suffer.” She didn’t want to think of Edith’s corpse slowly oozing black blood across the floor, so she dragged the subject back to slightly safer ground. “So the light was the best-known mystery. You said there were others?”
“Oh, heaps.” Beth, unrepentant, spoke around a mouthful of scone. “Kids would sometimes dare each other to go up Ashburn Walk and see how close they could get to the house before chickening out. A lot of them swear they saw a tall figure pacing back and forth, back and forth behind drawn curtains. Some say they heard manic laughter and hysterical screams. And of course, they all reckon the house is haunted. Terry said he was standing at the edge of the woods when he heard someone breathing behind him, but when he turned, there was no one there. And Michael claims he got right up to the porch when a ghostly face appeared in one of the windows then vanished before he could scream. Those could’ve been made up, though. Kids love to scare each other.”
“Not just kids.” Jayne glared daggers at her companion.
“I don’t think she was a bad person.” Marion was clearly trying hard to inject some lightness into the conversation. “A couple of months ago, I was volunteering at the vet’s clinic—I can earn extra credits in my course for practical experience—and Miss Ashburn came in carrying a dog she’d found. It’d been hit by a car and had a fractured leg. We were able to fix it up and find its owners, but it probably wouldn’t have survived if Edith hadn’t brought it to us, so… yeah. I think she liked animals.”
“She came into the library every week too,” Sarah said. It was the first time the thin-faced woman had spoken since entering the room, and she seemed to have trouble meeting their eyes. “She never really talked, but she always returned her books on time. I’m not supposed to tell you what she borrowed—we’ve got confidentiality rules—but they were usually classics.”
“Which is pretty much the entire extent of the library’s collection,” Beth said with an eye-roll.
Sarah pursed her lips. “We bought three new releases this month. But, um, yeah. We were founded on donated books, which were mostly old ones.”
“What was she like?” Adrienne couldn’t stop her curiosity. Her mental image of Edith Ashburn was gradually being filled in, like a jigsaw puzzle that became clearer with each piece of information. “She must have been quite old when she passed away.”
“Sure was,” Beth said. “At least ninety. No one’s really sure when she was born, but Dad thinks she was closer to a hundred.”
“And she lived alone?” The image of Edith walking the hallways, delirious or deranged as she carved messages into the walls, haunted Adrienne.
“She was really independent,” Jayne said. “Some people in town went out of their way to be friendly to her, especially as she got older. My mum actually invited her to have dinner with us one night, and Mrs Western tried to give her a basket of groceries a couple of months before she passed. But she always rejected the offers. And not in a thank you I’m fine sort of way. She mostly glared at you then walked away.”
“Like I said, she didn’t really talk much except when ordering groceries.” Beth finished her tea and slid the saucer onto the table with a gratified sigh. “It was like she had a finite number of words and didn’t want to waste any on you.”
“Huh.” The mental representation of Edith Ashburn was coalescing into something far less grandmotherly and far more severe than Adrienne had been hoping for. She glanced around at the furniture—rose-pattern chairs, dark timber tables and bookcases, and the antique patterned wallpaper—and tried to imagine the gaunt, tall, cold woman stalking through the house, occasionally pausing to gaze out of the windows or stoke the fire.
Then a new image interjected itself into her mind: Edith, dead, lying on the wood floor, her blank eyes
“Oh, heaps.” Beth, unrepentant, spoke around a mouthful of scone. “Kids would sometimes dare each other to go up Ashburn Walk and see how close they could get to the house before chickening out. A lot of them swear they saw a tall figure pacing back and forth, back and forth behind drawn curtains. Some say they heard manic laughter and hysterical screams. And of course, they all reckon the house is haunted. Terry said he was standing at the edge of the woods when he heard someone breathing behind him, but when he turned, there was no one there. And Michael claims he got right up to the porch when a ghostly face appeared in one of the windows then vanished before he could scream. Those could’ve been made up, though. Kids love to scare each other.”
“Not just kids.” Jayne glared daggers at her companion.
“I don’t think she was a bad person.” Marion was clearly trying hard to inject some lightness into the conversation. “A couple of months ago, I was volunteering at the vet’s clinic—I can earn extra credits in my course for practical experience—and Miss Ashburn came in carrying a dog she’d found. It’d been hit by a car and had a fractured leg. We were able to fix it up and find its owners, but it probably wouldn’t have survived if Edith hadn’t brought it to us, so… yeah. I think she liked animals.”
“She came into the library every week too,” Sarah said. It was the first time the thin-faced woman had spoken since entering the room, and she seemed to have trouble meeting their eyes. “She never really talked, but she always returned her books on time. I’m not supposed to tell you what she borrowed—we’ve got confidentiality rules—but they were usually classics.”
“Which is pretty much the entire extent of the library’s collection,” Beth said with an eye-roll.
Sarah pursed her lips. “We bought three new releases this month. But, um, yeah. We were founded on donated books, which were mostly old ones.”
“What was she like?” Adrienne couldn’t stop her curiosity. Her mental image of Edith Ashburn was gradually being filled in, like a jigsaw puzzle that became clearer with each piece of information. “She must have been quite old when she passed away.”
“Sure was,” Beth said. “At least ninety. No one’s really sure when she was born, but Dad thinks she was closer to a hundred.”
“And she lived alone?” The image of Edith walking the hallways, delirious or deranged as she carved messages into the walls, haunted Adrienne.
“She was really independent,” Jayne said. “Some people in town went out of their way to be friendly to her, especially as she got older. My mum actually invited her to have dinner with us one night, and Mrs Western tried to give her a basket of groceries a couple of months before she passed. But she always rejected the offers. And not in a thank you I’m fine sort of way. She mostly glared at you then walked away.”
“Like I said, she didn’t really talk much except when ordering groceries.” Beth finished her tea and slid the saucer onto the table with a gratified sigh. “It was like she had a finite number of words and didn’t want to waste any on you.”
“Huh.” The mental representation of Edith Ashburn was coalescing into something far less grandmotherly and far more severe than Adrienne had been hoping for. She glanced around at the furniture—rose-pattern chairs, dark timber tables and bookcases, and the antique patterned wallpaper—and tried to imagine the gaunt, tall, cold woman stalking through the house, occasionally pausing to gaze out of the windows or stoke the fire.
Then a new image interjected itself into her mind: Edith, dead, lying on the wood floor, her blank eyes
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