The Thornthwaite Inheritance

by Gareth P. Jones

  A loud bang on the door made them all jump.

  ‘Great,’ said Adam. ‘I do hope that’s someone else with another dramatic revelation to make.’

  A second bang rattled the door.

  ‘Come in,’ said Ovid.

  A third seemed to vibrate through the floor itself.

  ‘We said, come in,’ yelled Adam.

  As though in response the door swung off its hinges and flew across the room, crashing into the right side wall, knocking a portrait of Lord Elroy and his wife to the floor. Where, moments ago, the door had been, there now stood a large brown bear. It growled as though announcing itself and entered the portrait room on all fours, walking with slow deliberate steps, its head bent low.

  ‘It’s one of the devil’s demons,’ screamed Father Whelan, ‘come to reclaim this house of sin.’

  ‘It’s no such thing,’ said Nurse Griddle.

  ‘It’s the bear I met in the woods,’ said Ovid.

  ‘Hazel, get behind me,’ said Mrs Bagshaw.

  ‘We can climb through the window,’ said Hazel, turning the latch and pushing the large high window but finding that a tree branch outside prevented it from opening wide enough.

  ‘Let me do it,’ said Skinner. He pushed past Hazel and tried to force the window open without success.

  ‘Everyone stay calm,’ said Ovid. ‘Panicking will only make it worse.’

  ‘Panicking? Who’s panicking?’ said Mr Farthing hysterically. ‘After all, there’s only a huge angry bear in the room with us.’

  ‘Adam, where are you going?’ said Lorelli, seeing that, while everyone else had retreated to the corner of the room, Adam was sidestepping along the wall, trying to get past the bear without it noticing him.

  ‘I can get past it,’ he said.

  ‘Be careful, son,’ said Mr Farthing.

  As he spoke, the bear swung its large head to look at Adam.

  Adam froze.

  ‘Does anyone have a stick?’ said Ovid, looking around for something to use.

  ‘I must have left my bear-baiting stick at home,’ said Skinner sarcastically.

  The bear took a step towards Adam.

  ‘Look at the floor!’ shouted Ovid. ‘Don’t make eye contact.’

  Shaking in fear, Adam looked down.

  ‘What about this?’ Father Whelan handed Ovid the large wooden cross that hung on a long chain from his neck.

  Ovid took it and stepped forward. ‘Come on, then, let’s see how you like this,’ he yelled, swinging the chain and bringing the cross down hard on the bear’s head.

  The bear growled angrily but took a couple of steps back, allowing Adam enough space to slip through the door out of the room.

  ‘You saved his life,’ said Mr Farthing.

  ‘And angered the bear,’ said Skinner.

  The bear had recovered from the shock of being hit and was approaching again.

  Everyone was now standing behind Ovid, who was brandishing Father Whelan’s cross, trying to look as menacing as possible.

  ‘We need something bigger to hit it with,’ said Hazel.

  ‘There’s no furniture in this room,’ said Skinner.

  ‘We need to open this window,’ said Nurse Griddle, who was still trying to push it open.

  ‘Adam will come round and open it,’ said Mr Farthing.

  ‘One of the portraits,’ said Lorelli. ‘Use one of them.’

  The only picture in reach was the one above the fireplace. In a heavy wooden frame, it was the oil painting of the twins’ parents.

  ‘No, not Ruth’s picture,’ said Mr Farthing, ‘you can’t.’

  ‘They’re our parents,’ said Lorelli, ‘and the living are more important than the dead.’

  ‘Well said,’ said Skinner. ‘Father Whelan, help me with this.’

  Ovid took another swing at the bear with the cross, but the bear had obviously decided that Ovid and his weapon didn’t pose quite as much of a threat as he had initially thought.

  Father Whelan and Skinner lifted the portrait off the wall. ‘Move out of the way,’ said Skinner.

  Ovid gave the bear one more hit with the cross before stepping aside.

  ‘Now,’ said Skinner. The two men allowed the painting to tip forward so that the solid wooden frame crashed on to the bear’s head, causing it to let out a howl of agony and to thrash wildly about, smashing the glass and tearing straight through the picture. As it struggled to understand what had happened and how to get free, shards of broken glass cut into its skin, drawing blood, angering the bear even more.

  Everyone was so focused on this horrible spectacle that it wasn’t until they heard Adam Farthing’s voice behind them say, ‘What are you waiting for?’ that they realised the window was open.

  ‘Quick, let’s get out,’ said Skinner.

  ‘Son, I knew you’d come,’ said Mr Farthing, reaching for his hand, scrambling up then tumbling clumsily through the window and landing on top of his son.

  ‘Hurry, hurry,’ said Father Whelan.

  ‘I’ll help you up, Hazel,’ said Mrs Bagshaw.

  ‘No, you go first,’ said Hazel.

  ‘No time for politeness,’ said Skinner, barging past and clambering out to safety.

  Hazel helped Mrs Bagshaw out, followed by Nurse Griddle. Father Whelan gave Hazel a leg up then followed her hastily, leaving only Ovid and Lorelli in the room.

  The bear had finally torn its way through the picture. Wounded and confused, it had retreated to the corner of the room but, after inspecting its wounds, it was now beginning to growl angrily. It showed its teeth and moved towards the twins.

  ‘You go first,’ said Ovid, swinging the cross threateningly at the bear.

  ‘We’ll go together,’ said Lorelli, taking his hand.

  Ovid let go of the chain and the cross whacked the bear on the nose. The bear snarled but before it could retaliate Lorelli and Ovid quickly climbed up to the windowsill and jumped out.

  .

  A LAWNMOWER AND A BOTTLE OF CHLOROFORM

  Because of its remote position, Thornthwaite Manor didn’t get many passers-by so there was no one to witness the odd collection of people jumping out of the high window. And there was no one, apart from those people, to witness the appearance of a large brown bear at the same window.

  ‘Save yourselves!’ shouted Father Whelan, running away as fast as he could, his black robes flapping behind him.

  ‘Wait for me,’ shouted Skinner, following him without a moment’s thought for those he was leaving behind.

  The bear tried to get a grip on the windowsill to heave itself through but slipped and banged its chin, causing it to roar loudly in pain.

  ‘Come on, son, we need to leave,’ Mr Farthing said, trying to help Adam up from where he was sat on the ground.

  Adam batted his father’s hand away but as he stood up he cried out and fell back down. ‘My foot,’ he moaned. ‘You hurt it when you landed on me, you big idiot.’

  ‘Your foot will be the least of your troubles if we don’t get out of here,’ said Mr Farthing, tugging at his son’s arm.

  ‘Let me help.’ Nurse Griddle took Adam’s other arm. She turned to Hazel and said in a commanding voice, ‘Hazel, take Mrs Bagshaw to safety.’ To Ovid and Lorelli she said, ‘You two as well.’

  Nurse Griddle, Adam and Mr Farthing made their escape as quickly as Adam’s leg would allow. Hazel and Mrs Bagshaw went around the other side of the house. Ovid and Lorelli were about to follow the others when Lorelli noticed someone coming. ‘Look, it’s Tom,’ she said.

  Ovid turned to see a red lawnmower driving towards them. By this time the bear had found a grip and was now climbing out of the window. Once outside the great beast reared up, let out a disgruntled
roar and came at them. Ovid and Lorelli turned and ran towards Tom and the lawnmower.

  ‘Jump on,’ said Tom, stopping the mower in front of them.

  Ovid got on after Lorelli, asking, ‘Will this thing outrun the bear?’

  ‘Who said anything about running?’ replied Tom, pushing his foot on the accelerator and driving full speed towards the bear. ‘Hold the steering wheel,’ Tom said, reaching down to pick up a bottle that had been by his feet. ‘I’ve got one chance to get this right so hold it steady.’

  Lorelli held the steering wheel as steadily as she could but it was tricky on the uneven ground.

  ‘What is it?’ said Ovid, looking at the bottle of clear liquid that Tom was holding.

  ‘Chloroform. It’ll knock old Paddington right out without doing him too much harm . . . as long as I don’t miss. Now, Lorelli, when I say, turn the wheel so that we don’t crash into him. We have to wait until the last minute otherwise he’ll change direction too.’

  Ovid held on tight to the side of the lawnmower. Lorelli tried to keep the steering wheel steady and Tom aimed the bottle.

  ‘Now!’ he shouted. Lorelli swerved to the right. Tom threw the bottle, then grabbed hold of the steering wheel and took control of the lawnmower.

  ‘You got it.’ Ovid looked back over his shoulder.

  Tom slowed down and brought the mower around.

  ‘It’s still standing,’ said Lorelli.

  ‘Wait for it,’ said Tom.

  The bear raised itself on to its hind legs and let out a pained and confused roar before slumping to the ground, unconscious. .

  .

  A NUMBER OF QUESTIONS

  ‘Why were you carrying around a bottle of chloroform, Tom?’ asked Ovid.

  ‘I spotted our friend Paddington in the woods, this morning.’ replied Tom, crouching down to look at the bear. ‘I’ve been carrying the chloroform since and trying to find him. I should have guessed he would come to the house. He’s probably hungry, poor chap. I saw the others run off before you. Throwing a party, were you?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Ovid. ‘Mrs Bagshaw confessed to killing our father.’

  Tom considered this before saying, ‘That must have been a relief to hear.’

  ‘A relief?’ said Lorelli. ‘Why would finding out that someone you’ve lived with all your life killed your father be a relief?’

  ‘Because it means that your mother didn’t kill him,’ replied Tom matter-of-factly.

  This silenced the twins. Mrs Bagshaw’s confession had made them feel a range of emotions but Tom was right, having spent all their lives wanting to know why their mother had killed their father it was a relief to discover that, whatever the truth was about their father and Hedley Bagshaw, their mother was innocent.

  ‘Did you know that Nurse Griddle was Hazel’s mother?’ asked Ovid.

  ‘I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t occurred to me,’ said Tom.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I remember when Nurse Griddle’s fella drowned and she left the village. It wasn’t too much later that the baby turned up on Mrs Bagshaw’s step, same night her husband died . . .’

  ‘But you never said anything?’ asked Ovid.

  ‘None of my business, is it?’

  ‘What about us? Are we none of your business?’ said Lorelli, finally coming to the question that had been hanging over both twins since finding the servants’ names in the will. ‘Why have you never tried to stop us attempting to kill each other?’

  Tom stood up and walked to the lawnmower. He picked up a heavy chain that had been resting on the back and carried it over to the bear. ‘You’re a smart pair. I always figured that if you really wanted to kill each other you’d have managed it by now.’

  ‘So you just stood by and did nothing?’ said Ovid.

  ‘It’s like with plants,’ said Tom. ‘You get a couple of new saplings and you can water them and tend them and prune them all you like, but in the end they’re either survivors or they’re not. You two are survivors.’

  There were still plenty of questions that the twins wanted to ask but they were all pushed aside by the appearance of Mr Crutcher and a new question.

  ‘Why has Alfred got a gun?’ asked Ovid.

  Mr Crutcher was walking from the house, holding the barrel of a shotgun in his left hand with the butt nestled into the crook of his right arm.

  ‘Stand aside please, young master and mistress,’ he said.

  Ovid and Lorelli did as he said but Tom moved to a position between him and the bear. ‘Don’t you dare,’ he said.

  ‘Now, Tom, we can’t have dangerous beasts roaming around the place, can we?’

  ‘You put a bullet in this bear, it’s going through me first,’ said Tom, standing in front of the bear.

  ‘Then what do you propose?’ said Mr Crutcher. ‘That we keep it in the stables with the horses?’

  Tom said, ‘I’m going to tie him up then I’ll find someone to take him away, but I will not let you harm him, Alfred.’

  ‘It’s not the bear’s fault,’ said Lorelli, taking her place by Tom’s side.

  Mr Crutcher lowered his gun. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Now, young master and mistress, please come in before you get drenched.’

  Lorelli began to say that it wasn’t raining when she felt a large droplet land on her head. Then another. And another. With all the excitement neither of them had noticed how dark the sky had grown and that the heavy rainclouds were beginning to break.

  ‘You go ahead,’ said Tom, lifting the bear’s head and tying the chain around its neck. ‘Get out of the rain now.’

  .

  THE MEANING OF THE MUSIC

  By the time Lorelli and Ovid reached the entrance to Thornthwaite Manor the rain was coming down hard.

  ‘You must be hungry. Dinner shouldn’t be long. I’ll let you know when it’s ready,’ said Mr Crutcher.

  ‘Thank you, Alfred,’ said Ovid.

  Mr Crutcher left Ovid and Lorelli standing in the hallway. Without a word between them the twins walked to the portrait room and pushed the door open. They surveyed the damage. The picture of their parents lay in tatters on the floor. Lorelli picked up a scrap of canvas with their father’s green eyes on it. ‘I wish they were still here,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ said Ovid. ‘But they’re not. They never will be. No matter who killed our father, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead.’

  ‘Do you think Mrs Bagshaw will go to prison?’

  ‘Probably. Skinner will tell the police about her confession and she’ll be arrested.’

  ‘I feel sorry for Hazel,’ said Lorelli, finding another piece of the painting with Lady Thornthwaite’s smile.

  ‘At least she has Nurse Griddle now.’

  ‘Nothing’s ever going to be the same, is it?’ said Lorelli.

  ‘Perhaps that’s a good thing.’

  ‘Dinner is now served,’ said Mr Crutcher from the doorway.

  ‘Thank you Alfred. We’ll take it in the drawing room,’ said Ovid.

  The twins went through to the drawing room, which had finally been tidied up. The bits of broken piano had been put into a neat pile. The fire had been lit, giving the room a homely feel, in contrast to the storm outside the window. Hazel entered and placed a plate of warm toast on the table with the twins’ chess game on it.

  ‘How are you, Hazel?’ asked Lorelli.

  ‘I’m well enough, thank you.’

  ‘Won’t you sit down and join us?’

  ‘Thank you but Mrs Bagshaw wouldn’t . . .’ Hazel paused and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting down.

  Looking into Hazel’s eyes, Lorelli realised for the first time that they were the colour of hazelnuts and this must have been whe
re she got the name from. ‘How is Mrs Bagshaw?’ she asked.

  ‘She can’t stop crying.’ Hazel met her gaze. ‘You must hate her.’

  ‘I don’t know how I feel,’ said Lorelli.

  ‘I know it’s not much but she never planned it,’ said Hazel.

  ‘We’ll probably never know the whole truth,’ said Ovid, walking across the room and picking up a handful of ivory piano keys from the pile.

  ‘We’d like you to stay here with us,’ said Lorelli, spreading butter on a piece of toast.

  ‘Nurse Griddle wants me to go away with her. She says there are too many memories here,’ said Hazel. ‘I suppose my mum . . . I suppose Mrs Bagshaw will go to prison.’

  Lorelli removed the lid of a small porcelain pot. The sweet smell of honey escaped from it. She spread a globule of it on toast and handed it to Hazel.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Hazel.

  Lorelli did they same for herself and took a bite. ‘Hold on, this isn’t Tom’s honey,’ she said. ‘Ovid, taste this.’

  Ovid looked up from the table, where he had laid out the piano keys in order, making a complete octave.

  ‘Taste it. It tastes like . . . It tastes like the honey made by the killer bees.’

  Ovid tasted it. Sure enough it was sweet and spicy like the honey that had filled his bicycle tube.

  ‘Hazel, where is this honey from?’ asked Lorelli.

  ‘I took it from the kitchen. There wasn’t a label on the pot.’

  Outside, lightning lit up the sky and distant thunder growled.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Lorelli.

  ‘I think I do,’ said Ovid, who was staring at the disconnected piano keys. He pulled out a piece of a paper from his back pocket.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Lorelli.