The Thornthwaite Inheritance

by Gareth P. Jones

  Hearing the library door open, Lorelli replaced the book and took another from the shelf.

  ‘I’ll never understand what you get out of all this make-believe,’ said Ovid.

  ‘I get to escape,’ replied Lorelli.

  ‘I hear you only narrowly escaped death this morning.’

  ‘Yes, if Adam hadn’t been there your troubles would be over and you would be the sole heir to the inheritance.’

  ‘My dear sister, we have a truce and, I should remind you, an alliance.’

  ‘I’m fed up of your stupid games,’ Lorelli snapped.

  ‘You trust Adam Farthing now he’s saved your life, do you?’

  ‘It seems like a perfectly good reason to trust someone.’

  ‘Unless they slipped something in your drink precisely so they could save you.’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous.’ Lorelli put the book she was holding back on the shelf.

  ‘Am I?’ asked Ovid. ‘I felt dizzy this morning too. And you heard what Hazel said about Mr Helpful warming the pot for her.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to turn me against Adam. The world isn’t full of mysteries and murderers. Some people are just as they appear and Adam Farthing is one of them. He’s friendly and kind and normal. I want to be like that too. We’ve spent all our lives trying to kill each other. You think that’s normal? It’s not.’

  ‘You’re being a fool.’

  ‘No!’ yelled Lorelli. ‘You’re jealous of Adam and you don’t want me to be friends with him because you’re worried that I’ll realise how much nicer he is than you. Well, it’s too late. I’ve already realised.’

  ‘Ah-hem.’

  The twins turned to find Mr Crutcher standing in the doorway.

  ‘Young master and young mistress, I am terribly sorry to interrupt but I heard raised voices and, as you both know, raised voices are not allowed in the library.’ He pointed to a sign on the wall that said, Quiet Please! ‘I also came to say that dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Both Mr Farthing and his son will be joining you for your evening meal.’

  ‘Thank you, Alfred,’ said Ovid.

  ‘Yes, thank you. We’re coming now,’ said Lorelli.

  .

  THE COOK

  In stark contrast to the other servants at Thornthwaite Manor, Mrs Bagshaw, the cook was one of the most naturally and relentlessly cheerful people in the world. She always had a smile for the twins, and reserved all her strict words for Hazel. A number of years ago, the twins had become interested in how she had come to adopt Hazel, but Mrs Bagshaw had not been forthcoming with an answer. In the end, it was Tom Paine, the gardener, who had told them the story.

  ‘Mrs Bagshaw didn’t always live at Thornthwaite Manor,’ Tom had told them. ‘She used to rent a cottage in the village from your father. Bagshaw’s End, she called it. This was before you were born, before Nurse Griddle joined us even. Mrs B. lived there with her husband, Hedley Bagshaw. He worked at the printing press in the village, where they print the Hexford Express. In his spare time he was a local historian. The paper published his articles sometimes.

  ‘Mrs Bagshaw only took a job here to earn a little extra money until she began a family of her own, but things don’t always go the way you expect them, particularly not when planning families. Years passed and there was still no child. Eventually, I guess they gave up. Then one night, with Hedley working late at the printing press, Mrs Bagshaw was alone in the house when there was a knock at the door. She answered it and found a beautiful baby girl with a note asking her to look after her.

  ‘Who left it?’ Lorelli asked.

  ‘She never knew. So she picked up the child and rushed down to the printer’s to tell Hedley what had happened.’

  ‘Wasn’t he there?’ asked Ovid, trying to guess the story.

  ‘He was there all right,’ said Tom, ‘only he was dead. Hedley Bagshaw had tripped and fallen into the printing press. When they finally recovered him, the man who spent his life printing the news was dead with the next day’s news printed all over his body. Mrs Bagshaw never recovered from that.’

  The twins felt sad for Mrs Bagshaw but also found it comforting that the one cheery person in their vicinity harboured a past as dark and upsetting as their own.

  ‘Adam tells me you had something of an adventure today, Lorelli,’ said Mr Farthing as the twins took their places at the table.

  ‘If you call almost dying an adventure, then yes,’ replied Lorelli.

  ‘Thank goodness Adam was there to save you.’ Mr Farthing looked proudly at his son.

  ‘It was incredible good fortune, wasn’t it,’ said Ovid.

  Mr Crutcher entered holding a large bowl of soup, closely followed by Hazel with a basket of bread.

  ‘To start, two-potato soup,’ announced Mr Crutcher, using a ladle to fill everyone’s bowls.

  ‘What’s in it?’ asked Mr Farthing.

  ‘Two potatoes,’ said Mr Crutcher flatly. ‘And I daresay, knowing Mrs Bagshaw, a pinch of salt,’ he added.

  ‘Good. I have informed your cook that Adam has a number of severe food allergies, but one can’t be too careful, you know,’ explained Mr Farthing.

  ‘You shouldn’t fuss so,’ said Adam.

  Mr Farthing took one of the bread rolls Hazel was handing round and accidentally dropped it into his soup.

  ‘You’re such a clumsy oaf, Dad.’ Adam grinned. He took a roll, tore a piece off, and popped it in his mouth.

  ‘Now now, son,’ said Mr Farthing, embarrassed.

  Suddenly the smile fell from Adam’s face and the bread roll fell from his fist. He shot a hand up to his throat and gasped, ‘Can’t breathe . . . my throat . . . my . . .’

  Mr Farthing jumped up, knocking his bowl over, spilling the contents over the table. ‘What is it? What is it, son?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll fetch Nurse Griddle,’ said Mr Crutcher.

  ‘What else was in those rolls?’ demanded Mr Farthing angrily, snatching the basket from Hazel.

  ‘Just a few nuts, sir.’

  ‘Nuts?’ Mr Farthing placed his son on the cold wooden floor. ‘He has a fatal allergy to nuts, you idiot girl. You’ve killed my son.’

  Hazel screamed and fell to the floor in tears.

  ‘Fetch the nurse,’ cried Mr Farthing.

  ‘I’m already here. Stand back,’ said Nurse Griddle, dashing into the room.

  .

  AT LEAST ONE WEAKNESS

  ‘Do you have his EpiPen?’ said Nurse Griddle.

  ‘His what?’ said Mr Farthing.

  ‘His EpiPen. Surely you carry one if your son has such bad allergies.’

  ‘Oh, his syringe thingy, yes.’ Mr Farthing opened his briefcase but was too flustered to find anything so Nurse Griddle snatched it off him and pulled out the EpiPen, took off the wrapper, held it to Adam’s leg and pushed down on the top.

  Adam gasped.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Lorelli.

  ‘This will revive him,’ Nurse Griddle explained. ‘It should reverse the symptoms of the reaction. Mr Crutcher, fetch the stretcher.’

  The stretcher was brought and Adam was carried away by Mr Crutcher and Mr Farthing, with Nurse Griddle close behind.

  Ovid took his place back at the table.

  ‘How can you think about food now?’ said Lorelli.

  ‘There’s no point letting the soup go cold,’ he replied.

  Hazel had stood up and retreated to the corner of the room, avoiding eye contact with the twins.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Hazel,’ said Lorelli, ‘you weren’t to know he was allergic to nuts.’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ replied Hazel, keeping her eyes focused on the floor.

 
Mrs Bagshaw entered the room. ‘What’s happening?’ she said. ‘I heard a commotion. Where is everyone?’

  ‘Adam had an allergic reaction to the nuts in the bread mix, but Nurse Griddle stopped him from dying,’ said Ovid succinctly.

  Mrs Bagshaw turned to look at Hazel. ‘You put nuts in the bread mix? How could you have done such a thing? Mr Farthing told me on his first day about his son’s allergy.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ said Hazel. ‘You didn’t tell me.’

  ‘I didn’t know you would go and do a stupid thing like this. What on earth possessed you?’

  ‘Nuts make it taste nicer,’ said Hazel.

  ‘I agree,’ said Ovid, breaking a piece of bread, dipping it in the soup and taking a bite.

  If the tiniest whisper of a smile crossed Hazel’s face, it didn’t last long enough for it to be noticed by Mrs Bagshaw, who said, ‘You are in such trouble, Hazel Bagshaw. Now go downstairs and prepare the main course.’

  Hazel left the room and Mrs Bagshaw said, ‘Now, I’ll go and apologise to Mr Farthing. You two may finish off your starter. Hazel will bring up the next course shortly.’

  Lorelli sat down opposite Ovid.

  ‘Just the two of us again,’ her brother said.

  ‘I don’t see why you find this so amusing,’ said Lorelli. ‘Adam could have died.’

  Ovid’s smile widened as he reached over the table and grabbed the half a roll that Adam had left. ‘I’m smiling because Adam Farthing has shown us something tonight,’ he said. ‘He’s shown us that he has at least one weakness.’

  .

  PRIDE AND JOY

  Lorelli and Ovid had expected Adam’s episode with the nuts to put him out of action for a couple of days, so they were surprised when he came bounding in for breakfast the next morning looking bright-eyed and brimming with enthusiasm and energy. He was wearing a pair of spotless white jodhpurs and carrying a black riding hat.

  ‘Morning Lorelli,’ he said, beaming.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’ Lorelli asked.

  ‘Two hundred per cent. Thank heavens for Nurse Griddle and my EpiPen. I might have died.’

  ‘Thank heavens,’ said Ovid drily.

  ‘And what a beautiful morning it is. It’s a fine day for a ride to the village,’ continued Adam, oblivious to Ovid’s sarcasm.

  ‘A ride to the village?’ said Ovid, buttering a slice of toast.

  ‘Yes, Lorelli said she would come with me.’ He turned to her. ‘You’re still up for it, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, avoiding her brother’s gaze.

  ‘I went for a run this morning and asked Tom to saddle the horses. Which will you ride?’

  ‘You should ride Pride,’ said Lorelli. ‘I don’t think you could handle Joy.’

  The names that Tom Paine had given the horses indicated how much he loved the animals. Pride was a chocolate-brown gelding. Joy was a piebald mare.

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Adam.

  ‘Pride is slow but dependable. Joy can get a little over-excited,’ said Lorelli.

  ‘I don’t mind riding Joy,’ said Adam. ‘At Saint Swivels we ride every week, so I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Yes, let him ride Joy. He knows what he’s doing,’ said Ovid, taking a bite of toast.

  ‘Like you did?’ said Lorelli.

  ‘I think I’ll take my breakfast into the conservatory,’ said Ovid, standing up and leaving.

  ‘Is he all right?’ said Adam.

  ‘Ovid fell off Joy when he was little and hasn’t been on a horse since,’ Lorelli explained.

  ‘Well, that’s a mistake. You should always get back on immediately after a fall otherwise the fear sets in.’

  .

  After changing into her riding gear, Lorelli met Adam at the front of the manor and they walked down to the stables. Adam was right. It was a glorious day. Tom already had both horses saddled up and ready to go when she and Adam got there.

  ‘Mornin’, miss,’ said Tom.

  ‘Morning Tom,’ replied Lorelli.

  ‘So, is this one mine?’ said Adam, patting Joy.

  ‘Ridden before, have you?’ said Tom.

  ‘Oh yes, I was telling Lorelli. We have riding lessons at Saint Swivels every Friday.’

  Tom looked doubtfully at Adam. ‘Joy can be a bit of a handful.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’ Adam placed a foot in the stirrup and swung himself up. Landing in the saddle, he was suddenly caught by a sneezing fit, which caused Joy to whinny in protest. Once he had got control over his sneezes and the horse he said, ‘I’m sorry, it must be hay fever.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit early in the year for hay fever?’ said Lorelli.

  ‘It seems to get earlier every year,’ said Adam, pulling out a tissue and blowing his nose.

  ‘Just to warn you, Joy’s a bit nappy,’ said Tom.

  Adam looked confused. ‘What? Like sleepy?’

  ‘It means that she likes to go home,’ said Lorelli.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Adam.

  ‘And she likes to eat the flowers,’ said Tom.

  Lorelli mounted Pride and they set off.

  ‘Don’t forget to adjust the girth before you get too far,’ called Tom.

  As they rode out side by side, Lorelli was nervous about the thought of making polite conversation but Adam turned out to be extremely pleasant company. In spite of herself she began to relax. She even laughed when Adam tried to slow his horse down by talking to her rather than tugging on her reins.

  ‘What did they teach you at St Swivels?’ she joked.

  Adam smiled. ‘The horses at St Swivels are trained to respond to your voice.’

  They stopped at the top of a hilly field leading up from Avernus Lake and looked back at the view of Thornthwaite Manor nestling at the base of a wooded hill.

  ‘Those are Huxley Woods,’ said Lorelli, tugging on Pride’s rein to hold her still. ‘And that’s Orwell Hill.’ She pointed to a rocky cliff at the top where the ground suddenly fell away. ‘That cliff’s called Devil’s Leap.’

  ‘Devil’s Leap?’ said Adam. ‘That’s Devil’s Leap?’

  ‘Yes. Have you heard of it?’

  Adam’s usual sunny demeanour vanished and there was no trace of a smile when he replied, ‘That’s where my mother was killed.’

  ‘Killed?’

  ‘The police said it was suicide but I know she wouldn’t leave me on purpose.’

  ‘Who would want to kill her?’

  ‘I don’t know his name but I know his face. When she died, I saved all the drawings she did. She was a great artist, my mum. There were pictures of me and dad and self-portraits too, but mostly there was the face of the stranger. She must have drawn him twenty times or more. I believe that if I find this man I’ll find my mother’s murderer.’

  ‘But didn’t the police try to find out who was in the picture?’

  ‘They never thought it was anything but suicide but one day I’ll find out who killed my mother,’ said Adam angrily. He rode ahead, so that she couldn’t see his face, but Lorelli could tell from the way he drew a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose, that he was crying.

  ‘We should check the girths in case they’ve come loose,’ she said, climbing down from her horse.

  Adam was by the hedge at the top of the field, pulling on Joy’s rein, trying to stop her eating the brightly coloured crocuses in the meadow.

  ‘What is that?’ He looked up and pointed.

  Lorelli led Pride up to the top of the field and looked over the hedge. It looked like a dark cloud hovering across the meadow. For a moment they both stood staring at it, then they heard a low humming that grew louder as the thick cloud got nearer.

  ‘It sound
s like . . . buzzing,’ said Adam.

  ‘Bees!’ exclaimed Lorelli. ‘And they’re coming this way.’

  .

  THE SWARM OF BEES

  The buzzing of the bees swarming towards Lorelli and Adam sounded like an aeroplane flying low overhead.

  ‘Get down,’ said Lorelli, ducking behind the hedge.

  Before Adam could do the same, Joy looked up from the flowers she was munching and saw the bees. Panic struck, she kicked her legs in the air and whinnied.

  ‘Adam!’ shouted Lorelli.

  Adam clung tightly on to the horse as she turned and ran at full pelt down the hill.

  Lorelli stayed behind the hedge as the massive swarm of bees flew over her head in pursuit of Adam and Joy.

  Joy was charging as fast as she could and Adam looked like he was fighting hard to avoid being thrown over her head.

  Lorelli climbed on to Pride’s back and headed after him. She could see that Joy’s girth had wobbled itself loose and the saddle was rocking dangerously from side to side as the horse pelted down the field. The swarm of bees was gaining on them.

  Lorelli watched as Joy took control of the situation. The horse came to a sudden stop and bucked her back legs up. The girth broke and the saddle fell to the ground, sending Adam flying into the lake with a splash. Finally free of her burden, Joy galloped away.

  The swarm of bees meanwhile seemed interested in neither the horse nor the rider. Instead they swooped down towards the saddle.

  Keeping her distance, Lorelli jumped off Pride and reached out a hand to Adam.

  ‘No thanks,’ he said, treading water, ‘I feel safer here. I’ve never seen bees do that before.’

  Lorelli looked at the saddle. It was covered in bees, crawling all over each other.