by Morgana Best
Before I had gone far, she called me back and thrust a tall goblet of wine into my hands. “Take this with you, and drink it, but sip it slowly. It takes some getting used to.”
“Throw your clothes outside the bathroom door and I’ll wash them for you,” Aunt Dorothy called after me. “I’m about to do the laundry.”
I walked up the staircase, wine goblet in hand, skirting the yellow police tape around the centre of the foyer. I averted my eyes from the scene, even though the victim’s body was no longer there. I shook my head. What a strange beginning to my new life.
I opened the door to what was to be my new room for the next few days—I hoped no longer than that. I immediately crossed to the windows and opened the curtains wide. My aunts dreaded open windows, saying that people would look in, and that the sunlight would ruin their antique furniture. The aunts’ bedrooms all looked over the front of the house, but this room looked over the back of the manor. It was a secluded location, so it wasn’t as if people would look in at any given time.
I tied back the heavy gold brocade drapes with the golden rope tassels hanging at the sides. I made to open the tall sash window, and then had second thoughts. If a creature had dragged a man onto the roof, would it be able to get through my window? I shook my head, dispelling such fanciful notions. The person was clearly murdered by a human, not an overgrown angry wombat.
I flipped the latch and pushed the window upwards. It was a struggle, probably because it hadn’t been opened in years, but to my delight, it opened fully. I looked around the room for something to hold it open. I didn’t want to be the cause of the heavy sash window falling down and smashing. These things would be awfully difficult to replace, not to mention highly expensive.
I couldn’t see anything, so instead took the five hideous cushions from the bed. They were all a faded beige tapestry and looked antique, not my taste at all. It took some doing, but soon I had them all wedged between the windowsill and the bottom of the window. Later, I would find a piece of dowel or even a piece of wood to keep the window open, not that I planned to have it open at night. I usually liked to sleep with fresh air, but I would rather sleep in a locked and bolted room with no chance of entry by anything, human or otherwise.
That done, I turned to have a good look at the room. There was a huge double four poster bed in some sort of darkly varnished wood, and an enormous antique dresser topped with an equally huge mirror. An old rocking chair, also covered in tapestry, sat in one corner, and a heavily upholstered gold brocade armchair sat in the opposite corner. I was pleased to see a pedestal fan near the window. The air was already growing humid, and the gathering black clouds signalled a coming thunderstorm. I usually collected stormwater to use in spells, but there was no way I was going outside, given the circumstances.
I flung open my suitcase and retrieved some comfortable clothes and my make-up bag.
The bathroom was across the hallway from my bedroom. As the aunts’ wing was at the front of the house, I would have this bathroom to myself. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to having to use it in the night and leaving the safety of my locked bedroom.
I opened the door to the bathroom and, like my bedroom, it was clean. I thought perhaps the aunts had employed a maid to clean it just before I arrived. The whole manor was spic and span. I smiled, grateful that my aunts had taken me in. I knew they genuinely did need help with the business, but I’m sure their motivation was kindness towards me.
The bathroom was small, typical for a home of this age. Of course, when the house had been built, all the bathrooms would have been outside and this would have been added at a later date.
Tiles covered every inch of the room—ceiling excluded, of course. They were off-white, and surprisingly tasteful compared to some other parts of the house I’d seen.
The bath was a heavy claw foot affair, as imposing as it was pretty. I turned on the water and held my hand under it until it ran hot, and then adjusted the temperature. I rummaged through my make-up bag for my cleansing potions. I pulled out a little bottle of dill herbs, and sprinkled some in the bath. Dill was good for removing jinxes. I also selected a little glass vial of Bluo, laundry blue. It was a traditional hoodoo method for removing crossed conditions, crossed conditions being otherwise known as curses, hexes, or jinxes. I didn’t put too much in the bathwater, because even a tiny bit turned the water bright blue. I also threw in some dried lemongrass. I had grown my own herbs, ones I used for witchcraft, in containers in Sydney, and I wasn’t able to bring them on the plane. I had given them away to a neighbour. Here, I would have to start from scratch, but I would have a lot more room to grow my herbs.
It didn’t take long for the bath to fill, so I was pleased that the water pressure was good. It wasn’t always so in such old houses. I stripped off and threw my clothes just outside the door. It was kind of Aunt Dorothy to do my laundry for me. It was so good to have family again.
I piled up my long hair on top of my head. I just didn’t have the energy to wash it. I cleaned my face, a little surprised to see how I looked in the mirror. I tried to reassure myself with the fact that it was probably the harsh light; then again, it was probably the truthful light of day. This bathroom was most likely the brightest room in the house, thanks to the huge windows at the end of the little room. They were frosted, so while no one could see in or out, they nevertheless allowed a great deal of bright daylight to flood the room.
I hopped in the shower and soaped myself, and then quickly rinsed. Soap should never be used in an uncrossing bath, so I had to soap up first. I got out of the shower, careful not to slip on the wet floor, and then lowered myself into the bath.
The temperature was just perfect, and I leaned back with a sigh of delight. The warm water massaged my tense neck muscles, and I wiggled my toes. I remembered that I hadn’t unpacked my little plastic jug and placed it next to the bath, but never mind, I was sure the uncrossing would still work. In hoodoo tradition, one should pour bathwater over the head seven times—either that or fully submerge the head, and I wasn’t going to do that in the blue water—and then save a cupful of the water to throw out to the east. I wasn’t even sure which direction in this house was east, but I would check the compass on my phone later.
I was almost drifting off to sleep when I heard a loud knock on the door. I heard the door creak open and I slid further under the water. “Are you in there, Valkyrie?” Aunt Dorothy’s voice asked.
“Yes, Aunt Dorothy.”
“I’ll just take your clothes and wash them.”
“Thank you.”
I should have thought to lock the bathroom door. No sooner than I thought that, I heard the door creak open again. “You know, Valkyrie, with what just happened today, you should’ve locked the bathroom door.”
“Thanks, Aunt Dorothy. I’ll lock doors from now on.”
I lay in the bath so long that it turned cold, and I had to keep topping it up with hot water. I loved baths, but my tiny little apartment had an equally cramped shower, no room for a bath. In fact, there had been no room for anything in that apartment.
Lying in the bath for some time, a sense of inertia set in. I finally willed myself to get out of the bath, despite not having the energy to do so.
I hauled my tired body out of the bath and towelled myself dry, but couldn’t find my clothes. I thought I’d put them on the chair next to the door. I poked my head around the door, but there was no sign of my clothes. I groaned. Clearly, when Aunt Dorothy stuck her head in the bathroom, she had taken my clean clothes as well as my dirty ones. No matter. I shut the door and finished drying myself.
I draped the towel around myself and crossed the hallway. I wrapped my hand around the brass door knob and pushed. Nothing happened. It was locked. Why on earth was my bedroom door locked? I tried it a few times, and then with both hands, shook the door knob so hard that my towel almost fell off.
Surely Aunt Dorothy wouldn’t have locked my bedroom door when I was in the bathroom? Perh
aps it had just jammed. I put my shoulder against it and pushed hard, but it didn’t so much as creak.
“Aunt Dorothy?” I called out. There was no response. There was nothing else for it—I would have to go in search of my aunts and the key to my room. I only hoped that the detectives didn’t choose this moment to come back to question any of us.
Chapter 5
As I made my way downstairs, I somehow got lost. It wasn’t too hard to do in Mugwort Manor; it was a veritable labyrinth.
I took a turn left instead of right, and ended up in an eerie corridor I remembered from my childhood. The aunts had always warned me sternly not to go in that wing of the house. They had called it the Forbidden Corridor.
No small wonder; it was straight out of a cheesy horror movie. It was long, and so dark towards the back that I couldn’t even see where it ended. The floor was covered in a thin red carpet that barely covered the creaking floorboards beneath, and the walls were set with the same heavy wooden panels as in most other rooms. A strange smell hung in the air, like eucalyptus leaves and the red dust of the Outback, mixed with something pungent, like a wild animal.
My bare feet trembled on the faded Axminster carpet. Was that a vibration I felt? I put my hand on the panelled wall and yes, it did appear to be vibrating a little. I walked around a bend in the hallway and came face-to-face with a door I had always feared.
How had I forgotten? It all came flooding back to me. There was something about that room that held fear for me, something I couldn’t quite remember. Many times over the years I had tried to remember, or rather, had thought I should remember but wondered if I really wanted to do so. I suspected that, as a young child, I had seen something in that room that had terrified me.
As I turned hastily to walk away, I saw a pulsating red light emanating from the crack under the door. I stood there, frozen to the spot, my breath caught in my throat.
Part of me wanted to turn and run, but part of me wanted to know what was going on. I crept along the hallway to the room and gingerly reached out my hand for the door knob. I touched the door knob, and when nothing happened, I turned it. That door, too, was locked. I put my ear to the door and heard Aunt Agnes’s voice. It was striking, as if she was commanding someone.
I turned and walked away as fast and as silently as I could. It seemed as if every floorboard creaked. My breathing was laboured as raw fear coursed through me.
When I was safely around the corner, I heaved a sigh of relief.
What was going on in that room? Perhaps it was simply the aunts’ altar room. They had said they were witches, and they wouldn’t want anyone stumbling across their magical works. That was what I wanted to believe, but I had the niggling feeling that it was something more than that.
My towel was threatening to fall off, so I tucked it back in and made my way to the main staircase.
I went to the laundry first, but there was no sign of anyone, nor was there anyone in the kitchen. The washing machine was whirring away. “Aunt Dorothy,” I called loudly.
Perhaps she was having a cup of tea in the living room. I hadn’t heard anyone else in the upstairs room with Aunt Agnes. I stuck my head in the living room and called out again. I was beginning to become a little frustrated. I was wearing only a towel, and I was locked out of my room.
I did not know where to look next, but the ringing of the doorbell decided for me. “Aunt Dorothy?” I called out. No one responded, so I figured it had to be her. She was deaf, after all, and any other person would have replied. I hurried to the front door and flung it open. As I did so, my towel caught on a sharp point of the old brass door handle. My towel flew me and fell to the ground. I snatched it up and wrapped it back around me, but too late. I looked up into the horrified face of the visitor.
It was Lucas O’Callaghan.
Chapter 6
I could have died. I really did want the ground to open up and swallow me.
“I need to speak to your aunts,” he said in a clipped tone. “It simply won’t work, Miss Jasper. Flashing your wares has no effect on me, of that I can assure you.”
I was so filled with rage and embarrassment that I was struck speechless for a moment. He pushed past me and walked straight into the house, uninvited.
“How dare you!” I called out to his retreating back. “I’ll have you know I was just in the bath and Aunt Dorothy took my clothes and I was down here looking for her and I called out and you didn’t answer, so of course I thought you were Aunt Dorothy!” I was so furious that I spoke too quickly, my words tumbling one over the other.
He turned around, confusion over his face. Okay, it wasn’t the best explanation, but I had just flashed my naked self at a stranger, a rude stranger who for some reason known only to himself thought I was after his body.
Aunt Dorothy appeared in the room, looking as shocked as I felt. “What’s going on?” she asked, looking me up and down.
“Aunt Dorothy, did you take my clothes? My clean clothes that were on the chair inside the bathroom door when I was in the bath?”
“Oh, were they your clean clothes? I thought they were your dirty clothes. I’m so sorry, dear. Is that why you’re wearing a towel?”
I took a deep breath to try to calm myself. “The reason I am wearing a towel,” I said slowly and carefully, enunciating each word precisely, “is that my bedroom door was locked. Did you lock my bedroom door?”
Aunt Dorothy walked over to me. “Yes, Valkyrie. You said you wanted your door locked.”
I took another long deep breath and let it out slowly. “Not when I was on the other side of the door, Aunt Dorothy. How did you expect I would get back into my bedroom to get my clothes? And now your guest has accused me of wearing a towel to attract him, or some such thing.” I shot him my best glare. This time, I did expect him to apologise.
“I didn’t think you were wearing a towel to attract me,” he said.
“But you said…”
He interrupted me. “I thought you removed the towel to attract me.”
Heat slowly rose from my toes until it covered my face. My whole body burned with anger. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t think of anything sufficiently censored. I was aware of my mouth opening and shutting, and I became even angrier as I couldn’t think of anything suitable to say. Finally, I said through clenched teeth, “My towel got caught in the old brass door knob. If you go and have a look at it, I’m sure you’ll see threads of the towel in it. And I don’t find you the slightest bit attractive. Sure, you’re okay to look at, but your personality leaves a lot to be desired. In fact, I’d call you a pig, but I like pigs—they’re nicer than people.” I thought that might be going too far given that he was a guest, but then again he had insulted me. I turned to Dorothy. “Aunt Dorothy, may I have my bedroom key?”
“Certainly.” She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to me. I walked up the staircase in my towel with as much dignity as I could muster. I was halfway to the top when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I swung around, and Lucas O’Callaghan was staring at me. He whipped his head away as soon as I caught him looking at me. Various emotions coursed through me. I was mortified; I was embarrassed; I was furious.
I dressed hurriedly and did not put on any make-up, in case the irritating Lucas O’Callaghan was still there and thought I had put on make-up specifically to seduce him. That man sure had problems, thinking women were throwing themselves at him. The nerve of him! Talk about conceited.
This time when I went downstairs, I found all the aunts together in the living room. They were staring at their knitting, their knitting needles clacking away ninety to the dozen. Mercifully, there was no sign of O’Callaghan. “Has that man gone?” I asked them.
“Yes,” Agnes said.
“What did he want?”
“He came to ask us to stay inside and keep our doors and windows locked.”
I frowned. “That was it? But the police already said that. Surely there was more to it?”
I snorted rudely. “That’s exactly what the police said. Is he some sort of undercover police officer or something? Or a private detective?” I was puzzled.
“I think he’s just an interfering busybody,” Maude said. “He thinks we’re helpless females.”
I thought they were helpless females, too, but I wasn’t about to say so. “I think it’s very strange for him to come here and say that. If he has any new information, he should go to the police.”
The aunts muttered amongst themselves for a moment. Agnes was the first to speak. “He’s just an annoying man trying to throw his weight around. Pay him no mind.”
I wondered if they were keeping something from me. “Is that all he said?”
The three of them nodded. I bit my lip, but I did sense that they were telling the truth about that. “What are we going to do?”
“Do?” Aunt Agnes echoed. “We’re going to go to the police station and give our witness statements, and then I’m going to prepare dinner. While I’m doing that, maybe you could look at our website and see if it needs tweaking in any way.”
“I know you mentioned you had a website,” I said, “but I wasn’t able to find it, and you weren’t able to email me the website address. How do people book?”
“By calling us, of course. There’s the telephone on the reception desk. How else would they book?” Agnes looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.
I thought I would tackle the whole question of the website later. Clearly, it was going to be a somewhat serious task. “When are we going to give our statements?”
“As soon as you’re ready, dear,” Dorothy said.
“Okay, just give me a moment to get dressed.” I hurried back to my bedroom and put on some better clothes, brushed my hair, and this time applied make-up.