Page 20 of The Haunting of William Thorn

William had never felt so unwanted in a place. The feeling was so physical, so palpable, it ruined the taste of his drink and rushed him out of the pub. Even before the door closed on his back, he heard the conversation start up once again.

But he wasn’t leaving Stonewell yet – not without Archie’s coat. And for that, he needed to find Edward. How hard could it be in a village so small you could sneeze, and everyone would blame you for the spread of influenza?

He took himself to the local shop – a pokey little building with almost bare shelves and limited supplies. He wasn’t about to waste more money on meats and fresh produce this time, so it looked like he’d spend the rest of his week eating tinned soup, bread and a healthy amount of chocolate.

Of course, he brought wine – three more bottles, to be precise.

It almost took him by surprise when the shopkeeper smiled at him. What was more surprising was that it was as close to genuine as possible. She was a lithe woman with grey hair knotted in a bun. Kind eyes enlarged by round glasses that kept slipped down the thin bridge of her nose.

After exchanging a few pleasantries and asking William if he needed a bag for an extra twenty-five pence, she felt brave enough to get into the nitty-gritty.

“How are you getting on at that old manor?” she asked, carefully laying bottles inside a brown paper bag. “It must be keeping you busy.”

William expected an undercurrent of negative interest beneath her question. “Are you hoping I’ll tell you it’s been awful and that I can’t wait to sell up?”

“Goodness, no.” She shook her head, laughing beneath her breath. “Ah, so you’ve already been introduced to my fellow Stonewell neighbours then.”

“Is it obvious?” William asked, chewing the insides of his cheeks until they were shredded. “A very unhappy Mr Dean has expressed his disappointment that I’ve moved in.”

“Mike,” the shop keeper said with a grimace. “He’s only sensitive because his family have ties back to Hanbury for generations. The Dean family have single-handily run the police force – if that’s what you can call them – of Stonewell far longer than before I made roots here.”

“He’s a police officer?” William gawped, glad he never called them now. “Are positions scarce around these parts… actually, don’t answer that.”

She laughed, inspecting each chocolate bar before she put it in the bag. “Not everyone in Stonewell has bad memories about the manor. Don’t let the rest spoil a good thing for you.”

Surprised by her response, William felt a sliver of what might be comfort with the woman. She wore a faded name badge, and some of the letters were worn but still legible to make out her name. “Don’t share those thoughts too loud. Mike might hear you, Barbara.”

“It’s not the living I fear, William.”

He quickly realised that he’d not shared his name with her, which only cemented his knowledge that Stonewell knew more about him than he did about it. “Is that comment a shoehorn for you to warn me about the ghost everyone seems crazed about?”

“Not ghost,” she replied. “That implies there’s less than one.”

“So you believe in all that too?”

“I’d be an idiot not to.” Barbara pushed the bag over, accepting a folded twenty-note as payment.

“Hey, I imagine your welcome here hasn’t been as warm as you deserve.

But there are a handful of us who remember the stories of Hanbury and aren’t scared by them.

Small but mighty I say,” she said with a wink.

“If you need anything during your stay, just come here. I’m happy to assist, whereas others may not be. ”

“What’s Mike’s problem then?” The question fell out of him.

“He… it’s complicated.”

William leaned onto the counter, solidifying his physical presence and proving he had nowhere else to go. “Indulge me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

It wasn’t like the shop was heaving.

Barbara looked around as if there were people lurking in the walls, listening in.

“A way back, so far that a lot of people in Stonewell have forgotten, but there was a small investigation that Mike’s own grandfather was a part of.

Missing people, young lads actually not much different than yourself.

It was in the throes of the second world war and a couple of local lads were believed to have gone missing on the grounds.

Wasn’t good for Mike’s family because all eyes were on them and their investigation. It was a trying time for them.”

William was reading between the lines, growing discomforted by the tension that set over the room. “Missing people?”

“After… the tragic events of the Thomas family a few locals went investigating the empty house. They never came back. What conspired was they actually never went to Hanbury because before long their families received telegrams from the front lines confirming their passing in service. It was a terrible time for the families.”

Something wasn’t sitting right with William. “So they went missing in Hanbury, and turned up dead in the war?”

“Seems odd when you say it like that.” Barbara’s eyes misted over with an emotion that William couldn’t place, then she rocked back and smiled.

“Of course no one will know those young men’s motives.

It was wartime, many people did strange things.

Conscription was a pressure on anyone’s mind.

Just be lucky that we aren’t affected by such things in this day and age. ”

William knew when someone wanted to end a conversation, especially because he had mastered that skill himself. “Well, thank you for that. And the kindness. It’s a rare thing apparently.”

Barbara nodded, smiling so wide that her wrinkled eyes folded closed. “Most welcome. And remember, if you need anything you come and see Ol’ Babs, that’s what they call me.”

William thought of Edward. There was no better time or person to ask about him than with Barbara, considering this was the first conversation that didn’t result in William being asked to leave.

“Actually,” William said, clutching the bag beneath his arm. “I’m looking for someone. Maybe you could help with that?”

“Aren’t we all! Who’s caught your fancy, Will? I can call you Will, can’t I?”

William nodded, although the real answer was no. No one called him by that nickname, not in a while. “There’s someone called Edward I’m looking for. He visited me yesterday, and… took something from me. I’m wanting to get in contact because what he took was very important tome.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Edward who?”

There was something about the way she said it that made his stomach turn. “I never actually caught his surname, but he said he lived in Stonewell, and I really need to speak to him.”

Barbara turned her focus on the till, fiddling with money just to give herself something to do. “Are you sure that was his name?”

“Yes – no,” William replied. “I don’t know, honestly.”

Truthfully, he didn’t know anything about Edward, only making him feel more of an idiot for trusting the stranger. Then, another detail came to mind, something specific. “He said he’s been tending to Hanbury’s gardens since it has been vacant. Although I’m beginning to think that is a lie, too.”

The silence between them stretched out, making William regret even bringing up this conversation. Barbara seemed… frightened. Her skin had taken on a green tinge; her lip worried between her teeth as she studied him.

“Something wrong?” William found himself asking. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Behind him the bell above the door dinged. He turned, looking to see who had entered, only to find that nothing was amiss. The door was closed, the brass bell atop it was still. No one stood in the entrance. Looking back at Barbara, it was as if she hadn’t heard it.

“Forget I asked–”

“There was a man called Edward who worked on the gardens at Hanbury, but that was many, many years ago. Although he was known by another name I believe.” Barbara ran hands down her apron, itching to get away from the conversation.

“I’m really sorry, Will. I think someone local has been playing a nasty joke on you.

If I was you I wouldn’t pay them any mind and try and carry on with your time here. ”

William watched her snatch a pen from her pocket, tear a spare bit of receipt from her till and begin scribbling something down on it.

“If this Edward comes back, call me.”

She handed the receipt to him, flashing her phone number in neat handwriting.

“Sorry, I’m confused,” William admitted, taking her number with shaking fingers.

“As am I,” Barbara said, bulbous glasses slipping down the tip of her nose.

“What do you mean another name? Are you saying you don’t know Edward?”

“I don’t. There is no one local named Edward. I would know. Everyone comes through my doors, and I take pride in knowing them all by name.”

“But…” William didn’t know what to say. A cold, creeping dread traced down his spine, making every inch of him stiffen. “I saw him. I spoke to him, he–”

Shared my bed . But William couldn’t admit that, the poor woman would have a heart attack.

“Just call me if you ever need me.” She patted his hand after folding his fingers around the receipt.

“My family, like everyone else in Stonewell, knows the manor well. We all have our own stories and roots that linger deep beneath those stone walls. Some of us wish to keep them together, others want to rip it down. But either way, we have our reasons.”

William fixed his eyes on hers, wondering if she read just how frightened he felt. “Who’s the Edward you were referring too?”

A wave of sadness creased Barbara’s face, pinching the wrinkled lines beside her eyes and paling her lips as she drew them tight. It was as if her body wanted to stop her from answering the question, but she was far too kind for that.