ISBN-10: 1521841195
ISBN-13: 9781521841198
© 2018 by Robert Ian Wilson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Proofreading by Mariette Stevens
Dedicated to my family
‘Where there is Light, there is always
Darkness’
Chapter One - The Wrong Conviction
My name is Lucius Domhill. I will tell you of a wondrous and extravagant story that excited my whole existence and questioned my own sanity. Even today, I am scarred from the events that unfolded before me and my family.
It all began in the year of 1908 and my grandfather had purchased a rare exotic plant from the London garden show, bought at fifty shillings. My grandfather, Egbert Domhill had just won a big bidding war, between the Mistress Archenwild and Sir Gamesbury of Limpert Hall, for the dear plant. Not surprising, though, the petals vibrant colours were very enchanting and changeable in the sun’s rays. The first time I saw the flowers, they reminded me of a rainbow on a hot rainy day.
The interesting fact about Grandpa's new prized possession is that it came from the new world, in South America. It was brought over by a very important and famous explorer named Captain Herbert Williams. Usually, the specimens were used for scientific use, but even an explorer needs a bit of change in their pocket.
Now, I wasn’t present for the event, unfortunately, so the tale I just told you could have been over-elaborated by my enthusiastic grandfather. Usually, if money was involved in one of his stories, the amount was halved, to show a more realistic value.
*
I had been waiting a great while in the family home of Roan Hall for Grandpa Egbert's return.
I’m an only child, one who wished for a brother or sister, but an unfortunate accident had taken the lives of my parents at a young age. My grandfather had taken me in and vowed to look after me, until it was time to move on, into this large world.
It would be another three years until I’d be allowed to explore by myself and start my first job; you see I was only fourteen years of age at the time, I could barely shave, let alone provide for myself, but soon the unknown would be conquered and I was quite looking forward to it.
My grandfather had returned. I could see the excited dogs, Molly and Sammy, eagerly barking to greet their old master; who told them off for making our shire horse, Snufkin a bit skittish.
Our only servants, Mr & Mrs Turnside, awaited Egbert's arrival on the stairs panicking about the usual; is the place tidy? Do they look presentable enough? Has Mr Turnside watered the plants in the secret garden?
They were a nice couple but tended to worry a bit too much, especially when I was away on one of my adventures. They would say: “Now, Lucius, don’t wander far and don’t go to the Fairfax farm!”
It was awfully tiring sometimes, especially at the age I was and still being treated like a little boy but looking back I understand why they were like that. All the fun was at the farm, the animals, space, and my best friends Idle and Kara. Apparently, their ungodly ways were a bad influence on me, but unfortunately for them it was the other way around. I have a title you see, and it wouldn't have been proper to blame the soon to be Lord of the Manor, for any misgivings. So, I could get away with anything, but I tried to not let it go to my head, too much.
My grandfather was greeted in the typical fashion, the two servants dropping to one knee like he was the King of England. I could always catch the slight smirk and giggle from my grandpa, especially when he’d notice my impersonation of the two servants; but he kept it professional.
Naturally, I should have greeted him like a gentleman, taught to shake hands and stand up straight, but there was no formal hello’s or goodbyes between us. We’d just hug like any normal family; he would say: “There is a time and place for having a stick up your bottom. Formality is away with the chickens.”
I never quite understood the meaning, but the words just made me laugh uncontrollably and that’s when Mrs Turnside would discuss my misdealing’s.
There would be a mention of the farm in every sentence and the scrutiny of my friends. My grandfather never minded, he was a caring man and only ever wanted me to have a normal childhood.
With the update of my evil acts upon this world over, Egbert was excited to show me his new possessions and we’d go straight around the back of the house and towards the guarded green door. I say guarded, more like distracted or napping by our third dog, Hamish. He was a big, lazy, black and brown Saint Bernard, a soft dog who would dribble at the sight of sausages. Every time we’d passed the mutt, my grandpa would still praise him, even though he did literally nothing all day.
“Good job Hamish,” he would say, with a quick pat on the canine's head.
I always liked the anticipation and the slow turn of the key to unlock the green door. I sometimes expected something unusual to be stood on the other side and it was amazing. My grandpa's garden was a haven for rare, beautiful, tropical plants, which somehow bloomed in the English weather. I never knew how he managed to maintain such an eye-catching place. That’s one reason why Hamish lumbered outside, if anyone knew about his collection, it would have fetched an incredibly high price on the black market for the skivvy’s who lost out in the first place.
I was sometimes blinded by such colour; I've never seen flowers with so much wildness to them. Grandfather would always return to the house with a fresh cut, resulting from a fight with the exotic thorn bush.
I would say the garden wasn't typically landscaped to the 20th century theme; he would let them grow and be free. He was more of a doctor of plants, guiding the one’s that had been cut off from the light. He nurtured the smaller plants and gave them the space they needed, so they could become stronger.
He brought out his new plant and set it beside me. Unlike the others, this one was definitely stranger to the naked eye and stood out amongst the tropical world.
Grandpa would let me help out a bit, digging up the earth for the new life to live. There would always be a joke on cue too.
“Not too deep Lucius, we don’t want to travel to Australia,” he would say.
I usually overdid it a bit and created a crater, but it was just enthusiasm.
Grandfather planted his prize and stood for a good hour admiring it from different angles. That was the point when I’d noticed something slightly odd about our new edition. Every time the sun hit the petals; the stem would glow a murky white. Grandpa said it was my imagination running wild, but still, it felt all too real.
With the day ending and our exploits no longer visible by the night, we walked back to the house where Mrs Turnside prepared our meals. Hamish stayed where he was and slept in a big doghouse and Mr Turnside would fill up on his doggy food. At night Molly and Sammy were seen travelling towards the doghouse, so Hamish had company at night.
Mrs Turnside was an excellent cook, which made up for the regular scolding’s and scrutiny of my friends. That night she baked a steak and ale pie, and we’d devoured the pastry in seconds.
Grandpa and I would always play a game before bed, usually chess; yet I would get bored after a while and we’d end up playing charades with the servants.
After a good ev
ening, I would be summoned to bed. I'd like to say things were always this good, but that night changed everything.
I was awoken by the dogs barking outside and my grandfather entered my room: “Lucius! They're after my plants! Stay here with Mrs Turnside, while Mr Turnside and I deal with the matter!”
He stormed out into the night, for only Mr Turnside to return with a frightful look over his face. Hamish was close at his heels, whining, and I instantly wanted to know what happened, but it was hard to get anything out of him. All he could say was: “He’s vanished in the light! He’s gone - he’s gone!”
It was one of the last times I saw my Grandfather Egbert. After a frantic hour of questioning from the police, Mr Turnside was arrested and charged with abduction and conspiracy to murder. Mrs Turnside and I were the only ones who believed in his innocence. Nothing made sense, my dog Sammy was missing too. Why would Mr Turnside commit such an offence?
In the end, I was placed in an orphanage for privileged boys, many of whom were awaiting their fortunes for the near future, while Hamish and Molly were sent to live with Mrs Turnside.
She tried to adopt me at one point, but the courts saw her as a danger because of her husband. It wasn’t fair, I was cut off from everyone, including my friends. I’d have to wait until I was ready to solve this mystery, seems no one else would. But I’ve never been that patient…
Chapter Two - The Orphanage
Five months after the events of my grandfather’s disappearance, I was still trapped within the walls of my new prison. I’d gained quite a reputation amongst my fellow orphans and the staff of Blakely Orphanage.
Unfortunately, from multiple escape attempts the headmaster made sure I had a twenty-four-hour watch that rotated between staff every hour. This never stopped me though, I always had a plan. I’d stolen a rota from a sleepy Mr Gibbins and noticed there was a five-minute gap at lunch time, when my guard Gregory Thomas had a quick chin wag with Mistress Kodaline.
She was a very large and strict lady, who liked to put her hair into a strange bobble at twelve o’clock straight. Some say it was to seduce Mr Thomas, although the man was married, but I used their situation to my advantage.
I watched carefully as they chirped away like birds and with a quick signal from Alan, who was my roommate at the orphanage, I quickly took my leave.
I had run towards the front hall, where I prepped a travel bag an hour before my plan went into play; luckily, no one had noticed where I’d stuffed it down the hall settle.
Thanks to Alan for the assistance, he knew how unhappy I was and the fact that I wasn’t interested in finding a new family; mine were still either missing or under scrutiny by the law.
I made it towards the gothic door, which had plagued me with nightmares those past, long weeks. The gargoyles that glared with a sinister glint in their eye were enough to put any escapee off, but not me. The only thing that could have stopped me was Brutus, the black Rottweiler, who patrolled the perimeter outside.
The door creaked upon opening and I couldn’t see the canine in sight…
I made it halfway across the front drive until the headmaster caught a glimpse of my back, from up high in his office tower. I heard a shout from above, “Brutus!!!” and I knew I had to pick up the pace.
I could hear the loud, heavy footsteps behind me and the dog’s frantic breathing closing in. I remembered I’d packed some sliced meat before my trip, although it would be ideal to keep hold of the food, I really didn’t have a choice for distractions. I chucked the meat up high into the air and made sure not to turn around and just kept on running, until I was out of breath.
Now, to my knowledge the Orphanage was situated in Plymouth, which meant I had quite a journey on my hands, but luckily for me, my grandfather had many connections. I never mentioned the coach rider before, whom escorted Grandpa on his last outing, does, in fact, live just outside of Plymouth. His name was Mr Cotswold and I’d been to his house on many occasions in the past.
The short journey was a pain; it’d taken me a day to travel to Mr Cotswold's home and I’ve never been treated like a common sewer rat before; after numerous declined lifts, I surely felt like one.
I ‘d asked many travellers who passed me by for a lift, but the nature of man can be very cold indeed. I was muddy and fed up but determined to reach my destination; I finally made it and just before dark.
His house was a very cosy cottage; I could see the lamps through the window lighting the way for me. I knocked on the door at least three times because I knew he was partially deaf. The door opened with Mr Cotswold yawning uncontrollably, until his rolling eyes came into focus and to his astonishment, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Young sir!? Lucius! What are you doing here boy? And by yourself!?”
I thought it would be obvious, but I explained my predicament and to my relief, he didn't send me back to the orphanage. Luckily, Mr Cotswold was a very loyal person and didn't believe Mr Turnside had anything to do with Grandpa’s disappearance. He invited me in and let me stay for the night; he even fed me a bacon sandwich, which I was very grateful of.
In the morning we headed back home to Roan Hall with the intentions of investigating, but just before we passed Fairfax farm, we were attacked… Stones flew everywhere but never hit either me or Mr Cotswold. I thought there was something awfully fishy about it, until I heard a giggle behind a mound.
My two friends had learnt of my arrival prior to a messenger from the orphanage, who rode on ahead of me. He must have passed by at some point, but I didn’t recollect such a man. Idle and Kara had come to my aid and was sure the messenger was waiting at Roan Hall. It was just my luck, but we had a plan in play.
Mr Cotswold rode on ahead, while I accompanied my friends and ventured the sand dunes. It would bring us up behind the manor, where my grandfather’s garden was situated, which was where I needed to be.
It was the last place where Grandpa was sighted, and I was sure there would have been some kind of clue to his disappearance.
The day was extremely bright, providing us not much cover if spotted. My friends and I talked fondly of Grandpa Egbert. We reminisced on past times, which were not only a memory for me. To Mrs Turnside's dismay even my Grandfather joined in with the activities at Fairfax farm. He was their benefactor and Lord of the acres of land that spread far and wide. He was fair and kind; enjoyed the small things in life.
We had finally made it towards my home, and I could see two carriages. This was not a messenger; it was my headmaster, Mr Flint, from the orphanage.
He had a hard time keeping me behind his walls and I'm sure a bit of paranoia had crept in and settled in his mind. I can imagine, once he saw me leave, he went on a vendetta to bring me back. He must have stolen the carriage because I knew the orphanage couldn’t afford such privileges and while he was on the warpath, he rode straight past me, with the intentions of reaching my home first.
I hoped Mr Cotswold was good at lying or he had a very good poker face, but I was not going to stick around and see.
We headed round back and to my sadness, the house looked cold and lonely. It was always full of fun and laughter; strange that time can cause such heartache.
I reached the green door, but there was something I’d completely overlooked, how stupid of me! I forgot the key...
I felt sad and hopeless at the same time. All I wanted to do was to find some clue, anything to make things right again and I’d messed things up. Kara placed a hand on my shoulder and comforted me until we decided to head back to the farm.
Not far off I heard shouting and a loud bark. Mrs Turnside had come out of who knows where with Hamish running full pelt towards me.
I could just hear her call out, “The key is on Hamish’s belt! Hurry! He’s coming!”
I could see Mr Flint storming down the hill with a triumphant expression. I grabbed hold of Hamish by the collar and we both made it towards the door. Idle and Kara decided to stop my headmaster in his tracks, by doing a forward roll to
trip him up.
That bought me a few seconds.
“Lucius Domhill!!! I will bring you back! If it is the last thing I do!” screamed my Headmaster.
There was no satisfaction in turning the key this time, it was simply rushed, and I fell hard into the garden.
The door was still wide open, and I could see the crazed look in Mr Flints brown eyes. To my surprise, Hamish the guard dog had performed his duty! He stood growling at the scared man, brandishing his teeth.
Although we had Brutus at the orphanage it was a known fact, Mr Flint was scared of the dog, and most likely all dogs.
Hamish had stopped him in his pursuit.
“Good boy!” I shouted, before closing and locking the door shut.
To my surprise, my grandfather's plants had indeed been stolen. The earth had been unsettled by the roots being ripped up from out of the ground. I couldn’t believe it. The police had not reported this information to any of us, it was not common knowledge. I didn’t understand and I felt angry with the treatment of my grandfather's prized possessions. I dropped to the ground with tears flooding down my face, until I felt a warm light spread across my head.
I hadn’t noticed the last plant that was purchased was still rooted in the soil and to my amazement the stem was creating a glow...
Within a second, the tropical plant grew in size and its large petals dropped to the floor. I watched it shrink again, but it left something behind. A funny shape was left indented on the floor. It was a door!
This had certainly taken a turn towards madness and I quickly tested my sanity, by slapping myself across the cheeks. I was definitely awake, and the door stayed where it was. I was hesitant at first, before I heard a familiar cry of help. My grandfather's voice had echoed out into the garden and I instantly made my choice. I opened the door and looked down into the darkness; I was scared, but determined; so, I jumped in…
Egbert's World Page 1