Page 18 of The Haunting of William Thorn

There was nothing in this world that William hated more than a liar, and he’d just shared a bed with one.

“Where is it!” William shouted, running down the stairs two at a time. His shins ached as he landed on the bottom floor, the force jarring up his legs but the desperation dulling the discomfort. He raced between room to room, searching for the thief. “Edward, where’s the fucking coat!”

William had barely been awake for two minutes before he realised two things. Edward wasn’t in the bed; his side had been perfectly made as if he’d never been there at all. But that wasn’t all.

Archie’s red coat was missing.

William forgot to search for it last night, distracted by everything that happened, only to stretch out his hand this morning, expecting to feel the brush of slick material, to find the space on the bed empty.

The coat was missing. So was Edward. Putting two and two together meant he’d stolen it.

Edward was nowhere to be found. For a moment, William almost believed he’d made Edward’s presence up with his tired mind. That was until he found a mug of freshly brewed coffee waiting for him on the kitchen side. No note, just the coffee proving that it hadn’t been made too long ago.

Not that he expected anything else – but Edward had left Hanbury.

The only evidence he’d even been in the manor was the warm stone of the fireplace in the living room and the two glasses of wine left on the table.

One was empty, whereas the one Edward had held was still full.

William questioned if Edward had even drunk any last night. Turned out the answer was clear as day.

No, he hadn’t. He’d sat back and watched as William quickly got drunk.

Besides the waste of wine, William was furious. At the world, but mostly at himself for letting his guards down only to be burned again.

He’d let a fucking stranger into his house.

A stranger who talked about ghosts, stoking his fear.

William couldn’t help but feel as though it was all in some twisted attempt to make him leave Hanbury.

It was the only reason he could think of.

And now Archie’s coat was missing, the one item that William felt utterly unravelled without.

“Bastard,” William screamed, fighting the urge to punch a wall. “Cheap, lying, brown-eyed bastard!”

William didn’t want to acknowledge the disappointment either, or how deeply uncomfortable he felt.

Why would Edward have taken Archie’s coat?

The storm had passed; the sky was so blue outside it was as if that, too, had never existed.

It wasn’t like he needed it. William was beginning to believe that last night’s apparition was just a drunk-fuelled vision of finding Edward with the coat.

Funny how he’d been there just at the right time.

Why? Why, why, why?

Not knowing what to do with himself, William took the lukewarm coffee and sat outside in the gardens. It was easier being outside the manor than in. Without the pressure of the surrounding walls, he didn’t feel as overwhelmed to deal with his unleashed emotions.

The storm had moved on, leaving in its wake a sense of calm.

Outside the back of the manor, where the kitchen and the living room overlooked, was a small courtyard overlooking untamed bushes, and wild grass.

Towering hedges and tall trees enclosed it, but William knew this was simply a tiny portion of the manor’s lands.

It was clear, from the private nature of this space, that whoever had lived here had used this part of the grounds as a personal garden.

It was also very obvious, in daylight, that Edward had lied about something else.

He’d never tended to the gardens. No one had. Not for years, anyway.

The proof was literally all around him. Weeds, leaves strewed across the long grass. The realisation only made William more furious. He clutched the mug, knuckles white, wondering how long it would take to shatter it.

Blue-bellied sparrows flirted with one another on the cusp of the stone water fountain to his side. It would’ve once been filled with fresh water, but now trails of green goo oozed down the white stone, moss overtaking practically everything in sight.

Another shadow broke away from a gnarled tree, shifting behind a row of wild hedges. William sat up, all anger fading away like sand through open fingers. His eyes narrowed on where he’d seen the movement.

“Edward?” Slowly, he stood up. Placing the mug of coffee down, he moved towards where he’d seen the shadow. “If you think this is all a game to you…”

There was no reply. William paced closer, fists balled. As he rounded the hedge there was nothing to find. The space empty, and void of answers.

A long exhale left him, only to catch when a loud crack sounded at his back. He spun around, scream clogging his throat, to find the mug shattered on the moss-coated stone slabs. Coffee leaked into the grooves, spreading out in a puddle.

Birds scattered from their perches, the stillness of the manor broken for the hard thump of five heartbeats. His eyes scanned the gardens looking for what had caused it. No one could have run up, knocked the mug and then ran off again in the short time it took for William to turn to the noise.

It must’ve been the wind, except the trees around him hardly moved in the breeze. Maybe he’d just not put it down properly. Whatever the reason was, he didn’t even bother picking up the pieces as he rushed back into the manor, shut the door and locked it behind him.

William was in his right mind to call the police, but that idea quickly disappeared.

Wasting their time on a crime involving a coat was ridiculous.

If he called, and the police looked into his record, it wouldn’t exactly go down well either.

What would he say? He could mention that he thought someone was lurking in his gardens, but where was the proof?

They would put him down as mad, as many before had.

A thought crossed his mind. He might not need to involve the police… yet, but he did know where Edward would’ve gone. Stonewell. Which meant William would deal with it himself.

Edward said he lived in the village, so that’s where William would go. Plus, he wanted some space from Hanbury. Not to mention he needed to get supplies anyway. This was killing two birds with one stone.

He dragged himself upstairs, took one of the shortest showers of his life and redressed.

A knitted jumper did well to keep out the morning chill, so William put it back on above a plain, long-sleeved black t-shirt and a slim-fit pair of dark navy jeans.

All that was missing was his round-framed glasses.

They were reading glasses, but since his vision was playing tricks on him, it wouldn’t hurt to wear them for a bit.

He caught his reflection in a large ornate mirror on the hallway beyond the bedroom. He looked as though he dressed for his first day at some prestigious yet snobby university, not a mission to get back what was stolen from him.

Hanbury Manor yawned out around him as William made it out the front door. It seemed to wish him luck in his journey, or beg him not to leave at all. Either way, he was going.

Although he’d attempted to convince himself that last night was nothing but a night terror, it still didn’t prevent him from jumping at the noise. Nor did it keep him from rushing to put distance between himself and the manor as he raced out the front door and up the long, tree-lined driveway.

His pace quickened when he felt the tickle of eyes on the back of his neck. William refused to turn around to look until he was far enough away that the surrounding landscape gobbled the manor up entirely.

Stonewell was the type of village that belonged in a Christmas Hallmark movie.

It reminded William of that one film where the English woman and American woman swapped places during the holidays, whilst both respectively falling in love with a charming man.

It was a shame the charming men here were lousy cheats and liars.

All that was missing in Stonewell were snow-covered streets, flashing lights and the belly-warming echo of carols coming from the single pub in the village’s centre.

William almost felt excited to experience such a place during the holidays. Although work on the manor wouldn’t have started by this coming Christmas, he hoped that by next year, it would be in a position to move in. That’s if he decided not to sell-up.

As it stood, nothing good had come from arriving here… yet.

The wind ripped down the streets at his back, forcing him forward. Chimes rang to his side, drawing his attention to a neat row of different coloured cottages built beside one another.

Someone was out in their front garden, watching William’s every move.

He felt uncomfortable beneath the weight of this attention. Even more so thanks to the lack of a smile that the man didn’t offer him.

William could’ve turned away and kept walking, but something made him raise a hand and wave. The greeting wasn’t returned.

“Morning,” William attempted, offering as kind a smile as he could muster. When the man didn’t reply, William filled the awkward silence with more ramblings. “Crazy storm last night, wasn’t it?”

What in the love of small talk was that?

The man looked down, head shaking, focusing on his task of sweeping leaves off his perfectly manicured lawn. It was as if William wasn’t worth a breath.

“Wow. Tough crowd,” William mumbled to himself, moving on, keen to get away from the scrutiny.

It was soon apparent that the first man wasn’t the only one to cast him unwelcoming looks.

Faces popped between curtains, and people stood smoking on doorsteps.

Even a postwoman walked past, head down, pretending William didn’t exist.