven’t told me much about her.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know that much. She was just my mum.”

  “What did she look like?”

  I paused for a moment while I pictured my mother. “Every kid must think their mother’s beautiful, but mine really was. She had wavy red hair, which she always wore in a French knot, and pretty amber eyes. In fact, Charlotte is very like her, I guess. I have Maori colouring from my dad’s side.”

  “Why do you think she did it?”

  I shrugged. “Honestly?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t. I never knew all the details or what evidence they had back then, but I can honestly say I believe she was innocent. She loved Dad. Yes, they argued like most couples, but she’d never do anything to hurt her family—we were her world.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “On the day they arrested her. Our neighbours, Wendy and Neil tried to arrange a visit before we left the country, but she refused to allow us to see her in the prison. She was certain the court would find her not guilty, and she sent us a letter telling us she’d see us soon.”

  “Must’ve been a shock when she was found guilty?”

  I took a sip of my black coffee and placed the cup back on the saucer. “We were devastated. But what could we do? We were just kids living in another country.”

  “Did you hear from her?”

  “Of course we did. She wrote to us all the time until around five years ago.”

  “What happened then?”

  I took a deep breath. “She tried to kill herself and was moved to a secure prison. She was never the same after that. We thought it must be from the damage she caused herself during the suicide attempt. Apparently shortly after that she was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. The guy on the phone said stress and depression can bring on the symptoms.”

  “Bloody hell. Poor woman. I can’t believe I didn’t know all this. Why didn’t you tell me?” He reached for my hand.

  “I just learned to keep it quiet. It’s not something you just drop into a conversation- Hi, my name’s Hilda—my mum killed my dad.”

  “Maybe not at first but we’ve been together four years, babe. You know I wouldn’t judge you.”

  “What are you even on about? I told you, didn’t I?” I got up and began collecting together all my stuff. “Come on—we’d better get to the departure gate.”

  Pete glanced at his watch and drank the last of his coffee before getting to his feet. “Yes, you told me,” he continued, “but I didn’t know you thought she was innocent, or about the suicide attempt.”

  I shrugged and checked the boarding pass for the number of the departure gate—wanting to change the subject that had plagued the last twenty years of my life.

  “Wow, that’s stunning,” Pete said as we were coming in to land at Auckland airport. “Do you want to swap seats?”

  I smiled at his excitement. “No, it’s fine, I’ve seen it before.”

  In reality, I had the jitters. I’d loved my childhood, but seeing something through the eyes of a chi
ld is often completely different from an adult’s perspective. What if I didn’t like it? What if my mum turned out to be a hardened criminal? What if I found out she’d actually murdered my dad in cold blood? Pete was here for me. He trusted my opinion and was willing to put his UK business on hold to spend the next twelve months here. I couldn’t tell him how nervous I actually was.

  Pete turned to me again and grinned. “How’s it feel to be home, my love?”

  I forced a smile on my face. “Fantastic!” I said, sounding as convincing as I could manage.

  Chapter 5

  I felt like the walking dead by the time we got through customs and out into the arrivals lounge.

  Pete piled our cases onto a trolley with a wonky wheel and struggled to push it. “I’ll leave this here and go and sort out the car. I’ll be back soon.”

  I pulled the trolley closer to me and sat on a fixed plastic chair. Finding my phone in my hand luggage, I turned it on, unsure if it would work in another country. It fired up and beeped—I had three new messages, all from Charlotte. I smiled. My sister had a lot of qualities, but patience wasn’t one of them.

  Feeling too exhausted to respond, I slid the phone into my jacket pocket and searched the crowd for my husband. He was nowhere in sight so I settled back on the chair and closed my eyes for a second.

  “Sorry love, that took longer than I expected…”

  Startled, I jumped awake, completely disorientated.

  “… they put me on a shuttle bus to the other side of the airport to collect the car.”

  I sprang to my feet. “That’s okay—you’re here now. Let’s go. Are you okay to drive?”

  “Yeah. We’ll just take our time. How far is it?”

  “I can’t remember—it’s been too long. Probably a couple of hours. If you prefer, we could book into a motel till tomorrow.” I helped him push the wonky trolley towards the exit.