“Yeah, I just meant how do they connect together?”
“They sit side by side and then we grout the gaps once they’re fitted to the wall.”
“Really? I’ve never seen that before.”
“Trust me. It will look amazing and totally fitting for the era of the house.”
I didn’t doubt him at all. He never failed to astound me with his interior design skills, which were far superior to mine.
“What do you think, Mum?” I asked, excited by the sturdiness of the solid wooden units and their black granite worktops.
She opened the drawer of the unit and nodded. “I love it.”
“Me too.” I smiled at Pete.
The doorbell rang and I hesitated. “Okay—I’ll go then, shall I?”
Neil had already opened the front door by the time I arrived in the hallway. “Only me,” he called.
“Hi, Neil, come on in.” I beckoned for him to enter and walked back the way I’d come. “Fancy a cuppa?”
“I’d love one, thanks.” He closed the door behind him.
“Come and look at our new kitchen, it’s just arrived.”
Mum scowled at Neil as we entered the room and turned her back on him. “I’ll be in my room,” she said, and then she was gone.
Neil looked at me, clearly confused.
I shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, Neil. I’ve no idea what’s wrong with her today.”
“Maybe it’s just her illness. Hopefully she’ll be back to normal soon.”
I nodded my agreement. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”
Chapter 26
Mum stayed in her room for the rest of the morning. By then Neil had left promising to return a little later, and Pete had started arranging the kitchen units. I’d attempted to help him but it was clear I was just getting in his way so I made myself scarce.
At lunchtime, I tapped on Mum’s door before entering to find her seated by the window, facing into the room, painting.
“Oh, Mum, that took me back seeing you like that,” I gushed. “Can I look?”
She nodded, smiling.
I walked behind her and gasped. Directly in the centre of the canvas was a lifelike painting of my dad. The detail after all this time was uncanny. “Oh, Mum,” I whispered.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it! How can you remember so much? I’d almost forgotten what he looked like until I saw those photos the other day. Is that it? Did you take this from a photo?” I glanced around, trying to find what she’d copied but couldn’t see anything.
She glanced over my shoulder again, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll never forget him.”
“Do you see him now, Mum?”
She smiled and turned her focus back to the canvas.
“Mum?”
“Shh. Go now, Hilly-billy. Let me get this finished.”
“But what about lunch?”
“I’m not hungry—now shoo.” She smiled kindly and I was immediately the child and her the adult once again. Was I getting my mother back?
I retreated from the room, desperate to stay while she was clearly being her old self for however long, but keen to let her continue with her passion after all this time. I took one final glance her way before closing the door and was shocked at the expression on her face. Her beautiful eyes glowed with love. It was as though pure joy was radiating from her. Was she accessing a memory—a figment of her imagination? Or could she actually be flirting with an unseen entity? I shuddered, not wanting to go there. Pete would piss himself laughing if I told him I thought the ghost of my dad was wooing my mother…
As promised, Neil returned a while later to assist Pete with the new kitchen. I busied myself with housework, cleaning the rest of the house, although the top two rooms got nothing but a lick and a promise—I still wasn’t comfortable spending too much time in that part of the house.
“Where is everyone?” Mum said, startling me from the doorway of the snug a while later.
“Oh, hello, you. Pete and Neil are installing the new kitchen. How are you feeling?”
She screwed up her face in response and entered the room, sitting on the sofa beside me.
“Did you finish your painting?”
“I think so, although it didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped.”
“Really? It was looking pretty damn good to me earlier. Can I see it?”
She nodded and reluctantly got to her feet again. I followed her through to the bedroom.
The painting of my father took my breath away. It was as though he was in the room with us.
“Oh, my goodness, Mum. That’s incredible.”
She scratched her head as though concerned by something.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know why I painted the house. I hate that house.”
I looked again and noticed the backdrop to the painting was the front of the house, including the steps. “You hate this house?”
She shook her head, clearly confused. “I hate that house.” She pointed at the painting.
I didn’t want to upset her any more by reminding her our old house was indeed the house we were living in. She was clearly disturbed by the image and the memories it evoked. “I see. Well, I think you’ve done a remarkable job of capturing the likeness and all from memory like that—you blow my mind.”
She smiled. “Thanks, love. I’m just being silly, aren’t I?”
“I would love to hang this painting pride of place in the new living room—what do you think?”
“I don’t mind. It’s yours if you want it.”
“Excellent!” I kissed the top of her head. “Right, do you fancy a coffee? You must be gagging after all that creativity.”
“Any chance of a slice of cake too. Surely it’s time for afternoon tea by now?”
I grinned. “I’ll see what I can rustle up. Do you want to see if Neil and Pete want a break?”
She nodded and toddled off to the back of the house while I headed to the snug to fill the kettle. She’d obviously forgotten she wasn’t friends with Neil just now.
Moments later, the three of them filed into the room and sat around the table.
“Slave labour around here,” Neil said good-naturedly. “You’d get plied with more refreshment in prison.”
I laughed. “You could always make a brew yourself, you know. There’s nothing stopping you.”
He winked at me. “You’ll be brewing up in your new kitchen before long—it’s coming together nicely.”
“Really?” I looked at Pete, who nodded.
“Yeah, the base units are already in place. We just need the plumbing sorted now. We’ll have the wall units fitted by the end of the day.”
“Flipping heck, you don’t waste any time, do you?” I placed the mugs on the table and found a box of Bakewell tarts in the cupboard.
“What happened to carrot sticks?” Pete said, helping himself to a tart.
“We’re celebrating. Mum’s also been productive. She’s painted me a beautiful portrait of my dad.”
“It’s not that nice. That house is on there and it’s spoiled it,” Mum said.
“What house?” Neil asked, handing Mum a plate.
“The Junction house.”
Neil’s eyes opened a little wider as he looked at me.
I shook my head and he nodded.
“Ah, okay, I see. Maybe you can show me after our cuppa.”
Her eyes sparkled once again as she looked at him. “I’d like that, Neil.”
Chapter 27
As Pete had predicted, the units were fully installed by the end of the day. Neil stayed for dinner and he and Mum seemed completely back on track.
At just after 7pm, Mum showed Neil out and then said goodnight to us before heading off to her room.
Pete and I sat on opposite ends of the sofa in the snug, sharing a bottle of white wine.
“What was wrong with her today?” he asked once he was certain we were alone.
&nbs
p; “You tell me—she’s been behaving oddly all day. I’m exhausted trying to keep up with her.”
“I was surprised when Neil came back, to be honest. I think he was hurt by her brush off this morning.”
I nodded. “I thought so too. But she seems to have got over whatever it was, for now, at least.”
“What else happened today?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You said she’s been behaving oddly all day. What else did she do?”
I contemplated telling him how she’d made me feel earlier, but I knew what his reaction would be so I just shook my head instead. “Just odd. I can’t put my finger on it. She was away with the fairies one minute and switched on the next. She did do a fantastic painting of my dad though so she’s clearly still got her talent.”
“That’s good news. Maybe she was just missing your dad today. You know, with her painting him it might have churned up a lot of painful memories.”
“Yeah, I guess. I wish I could get inside her head though. All our conversations just seem to skim the surface. Anytime I feel I might be getting somewhere something happens to shut it down.”
He shuffled over towards me and pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “It will all settle down, you’ll see. At least you have your mum back, however frustrating it is at the moment.”
I gasped. How could I have been so self-absorbed and insensitive? Pete’s mum had died when he was just twelve years old. He rarely spoke about her but I could tell he was still deeply cut up about it—even after all these years.
“Yeah, you’re right. It will all sort out in the end.”
I groaned, rolled over in my bed, and reached for my phone on the bedside table. 3.06am. What on earth had woken me? Pete snored softly beside me and, after lifting his heavy hand from my waist, I slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom.
Upon my return I heard a sound like somebody giggling. Being on the top of a hill away from any other houses, I knew it couldn’t be one of the neighbours. The only other person in the house was my mum, but why would she be giggling at this god-awful hour?
Although a little scared of coming face to face with the ghostly presence of my grandmother again, the desire to know what on earth my mother was up to propelled me through the door and down the darkened hallway.
I paused, once again, outside her bedroom and heard another bout of giggles.
“What the hell?” I opened the door and, from the light of the moon, I could see two definite shapes underneath the duvet. I’d been right all along. Mum had smuggled someone into her room.
The occupants of the bed were unaware of my intrusion, and maybe I should’ve respected Mum’s privacy and backed out of the room undetected—she was a fully consenting adult after all, but I was desperate to know who the hell was sneaking around my house at all hours of the night.
I slammed my hand onto the switch and the room was suddenly flooded with light, chasing all the dark shadows away.
Mum gasped and the movement on the bed suddenly stopped. Clearly, whoever was under the duvet thought that if they lay stock still, I wouldn’t notice them. But there were two people in that bed, and I didn’t intend to go anywhere until I knew who the hell the second one was.
“You may as well come out,” I yelled. “I can see you.”
No sound or movement.
“I mean it. Show yourself.”
A hand snaked around my waist from behind, startling me. A squeal left my lips and I spun around.
“Hey, hey,” Pete said. “What’s wrong?”
“Shit, Pete. I didn’t hear you getting out of bed—you almost gave me a heart attack.”
“I heard you! The whole house did. What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s in Mum’s bed and I’m going nowhere till I find out who.”
“Yeah, it’s your mum.” He shook his head as though angry with me.
“Look closer, Pete,” I snapped, and whirled around to face the bed again and the breath caught in my throat. Now there was only the shape of one person in the bed. “No! There was someone else. He’s hiding.” I yanked the bed clothes off, determined to show Pete I wasn’t cracking up.
Two petrified eyes stared up at me. Mum lay curled on her side and clutched her pillow. The bed beside her was empty.
Still determined to prove I was right, I marched to the other side of the bed, certain whoever it was had slid off and must be hiding on the floor—what other explanation was there? But no. There was no sign of anyone.
“Who was it, Mum? Who did you have in your bed?”
She looked from me to Pete with frightened, imploring eyes.
“That’s enough,” Pete said gruffly. “Can’t you see you’re scaring her?” He picked up the bedding and covered Mum up again. “It’s okay, Eliza. She didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, love.”
“But…” I scratched my head, totally confused.
Pete turned off the light and ushered me back to our bedroom.
“What the fuck, Hilda,” he hissed, once we were behind closed doors.
“There was someone in there with her, Pete. I heard her giggling and there were definitely two people in that bed. I saw them with my own eyes.”
“You were dreaming. Now get back to bed or we’ll all be knackered in the morning.” He angrily jumped onto the bed and turned his back towards me.
I climbed in beside him and silent tears filled my eyes. What had just happened? Was I cracking up? Maybe Pete had been right all along and it was my imagination playing tricks on me. I had been through a lot recently, and this house had always heightened my imagination. Dad used to say the same thing. Was the haunting in my head?
Chapter 28
I couldn’t sleep and, after hearing Pete’s huffs and puffs turn to soft snores once again, I slid out of bed, still confused and angry.
I had seen another person in that bed. I was certain of it. But Pete would never believe me and, to be fair, I didn’t blame him. I was all too aware how far-fetched it sounded.
Heading through to the snug, I curled up on the tiny sofa and that’s where I stayed until orange tendrils of light peeked in through the gaps in the black-out curtains. The accompanying cacophony of birdsong confirmed any chance of sleep was long gone.
I eased myself upright and quietly filled the kettle so as not to disturb anyone—I wasn’t ready to face anybody just yet. I felt a myriad of emotions from sheer embarrassment, to confusion, to doubting myself, to downright annoyance that Pete didn’t believe me and I found myself swinging from one to the other—wanting to curl up and die of shame one minute and square up my shoulders and fight for what I know to be true the next.
Is this how mental illness starts?
When I was around fourteen years old, one of my teachers had a breakdown. She’d always been a timid, approachable woman, known for being a bit of a pushover, but one day her whole demeanour had changed. By the end of that particular day she was dragged from the school kicking and screaming, never to be seen again—by me at least. Whatever she’d been going on about at the time she’d believed wholeheartedly. It was everyone else who could tell she’d flipped her lid. Was I going down the same path? Maybe Mum’s problems had started a long time ago. What if I had the same illness as her? Could I be convinced to kill Pete the way she supposedly killed Dad?
I needed to talk to Charlotte—she was the only person who would understand.
The phone was answered on the first ring.
“Bloody hell, Charlie, were you expecting my call?” I laughed.
“Must’ve been.” She hummed the theme tune to some spooky show we used to watch.
“How’re things?”
“Okay, I guess. Is Mum alright?”
“Yeah, she’s doing well. She’s even begun painting again. She’s bloody good too.”
“Aw, that’s fab. I’ve missed you.” Her voice didn’t sound right—something was wrong with her, but I couldn’t worry about that right now.
&nb
sp; “I’ve missed you too.” Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks as a sob escaped me.
“Hilda! What is it?”
There was no hiding anything from her—she knew me better than anyone. Before I knew it, I’d told her the whole story.
“And there was definitely no one there?” she asked after I finished telling her about the mystery person.
“Nope.”
“Maybe they were hiding underneath the bed?”
“That’s possible, if they can make themselves flat as a pancake. Don’t you think I checked that?”
“Okay—I was only checking, snarky knickers.”
“Sorry, there was honestly nobody there. But I’m certain Mum was faking the wide-eyed innocence.”
“Had you been drinking?”
“Oh, here we go—you think I made it up too, don’t you?”
“No. I didn’t say that. I’m just asking, that’s all.”
“No, Charlotte—I wasn’t drinking.”
“Not even one?”
I glanced at the empty wine bottle still on the coffee table and turned my back on it, as though it would make my lie more believable. “Not even one.” I heard movement through the wall and knew Pete was stirring. “Anyway, I’d best go. I’ll give you a call in the week.”
“Hang on. You can’t just go. Are you pissed off with me?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then talk to me. I haven’t even had the chance to tell you what’s going on here, yet.”
“Sorry, Charlie. What’s been happening? Is it the kids?”
“No, they’re fine. It’s Chris—he’s been suspended pending an investigation.”
“What the hell for?”
“That nasty old bitch he’s been battling against at work has excelled herself this time. She’s accused him of sexual harassment.”
“You’re joking?”
“I wish I was.”
“Could he have done it?”
She expelled a loud breath. “What do you think?”
“I can’t see it. I’ve known Chris for as long as you and, in my opinion, he hasn’t got it in him—no offense. However, he is a red-blooded male. Could there be any truth to it?”
Legacy of Lies- The Haunting of Hilda Page 12
