Legacy of Lies- The Haunting of Hilda

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Legacy of Lies- The Haunting of Hilda Page 11

by Netta Newbound


  “It’s okay. Don’t you be worrying. I’m just going for a shower.”

  In the bathroom, I peeled off my soaking clothes. As the fabric of my blouse moved over the skin on my right side, I winced in agony. An angry red bloom covered my entire arm. I stepped into the shower and stood under the jets of freezing water until my teeth chattered uncontrollably. Then, after patting myself dry, I carefully pulled on my cotton nightie and headed back to the snug.

  Neil was comforting Mum. They stood in the middle of the room, his arms around her. He was cooing into her hair.

  “What’s happened?” I asked, startling them both.

  “I don’t remember turning the taps on. But I did it, didn’t I?” Mum sobbed.

  “We don’t know that. In fact, it could’ve been me, I was intending taking a bath before Pete gets home,” I lied, wanting to protect her feelings.

  “How’s your arm? It’s very red,” Neil asked.

  “Tingling and burning, but it’ll be fine. It was my own fault. Did you manage to get the plug out?”

  “Yes. I got a piece of wood out of the builder’s skip. I used a few of your towels to mop up the water, but most of it soaked through between the floorboards.”

  Mum turned to look at me and then began crying again. “I’m so sorry. You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

  “Who could’ve been hurt?” someone said from behind me.

  I spun around to see Pete standing in the doorway.

  “Hey, you,” I said, thrilled to see him.

  He leaned towards me and kissed my lips. “Who could’ve been hurt?”

  “Nothing. Nobody. It’s okay, nobody was hurt, so it’s fine. Let me see you.” I took a step backwards and eyed my sexy husband. “I bet you’re shattered. Have you eaten? Sit down and I’ll get you a cuppa—you must be gasping.”

  Chapter 23

  “How’s your arm now?” Pete asked, as we climbed into bed a few hours later.

  “Still a little tender. It feels a little like sunburn so I covered it in aloe vera.”

  “You’re lucky it didn’t blister. Or worse still, it could’ve taken the skin clean off. You need to be a little more careful, babe.”

  “I know. I just panicked,” I smoothed down the duvet. “So, tell me all about your trip. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” He pulled me into his arms and I rested my head on his hairy chest. “It was pretty cool. You would’ve enjoyed it.”

  “I doubt that. And besides, we couldn’t both go.”

  “Now Neil is pretty much a permanent fixture around here, maybe we’ll be able to go away for a day or two, now and again.”

  I shrugged.

  “What? Has something happened?”

  “No. Not really. But he took Mum to the storage unit and insisted she store some of her stuff at his place. I’m in two minds about him. One minute I think he’s lovely and just a lonely old man and the next I think he’s up to something, trying to get his mitts on Mum’s possessions.”

  He chuckled.

  “What? You thought he was a little off the other day too.”

  “I know, but maybe it was just me. We’ve been brainwashed to the English way of thinking—suspecting everyone of trying to rip you off.”

  “I didn’t suspect him until… Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Go on. Spit it out.”

  “No. You’ll take the piss.”

  “I promise I won’t.”

  “Mum saw Grandma.”

  Pete groaned.

  “No, hang, on. Grandma was in Mum’s room and was angry and Mum has nail marks in her arm to prove it.”

  “What are you saying? She was attacked?” he scoffed.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Well, maybe not attacked, but she dug her nails in hard enough to make welts on Mum’s arm. She even threw that photo of Dad, Uncle Declan, and the crowd. I’ll have to show you. But the frame shattered and the only image not touched was Neil. It was as though she was trying to tell us something.”

  “What? What could she possibly be trying to tell you?”

  “I don’t know. But think about it. Every other person in that photo is either dead or missing. All except Neil.”

  “It still doesn’t prove anything. Come on, Hilda. Your mum’s hardly reliable, is she?”

  “Maybe not. But she’s not the only one who saw her.” I turned to look at his face.

  He sighed heavily.

  “I saw her too. I was in Mum’s room yesterday putting a couple of boxes away on the top of the wardrobe when I found an old jewellery box that used to belong to my mum. It had my Grandma’s wedding ring in it. She suddenly appeared and was yelling at me, although I couldn’t hear a sound. I thought she was going to hit me until Mum and Neil arrived and she vanished.”

  Pete pinched the spot between his eyes, wincing. “You know I don’t believe anything like this, babe. It’s not that I don’t believe you—I think you’re pretty certain it happened, but maybe you imagined it.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Pete. I’m not stupid. I know how it sounds, but I’m not a fucking daydreamer either.” I flounced away from him over to my own side of the bed and turned my back.

  “Hey. Don’t be like that.”

  “Go to sleep, Pete.”

  I wasn’t able to sleep. Pete had tried to coax me around for a few minutes, but I was too angry to back down. He’d encouraged me to tell him and then still pooh-poohed it. I knew how crazy it sounded—shit, I even doubted it myself. However, I wasn’t the type of person to make things up, and I thought he knew me well enough after four years of marriage. The least he could’ve done is listened to me without that stupid, dis-believing sneer on his face.

  Pete brought me a cup of tea in bed early the next morning. “Friends?” he asked, wincing comically.

  I couldn’t stay angry with him for long. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t prevent the grin working its way onto my face. “Idiot,” I teased. “What’s the plan for today?”

  He climbed back onto his side of the bed. “We need to make a start on the floor tiles in the kitchen. Plus it’s going to need painting before the units arrive, next week.”

  “Really? So soon? Will you be ready for it?”

  “Yeah. Well, the guys have finished the plastering so we’re not too bad. I need to buy a load of decking too, as I want to extend the back deck. So, if all goes to plan, we can be getting on with that until the kitchen arrives.”

  “Sounds good. Is there any sign of my mum yet?”

  “I heard her talking to herself in her bedroom.”

  I acknowledged his words with a nod, not wanting to say anything more about the ghost.

  The sound of tyres crunching on the drive meant the builders had arrived.

  Pete kissed me before going to greet them.

  Chapter 24

  The builders packed up their gear on Friday, promising to return bright and early Monday morning.

  “Part-timers,” I grumbled once they’d left.

  Pete laughed. “Don’t you be getting any ideas of a few days off. You’ll be slaving away all weekend.”

  Thankfully, for the next few days, Neil kept Mum occupied, leaving me free to help Pete—not that I could do very much, but I kept him entertained with my lip syncing to the golden oldies on the local radio station.

  By Sunday evening, the floor had been levelled and tiled. The kitchen walls had been painted a vibrant aqua blue, and the window frame and the woodwork a high-gloss white.

  On Sunday night, after poring over online stores, we chose a double-sized range cooker we were both happy with. On Monday morning, we left the builders finishing off the decking while we headed off to the carpet shop at the beach to choose carpet for the lounge and dining rooms. I was excited at the progress we were making—at this rate we’d be able to move into that part of the house in the next week or two.

  As we got back into the car, my stomach growled.

  I laughed, feeling my che
eks redden. “Sorry, I’m starving.”

  “Didn’t you eat breakfast?” Pete asked, a stupid grin on his face. Like most men I’d encountered in the past, he had a childish fascination with bodily rumbles and rude noises.

  “No. I forgot.”

  “Come on then, let’s go back to that nice café—my treat.”

  The Surf Shack was chocka even at that early time. We were about to turn and leave as an elderly couple got to their feet and waved us over.

  “Oh, thanks. Are you sure you’ve finished?” I said, eyeing the plate still laden with food.

  “I’m stuffed, love,” the smiley faced woman said. “The portions are far too big for me but it doesn’t stop me ordering.” She patted me on the shoulder as she shuffled from the table.

  Her husband handed Pete a newspaper. “Fancy a read?”

  “Cheers, mate.”

  Once we’d ordered, Pete buried his head in the newspaper.

  I rolled my eyes. Charming, I thought and promptly dug my phone from my bag. I had a missed call from the woman at the museum—she’d left a voicemail.

  “… I don’t know much about the house but I’m willing to set a bit of time aside and do some research for you if you like? Call me back. If you have any questions, I’ll be available for a chat on Thursday…”

  “Look at this!” Pete said, placing the paper down on the table and turning it towards me. “This is about dementia—they’re saying it’s connected to diet.”

  “Really?” I dug in my handbag and pulled out my reading glasses before devouring the article. “Interesting,” I said, once I’d finished.

  “Worth trying? What do you think?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Can’t hurt. I’ll do some more research when I get home as this is just one person’s experience so it might just be a fluke.”

  Pete quickly folded the paper and nodded over my shoulder. The waitress appeared carrying two huge platters—we hadn’t learned from the elderly couple’s mistake. One would’ve been more than enough to share.

  “We may all need to change our diet.” I handed him a knife and fork from the container in the centre of the table. “So make sure you enjoy this while you can.” I grinned.

  “Sod off! Don’t be putting me on rabbit food.”

  “It might not be rabbit food. And anyway, dementia is hereditary, isn’t it? I don’t want to follow in Mum’s footsteps so if there’s any way I can avoid it, I think we need to try.”

  Pete pulled a face before taking a huge bite of his burger.

  I shook my head in mock disgust, then picked up a chip and stuffed it in my mouth.

  Once home, I fired up my laptop and discovered there were lots of online groups who swore by the belief diet can have a massive impact on dementia sufferers.

  “Anything?” Pete asked once he’d changed into his work clothes.

  “Yeah, lots. It’s just a case of reading it all with an open mind, I guess.”

  “So, we need to change our diet?”

  “We already know you have no intention of changing what you stuff in your face.”

  “Well, I might. What are they saying?”

  “The argument, although not proven, is that aluminium builds up in the brain tissue, according to several autopsy studies.”

  “Aluminium?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, we can get it from saucepans, tin cans, it’s even present in some of the food we eat.”

  “And they think that’s what causes dementia?”

  “Some people do, yeah.”

  “Shi-it! So what do they recommend?”

  “Cutting out a load of stuff. Not just what we eat, but how we eat it—like choosing fresh vegetables above canned, that kind of thing. In fact, just eating fresh produce full stop, which won’t do us any harm, will it?”

  “I guess not.”

  “The fact that there is very little evidence to support it may put some people off, but I think it’s worth a shot, don’t you?”

  “So no more pizza?”

  “Of course you’ll be able to have a treat every now and then, but on the whole, our diet is terrible—I think this is what we’ve needed for a long while.”

  “I suppose I can eat meat and vegetables? I don’t mind a good steak.”

  “Small amounts of lean meat, I’m afraid. But we can have chicken, fish, especially salmon. Plenty of whole grains, even wholemeal bread is okay in moderation.” I glanced at the recommended food list and began reading it out. “Leafy vegetables and fresh berries, seeds and nuts.”

  He groaned.

  “Don’t bother then. I’ll do it with Mum, and you can please yourself.”

  “No, I’ll give it a go. Do you fancy a cuppa before I start work?”

  “Ah, tea is high in aluminium. But coffee is allowed and there are some herbal teas that might be a good alternative.”

  “Good luck getting your mum off tea. That might just be a deal breaker.”

  I stroked my chin. “Yeah, I didn’t think of that. We’ll just make the changes slowly, wean her off it.”

  “Wean us all off it, you mean—we put a fair amount of teabags away every single week.”

  “It’s not all doom and gloom,” I said, still perusing the list. “We can still have good quality dark chocolate.”

  “Oh, whoop-de-bloody-doo.” He pulled on his cap and headed towards the back of the house.

  Chapter 25

  “What time will the kitchen arrive?” I asked, a few days later. It was all coming together nicely, and I was beginning to get a little excited.

  Pete lifted his hand, palm up and shrugged. “They said between eight and twelve noon so your guess is as good as mine.”

  I continued chopping the pile of fresh fruit I’d been preparing for our breakfast and distributed it into three bowls. Then I dolloped a large spoonful of natural yoghurt on top of each and handed him a bowl.

  “I’d prefer a piece of toast today if you don’t mind, babe,” he groaned.

  “Suit yourself, but I’m not making it.”

  “I don’t expect you to.” He laughed at my shirty attitude. “I’m still supporting this diet change but I just can’t face it every single meal—do you mind?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. It’s up to you, but you could’ve told me before I chopped enough fruit to sink the ark.”

  The doorbell rang and Pete headed off up the hall while I went in search of Mum.

  I heard laughter as I approached her bedroom. The hairs stood to attention on the back of my neck. Pausing, I listened, my forehead almost touching the door. I could hear my mum whispering and giggling, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  I knocked and heard her gasp and more hurried whispering before she cleared her throat. “Come in.”

  I opened the door slowly, my eyes darting around the room.

  “Hi, darling.” She smiled broadly at me from her position on top of the bed. She began smoothing down the sheets beside her.

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “Who? Me?”

  I nodded.

  “Nobody.” She stared at me indignantly.

  I scrutinized her through narrowed eyes. “Hmmm. Your breakfast is ready.” Unlike Pete, Mum hadn’t questioned the change in diet, but I figured she’d had very little say in what she ate and drank over the past twenty years, so I don’t suppose this was any different.

  “Oh, goody. I’ll be right with you.”

  Pete was talking to someone in the kitchen, so I presumed the delivery guys had arrived. I couldn’t wait to see the units—we were on the home stretch now. I was dying to pop my head in and see how they were doing, but I didn’t want to get under their feet. I decided to stay away.

  Moments later, Mum joined me at the small dining table, a coy expression on her face.

  “What’s tickled your fancy today?” I placed one of the bowls in front of her and reached for my own.

  “Nothing,” she said, her cheeks pinking up. If I didn’t know bette
r, I’d suspect her of having Neil hidden under the duvet.

  “Well, something’s put a smile on your face, or should I say someone?”

  She averted her eyes and began inspecting her spoon. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Hmm. Are you seeing Neil today?”

  She bristled and shook her head. “No.”

  That surprised me. She’d been all over Neil since arriving back in town. “How come? Have you had an argument?”

  “He’s a little too familiar.”

  I almost choked on my mouthful of fruit and struggled to swallow it. “Really?” I eventually said. “Why? What’s he done?”

  She lifted and then dropped one shoulder. “I think he likes me.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I said under my breath.

  “Sorry?”

  “I’m sure he does, but I thought you liked him too.”

  “I do. But not like that. I still love your dad.” She batted her eyelashes at something over my shoulder, causing my stomach to flip.

  I snapped my head around, expecting to see someone standing there. The room was empty. Taking a deep breath, I turned back to face her. “But Dad’s dead, Mum. You do know that, don’t you?”

  She glowered at me, suddenly angry. “Of course, I know it, Hilda. I’m not stupid.” That put me in my place.

  “I know you’re not, Mum. Sorry.”

  We continued eating our breakfast in silence.

  Ten minutes later, Pete popped his head around the door.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “It’s going to look amazing. Come and have a quick peek.”

  Mum jumped to her feet and followed Pete. This was the first time she’d shown any interest in the renovations, and she’d only been in the back room once.

  In the centre of the room were several huge cubes, stacked and wrapped in plastic. One unit had been unwrapped, and I was thrilled at how chunky and solid it was.

  “How come it already has the worktop fitted?”

  “Each unit comes like that. That’s what I love about it. Don’t you like it?” A concerned expression suddenly crossed his face.

 

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