Page 64 of The Haunting of William Thorn

He continued rooting through the draw until his hands found exactly what he was looking for: a stamp. William lifted the lid, and although the ink pad had dried, the symbol etched in rubber was clear.

It was the same stamp used on the letter supposedly from the government naming someone dismissed from active duty. It was the same symbol stamped on the telegram belonging to Edward.

There were more letters of the same, each with a different name. It was in some sort of alphabetical order. He already knew what he was looking for, so he continued searching and searching until he came across the first name he recognised.

“Andrew Dean,” William read aloud. “By declaration of Her Majesty’s loyal government, we declare Andrew Dean unfit for service…”

His eyes snapped up to the picture on the wall, where Andrew Dean stood in the middle of a sorry-eyed group, with Robert Thomas’s parents on either side of him.

“What’s that?” Edward muttered, barely able to get those two words out.

“I think I just found out the reason why no one from Stonewell served during World War Two.” William picked out the pile, spreading them all out across the table.

He took it all in, scanning every name until he found another he recognised.

“There’s one here for Robert as well. More for other names.

Most of them are dated after Robert’s death… ”

“So the Thomas family enjoy collecting official documents?” Edward asked. “Seems like an odd hobby. I thought stamps were more desirable for collectors…”

“No.” William pushed the pages around, scattering them on the floor. “No, this isn’t a collection. I think they forged them. Edward, these are all fakes. Every last one of them.”

More family names stood out, the same ones etched into the brass plaque beneath the picture hanging on the wall. This is what Robert’s father was doing… forging documents for those he met with to keep them from fighting.

“I think… this group were forging documents to keep themselves safe,” William said, a seed of understanding blossoming in his gut. “There are loads of letters. The earliest dated in 1939 whilst the last one was in early 1941.”

“It… would make sense. If someone forged them, that is why there’s no official listing on government websites.”

“I think they forged Teddy’s telegram too.

” All the evidence pointed to it. The paper, the stamp and the typewriter.

It was all here – as well as the names of the men and woman involved in this strange group, all who happened to have children at the time of the war – children who evaded service.

“This is the proof you wanted. Proof Teddy never left for the war like you first believed.”

But the realisation soon soured when William figured out the next part – Edward, too, because he spoke it aloud.

“So if they forged it, and knew Teddy never went, they knew he also never left Hanbury.”

William swallowed down the creeping bile, focusing on finding more information to piece this together.

“This is why the people in Stonewell didn’t want me here, isn’t it?

” William asked, as he began rummaging through the final two drawers.

In the second, he found a letter opener, its edge dull but still sharp enough to nick skin.

He put it in the band of his trousers and moved on to the final drawer.

“What’s to say Mike Dean knows about the illegal activities that happened here.

Maybe a secret passed down his family line.

And he… they didn’t want me finding out and bringing Stonewell’s dark past to light. ”

“Perhaps,” Edward managed. “But how dark is this revelation really? Families protecting one another. Doesn’t seem like the most evil thing a person can do.”

“You’re right.” Sympathy swam in every vessel in William’s body. “It’s certainly a crime, but one made in the name of love.”

When Edward didn’t reply, William looked up to find his head lulled to the side.

“Hey,” William snapped. “Eyes open.”

Edward didn’t even try. “I’m so tired, Will.”

“Me too,” William replied. “Not long until we are out of here, I promise.”

He dropped the letter opener and kicked it over towards Edward. It cracked against his boot, the sound enough for him to pry his eyes open. “A gift?”

“You could call it that,” William said. “A gift that you can smack into Mike’s head if he tries anything when we open the door.”

“I don’t know if I have it in me…”

William snapped his eyes over to Edward. “If you want my forgiveness, you better goddamn try.”

William had something over Mike and the people of Stonewell. Deep down, he couldn’t blame the families for wanting to keep their children safe from the hell that was war, but at the same time, they paid the price to keep this secret buried, and Hanbury remembered.

Teddy’s fate was still an unanswered question.

There wasn’t much in the final drawer besides a few more personal items. A collection of cigars rolled over a photo of two young boys.

William recognised the younger of the two – the smiling face of Robert Thomas, no older than two at most. But there was an older boy – no, man , likely in his early thirties.

Turning the photo over, William read the names.

Archibald and Robert Thomas, 1914.

This was Robert’s brother who died in service during World War One. The man who William’s Archie could be linked back to.

Another piece of the puzzle piece waiting to be clicked into place.

“This was their motivation,” William said, holding up the picture.

“Robert’s parents had already lost someone they loved, to war and didn’t want it happening again.

Along the way they came up with the idea of saving others from the same fate of their Archie.

They helped an entire village evade unnecessary pain. ”

“Hard to hate them for it,” Edward groaned. “Although, we’re missing something.”

He was right. But it wasn’t hard to hate them for what they did. “Do you think Teddy found out, and they killed him because of it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think that’s one answer we’ll never get.”

They were close. So close that William could practically taste the sweetness of this exposé. He was prepared to find out, no matter what.

William closed the drawer, ready to move on when it burst open again. The wood hit his shin, sparking pain down to his ankle. Clearly, hearing William’s yelp was exactly what Edward needed to perk up. “Are you okay?”

He hadn’t opened the draw himself… something else had. And from the prickling across his back, he got the impression they both weren’t alone in the room anymore. Maybe they never had been.

“I’m fine,” he said, reaching his hand back into the draw, seeing if there was something else he was meant to find. “I think I’ve been shown something else that’s important.”

Edward didn’t question it, only listened.

William’s fingers grazed the smooth edge of a box. As he drew it out, something hollow rattled inside of it. Tilting his head, he saw that, much like the photos on the wall, the box had a brass plaque nailed into the lid. He scratched at the rust with his nail until the name was clear.

“It’s a small box of some kind. Maybe something that belonged to Robert because it has his name engraved on it,” William said, turning it over to catch the dull light.

“What’s inside of it?”

William shook it, the sound reminiscent of paintbrushes rolling around. There was only one way to find out. Laying the box atop the blanket of dismissal letters, William pried it open.

What waited inside, laid out amongst red-silk cushioning, was not paint brushes as he first expected.

William stumbled back, hand clamped over his mouth to stop the scream from escaping. Although his eyes were fixed on the horror inside the box, William was well aware of the bent-necked figure watching from the shadowed corner of the room – expectant to what he’d just uncovered.

“Bones,” William gasped. “It’s bones.”

“Whose?”

William looked at the plaque, reading the name again until the truth unravelled everything he’d come to believe up until that point. “I think these are Robert Thomas’s bones.”