Page 17 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House

The following morning, Edward was late to rise. He’d instructed his man to let him sleep after the drama of the night.

‘Have you heard if Noah Garrod has been found?’ he asked, as Carl sharpened the cut-throat razor on the strop, before embarking on the close shave that his master always demanded.

‘Yes, he was wandering the streets, sir, disorientated and seemingly not knowing where his house was. Not good on such a bitter night. He took the news better than expected, however. Told the constable they’d had a quarrel on the common outside the pub, and Silas got all fired up over nothing, but he’d left him alive and well.

Some stranger in a fancy top hat had interfered and Noah left the two men bickering.

The implication was that this stranger might be responsible… He must be talking about you, sir.’

Edward nodded. The youngest Garrod brother was lying but he hoped Mrs Grimmer would vouch for his whereabouts when Silas had fallen.

She might be a drunk but she’d have no reason to implicate him in the death, especially as he’d saved her from possible injury.

But what struck him most about Noah’s words was that Edward was no stranger to the Garrods, as they’d spent that evening together in the pub.

The man was a bit slow, but Silas had addressed him by name and Noah should have recognised him as Mr Blackmore, even in the dark.

‘What exactly’s going on, sir?’ Carl took the blade to Edward’s face and there was the satisfying scraping sound as he slid it through the white shaving cream.

Edward shared his suspicions that something other-worldly was at play and that malevolent spirits were possessing the good folk of Thistlewick Tye. He didn’t care if Carl thought him silly; he was paid enough to agree with everything Edward said and to do his bidding, regardless.

His manservant wiped the blade on the cotton towel and snorted. ‘You’re telling me that the very nonsense we spend all our time trying to convince people is real, might actually be the truth, after all?’

Edward shrugged. ‘It’s a possibility.’

‘Nah, I don’t buy it.’

Carl tipped Edward’s chin to the ceiling to see if he had missed any stray hairs and then wiped the remainder of the lather off with the towel.

‘For a start, where are these spirits coming from? A soul is pretty much the essence of a person, right? So, someone has to die for that part of them to float out?’

Edward thought back to the night of the storm and the bones raining down onto the beach.

It was the grave of at least one person, likely more, who’d not been buried in the churchyard for some reason.

Mrs Drayton said that all good Christian folk had that privilege, so who did that leave?

Criminals? Heathens? Those who’d died long before the church had been built?

Or maybe even foreigners who worshipped other gods?

‘The Thistlewick Tye cliffs are collapsing and a grave has been exposed. Maybe these are the spirits.’

Carl’s face was reflected back in the mirror in front of Edward and the man’s expression was of disbelief, as he raised one eyebrow. ‘One hell of a jump there, sir, if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘Maybe, but there’s definitely something off about those bones.

You don’t bury people willy-nilly in common land, and certainly not in well-established and civilised villages.

A gold chain fell to the shore in the same place, and the grave isn’t deep enough to be truly ancient.

So, I want to find out who they were. Because if we’re told that a group of people from a foreign shipwreck was buried near the cliffs two hundred years ago, for example, then at least we’d have a connection between a girl called Esfir and Noah talking another language.

’ Carl looked unconvinced. ‘Maude Grimmer collects things from the foreshore to sell, so if anything else of interest has been exposed, then she’s the person to ask.

’ He thought back to how she’d snatched the gold chain from him.

‘Do you want me to pay her a visit, sir? I could make her talk.’ He raised his eyebrow again but in a more disconcerting manner. Even though the woman had attacked him on a previous occasion, Edward didn’t want her harmed or scared.

‘I’ll do it. But I’d still like you to ask around. Find out if there’s a legend attached to the village – the arrival of foreigners, pirates or gypsies. I didn’t come across anything when I went through my cousin’s library, but not all history is documented.’

‘Very well, sir.’

There was a knock at the bedroom door and Edward glanced in the mirror to check his appearance was satisfactory before he announced they could enter.

‘This was found on the doorstep first thing, Mr Blackmore. And the constable is here, wanting to have a few words about Mr Garrod’s death.’

Mrs Drayton presented a small basket containing a pair of pale grey kid leather gloves, a green silk neck scarf, a luxury hair tonic and a small bottle of cologne.

It had been left at the back door, which was most unusual, and she couldn’t think why the person who’d delivered it hadn’t rung the bell.

She handed him the small card tucked into the front.

‘Your help contacting my beloved mother was appreciated and I feel I can finally move on. Please take this gift as a thank you.’ He turned the card over and frowned.

‘Is there a name, sir?’ Carl asked.

Edward shook his head. ‘They must be especially grateful to have tracked me down to Norfolk. Perhaps your sister passed on this address. It’s surely not from Dr Appleby.

He wouldn’t even admit Margaret was his mother.

Be so kind as to put it on the bed for now, and help yourself to the hair tonic.

I won’t use it,’ he added as an afterthought.

Carl didn’t need telling twice and swiped the small glass bottle. ‘Might give me an edge with the local ladies,’ he joked. ‘Got to be some benefits to being away from home.’

And he winked as he left the room.