Legacy of Lies- The Haunting of Hilda

by Netta Newbound

  “So that could really be our house? I knew it! What are the odds of that?”

  “What will you do?”

  I took a deep breath, shaking my head. “I don’t have a clue. I can’t stand the thought of going back in there. I used to hate it as a kid.”

  “Do you mind if I tell you what I think?”

  I shook my head and took a sip of coffee.

  “It’s just a house. You’re no longer a frightened little girl. What happened to your dad was terrible, but he’s not there any longer. It’s not even on the same land. Once you get in and do your renovations, I’m sure you’ll be fine. And, of course, your mum has a lot of memories in that house—they weren’t all bad.”

  “You’re right. Thanks Neil. You always were the voice of reason.” I reached for his hand and squeezed it warmly.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” He blushed.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you think Mum killed Dad?”

  “Nope. Never. Neither did Wendy. We were both called to testify at her trial. We told them how distraught your mum was when he didn’t come home, but they twisted that saying she was guilt-ridden after killing your dad. They wanted to know why she hadn’t searched the house when he vanished.”

  “Why didn’t she?”

  “She said your dad was scared of that room—refused to go in it after your uncle died apparently, so it was the last place on earth she thought he’d be.”

  That shocked me. Dad used to go mad at me for saying the front part of the house was haunted. They both did. “One last question.”

  “Fire away.”

  “How did Dad die?”

  “He was hung.”

  “Hung?” I’d heard groaning over two nights and always imagined he’d lay injured. Hanging suggests a quick death. But I couldn’t tell him that. I’d never told anyone what I heard back then, but I’d carried it with me all these years. “Maybe he hung himself?”

  He shook his head. “He’d been bound and gagged. The worst of it was his death wasn’t instant. He’d been hung from the wardrobe doorway. Whoever did it didn’t know his, or her, knots and your dad was able to hook his foot on the doorknob. He lasted as long as he could, but, when he lost his footing, he died pretty quick.”

  I blinked back the tears. I was right. If I hadn’t been so terrified, I could’ve saved my poor dad’s life.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you.”

  “No, of course it wasn’t you. But I’ve been waiting for years to find out what actually happened. We weren’t allowed to mention it in my aunt’s house, you see.”

  “Understandable. You know Wendy and I wanted to take you in, but your aunt insisted you were sent to her. We were heartbroken when you went. Those few weeks you stayed with us really brought it home to us what we’d missed out on. Wendy couldn’t have kids, you see.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t realise. But thanks.”

  “What for?”

  “For being such good friends to my mum. I truly appreciate it.”

  “Give over. Anyone would do the same.”

  “No. Believe me, they wouldn’t.”

  “I can’t wait to see her again. When does she get released?”

  “Monday. We’ve got two days to decide what I’m going to do about this bloody house.”

  “I can give you a hand. I’m doing nothing else. I’d be thrilled to.”

  “I’ve not even decided if I can step inside yet.”

  “Shall we go together?”

  I nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Chapter 9

  We walked hand in hand to Neil’s car and I directed him up to the house.

  Although I was still feeling apprehensive, I didn't feel as jittery as I had earlier.

  We pulled up on the drive and I was relieved to see our car still there.

  “Ready?” Neil said, squeezing my hand.

  “As I'll ever be.” I smiled weakly and stepped from the car.

  The front door flew open and Pete stood on the doorstep, clearly relieved to see me.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Where have you been?” He met me on the steps and pulled me into his arms. “Are you okay?”

  “Better. Oh, Pete, meet Neil, my old neighbour, he talked some sense into me.”

  Neil held his hand out, but Pete pushed it away. “If you've managed to talk sense into this one, you deserve more than a handshake.” He gave Neil a bear hug. “Nice to meet you, Neil.”

  Pinking up, Neil grinned. “You too, Pete. Although, I didn't do very much, really. I just pointed out the obvious, but she would’ve come to the same conclusion herself, eventually.”

  “Well, however it happened, I'm grateful. Fancy a cup of tea?” He held out his hand for me to take.

  I smiled and nodded. “Let's do this.” Taking a deep, bracing breath I stepped over the threshold onto the beautiful Kauri floorboards of the entrance hall.

  On first impressions, it certainly didn't look like I remembered it. For a start, the door that used to be partway down the hall was gone leaving a long, bright hallway.

  Pete indicated the first doorway on the right.

  I gasped and shook my head, not ready to face that room yet.

  “No problem. You lead the way.”

  I contemplated the room on the left and decided against that too—both front rooms had scared me the most before Dad died, now they positively terrified me. As the hallway narrowed, the wooden flooring gave way to plush beige carpet. The bottom third of the walls were decorated in embossed cream-coloured paper. The middle third, a rich wine-coloured patterned paper, and the top was painted brilliant white—brightening the whole look. It was far nicer than I expected. Past the midway point, which once opened into a huge living room, the hallway now continued with three further doors off it. I presumed the door on the right led to our old bedroom—we used to access it from the other side. The first door on the left now opened into a bedroom with a tiny ensuite bathroom. It was all very tidy and decorated beautifully, this time a gold and beige wallpaper combination. A king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room and appeared to be of good quality—so far so good.

  “This room used to be the part of the living room.” I smiled. “Dad used to sit in his arm chair beside the windows here and the doors used to be heavy wooden ones—not these French doors.”

  “This is completely different from how I remember it,” Neil said. “Whoever renovated it has done a beautiful job.”

  “The guy did it himself until he moved away for personal reasons. It's not all like this though, the back part of the house is like a building site, but what he has done, he’s done well,” Pete said.

  The next door along on the left was a small lounge around a third of the size of the original one. The chimney breast was still in place but the open-plan kitchen area, that used to be attached, was now a walled off area. In front of the original double sash windows was a kitchenette, consisting of a sink, bench-top oven, bar fridge and microwave. Again, the room had been decorated beautifully in similar shades to the bedroom. There was also a beige sofa and a small round dining table and four chairs—it was cramped but cosy.

  “I know what you're thinking,” Pete said. “It's too small, but it won't be forever. I'll get cracking on the main kitchen and lounge area as soon as possible.”

  “It's fine.” I smiled again, trying to put him at ease.

  Back in the hallway, I headed to my old bedroom. Even this had been altered, but this time it was bigger than before with a queen-sized bed and a chest of drawers being the only furniture. The original built-in wardrobe was still there. Prickles formed at the nape of my neck. By my reckoning, this bedroom would now be the actual place my father died. I shuddered and stepped back out into the hallway. Two huge, double swing doors went from floor to ceiling across the end of the hall.

  “Now this was all boarded up,” Pete said. “And beyond this is where all the work is inv
olved. You ready?”

  I nodded, not sure what to expect

  He pushed the doors inward and I discovered what was once our open-plan kitchen was now a hallway, bathroom, and laundry. The door at the end led to a smaller room that used to be the snug, now it was half the size. It still had the original side door. The one we used as the main entrance, way back when.

  “This is the study.” Pete stood aside.

  I poked my head around the door. “It's completely different again.”

  “In a good way?”

  “I guess.”

  I couldn't wait to see through the door we’d walked past. I turned the knob and what used to be a warren of corridors was now a huge open plan area—wooden floorboards and the outside boards were on show but the room was nothing like it used to be. Mum and Dad's old bedroom was now a lounge/dining room. The kitchen, or what I imagine would be the kitchen, was where the old back door, bathroom, and laundry used to be.

  “Wow!” I said.

  “I know it's a mess, but it won't take long,” Pete said.

  “No, I mean—wow! I like it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Apart from the two top rooms, from the inside I don't feel this is even the same house.”

  “And that's a good thing, I'm guessing?”

  I stroked his arm. “Yes, it's a good thing. What do you think, Neil?”

  “I'm astounded. Like you said, the front entrance way is just as it used to be but from there on it's like a different house. I love it.”

  Back in the small lounge, the new snug, Pete made a pot of tea.

  “Someone's been busy,” I said, nodding at all the kitchen equipment we’d bought. Pete had unpacked it all from the car and put it away.

  “I had to keep myself busy while my wife had gone AWOL.” He grinned, rolling his eyes.

  “I'm impressed at how nice this part of the house is,” I said. “It won't take much to get it fixed up for Mum coming back on Monday.”

  “That’s what I told you. We’ve got the best of both worlds, and the swing doors separate this from the work site.”

  “Perfect.” I smiled, relieved.

  “So, the boy did good?”

  “Yes. The boy did good.” I shook my head and laughed. Knowing he would be crushed if he knew how I really felt.

  When Neil left, Pete helped me make up the bed in the middle room. I figured that was the one furthest away from any painful memories. It still saddened me that if I closed my eyes, I could see my dad in his rocking chair, but instead of allowing it to be a negative, I tried to take comfort from it.

  “Which room should we set up for your mum?” Pete asked.

  “I don't think she'll be happy in the front rooms. She’ll feel the same as me, I'm certain of it.”

  “So that leaves your old room.”

  “Yeah. I think that’s best.” I felt stressed at the thought of bringing her back to her old house. What if she refused to stay? Well, we’d soon find out.

  Chapter 10

  Monday flew around so fast. We were up at 5am to make to our trip to Auckland. Mum was due to be released just after nine.

  My stomach was in a total knot and I’d barely slept a wink in two nights.

  “You okay?” Pete asked, handing me a mug of coffee.

  “Crapping myself. What if she’s really bad? Doesn’t even recognise me?”

  “We’ve been over this, babe, and we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “How can you be so calm? This is going to affect you too.”

  “Because there’s no point getting het up about it. It is what it is, and we’ll deal with it together.”

  I smiled. “I’m so lucky to have found you, Pete.”

  “Not as lucky as me.”

  We embraced for a few minutes, and in his arms I believed we could face anything.

  The next few hours sped by. The journey was uneventful, and I sat absorbed in my own thoughts all the way to Auckland.

  We were met inside the prison entrance by Jeanette Bates, Mum’s caseworker, and she signed Mum’s care over to us.

  Pete gripped my hand when we heard the shuffling steps of my mother approaching.

  Unable to breathe, I stared at the door—unsure what to expect. My pulse raced, and I could even hear it pounding in my ears. Fighting the desire to turn and run, I fixed my eyes on the door.

  The beeping of the security numbers being punched in seemed to take an age, and I thought I might pass out with anticipation.

  Twenty years is a long time.

  The door swung open with a swish and I froze as I lay eyes on her for the very first time. Although her face looked similar to how I remembered, her once bright, laughing eyes were dark, sunken and lifeless.

  When she glanced up at us, her expression didn’t alter. I could’ve been a total stranger. But let’s face it—we were total strangers to her.

  “Hi, Mum,” I ventured, smiling tentatively.

  Her head snapped up and she looked at me confused.

  “It’s me, Hilda.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “Hilda?”

  I smiled and big fat tears poured down my face and off the end of my chin, holding my arms out for a hug. She stepped into them and hugged me back.

  “My Hilda?” She pulled away a moment later to look at my face.

  I nodded.

  She stroked my cheek as tears filled her own eyes.

  “Mum, this is my husband, Pete.” I reached for his hand and pulled him towards us.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs King.” He placed an awkward hand on her shoulder.

  Mum automatically patted her hair—an action she would always do when introduced to new people—especially men.

  My heart swelled. It was so good to have my mother back with me after all these years, and the fact she actually recognised me was the very best part.

  “Psst. Who is that strange man?” Mum said, jerking her head in the direction of Pete who was filling the car with petrol.

  “It’s Pete. My husband. I told you before.”

  “Well I don’t like him—he has shifty eyes. He was always the same.”

  I laughed. “You’ve never met him before, Mum.”

  “Yes. We went to school together. He’s horrid.”

  My stomach dropped. The first sign of her confusion was directed at poor Pete. “No, Mum. Pete is my age—he’s from England. Didn’t you hear his lovely accent?”

  She rubbed her chin. “I’m sorry. I get mixed up sometimes.”

  “I know, Mum. It’s okay. You have us now, so we can help with that.”

  “Us? Is Charlotte with you?” Her eyes lit up at the prospect of seeing her youngest daughter.

  “No, sorry. I meant me and Pete. Charlotte couldn’t come. She’s in the UK with her husband and three little kiddies. You’re a grandmother, you know.”

  Tears filled her eyes again. “So little Charlie is a mummy?”

  I nodded and reached for her hand. “We’ll call her later. We can Skype and you’ll be able to see them all.” At her expression, I knew I’d have to explain ‘Skyping’ to her later, along with a whole lot of other new technological stuff.

  Pete opened the car door. “Drinks anyone?”

  “Do you want a cup of tea, Mum?” I asked.

  She looked up at Pete, the wariness still in her eyes. “Okay, thanks,” she said with tight lips.

  A short time later we were back on the road heading south.

  “I have some good news for you, Mum,” I said, my heart racing at the prospect of telling her about the house. I was determined to put a positive spin on things. “We bought our old house back.”

  “Really? The Junction?”

  “Yes. It’s been moved to another part of Waihi. Some of the interior has been altered, but it’s still home. Good, hey?”

  A darkness clouded her eyes suddenly. “Is it still haunted?”

  “You always told me I was being silly, remember?”

 
She shrugged and looked out of the window, her hands clasped in her lap.

  “And guess who I bumped into last week?”

  She turned to face me again. “Who?”

  “Neil Thomas—he told me he’d been to visit you a few times.”

  “Yes, Wendy used to write to me all the time.” She shook her head. “Then she just stopped.”

  “Wendy died, Mum.”

  “Oh.” She looked out of the window again. “I thought she’d stopped being my friend.”

  “Never. You and Wendy were best friends, weren’t you?”

  She grinned as though remembering something, but she didn’t tell us what was on her mind. I found it strange how she could be happier knowing her friend had died rather than just forgetting about her.

  “Here’s your tea, Mum.” I handed her the disposable cup. “It should be cool enough to drink now.”

  “Did you put sugar in it?”

  I glanced at Pete who shook his head. “You never used to take sugar,” I said.

  “That was twenty years ago, Hilda. A lot has changed since then. For instance, I can’t believe how much you look like my mum. Apart from the colouring, of course, she was much fairer, but the shape of your face and your eyes, it’s uncanny. I’d like to paint you one day.”

  “I’d love that. Although I can’t remember what your mum looked like. I can only vaguely remember Dad’s parents.”

  “What happened to all my things?” she asked. “I had lots of photo albums.”

  “Good question. I presumed you’d sorted it all out.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Maybe I did though. Mr Prestwich should know if he’s still alive.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “He used to be our solicitor. He dealt with the sale of the house.”

  I made a mental note of the name. I remember our aunt, Mum’s sister, telling me Mum had sold the house and sent half of the proceeds for her to care for us.

  “Yeah, that’s right. You should have some money somewhere too. I’ll contact him first thing in the morning.”

  A short while later we drove through the Karangahake gorge. The dramatic scenery was stunning in any weather, but at that moment the sun was shining at the perfect angle and I’d never seen it look more beautiful—it took my breath away. “Has it changed much, Mum?”