Page 14 of The Haunting of William Thorn
“You need more than money. Look around you. It’s a challenge. The state of the manor will drive the price so far down there isn’t even a point. Who’d want to live in a place like this, besides the gossip of ghosts and missing people?”
William couldn’t begin to understand why Archie would leave this to him. It felt like a cruel joke, the last nail in the proverbial coffin.
“Well, someone once loved this place, I’m sure you could too – or whoever you sell it to if that’s what you decide.” Edward’s reply had a hopeful tone that William didn’t miss.
“Yes, like who? Archie’s family abandoned it, and money isn’t an issue for them.”
“The allusive Thomas family.”
“You know about them?”
“I do.”
William’s skin bristled at the thought of this stranger knowing about Archie’s family.
“Everyone knows Hanbury Manor was home to the Thomas family,” Edward continued just as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside.
“Stonewell remembers them, where others might not. I told you, stories are important even when people don’t deem them as such.
Especially when people try and forget them. The Thomas family were no exception.”
Edward wasn’t entirely wrong. Archie rarely spoke of his dad’s side of the family.
There had been no mention of the Thomas family, besides his surname…
the one William would’ve one day taken as his own.
Archie’s family had barely reached out to William since he died.
That’s when the solicitors got involved.
Hearsay suggested that Archie’s parents were pissed off that he’d left this place to William and not back to them.
“I think that book you’re holding is about Archie… my ex’s… ancestor. Robert Thomas or something.” The name only meant something because of the journal currently clutched in Edward’s hands.
“Oh no, William. Robert Thomas had no children.” Edward ran careful fingers over the journal’s cover, sending a warm caress over William’s skin.
“That would’ve been impossible. It was Robert’s older brother, Archibald, who died in World War One, leaving behind a young wife and an infant child.
That’s the only Thomas line that… survived Hanbury. ”
Dread crept its ugly head inside of William. “Are you some local historian as well as a gardening expert, then?”
“Simply a man interested in the family.”
William shifted in his seat, finding himself suddenly uncomfortable. “Consider this a question for you then. What happened to them?”
“Well.” Edward didn’t look at William in the eyes as he spoke. “Both the Thomas sons died.”
“Robert Thomas died?” William asked.
Well, of course he died… it was the inevitable end for us all. However, there was something in the way Edward was gazing down at the journal that promised more of a story to that fact.
“He did, and he was far too young.’ The storm responded with another flash of lightning, casting the room in pure white.
A heavy sadness pulled down at Edward’s features as he regarded the book.
“After Robert died, his parents left Hanbury for a while. Perhaps the memories were too painful for them to continue living here, or maybe they were running from something. Over the years the Thomas’s attempted to move back, but never stayed for long.
Until you. You’ve broke the wheel that was the Thomas’s tragedy. ”
“Running from what?” William asked, purposefully ignoring the last comment.
Edward didn’t even need to answer, a simple look was enough.
“Ghosts again?” William barked. “Oh come on, Edward. I hardly believe that.”
“Why not?” Edward asked.
William took another long swig from the glass. A dribble worked out of the corner of his mouth, caught quickly by his tongue. Edward noticed, diverting his eyes suddenly.
“For starters, if I lost someone I loved, and they haunted me, I don’t think I’d run away from it.”
William didn’t just think that. He knew it deep in his bones. If Archie had roamed the rooms of their flat in London, perhaps William would never have left London.
“Well, it’s all speculation, of course.” Edward added. “Not that we should talk about ghosts, considering you can’t do anything about them now. The proud new owner of Hanbury Manor hasn’t got time to worry about ghosts on top of strangers breaking and entering – oh, and the sleepwalking.”
Discomfort shivered over William’s skin. Not even Edward’s attempt at sarcasm could divert his train of thought. “What happened to him?” he asked. “Robert, that is. You said he died too young.”
Edward opened the journal, scrutinising the first page. William could practically feel the tender softness of his touch, like a phantom brush of wind across the nape of his neck, which trailed down his spine.
He really should stop drinking.
“No one knows all of it,” Edward said, breaking out of his sudden sadness. “Robert Thomas’s story is yet another missing piece of Hanbury Manor’s history. Perhaps that’s what makes this place haunted in the first place.”
“You really can’t believe that,” William said in jest. “Ghosts, hauntings. It’s all a load of shit.”
“Perhaps it is,” Edward said. “Is there any harm in wondering, though?”
“Yes, actually, there is,” William said.
“Because I have to stay here until the end of the week, and if I start believing in ghosts, I have an awfully long walk back to the nearest town. Not to mention, Hanbury Manor is mine now. I hardly think I’d have any luck selling it.
Imagine ‘quaint manor in the Cotswolds with lush gardens and, oh yes, ghosts’. That will really fly off the market.”
“Maybe another heartbroken boy will find it and decide it looks like the perfect distraction from their normal life?”
Edward’s words struck William hard in the chest. He noticed the regret crease over Edward’s face, but William stood before he said anything in the realm of an apology.
“And on that note, I’m going to bed.” William snatched the journal from Edward’s hand. The cover was noticeable cold to the touch. Even admitting his fury, William hoped to feel the comforting warmth of Edward’s touch lingering on it.
“Was it something I said?” Edward said urgently. “I have a bad case of ‘foot in mouth disease’. I’m sorry.”
William could hear his disappointment laced in every word he spoke. He could’ve told him exactly how painful his words were, but he didn’t have the energy.
“Good night, Edward,” William said as he moved for the door. He had Robert’s journal in one hand, and in the other, he had his wine glass. He would finish it in bed whilst reading another excerpt. “I hope the sofa serves you well, and the ghosts leave you in peace.”
Edward didn’t try to protest for William to stay. Instead, he looked longingly towards him, then to the journal in his hand, and back again. “Are you going to barricade me in this room tonight?”
The thought hadn’t even passed his mind. “No, I’m not. Count yourself lucky.”
But that didn’t mean William wouldn’t put something on his side of his bedroom door, just in case.
“I’ll be gone by morning,” Edward said. “Weather permitting.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can find an umbrella for you somewhere.”
Edward sighed through a smile. Regret was a funny thing, evident in every deep line across Edward’s forehead. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I do have a bad habit of speaking before I think.”
Defensive and drunk, it was William’s turn to say something he’d regret come morning. “Don’t worry, Edward. I understand that it isn’t your fault. You’re a man whose only company is plants after all. I’m sure you’ve just not mastered the ability of speaking to actual people just yet.”
Then, with that, he turned and left.
A sharp prickling spread across the nape of William’s neck as he left the room. The feeling was electrifying. It lit his skin ablaze. And it didn’t fade. If anything, the sensation got worse.
All this talk of ghosts affected his drunk mind. By the time he got back into Robert’s bedroom, which he’d claimed as his own, he froze to the spot. Dread dragged its sharp talon down his spine as he felt an intense gaze bore through him.
A brush of frigid wind tickled over the back of his neck.
There was a presence behind him. He knew it with intense certainty. Beneath the attention of the on-looker, William felt sick. It cramped his stomach and twisted, making his head light. He couldn’t get a hold of his emotions as they ran rampant through him.
He held his breath as he turned around. As he did, he spoke a single name. “Edward?” It came out of him in a brush whisper.
But there was nothing behind him. No Edward. No eyes. Just an empty hallway lit by the weak bulbs and another flash of lightning.
William was alone. And now he was more pissed off. How dare Edward come in and scare him with talk of ghosts.
Throwing open the door to his room, William wormed his way inside and slammed it shut behind him. The feeling that had overcome him didn’t leave until he clambered into the comfort of the bed and opened the journal to the last page he’d read to.
If Edward wasn’t going to answer his questions about the Thomas family, perhaps Robert would himself.