“Cate, did you happen to move the paint brushes from the conservatory? They’re missing.”
“No I didn’t touch them, sorry. Do you want me to help look?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Is everything okay?” Cate could tell her sister was wound up about something.
“Yeah, I’ve just got to find the brushes. See you later.” She left the study and went into the front living room where Rahni was watching television.
“Rahni, did you move the paint brushes from the conservatory?”
“Nope. I haven’t been in there,” came the reply.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely positively, Auntie Charlie.”
“Thanks anyway.”
Charlie went through every room on the lower floor, opening cupboards to search inside, looking high and low for where the paint brushes could be hiding. Frustrated beyond belief she went back to the conservatory and stood in the doorway. She looked around the entire room with her eyes, hoping that she would spot them somewhere. Her eyes fell on the bench and the newspaper sitting on top. She couldn’t believe her eyes, she raced over.
Sitting exactly where they should have been were the cleaned paint brushes, all lined up next to each other exactly how she had left them. She didn’t believe what she was seeing, she had searched everywhere for them when she had last been in there. She thought back to her search, she wasn’t going mad, they definitely hadn’t been there before. Or maybe she had just not seen them somehow, maybe she had just totally blanked on them.
She considered whether Blair would have had enough time to sneak down and put them there without her noticing. She shook her head, he wouldn’t have been able to. She had been downstairs for only a few minutes and had been through the hallway a half-dozen times. She would have seen him come down the stairs or enter into the conservatory.
She picked up the brushes but didn’t want to take them back upstairs. Having just yelled at Blair for taking them and then lying about it, it would be difficult to explain how she now had them in her possession. He would gloat and say he was right, she thought to herself, unable to shake her mood. He may have been right about not moving the brushes, but he wasn’t right about anything else, she concluded. He had no right to yell and accuse her of not trusting him. That was by far worse than just accusing someone of moving some paint brushes.
Charlie needed to cool off before returning back upstairs. She went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, also preparing a mug for Blair. If she took a peace offering, maybe it would go down better. She really didn’t want to go upstairs and apologise. She sat at the kitchen table and watched the steam rise from the mug, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible.
* * *
Blair didn’t know what had just happened. One minute he was using masking tape to cover up the skirting boards, the next he was having a yelling match with his girlfriend. He didn’t mean to say the things he said, she had just got to him, hitting a nerve when he was tired. He sat on the lounge, making a dent in the sheet that was covering it. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do next, he thought about going downstairs after Charlie, apologising, but he really didn’t think he needed to. After all, it was her that had accused him so easily of something he didn’t do. There she was, jumping to conclusions again without even a thought that it might, just might, be someone else that had taken the brushes. He wasn’t the only person in the house that had access to them.
He turned the masking tape roll over and over again in his hands, winding the roll around his fingers and back again. He’d already gone right around the skirting boards and roof, the only thing left was the fire place that sat against the far wall. He wondered how long it would be before Charlie came back - was it even worth finishing with the taping? Knowing her as well as he did, he figured that she would probably be downstairs letting off some steam - probably telling Cate all about how he had hidden the paint brushes from her. She would be conveniently leaving out her side of the argument, blaming the whole thing on him. Then he would have two women mad with him due to no fault of his own.
He stood up, trying to shake his irritation. He had work to be done, missing brushes or not, someone had to get this room painted. He crossed the room to the fireplace and knelt down in front of it. He took a good look at the ornate carvings that ran down both sides. It was impressive craftsmanship, two vines intertwined that ran from the top to the bottom. Flowers were spread evenly throughout, he thought they might be daises to match the gardens outside. He peeled back the masking tape and set to work running it around the edges of the fireplace where it met the wall. It would be a tragedy to get paint on any part of the fireplace, it would also get him in more trouble.
He straightened his legs and stood up. He started to pull the tape up both sides, moving to the top of the mantelpiece. He had almost finished when a noise startled him. He dropped the tape. Feeling like an idiot he bent down and picked it up again. He thought he’d heard footsteps down the corridor and the sound of the shower running. The running water was close, he figured that it had to be Charlie in their room. Why she needed a shower in the mid-morning was beyond him.
“Maybe she will cool down,” he said to the empty room, “She could have at least told me if she’d found the brushes first though.”
Blair finished with the fireplace and put the masking tape roll on top of the piano. He walked to the large glass doors that led out onto the balcony and looked outside. He was waiting for Charlie, trying to work out what he should do. Take the high road and apologise, or take the low road and not give in. Normally he would have given in, he never liked being on Charlie’s bad side, it wasn’t worth the effort. But today he didn’t feel like rolling over and just taking it, he was the one that was in the right, it should be her to concede. He continued surveying the backyard, not really seeing anything. There were a few cows grazing in the far distance but other than that it was just green lawn.
Blair checked his watch, he could still hear the shower going. He estimated that a good ten minutes had passed since he had first heard the water running. No-one could possibly be that dirty - or angry - to warrant a shower that long. If nothing else, it was a waste of water. He decided to go and investigate, still unsure exactly what he would say when he saw Charlie, maybe she would be the one to back down first.
The door to the blue room was closed which wasn’t unusual. Most of the doors in the corridor were kept closed. He remembered being told it stopped the dust circulating or something like that. He turned the knob and opened the door. The bathroom door was closed too, that was unusual. Neither he nor Charlie had ever closed it to take a shower since they’d arrived. She must really be mad at him if she didn’t want to risk him sneaking a peak at her showering. He lightly knocked on the door.
“Charlie? You in there?”
No answer came in reply. The only sound he could hear from behind the door was the constant water running. He tried again, no response. He tried the door handle - at least she hadn’t locked it too. He turned the handle and opened the door. He was confronted with a wall of steam, it rushed through the open doorway and into the rest of the room.
“Geez, is it hot enough in here? What are you doing, boiling yourself?” He said to the foggy room.
Still receiving no answer, he walked towards the shower, more by memory than from sight. The room was so full of steam it was difficult to see anything directly in front of you, let alone across the room. He passed the basin and toilet before finally reaching the shower recess.
“Charlie, are you okay in there?”
No response. He pulled back the shower curtain to peep through, making sure that it was actually Charlie in there. Cate or Rahni would have no need to be using their shower, but you never know in this house - especially considering his luck today. He couldn’t see anything but steam through the small slit he’d made between the wall and the curtain. He pulled it back further.
The shower was empty, save f
or water and steam. He reached in, careful not to get scolded by the piping hot water. He turned the hot water tap off and the flow of water ceased. He didn’t even have to touch the cold tap, there had been no cold water running.
“Explains all the steam,” he reasoned to himself. He backed away from the shower and turned to face the rest of the room. It was only a small ensuite, only big enough for a shower, small bath, toilet, and vanity - all the essentials. There was nothing else out of place in the room, the towels were still neatly folded over the rail, the various hair and teeth paraphernalia were still on the vanity.
He took a breath and started crossing the room to the door. As he passed the vanity something in the mirror briefly caught his eye. He stopped and stared into it, barely seeing anything except his faint outline in the fog-covered mirror. He had thought he’d seen something move in there, not his reflection - more a woman’s. With his right hand, he smeared away the condensation on the surface, leaving a streak across the mirror. He stared at his eyes in the reflection.
As he was looking, he saw it again. Partially clouded by the fog, he saw a woman standing in the mirror. Blair looked behind him, certain he was going to see someone standing right behind him. All he saw was steam still swirling around the room. He looked back to the mirror and the face was gone. He told himself he was just imagining things, letting the heat get to him. He left the bathroom as quickly as he could, the room was hot and steamy - his clothes were starting to feel damp.
Blair left the blue room and went back to the living room, shaking his head. He couldn’t work out why or how the shower had been running like that. He supposed the handle might have a faulty washer on it, that might cause the knob to be loose and slip around to the ‘on’ position. He told himself he would ask the hardware shop attendant next time he was in there. If there was something wrong with the fixtures, he would need to work out how to fix it. He also made a mental note to ask Cate how long it had been since she’d had someone look at the plumbing. When the house was originally built, there would have been only the basic plumbing throughout the house. Nearly every single pipe was a new addition at some stage in the house’s history.
He sat back on the lounge, waiting for Charlie. This time he left the door to the corridor open, giving him a full view of the hallway.
* * *
Charlie had almost finished her tea by the time she had calmed down enough to return back upstairs. She checked on Blair’s tea, it was almost cold. She boiled the jug again and poured a fresh mug while she finished hers. She spooned a little extra sugar into his tea after it had been stirred and started up the staircase. She was dreading the next few minutes, trying to explain how she had the paint brushes.
She walked down the corridor and could see Blair sitting on the lounge. He didn’t look happy, she took a deep breath and held out the mug.
“I made you a cup of tea, would you like it?”
“Thank you.” He took the mug from her and sipped from the edge. His face stayed even and uncommitted, he couldn’t quite gauge her mood yet.
She held up the brushes. “I found them. I’m sorry for accusing you.”
“Where were they?” Blair still had an edge in his voice, his annoyance had not gone away.
“They were in the conservatory, I must have missed them when I first looked.”
“So they were still there? So we had a fight over nothing?”
“As it turns out, yes. I said I was sorry,” she gave him an apologetic look, hoping it would help the situation.
“Yeah well, you didn’t have to jump to conclusions like that.”
“I know. Should I start painting while you finish your tea?” Charlie tried to change the subject. It was awkward to say the least.
“No, I’m alright doing this on my own. Why don’t you go and do something else for a while?”
“If you’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Charlie looked at Blair for a moment, she didn’t really want to leave him to paint the entire room by himself. It wasn’t fair to him, but by the look on his face, she was doing him a favour by leaving. She turned and walked back down downstairs, reeling. That hadn’t been the Blair she was used to. He didn’t usually harp on anything, he usually just got over it. She was the one that held grudges, not him. She felt terrible, her stomach was churning. Whatever was in the house and had hidden the paint brushes from her was now affecting other parts of her life. It was personal now.
She walked straight for the front door and went through, down the lawn and out the front gate. She was going to find out exactly what was wrong with the house and the only lead she had was from the woman down the road. She picked up her pace, almost running towards the house at the end of the street. She prayed the woman was home and that she wasn’t exerting herself for nothing.
She ran up to the front gate and peered over. The woman, Louise, wasn’t gardening in the front yard like she had been a few days earlier. Charlie opened the gate with a creak and headed down the path towards the front door. She looked for a doorbell but couldn’t find one, reluctantly, she knocked instead.
There was no response so she knocked again. This time she could hear footsteps approaching from the other side. Within a few seconds the door was pulled open and the old woman was standing before her expectantly.
“Miss Charlie from Sage Manor, what a nice surprise. Did you go walking without water again?” She smiled.
“No, actually I came to see you. I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to talk?”
“It’s the country and I’m retired - of course I have a few minutes. In fact, I have all day if needed,” Louise stepped back from the door to allow Charlie to enter. She ushered her over to the lounge room and offered her an armchair to sit on. “Is your sister okay? I saw the police there a few days ago. Nothing else has happened, I hope.”
“No, nothing like that. We thought someone had broken into the house but it looks like it might have been a false alarm. That’s partly why I’m here actually.”
Louise took the armchair next to Charlie’s. She offered her a drink, but the invitation was declined - Charlie was here on a mission and not to socialise.
“We haven’t had any break-ins, if that is what you mean. I haven’t seen any strange people around either. Not that I would really notice anyway. I’m either inside here or out in the garden in the dirt. I don’t see much of the outside world.”
“That’s okay. The other day when my boyfriend and I were here you said that your husband refused to go to Sage Manor. I’m really curious about why not.”
“It’s best not spoken about, dear.”
“Forgive me if I sound rude, but I really need to know.”
The woman studied Charlie’s face. A few moments of silence lingered in the air between them before she finally spoke. “I don’t think you do really want to know.”
On the verge of tears all of a sudden, Charlie persisted. “I do, Louise. Something is going on there and I don’t understand it.” The tears welled in her eyes, a few escaping to run down her cheek. Louise arose from her chair and disappeared into the kitchen, she returned with a box of tissues and offered them to her. “Thanks,” she sniffled.
“If you really want to know then I have to warn you there are some things you can’t un-know. If you know what I mean,” she waited for Charlie to nod before proceeding. “My dear husband would never go up to Sage Manor because he was scared. A grown man, scared of a house. Who would have thought?”
“What was he scared of? Did anything happen to him?”
“Nothing directly. He just said every time he entered the house, he would feel like he couldn’t breathe. He would describe it as all the wind leaving his lungs, all the blood draining from his veins.”
“Did it only happen the one time, or every time he went there?”
“He went there on a total of two occasions in his lifetime. Both times it happened. The first time he put it down to being ill, maybe spending too mu
ch time out in the sun. The second time he was convinced it was the house that was making him feel that way. From that day onwards he vowed never to return, and he didn’t. I still remember him coming home that day, he didn’t have an ounce of colour in his face. I made him lie down on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon. And you know, it took him all afternoon to recover from the experience.”
“What did he think it was?”
“It was hard getting details out of him. He was a man’s man, you know the type - never discuss their weaknesses. He would just say there was something evil there, he didn’t elaborate.”
“Have you ever been to the house?”
“Quite a few times. I never felt easy being there, but I always thought it was just because of my husband’s reaction. Mind over matter and all that. I think it’s a beautiful house, especially the way it’s been so well kept over the recent years.”
“You mentioned last time there were rumours?” Charlie’s tears had dried up now they were out of her system. She was relaxing into the chair, emerged in the conversation.
“There have always been rumours about that house. Probably because it’s the oldest in the district, it lends itself to ghost stories.”
“Ghost stories?”
“Some say that the house is haunted but I don’t know if I really believe that. Why would anyone want to come back from the wonderful afterlife just to scare people? Makes no sense to me, I find humans scary enough!” Louise chuckled to herself.
“Can you tell me what they say exactly?”
“Nothing specific, just the usual creepy feelings experienced in the house. Probably similar to my husband, I suppose. There have been a few murmurs about a crime happening there though.”
“What kind of a crime?”
“A murder.”
The hairs stood up on Charlie’s arms. She didn’t like the sound of that. “A murder?”
“According to the town grapevine - and I warn you this is all from a very long time ago, these people have all left town or passed themselves by now - a young woman was murdered there many, many years ago.”
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