Gifted

by Campbell, Jamie

  “Sophie moved out of the house as soon as she was old enough and never returned. My friend Midge knew the Rudolphs when she was only a young girl and said they hardly spoke to their daughter until the end. Terribly sad, they were a wonderful couple. You’d think she would have made an effort with her parents, especially considering her mother almost died for her.

  “The Rudolph’s estate sold the property after they had both passed. From what I hear, Sophie tried to sell the house before that but they wouldn’t sign the paperwork. They were both of sound mind so the courts told her there was nothing she could do about it. I didn’t know her but I’m sure she must have been a bit of a madam.

  “The buyers were the Munroe family. They owned the property from 1948 to when your sister purchased the property in 2006. They were quite elderly when they moved in and soon discovered they couldn’t keep up with the maintenance of the house. They let their son Harold live in the house until it was sold. He was a bit of a playboy. He never married. You know the type, perpetual bachelor that can’t settle down. He would have parties in the Manor and invite all his fancy friends from the city down for a week at a time. He was too much into partying to properly care for the house.

  “By the time he had to move out, the house was in a terrible state. Your sister got a bargain there because of his neglect. I’m sure it would have taken a good month just to clean up after him!”

  “Yeah, I remember Cate talking about the state of the house,” Charlie remembered wondering at the time if they had bitten off more than they could chew. “Luckily she saw through the mess to see just how great the house was underneath. It looks like there is a lot of history to the house, it must have been a nice family home for many years.”

  “It was built to be a family home and until the Munroe’s purchased it, it was. If walls could talk I’m sure they’d agree.”

  “Were there any stories from any of the families? You know, anything funny or unusual at all?”

  Mrs White took a sip from her porcelain teacup and thought about her answer to the question. She had heard many stories come from Sage Manor, people loved to gossip about those higher on the social ladder. Exactly how much of it they would find interesting was another matter. “It was rumoured that Max Munroe, Harold’s father, was having an affair with the Mayor’s wife. But that was only a rumour of course, no-one ever found any evidence of that. It kept the tongues wagging for a while though.”

  “What about the Reign’s? You said they lived there between 1800 and 1806, why did they stay only six years?”

  “That one’s a bit of a mystery. They moved into the outback, reportedly, somewhere in South Australia. No-one really knew for sure though. You can imagine what a journey that would have been! After they moved no-one ever heard from them again.”

  “Why build a big beautiful house and then leave after such a short period of time? Could he have had to move for business or something?”

  “It’s possible, anything is possible. He dropped off the radar in 1806 as far as Pickerton records go. Unfortunately I can’t tell you any more about them. The earlier we go back, the less information is available.”

  “You mentioned they had three daughters? Did you ever hear anything about what they had done with their lives?”

  “No, the whole family just disappeared as far as records go. Who knows, maybe they just wanted some peace and quiet and retired to live an anonymous life. I’m sure they would have struggled in Australia after living in England their whole lives. It was so different here back then compared to what they had known. Maybe Pickerton wasn’t the place for them and when they realised that, they left.”

  “You’re probably right. I know this might sound like a strange question, but did you ever hear any ghost stories about the Manor?” Charlie was unsure whether she should broach the subject or not but Mrs White seemed to be very open about what she knew.

  “Ghost stories? Oh my Dear, with a house like that of course you hear ghost stories.”

  “Really?” Blair interjected, surprised that others may have actually gossiped about the house being haunted.

  “Really. It’s said there’s an evil entity that roams the place. I personally think it’s a story invented by the teenagers of the town to scare the younger ones. An old house is bound to accumulate the odd ghost story. Let’s face it, we’re a small town and there’s not a great deal for the young ones to do.”

  “Are there any specifics to the stories?”

  “Not really. Just if you go there after dark you can apparently see a face of a woman from one of the upstairs windows. The other story is just the evil thing running amuck in the house causing trouble. As the story goes, if you enter uninvited then it will get you. All boogedy-boogedy type stuff. Harold used to have a huge party there on Halloween that helped to give new credence to the story. He thought he was terribly sophisticated having a party to celebrate an American tradition. All it did was perpetuate the stories.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He would have a ghost tour, make up all these stories about bloodshed and ritual sacrifice. It’s all nonsense of course but you will always get the one Wally that believes it and tells others as if it’s the absolute truth. None of the families that have ever owned the property would be into anything like that. It’s just a family manor house, not a castle from a Dracula movie.”

  “I somehow can’t imagine any Pagan’s dancing around the house at midnight sacrificing things.”

  “Exactly. But you know city dwellers, they think we’re all hicks out here and gullible enough to believe anything. If you ask me, we’re the ones that have it right living out here. Sure beats the rat race.”

  “I tend to agree most days. Did anything happen as a consequence of these stories circulating?” Blair asked, taking another piece of caramel slice from the coffee table.

  “Not really. All the teenagers clamoured to get an invite to his parties to see the ‘sacrificial altar’ themselves. A few broke in one time as a prank, a bit of a dare to test their courage. Just the usual young people shenanigans.”

  Charlie remembered the article about the Rudolphs. “The Rudolphs were broken into too. Just out of curiosity, do you know if they recovered their artworks?”

  “They were found a few weeks later hanging in an art gallery. The gallery had purchased them, not realising they were stolen. The Rudolphs were reunited with their painting and lived happily ever after.” Mrs White smiled, happy to have all the answers.

  “I’m glad. Do you have documents we could copy and take away to study by any chance?”

  “I don’t have much, it’s all mainly up here,” she tapped the side of her forehead. “I’ll get what I have.” Mrs White hobbled out of the room and disappeared into one of the adjoining rooms. Blair snuck another piece of slice, earning a dirty look from Charlie.

  She returned a few minutes later clutching a few loose pages. “These are spare copies you can have. There is a family tree here that I got from... somewhere I’m sure. Also, a few clippings from newspapers and newsletters. Hopefully these will help you in your research. What does your sister know about the house?”

  “Nothing really,” Charlie thought quickly, if the town gossip knows about their research then it will surely make its way back to Cate. “We’re putting this all together as a bit of a surprise for her, she doesn’t know about it yet. Promise not to tell her?”

  “Of course,” she tapped the side of her nose. “Our secret.”

  They stood up and accepted the pieces of paper from Mrs White. Blair thanked her profusely for the afternoon tea and they were led back out to the front gate with promises that they would come back and tell her anything else they find out. They didn’t have the heart to tell the old woman that they were on a ghost hunt rather than a quest for historical accuracy.

  They left Mrs White’s house and drove back up to Sage Manor. They may have been disappointed earlier in the day but they had learnt more from Mrs White than they had ever ex
pected.

  “Did you get everything written down?” Charlie asked Blair as they were pulling into the driveway.

  “Most of it, I got all the dates and names at the very least. You’d think with only four families owning the place before Cate, it won’t be too hard to track down any skeletons they had in their closet.”

  “Remember though, we are talking about a couple of hundred year’s time span here. I have a feeling something is up with the Reigns. I would bet my life that we should be concentrating on them.”

  “What makes you think that? Just the short time they lived there?”

  “That’s the main reason. I mean who builds a great big house and then suddenly decides to move? That newspaper article we read yesterday about their open house made it seem like they were really proud of their property. Why, a few years later do they decide to leave it? What could possibly have happened in such a short a time frame?”

  “Didn’t you say Louise said there was a murder?”

  “Exactly. Say one of them was murdered, that would definitely make you move house - especially if it happened there. All the memories and stuff would be too much to bear.”

  “So you think someone was murdered in the house when it was first built?”

  “I’d say about six years after it was built, actually.”

  “So who then?”

  “My bet would be on one of the daughters. It has to be a female, that we know from Louise. If it was Lady Elizabeth then there would have been something in the newspaper about it - everyone would have known and it would have been a huge big deal.”

  “It could have been a maid or housekeeper,” Blair pointed out.

  “True, but Mrs White said that they were true British Aristocrats. The death of one of the help wouldn’t even register on their radar. They would have carried on like nothing had happened. It certainly wouldn’t have forced them to move out to the back of Burke.”

  “Okay, so say it’s one of their daughters. Why not report it to the police? Surely there would have been something reported about it. A daughter of a Lord would have been highly esteemed in the community - she would have been almost like a Princess of the town.”

  “I don’t know. Why someone wouldn’t seek justice for the murder of their daughter I can’t comprehend. They must have had a reason, that’s what we need to find out.”

  “We’ll work it out then. It looks like Cate’s home, do we have an alibi for today?”

  “Picking up supplies again?” Charlie shrugged. She hated lying to her sister, she thought for sure Cate knew she was lying. As a rule she tried to be honest all the time, lying just got you into trouble.

  They found Cate and Rahni playing Uno in the kitchen, dinner bubbling away on the stove top. They say down and waited for the game to end, joining in on the next round.

  When it started to get dark outside, Cate set the table and they enjoyed the evening meal together. Cate filled them in on her day, the supermarket had been crowded for an early morning so it hadn’t been the pleasant experience she usually had. To reward themselves for suffering such a traumatic experience, she and Rahni had driven out of town to the catch a movie at the cinemas. It had been a children’s comedy which they were still chuckling about.

  Instead of watching television afterwards with the others, Charlie pulled out the few pages that Mrs White had given her. The articles were nothing interesting, the same theme of the ones they had read at the library. It was the family tree that had piqued her interest.

  The tree belonged to the Reign family and traced their heritage back to the 1400’s. Quite impressive for an emigrant to the Australian colonies. The name Reign had evolved from the word with the spelling of Rain over the centuries. The original Lord and Lady Rain had given birth to twelve children. A total of five had died in infancy, the rest had gone on to marry. None of them had a very long life but between them they had sired dozens of children. Obviously the Rain family were quite prolific in their fathering of offspring.

  At the very end of the tree branch was Richard Reign, marrying Elizabeth O’Meara in 1786 and having three daughters - Joanna, Violet, and Eve. As they were women there were no further branches, either that or they hadn’t had a chance to update it with any further information. The Reign family name would have stopped with Richard, his daughters taking on their husband’s name if they married. Charlie felt for sure it would have looked bad for him to not father a son and heir. She suddenly felt sorry for Elizabeth, there would have been a lot of pressure on her to give birth to a boy, yet with every pregnancy came another little girl. A happy occasion would become one of guilt.

  Charlie stared at the names of the three daughters, wondering which one could have suffered such an unfortunate end to their life. They would have had a good life beforehand, living in manor houses, being raised by a nanny. She imagined they would have spent their days at their leisure being proper little ladies. When they reached their mid-teens they would have been courted by some eligible young gentleman and married off to become a proper little wife. They wouldn’t have had to worry about money or an education - it would have been enough just to be an accessory on their husband’s arm. Produce a few kids, a son to carry on the name and everything is sweet.

  As good a life as that sounded, Charlie wouldn’t have like it. She was proud to be a woman and to have independent thoughts and ideas. She considered if that was all life had to offer, then it wasn’t much of a life. However, back in those days it was expected. The girls wouldn’t have dreamed of another life, so they would have liked their role in the family - so Charlie assumed anyway. If you didn’t think about anything else, at the very least the women had killer wardrobes.

  Disappointed that the family tree didn’t shake out any skeletons, Charlie tried to remember everything Mrs White had told them about the other families. If she could speak with someone who had actually lived in the house before, who knows? Maybe they had already done the research after experiencing similar things. Unfortunately, since the house was built there had only been five families live in the Sage Manor house, one of them being her sister’s. She remembered Mrs White said the previous occupant had been Harold Munroe, the wild party animal that let the house decay around him.

  Walking to the phone book that nested underneath the telephone in the entrance hall, Charlie was hoping it was her lucky day. She picked up the heavy white pages and thumbed through the pages until she reached ‘M’. She ran her finger down the columns until she found the Munroe’s. There were a dozen of them in the local district, including an H Munroe that lived in nearby Calliton. She looked up at the large grandfather clock that was ticking away softly against the wall, it was almost 10:30 - too late to be making phone calls to strangers. Chances are the guy would still be awake, but rude to call anyway. She wrote down the number and made a mental note to call the next day.

  She poked her head around the living room entranceway and wished everyone a good night. Blair did the same and stood from the lounge. As they crossed the foyer together, the phone rang - making them both jump with the sudden shrill sound. Blair hurried to the telephone stand and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?” He listened for an answer but there was only silence on the other end. “Hello?” He tried again, nothing. He replaced the receiver and returned to the bottom of the stairs where Charlie was waiting for him.

  “Who was it?” She asked.

  “No-one, the line was just dead. Probably a wrong number.”

  “Probably.”

  They walked all the way upstairs and to the blue room before eventually falling asleep for the night.

  Chapter 6

  The next day Blair started to feel guilty about not getting as much done around the old house as they had promised. Out of all the repairs they had planned on doing, only a few had been ticked off the list. He was determined to not let anything distract him today, even if it meant making sure Charlie was just as focused. How he was going to achieve this, he wasn’t quite sure,
but as he sat in the kitchen finishing his toast that morning, he had steeled his resolve.

  If they both needed focus, he was going to work on the one area where there should be no distractions - the attic. Cate had mentioned she would like to make it into a usable room, she’d never even been up there before. He would check it out and see what needed to be done. If it was only minor, he’d have a go, otherwise she may have to call in some professionals.

  When Blair had told his plans to Cate earlier, she had reacted excitedly about the prospect of actually being able to go up there. Unfortunately she was going to miss the big unveil, Rahni had a friend’s birthday party to attend and, in a moment of weakness, she had volunteered to help supervise. A bunch of seven and eight year-olds hyped up on red cordial and jelly snakes were going to be occupying her day. Blair would rather take on the attic any time.

  After finding a ladder in the back shed, Blair climbed each rung until he could pull himself onto the attic floor. Charlie was holding the ladder steady, praying he wasn’t going to slip and fall. One of the features of the house was its high ceilings. While it was a selling point for the real estate agents, it didn’t help trying to climb into the attic. After he was safely up, Blair gripped the top of the ladder and tried to reassure Charlie it was safe. She hesitated for a few minutes before braving the wobbly ladder. She was slower climbing the rungs, she repeatedly told herself not to look down. After a few minutes, she too was safely seated on the attic floor recovering from the ordeal.

  They looked around the room while they were seated on the floor, trying to take it all in. It wasn’t nearly as bad as they had expected. There were eight windows in total, four at the front of the house and four running across the back. They were the original windows from when the house was first built all those years ago. The glass looked thick and needed a heavy duty cleaning but they were beautiful regardless. Each one jutted out through the sloped roof, like little tents that were erected at equal intervals.