Legacy of Lies- The Haunting of Hilda

by Netta Newbound

  “I don’t think so, it was always spectacular. But I’d forgotten how steep the drop is. You keep your eyes on the road, young man,” she barked at Pete.

  I noticed his lips twitch in amusement, but he didn’t say a word.

  “Maybe you can come down here to do some painting?” I swivelled in my seat to look at her. “Were you allowed to paint in prison?”

  “I was given a water colour palette years ago, but I had no inspiration in there—the drab, muted colours ran out first.”

  “I will buy you the best brightest paints we can find to make up for lost time.”

  Her pretty eyes sparkled.

  As we approached the palm trees at the start of town, Mum gasped. “Oh my! We’re here.”

  I glanced at Pete and smiled broadly. At that moment, I knew we’d made the right decision. “Yes, Mum. We’re home.”

  Chapter 11

  Mum was thrilled with her bedroom. Like me, she had no desire to enter the top two rooms, but she seemed fine with the rest of the house—so far so good. We had a light chicken salad for dinner and just after 8pm we placed a Skype call to Charlotte. Mum cried when she was introduced to her grandchildren. It was an emotional half-hour and afterwards, she was more than ready for bed.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” Pete said. “Although she doesn’t seem to like me for some reason.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I keep catching her looking at me strangely.”

  I laughed. “She said she knows you from school and she doesn’t trust you.”

  “That would make me how old?”

  “62-ish.” I sniggered.

  “No wonder my knees are knackered.” He rolled his eyes dramatically.

  “You look pretty good for an old codger. If you don’t mind me saying, that is.”

  He threw the sofa cushion at me. “Have some respect for your elders.”

  Jolted awake, I held my breath. What had woken me? Then I heard it again—a strange wail.

  I turned to Pete, but he was out for the count. “What the hell?” I jumped up and rushed to the door.

  Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped into the hallway. The sound was coming from Mum’s bedroom.

  I knocked lightly and opened the door.

  Mum stood against the wall, her back to me. In the dim light from her bedside lamp, she looked eerie in her long white nightdress, her hair was loose and hanging straggly around her shoulders.

  I walked up behind her. “Did you have a nightmare, Mum?” I said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder, I urged her to turn around.

  She wailed again, startling me. “Who are you?” She batted my hands away. “Leave me alone. Where am I? What have you done with Richard?”

  “Hey, hey, hey calm down, Mum. It’s me, Hilda, remember?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t be stupid. I don’t know you.” She shook her head, annoyed at something. “Where is my hot chocolate? Nobody brought me my hot chocolate tonight.”

  “Didn’t they? I can sort that out. Hop into bed and I’ll get you your drink.”

  She turned and staggered back to bed. I picked up the duvet and once she’d climbed in, I tucked it around her. “There you go, Mum. I won’t be long.”

  “Thank you, Hilda.” She smiled apologetically towards me and my heart clenched.

  I bent forward and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mum.”

  “I love you too, Hilly-billy!”

  Instant tears filled my eyes and spilled over at the sound of my childhood name on her lips.

  Across in the snug, I filled a mug up with milk and placed it in the microwave. As I returned the milk to the fridge, I heard the door open and shuffling footsteps behind me. “Got tired of waiting, huh?”

  I turned, and all the air whooshed from my body. I staggered backwards and crashed into the sink unit—my eyes fixed on a woman in a calf-length black dress standing just inside the door. Her white-grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and the deep wrinkles in the lower part of her face were framed with a Maori moko, a traditional tattoo. She beckoned for me to follow her, and she shuffled from the room, turning right towards the front of the house.

  Chapter 12

  Had I imagined it?

  Steadying myself against the sink, I took several steps forward and out into the hallway.

  Nothing.

  No sign of anybody, let alone the woman with her silver hair scraped back into a tight bun, hard grey eyes and fixed line of her mouth. The vision was still too clear to have been my imagination. The more I thought about her, the more certain I was that she was my grandmother—my dad’s mum, who’d been dead for years.

  “You got my hot chocolate, there?”

  My feet left the floor and I spun around to see Mum standing in her doorway.

  “What?’ I gasped. “Oh sorry, Mum. Yes, I’ll be right with you.”

  I ran for her cup and delivered it to her bedside. “There you go. Drink it while it’s still warm and then try to get some sleep.”

  Back in the hallway, I reached for the switch and flooded the corridor with light. Although desperate to rush back to the warmth and safety of my bed, I needed to make sure nobody else was in the house—living or dead.

  Taking several tentative steps towards the front door, I paused to pick up one of Pete’s steel-toed work boots. I intended to brain anyone or anything that stepped out on me. Holding my breath, I opened the door of the smaller bedroom, pushing it open with my foot. A double bed, wooden wardrobe and two bedside cabinets filled the smallest room in the house. Unsurprisingly, this room was also beautifully decorated with a gold-patterned wallpaper, clean white woodwork and ceilings—nothing sinister at all.

  The door opposite brought my entire body out in goose bumps.

  Bracing myself, I gripped the handle and slowly turned the knob. This room was different to the dreary dark decor I remembered. Prettily decorated with rich, cream-coloured walls, high ceilings with three windows and a set of French doors reaching up to it, each framed with wine-coloured curtains from floor-to-ceiling. The room looked incredibly grand. Another king-size bed, chest of drawers, and bedside cabinets filled the space. A small ensuite bathroom and built-in wardrobe were new additions. Plush beige carpet replaced the old mustard coloured Axminster that had been etched into my brain, but there was still no sign of the strange woman.

  Was I going bonkers?

  Could I have been sleepwalking?

  I didn’t think so, but what was the alternative? That the house was actually haunted? I laughed, remembering how terrified I’d been as a child. But I was an adult now and knew that ghosts were nothing but make-believe nonsense.

  Turning off the light and closing the door, I double-checked everywhere was locked before heading back to bed.

  “A woman?” Pete asked, shaking his head. “What did she look like?”

  Pete and I were standing on the small side deck, sipping our morning coffee while he puffed on a cigarette.

  “Old. Well, old-fashioned, anyway. She had silver hair scraped back and deep wrinkles in her face. Although, what I remember most are her cold, grey eyes. The way she looked at me gave me the heebie-jeebies. Oh, and she had a moko.”

  “A what?”

  “A Maori tattoo on her chin.”

  “I didn’t know your grandparents were Maori.”

  “Just my grandmother was.”

  “So that makes you part Maori?”

  “Of course. Didn’t you know?”

  “No. I just thought you had olive skin. Charlotte doesn’t look like she has any colour in her at all.”

  “Charlotte has Mum’s colouring, I have Dad’s. Anyway, stop changing the subject.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light?”

  “Come off it, Pete. I’m not stupid. I saw what I saw.”

  “Do you think it was a ghost?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. Maybe I was just half aslee
p and still dreaming.”

  “Sleepwalking?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? She was there one minute, gone the next. Everywhere was closed tight, so she couldn’t have got out.”

  “And your mum didn’t see anything?”

  “I don’t think so. She was more interested in her hot chocolate.” I glanced through the window at my lovely mum who was eating a slice of toast at the small dining table in the snug.

  She waved, and I waved back.

  “I think you’re right. It’d been a tiring day yesterday, and you hadn’t slept properly for two nights before that. I think you were probably on automatic pilot, dealing with your mum. I mean, I didn’t even hear her.”

  The sound of a car coming up the drive made me spring to action. “Who the heck…? I’m not even dressed.”

  “I’ll see to them, you go and get ready.”

  I ran inside past my mother who put me to shame, already dressed in pale pink trousers and a cream blouse she’d found in her small suitcase. Her hair was brushed and styled—she’d even managed to put on a little make-up.

  I heard Pete greeting someone, and another man’s voice replied.

  I slammed the bedroom door and turned on the shower. Ten minutes later I returned, showered and dressed, to find mum and Pete sitting in the snug with Neil. Mum was holding his hand, causing a twinge of jealousy in my stomach.

  “Neil, this is my daughter, Hilda,” she said.

  Neil winked. “Pleased to meet you after all this time, Hilda.”

  “You too.” I smiled, playing along.

  “I’m sorry to just turn up like this but I misplaced the phone number you gave me.”

  “That’s fine,” I lied. “Can I get anybody a drink?” They all declined.

  “I was hoping to take your mother out for a bite to eat,” Neil continued.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. Maybe it’s a little too soon.”

  “Nonsense, Hilda,” Mum said. “I’m perfectly fine to decide for myself, and I would love you to take me out, Neil.”

  There was no arguing with her when she was like this—strong-willed and in her right mind. “Well, if you’re sure?” I said to her while looking at Neil with a worried expression on my face.

  “We won’t go far, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

  “But it’s only ten o’clock and she’s just had breakfast.”

  “Then perhaps we could have a stroll on the beach to work up an appetite?” Neil asked shaking his and Mum’s hands together.

  “I’m dying to see the beach again. That’s what I missed more than anything–to feel the sea breeze on my face.” She smiled.

  Why hadn’t I suggested that? Of course, she didn’t want to be cooped up indoors after twenty years imprisonment.

  “Excellent!” Neil looked fit to burst.

  I couldn’t help but feel a little envious of him. She was my mum. Surely he understood why I wanted her to myself for a while. Maybe I was being selfish, but who could blame me?

  “I’ll just pay a visit to the ladies and then I’ll be right with you.” Mum patted Neil’s arm, her eyes twinkling.

  Bloody floozy. I thought, slightly amused.

  Ten minutes later, Pete and I stood on the veranda waving them off.

  “You okay?” Pete asked, pulling me into his arms.

  “A bit miffed, if I’m honest. How dare he muscle in on her first proper day home and whisk her away from us?”

  “I thought you’d be upset at that. Never mind, I could always take you for a coffee? Or back to bed for a cuddle…”

  “I’ve just had a shower,” I giggled. “But coffee would be nice. Maybe a walk on the beach too?”

  “We can’t follow them.”

  “It’s a big beach. We don’t have to go to the same spot.”

  He looked at me sideways.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Go and dry your hair then.”

  “Don’t you want to do any work today?”

  “No. I figured your mum would need a few days to settle in before I start hammering and sawing.”

  I kissed the tip of his nose. “How considerate. Has she been any nicer to you today?”

  “She has, actually. When Neil turned up, she introduced me as Phil, her son-in-law.”

  “Oh, well, she was nearly right.”

  “Close, but no cigar.”

  “Could’ve been worse. She could’ve said Phil, the guy I used to go to school with.”

  “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” He laughed, patting me on the backside and shoving me towards the bedroom.

  “Never. Old man!”

  “Old man? I’ll give you old man…”

  I squealed and ran with Pete close on my tail.

  Chapter 13

  Mum helped me with the washing up after dinner. She’d been beaming like a teenager since Neil dropped her off at around 3pm.

  “Did you enjoy yourself today?” I handed her a plate to dry.

  “It was lovely. Neil and Wendy have been good friends for years.” She placed the plate on top of the stack, suddenly distracted.

  “You okay, Mum?”

  She shook her head and turned to face me. “I just wondered why Wendy didn’t come to see me too.”

  My stomach flipped. “Don’t you remember? Neil told us. Wendy died a few years ago.”

  “She died?”

  I nodded. “Sadly, yes.”

  “Did you know Wendy?”

  “Yes. She used to look after us when…” I didn’t want to mention Dad. I’d avoided it since she’d been home, and now my heart missed a beat.

  “You can say it, you know. When your dad died?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Wendy and Neil took us in and arranged flights to England and everything. I liked her. She was lovely.”

  “Mad as a meat axe, more like. But she was a good friend.”

  I handed her another plate. “Neil seems pleased you’re home.”

  “Yes. He’s lonely. There’s nobody left to talk about the good old days with. Although with my memory I don’t think I’ll be any good for too much longer.”

  “You’re doing fine. It’s so nice to have you home. I told Charlotte we’d Skype her again in the morning.”

  “Skype?”

  “The video call we did the other day.”

  “That’s nice. I didn’t do it you know?”

  “Do what?”

  “I didn’t kill your dad.”

  I gulped, my shoulders hunched over the sink, my hands locked beneath the water. “I know that, Mum. We never doubted it.”

  “Good. I often wondered what you thought. It was terrible losing your dad like that, but losing my girls almost killed me.”

  “Oh, Mum. Come here.” I quickly wiped my hands on a tea-towel and pulled her into my arms. “You didn’t lose us. We’ve always been there, fighting in your corner.”

  “Thanks, love.”

  Seeing as she’d brought the subject up, I wanted to take it a little further. “What do you think happened then?”

  “I don’t know, love.”

  “Tell me what happened that night?”

  She shook her head. “I went to bed before him as I did every night. When I woke the next morning, he’d already left for work—or so I thought. It wasn’t until I was taking you to school that I noticed his car was still there.”

  “Why didn’t you check the front bedrooms?”

  “Because nobody ever went in those rooms. Your dad hated them as much as I did. Too many bad memories. First his parents and then his brother.”

  “What happened to Nana and Grandad?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  I shook my head as I filled the kettle.

  “They committed suicide.”

  I gasped. “Oh, no! How awful. Why would they do something like that?”

  “We’d just found out Arthur, your Grandad, was sick—he had cancer. They left a note. Poor Ethel couldn’t face a future withou
t him.”

  “Oh, Mum. That’s so terrible. Did you find them?”

  “No, fortunately for me. Uncle Declan found them, it sent him doolally.”

  “Gosh, where were we when all this was happening?” I placed the kettle back on the stand and turned it on.

  “Right here. We tried to protect you from it all. Then Declan…”

  “What? What happened to him?”

  “He also killed himself. Then when your dad died in suspicious circumstances in the same bedroom, they wanted to charge me with four murders.”

  I felt as though someone had slammed me into a brick wall.

  How come we never knew?

  Could she have actually murdered our entire family? I didn’t believe so, but how the hell was I going to tell Pete we might be living with a suspected serial killer?

  “You didn’t know, did you?” Mum turned and wiped down the work surface with her towel.

  I couldn’t speak. I pulled out the dining chair and sat down heavily just as Pete came in from the back room.

  “Right. I’ve measured up everything we need in there so I’ll go and order it all in the morning.”

  I nodded and returned his smile.

  “What? What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I think I’ll go to bed.” Mum folded the towel and placed it over the sink.

  “So early?” he asked, looking from her to me, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “I’m tired. Good night, love.” She placed a hand on my cheek before heading off to her bedroom.

  “So, are you going to tell me what I missed?” he asked once Mum’s door had closed behind her.

  “Can’t talk about it right now, babe. Can you give me a little while? I need to process something she’s just told me.”

  “She didn’t confess, did she?”

  “Confess to what?”

  “Killing your dad!”

  “No. She didn’t confess.”