The Adventures of HAL: The Second Hilarious Glothic Tale (The Glothic Tales Book 2)

by Haines, Derek

  Hal tried to get his life back to some degree of normality, but even with the best intentions and efforts of Debbie, Darrell, his group of surfing friends and Narelle’s family, Hal couldn’t find his life again. He worked, he lived and he learned how to surf very well, but there was a void in his life and no matter how hard he tried, it sat like an empty hole in his stomach. Eating away at him through the agonising remaining slim hope he had for Narelle.

  ‘Ya’ have to let go now Hal. Ya’ really do,’ Debbie said trying to counsel Hal that he needed to get on with his life now. ‘It’s been nearly a year and a half Hal. Ya’ have to move on.’

  ‘I know Deb. I really do, but I just can’t do it. I just can’t.’

  ‘Maybe a holiday Hal. Get out of Brissie for a bit. It might help clear your mind a little.’

  ‘You might be right. I’ll think about it.’

  Hal was also thinking that in the not too distant future his allowance would finish, so it was probably the right time to have a break from what had been a very long and heart breaking year and a half. A break then return to get his life back in order. As much as that could ever be for Hal without Narelle.

  Left Alone

  Surfing for six weeks on Koh Samui Island in Thailand was not going to have Hal instantly forgetting about Narelle, but it did help in taking his mind away to other things for a good portion of his days. Left Alone reef break, just off Chaweng Beach on the northeast coast became Hal’s beach of choice. The Left Alone giving a long left hand wave of over four feet. He liked the name of the reef. When he wasn’t surfing, there was good food, cold beer, plenty of tourists and some sun baking to be had. After two weeks, Hal, while not mended, felt he was at least enjoying some of his days for the first time since Narelle’s disappearance. He enjoyed the dinner company of four tourists from Melbourne, and headed back to his hotel that evening in a positive mood.

  An urgent message waited for him when he returned. Informing him of the accidental death of his father during a polo match. He was annoyed that the message was from a London solicitor and not from his mother or sister. Although he hadn’t tried to keep in touch with them, he felt this was a family matter. Clearly he wasn’t classed as family anymore. Hal thanked the clerk, refolded the note and went to his room. He re-read the message again before bed, and left it until the morning to decide what to do.

  Whether affected by the news of his father’s sudden demise, or the lingering sadness of losing Narelle, Hal waited for a few days before reacting to the message. Wondering what he would need to do, or what the solicitor in London would tell him. Deep down he had hoped his past in London had gone away forever, and that his life would be spent in Brisbane with a new, kinder and more loving family than he’d had in England. But both had evaporated now. He knew he definitely had no future in England, but now also doubted if he had a future in Brisbane. There was too much of Narelle there for him. As he waited for the waves to rise with the incoming tide, he knew he would have to start a new life. But where? It certainly wouldn’t be Koh Samui, no matter how beautiful. This was a holiday island, not a place for a life.

  Finally he made the call − to Debbie.

  ‘Hal! What a surprise. How’re ya’ doing – getting’ plenty of waves I hope?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a very relaxing place to do nothing Deb.’

  ‘So, are ya’ doin’ ok?’

  ‘Fine Deb. Really. Just trying to clear my head a bit and enjoy the time. But...’

  ‘But what Hal?’ Debbie asked sensing something was very wrong in the sound of Hal’s voice.

  ‘Well, I got some bad news a few days….’

  ‘What bad news Hal?’

  ‘Oh nothing really. Just that I got a message saying my father died a few weeks ago and…’

  ‘Oh Hal. I’m so sorry. I know ya’ weren’t all that close but…’

  ‘No we weren’t close at all Deb. I’m ok, really.’

  ‘Are ya’ sure?’

  ‘Yes. Fine. Really. I just needed a friendly ear.’

  ‘No worries Hal. Chew away!’

  ‘Thanks Deb.’

  ‘So what did ya’ father do?’

  ‘No idea really. Used the family name to make money I think.’

  ‘He was some kind of Earl or something, wasn’t he?’

  ‘A Baron. But it was just a name thing he inherited.’

  ‘But he was rich though?’

  ‘I suppose so. Don’t really know. But I need to contact some solicitor guy in London. Said he was handling my old man’s stuff, and that he might want me to go back to London or something.’

  ‘So will ya’?’

  ‘I’m really not sure what to do yet. Maybe he wants to tell me about a nice juicy inheritance. Then I could just keep surfing the world.’

  ‘Lucky bastard.’

  ‘I doubt it though. I got kicked out of my family years ago now, so I’d imagine I’ve been well and truly disinherited by now.’

  ‘But ya’ should call him Hal. At least just to set things straight.’

  ‘Probably right Deb. I’m just not that keen on reconnecting with my mother and sister. Suppose I still feel a bit bitter towards them.’

  ‘Yeah, I can understand Hal. But maybe just talk to the lawyer fella.’

  ‘Yeah. Probably best get it over and done with.’

  Hal waited another two days before he finally got around to calling London. He wasn’t scared, frightened or afraid, it was just that he knew as soon as he made the call he would be in contact with his past. He really wanted it to go away and leave him alone. Hopefully though, he thought that his father’s passing might be the blessing that would finally close the door on his past. Then he could get on with his own life once again.

  ‘Good morning, Thistlewaite and Thistlewaite,’ a very starchy woman's voice answered.

  ‘Good morning, my name’s Halbert Hoop. May I speak to Mr Gordon Thistlewaite please?’

  ‘May I ask what it’s concerning Mr Hoop?’

  ‘Yes. I received a message from Mr Thistlewaite to call him urgently.’

  ‘Very well. Just one moment Mr Hoop.’

  Hal waited for the promised moment that seemed to be extending itself into minutes and hours as he held the line. Until finally.

  ‘Are you there Mr Hoop?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Putting you through now sir.’

  ‘Good morning Mr Hoop. Thank you for contacting me. We had awful trouble tracking you down through the embassy.’

  ‘Yes. Sorry. I’m on holidays at present in Thailand.’

  ‘Well, I won’t keep you on the phone for too long Mr Hoop.’

  ‘That’s alright,’ Hal replied knowing that he had been holding for so long, he might as well get some conversation for his money.

  ‘Very tragic the death of your father Mr Hoop. However there are matters that do need your attention at this difficult time.’

  ‘My father and I weren’t close Mr Thistlewaite, so I’m not sure there’s much to do.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that’s been the case, however, you’re still a beneficiary, and as I have confirmed with your mother and sister, they won’t be contesting your share of the estate, so I need to proceed with my instructions from your late father.’

  ‘So, what does that mean?’

  ‘I have instructions from your father’s will Mr Hoop to address these issues with you in person, as there are a number of facets to your inheritance.’

  ‘You mean in London?’

  ‘Yes Mr Hoop. My instructions are to conduct this matter in my offices here in London. When can you arrange this?’

  ‘To come to London?’

  ‘Yes Mr Hoop. Is there a financial problem? I do have authority to arrange for your travel if need be.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary Mr Thistlewaite. I’ll make my own reservations. How soon do you wish to see me?’

  ‘As soon as possible Mr Hoop. There are some pressing matters to attend to I’m afraid.’ />
  ‘Alright then. Can I call you when I’ve arranged my flight? I’ll come directly from my vacation in Thailand. At least it’s a shorter flight than from Australia.’

  ‘Very good Mr Hoop. I’ll brief my secretary, and if I’m not available when you call, you can arrange a meeting time with her.’

  ‘Thank you Mr Thistlewaite.’

  *****

  London hadn’t changed. Only Hal had. It seemed a lot greyer to him than he remembered and there were fewer smiles on people’s faces than in Brisbane. Perhaps because it was winter and people were too busy shivering to bother with smiling. Although having been sorely tempted to simply ignore his agreement to come to London, he finally set his mind firmly on needing to close the door on his family and his past life in England. Once finished, he would head back to Brisbane and start his life over again − with the added possible bonus of some money from his surprise inheritance.

  The Strand is not a fashionable hotel but it is conveniently located in the West End and reasonably inexpensive by London standards. The room was minuscule and the bed soft and soggy from extreme overuse and what was called service hardly understood the meaning of the word, but it was a place to stay for a few days. Hal arrived the day before his meeting with Gordon Thistlewaite and passed his time wandering around central London. Stopping every now and then for a beer or a snack. He didn’t enjoy the food or the beer as he now had a fully developed Queensland palette, but the walking helped ease his jet lag.

  In the evening he walked towards Soho and found what he was looking for − an Indian restaurant. Probably the only thing he could think of that he missed by living in Australia was the fantastic Indian food in London. Replete and very tired after his hearty dinner and an afternoon and evening’s walking, not even the lumps in his well after use by date mattress stopped him from sleeping. His meeting was at ten in the morning, so plenty of time to get ready.

  Hal hadn’t bothered to set an alarm, and was surprised when he woke at seven-thirty. He was always an early riser, but an uninterrupted night’s sleep straight after a long intercontinental flight was more than he could have hoped for. He felt fresh and ready for his day. Whatever it held in store. Watching from his table as he had breakfast in the hotel, he couldn’t help but notice the long faces the people were wearing as they scurried to work. A few lines of Lawson’s Faces in the Street meandered through his head. Light drizzle and a north wind making it a miserable start to their day.

  ‘More tea sir?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. That would be nice,’ Hal replied as he dropped his teaspoon and went on a hunt near his feet to recover it.

  It was only a twenty-minute walk to the solicitor, so Hal took his time and enjoyed his tea while catching up on a couple a newspapers. It seemed nothing ever changed, or perhaps newspapers were just reprinted with a few changes of name, as to Hal all the news seemed to be the same as when he lived in England. Politicians milking their expenses, high priced hookers spilling their tittle-tattle, sports stars in court and celebrities caught with drugs. Nothing new at all. The crossword was more interesting.

  With a sigh, he checked the time and knew he had to go.

  ‘Better to get this over with,’ he thought to himself as he rose from the table, upending his tea cup and tripping over his serviette he had forgotten was on his lap, and then went to put on his coat. Out into the chilly winds of winter.

  Gordon Thistlewaite’s receptionist resembled a Dickens’ character with her sharp long nose, held firmly in the air at all times, and neat but very drab dark olive green suit and grey, but probably once was white blouse. Her face seemed geometrically rectangular and her mouth pointed deeply south on both sides giving the impression that she had never raised a smile in her entire life. Her recently grey hair pulled back so firmly it appeared to be pulling at the skin of her face. Sharpening a pencil as Hal entered, in a manner that gave one an immediate idea that she was preparing her weapon of choice.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said as Hal entered, in such an ear piercing tone it gave a clue that she could never possibly have been married.

  ‘Good morning, my name’s Halbert Hoop. I have an appointment with Mr Gordon Thistlewaite.’

  ‘Ah, yes Mr Hoop,’ she said as she scanned her diary and then scratched every so deliberately, a straight line through Hal’s name with her recently sharpened pencil. ‘Please take a seat.’

  Hal looked around to find two wooden chairs behind him that seemed to have been sitting there for centuries. He hung his coat on a wall hook. It fell off and he tried again, this time with success. With not a single newspaper or magazine to read, he only had a view of the nasty and ever so sad excuse for a receptionist. So unattractive that Hal started to feel very sorry for her. As he tried to imagine what kind of life she led, he was relived of his onerous task by being beckoned by an equally sharp nosed gentleman dressed in a three piece pin striped suit, complete with a starched clip on collar. At that moment Hal really wondered if he had travelled through time.

  ‘Please come this way Mr Hoop. Mr Thistlewaite is expecting you.

  Hal’s first assumption that the gentleman in the three piece suit was Mr Thistlewaite himself had now been proven dramatically wrong, so he simply obeyed and followed. The sharp nosed gentleman leading him down a narrow corridor, turning left once and right twice before making a polite gesture that they had arrived at their destination.

  ‘Please take a seat sir. Mr Thistlewaite will be with you presently.’

  Hal entered the office, sat in a visitor’s chair and looked around at what was clearly a set used in the making of the film of David Copperfield. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could still be living in the mid-nineteenth century in London. But clearly some still were. He thought about picking up an interesting looking little wooden box that sat on the desk in front of him. Perhaps a music box? He thought better of the idea as he sneezed, and pulled his hand back in the nick of time.

  ‘Good morning Mr Hoop,’ a gentleman who was now probably Gordon Thistlewaite in Hal’s mind entered and closed the door carefully and quietly.

  ‘Good morning sir,’ was all Hal could manage as he rose from his chair to shake hands, upending his chair in the process as he sneezed again. Mr Thistlewaite was a complete surprise. Mid-forties, normal and dressed in a tweed jacket, no tie and corduroy trousers. Very rugby, Windsor and Twickenham.

  ‘Thank you for coming. Please make yourself comfortable and I’ll start reading your father’s Last Will and Testament for you,’ he said as Hal returned his chair to a useful upright position.

  Hal first wondered how it would be possible to be comfortable on a wooden chair that was as old and rickety as the one he was unfortunate enough to be sitting on once again, and then had a chill run down his back at the thought of hearing his father’s words read to him.

  ‘Mr Hoop, there are a number of elements to your father’s wishes, but if I may I’d like to give you a short resumé of the matters concerning your mother and sister. They were present at the initial reading of the will, so they have full knowledge of the entire content.’

  ‘Yes. Go ahead.’

  ‘Very well. Both your mother and sister will each be entitled to twenty percent of your father’s estate in the form of an annuity for life. Although as son and heir, you will inherit ownership of Hoop Manor, you will allow your mother to reside there in peace and comfort for as long as she shall live. Do you have any objection to this?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Very well. There are a few items relating to donations to worthy charities that amount to approximately five percent of the estate. Do you wish me to itemise these for you?’

  ‘No. I don’t think that’ll be necessary.’

  ‘So, I will read the section of your father’s will pertaining to your rights and responsibilities as only son and heir,’ Thistlewaite started as he turned the pages of what seemed a very long document for a will, and then proceeded to read the passages concerning Hal. ‘Although diso
wned from the family at the age of eighteen, my son Halbert Horatio Hoop is not disinherited. For reasons that I will make clear, my son must accept certain responsibilities as the rightful heir to the Barony of Hoop. It is my hope and wish that my son has grown wiser as he has aged, and will at this time, now understand and be willing to undertake the historic duties that have been part of the Barony of Hoop since 1641. These duties, responsibilities and rights must be fully accepted by Halbert Horatio before being entitled to inherit fifty-five percent of the entire estate and assume the title of the Baron of Hoop. Following the reading of my will to my son, he must agree to accept all of the responsibilities of the Barony within ninety days before gaining his financial inheritance. A sealed envelope accompanies my will that will be hand delivered by my trustee, Mr Gordon Thistlewaite, to my son as soon as possible following my death. Once my son has fulfilled the tasks associated with accepting the Barony, confirmation will be delivered to Mr Gordon Thistlewaite by way of a signed statement from William Minor-Morris, Archduke of Chester or his nominated proxy. Should this statement not be received within ninety days of the reading of this will to my son, he will immediately be disinherited and separate instructions will be followed,’ Thistlewaite paused and looked up at Hal.

  ‘Is that all?’ Hal asked sensing there was more.

  ‘Most of what follows are legal details of the transfer of your inheritance. I can read it for you, or have a copy of the entire document made for you.’

  ‘A copy will be fine Mr Thistlewaite. And this envelope you mentioned?’

  ‘Yes Mr Hoop,’ Thistlewaite said as he took a hand addressed envelope from beneath the will and handed it to Hal.