Once back at the top of the hill, I practically collapsed on the three final steps leading up to the main entrance of the mansion. I had run downhill and right back up in the course of almost an hour and a half.
I was exhausted and infuriated that I had not found that forsaken shelter. Just like Claire, it was turning out to be a pain.
“This is insane. If Mrs. Appleton can’t afford it, then the City Council should aid her. Appleton Hill is a historic place. It is outrageous that bushes and vines are wasting it away.”
It was clear to me then that I could not take the same carefree attitude to finish mapping out the hill. I was in need of another way to figure out where that cabin could be located and then get in and out of that place as soon as possible. Why were those damn vines trying to swallow Claire’s shelter?
“I should’ve taken Tom’s ax with me. Next time, I will not be unarmed.”
When I managed to control my breathing, at least to the point where I no longer felt my heart was about to leap out of my body, my mind came up with a solution.
“The library. The town built itself around this property. There must be records, something that talks about the early days of Ashwell.”
Chapter 24
The face staring back at me in the bathroom mirror looked pale and haggard. I had gray bags under my eyes as if shadows were trying to invade my features, and they decided to start by taking over my eyes. After my failed attempt to find Claire’s shelter and before I set off for the library, I went back upstairs to fix my appearance. Or at least try to, and to grab my satchel.
I looked disheveled. There were some leaves and sticks entangled with my hair, so I had to brush it again. Fortunately, now it was drier than when I had first set foot outside. My cheekbones seemed sharper than ever. My lips were thinner in appearance, and the cold made them dry. I looked leaner than when I had arrived at Appleton Hill. I considered taking out my makeup kit to look a bit more alive, but I was exhausted, and I really wanted to get the whole shelter business over with.
Besides, I don’t think anyone will ask me about my appearance. I bet they’ll just put it down to Claire’s death. If they only knew how present she still is.
I made a quick stop at my bedroom and grabbed my satchel. My clothes had green and brown patches, but I didn’t want to change. I felt comfortable in them. One final thing came to mind that needed to be done before I could set off on my study trip. I approached the mountain of pillows on my bed and snatched the radio turned walkie-talkie from the underworld.
“Sorry, Claire, I can’t let you stay here. Your mother could hear you. We both know she has had enough of your irresponsible ways, don’t we?”
I expected some sort of response, but everything remained strangely quiet. Even better. I was planning on leaving her in the only place I felt was safe. I would have to move through the entire house to get there, so I couldn’t have her singing its speakers off while I traveled along the manor’s corridors. I stashed it inside my satchel and headed out the door.
I descended the stairs, holding my breath while embracing my load. Claire had kept quiet, and I didn’t want to gamble all my luck away by delaying my exit. My hand was on the handle of the main entrance and I was already counting this exit as a clean escape when my name emerged from the lips of the person I wished to avoid.
“Althea? Where are you going?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Appleton. I’m sorry we missed our breakfast together. I’m going to the library,” I said over my shoulder and quickly refocused on opening the door. At that moment I thought it was a blessing, a thing of destiny, that the doors here were never locked.
“The library? But it’s so cold today.”
I had no choice but to turn on my heels. Leaving her like that would be disrespectful. The moment she saw me, her expression shifted to concern.
“Oh dear, you’re not looking so well yourself. Are you sure you want to leave the house? Maybe you should stay in bed today.” She extended a hand to me as she had done before, and I could not restrain myself from taking it with both hands. “You look skinnier, Althea. Claire’s departure has really taken a toll on you, hasn’t it?”
“I think it has taken a toll on both of us,” I responded, and she nodded gravely.
“What are you going to do at the library? If you want some books to read, we have a fantastic library here. Some editions are as old as this house.”
“I-I want to do some research on Appleton Hill and the origins of Ashwell. It’s for… the movie idea I had yesterday.”
“Are you really considering filming here? How wonderful!”
Her attitude made a 180° turn as soon as the word movie came out of my mouth. After that, she had no issue with letting me go, along with a thousand recommendations about keeping warm and eating more often. She truly had an interest in the film industry. I thought that Mrs. Appleton maybe had a hidden interest in being a performer. Something told me she would love to be someone else, even for a little while.
“Don’t stay out too late!” was her last piece of advice as I stepped out.
I was not planning on doing so, anyway. Although it had been a good idea initially, the more I considered making a visit to a library I hadn’t seen in fifteen years, the more uncomfortable I felt about doing it. My muscles were sore due to the exercise of climbing up and down the hill. And truth be told, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t think it was safe out there; it made me nervous. I wanted to stay inside the manor, where I felt at home, protected. But if I didn’t do it, Claire would never leave me alone. I needed to fix Tom; he could not get Appleton Hill for himself.
“I wonder what the hell is inside that shelter,” I pondered as I circled the house to where I had left the bicycle. “It has to be something Tom is hiding. Something important that would force him to lie. Why else would Claire want me to find the shed? Maybe whatever is in there will help me stay and take him out of the picture.”
My thoughts diluted into nothing as I found myself facing the bicycle. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to leave it outside, but I never thought this would be the result of a poor decision.
The bicycle was covered in climbers intertwined with the wheels and wrapped around the frame, creating a tight-fitting suit. A shrub had become so tall overnight that its branches, heavy with needles, had grown through the bike’s handlebars.
I felt the bile rising up inside me once again. The last thing I wanted to do was to come in contact with those vines. Their gunk had stuck to my hands, and I’d been forced to wash them three times before I could touch anything else. I swear it wanted to penetrate my skin.
“You’re not going to win this,” I declared to the net encasing the bike.
I started off to the storage room, pulling the door open in one swift swing. I climbed down two steps before remembering I needed some kind of light to find anything down there. I retrieved the cell phone from my bag and shone light around me.
The place was not so big, yet it seemed empty. At the back, among the darkness, were the suitcases I had seen when I first fetched Claire’s bicycle. There were some shelves and cabinets. I also discerned the furnace door hiding away in a corner. I hadn’t thought about it before, but that old thing was probably the house’s heating system. I didn’t see any way to avoid the three steps to get down there, which meant it was an impossible place for Mrs. Appleton to access. I was certain Tom kept the heating working since Claire had gone.
“I can do that from now on. No need to share space with that treacherous man.”
But a shady gardener was the least of my concerns at that moment. First things first: I took the radio out of my bag and placed it on one of the shelves.
“This is your new bedroom, Claire. Enjoy it.”
Then, I searched for any kind of gardening tools that would allow me to set the bike free. There wasn’t a lot to choose from; what was most abundant down there was dust and obscurity. I eventually crossed paths with a shovel and a small pair of gard
ening scissors that were so rusty, I couldn’t even manage to move the handles. There were some empty buckets, an oil can of a brand I hadn’t seen since the mid-90s, and an ax.
“Mental note: this is what I need when I dive back into the woods.”
The rest of what was available were some cracked pots, a few empty potato bags, a larger set of gardening scissors than the one I had spotted before, and a can of gasoline. I tried the larger scissors. This pair at least was not mummified by oxide. I decided to give them a go, even though they were too big for me to maneuver easily. I stepped back out armed with my new set of blades.
What I didn’t anticipate was the stubbornness of the vines. They had grown attached to the frame of the bicycle and the wheels, making it impossible for me to slide one of the blades of the scissors underneath them. I managed to do some damage to the climbers, slashing them here and there, but nothing major. That had a nasty side-effect, as the sap began to leak out, giving me flashes of what I had already experienced. As for the ridiculous bush growing through the bike’s handlebars, I only managed to snip the thinner branches.
Frustrated, I tossed the scissors aside. I needed a new game plan. Only one of the handlebars and part of the seat were clean enough for me to grab without having to touch all the gag-inducing ivy. I seized the handlebar with my left hand and the seat with my right. Praying that Mother Nature’s tentacles wouldn’t touch me again, I pulled the bicycle with all my strength, trying to break away from the green choke hold. Nothing moved.
I pulled again. I pulled a third time.
Wasting my time like this was getting on my last nerve.
“This is not part of the house! It was Claire’s! Leave it alone! You can have the house!” I shouted, throwing a fit.
I had reached boiling point. I had no idea where those words came from, and some part of me was surprised by them, but I felt even more astonished when I realized they’d worked.
Slowly, like headless snakes, the vines retreated, untangling themselves from the bicycle and loosening their grip. The ridiculously skinny shrub seemed to diminish in stature as if someone was pulling it from the inside of the earth. Seconds later, the bike was free. I immediately moved it away from the wall and rode downhill fast, feeling the bitter taste of an empty victory at the back of my throat.
“You can have the house… for now,” I murmured to myself as I made headway through the ever-present fog.
Chapter 25
“Welcome to Ashwell’s Public Library. How may I help you today?”
Her perfect white smile would have been disturbing if it wasn’t for the pixie haircut and the button she had for a nose. She looked like a fairy, even though her hair was completely gray, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste the second she laid eyes on me.
When it came to describing Ashwell’s librarian, she was nothing like they are shown in the movies. A woman in her late 50s or early 60s who had never dyed her hair. She was already the librarian when I was in high school, and she had a full head of gray hair back then as well. In a way, Ashwell’s librarian was way ahead of her time. The woman wore no eyeglasses, so she didn’t look like the mousy females usually portrayed in such roles.
The other thing she had not changed was that she always looked flawless, apparently getting dressed every morning inside Jackie Kennedy’s wardrobe. Immaculately manicured hands and light makeup completed the picture.
“Hi, I’m looking for information on the origins of Ashwell. It is my understanding the town built itself around Appleton Hill, so I am wondering if there is any kind of historical record from that period.”
“Yes, of course. There are a few. We have mostly history books, not so much original historical records. As you were well informed, the Appleton… family was basically the start of this beautiful town.” She smiled, trying to disguise a certain disdain creeping into her voice. “The majority of the original archives were kept by the family. The few we do have tend to be more along the line of accounting books, records of those who they did business with, the slaves they acquired and sold―”
“They had slaves?”
“Yes, well, it was in the early 1700s. Slavery had not been abolished yet. It was not uncommon for landowners to participate in the slave trade. As I was saying, the Appleton family kept the majority of the documents relating to this type of thing. I know for a fact that what we have isn’t even ten percent of everything they did regarding human trafficking. What I can offer you are our oral history collections. These are basically—”
“A lot of people gossiping about the Appleton family?” I asked a question that needed no answer. Her smile faded.
“Not quite, Althea.” So she did know who I was, even though she pretended otherwise. “I would say that ‘a lot of people’ gave testimony of what they experienced at Appleton Hill. You could call it hearsay. I call it evidence. There’s a bit of everything. Perhaps you should ask Mrs. Appleton if she has any information available.”
“That’s not necessary.” Her friendliness had reached sub-zero temperatures. “All I want is a map of the hill. Of the property, basically. I’m wondering if there is something like that available.”
“A map?” Her brows knitted. “Why are you looking for a map?”
“I am, um, producing a feature film about Appleton Hill. And given the condition the land is in, it would be better for the production to have a good idea of the layout of the entire estate.”
“In that case, I believe there are a few books I can show you. But you will have to search through them here. They are the only copies we have; no one is allowed to take them out of the library. Please have a seat and I’ll bring them to you.”
I clenched my hands as a reflex, digging my nails into my palms the moment she said I had to stay at the library. I didn’t want to spend that much time away from Appleton Hill, but if I wanted Claire to leave me alone and get Tom off my back, I needed to solve the shelter mystery. I had already started this enterprise on the wrong foot. I could not afford to lose any more time with all these annoyances. I forced myself to thank her and reluctantly headed to the silent reading room to find my spot.
It was a weekday morning. Except for a couple of elderly men playing chess, the place was deserted. They nodded at me, acknowledging my presence as I walked by, and I responded with a tight smile. After I found a place I liked―far away from prying eyes―I took my coat off and settled for the wait.
Thank God I did so because the first book arrived ten minutes after I had taken a seat.
The second one was ten minutes after that.
And the third one, twenty minutes after the second.
Every time she showed up at my table, all I wanted to ask was if she was binding the books before bringing them out.
“This is all I could find. There are more records regarding the history of our town, but since you’re mostly focusing on Appleton Hill, this is what I can offer you. Please, don’t take the books out of this room and when you’re done, just leave them on the table.”
The librarian walked away with a stiff back, and I was left to my own devices. I felt the occasional sideways stare from the chess players, especially when she mentioned Appleton Hill.
They all want a piece of us.
I decided to focus on the books. The scent of old paper as I flipped the pages was intoxicating. One of the books collected the first editions of the local newspaper. Said newspaper started off as a weekly publication and only consisted of two pages. Another book dealt with the history of Ashwell, and began by dissecting Henry Appleton’s persona. The third and thickest of them all, with a leather binding, was what the librarian had already mentioned―one entirely devoted to oral history. I picked the second one as my first read.
According to the book, Henry Appleton was a mysterious character, known for his insatiable thirst for power and the cruel ways he devised to quench it. Henry Appleton acquired the hill in 1703. He had a career as an Army officer and when he retired, he dedicated himself to
various commercial endeavors.
It is said he was heavily involved in slave trading. However, it hasn’t been historically proven how Henry Appleton came into the money necessary to buy the land. It was a barren place before he arrived; therefore, some speculate the hill and surrounding lands weren’t as expensive as eventually the Appleton estate came to be, I read.
“He built Appleton Hill from the ground up. Why are they criticizing him for it?” I wiped a few drops of sweat from my forehead before continuing.
Appleton had slaves building his property over the course of twenty months. It has been recorded by those who lived under his command that many died during the construction. Some records state a number of ten and others rack up to 123, so there is a mist of confusion around the exact number of lives lost in the creation of Appleton Manor.
Impatient, I fidgeted in my seat. These were hardwood chairs, certainly not comfortable enough to spend hours reading. And the heating system in the place was broken. Why was it so hot in there?
“I’m gonna need a neck brace when I get out of here.” I rubbed my neck, feeling my hair wet.
When construction was complete, as most landowners did at that time, Henry Appleton devoted his lands to a labor-intensive crop. In its early days, Appleton Hill was a tobacco plantation.
This industry gave Appleton the necessary means to buy the social status he was denied at birth, as there are some records that indicate he was the son of a single mother―a schoolteacher named Lucy Appleton. There is a birth certificate, found in the town of Golden Bridge, for a Henry Appleton born in 1673, which would make Henry Appleton around 30 years of age when he settled on the hill. This matches his first marriage certificate, dated seven years after he bought the land―in 1710―stating he was thirty-seven years old. The birth certificate marks the father as deceased, but no marriage record was found to corroborate Lucy being a widow. If this information is correct, Henry Appleton was the fruit of an out-of-wedlock relationship. Often women would lie about such things to avoid social scorn.
The Haunting of Appleton Hill Page 14