Usually, William might have swallowed his annoyance and moved on. But knowing the entire pub listened in irked him. He was ready to pop, and William was at his limit after the night he’d had.
“People like you justlovean excuse to moan. Perhaps, if you had something to occupy your life with, you would have less time to worry about what other people did.” William leaned in close, unable to stop his lip curling over his teeth. “I recommend picking up a book, or knitting – I hear that’s a popular hobby for people ofyourage. Or puzzles, like you said, you’re pretty good at those.”
Mike stumbled over his reply. He was grumbling beneath his hot beer breath, just low enough that William couldn’t make sense of it.
“Now, if you’re done.” William raised his glass and tapped it into the one Mike clutched in his meaty palm. “It’s been incredibly insightful chatting with you, really. I’m sure we will be seeing one another around often. If not, you will all know where to find me. It’s that big house down that road that occupies your thoughts so much.”
William spied a seat in the far corner of the pub. He fixed his gaze on it as he moved away.
Mike snapped around, bar stool creaking beneath him. “That’s if you aren’t chased out beforehand. Just like the rest ofthem.”
“Excuse me?” William peered back, only to see Mike holding his glass afloat.
“I’m trying to do you a favour, but clearly you are as stuck up as all them city folk are you don’t recognise a little friendly advice.”
“Friendly certainly is a word, not one I’d use in conjunction with this conversation,” William replied, scanning the entire pub and the crowd who watched on. “You know, I really appreciate such a warm welcome from you all. Ireallycannot wait to visit more.”
“You’ll see for yourself then,boy,” Mike said with a smile, flashing just as many gaps as teeth in his mouth. “But it’ll be too late, and the curse of that place will chase you out soon enough. We’ve all heard the stories. Ghosts and–”
“Oh, not you too. Give it a rest!” William shouted, unable to contain himself. At this point he’d prefer to throw his glass then drink what was inside of it. “There’s no such thing as bloody ghosts.”
Mike paced across the room, stopped before William’s table and leaned over him. “Are you sure?”
“I think that’s more than enough,” the barman called out. “Anymore and you’ll have to leave my establishment, Mr Thorn.”
The barman didn’t threaten for Mike to leave, only William. It was unfair, but then again, William was used to life dealing him such rotten lemons.
“Leave the pub, leave Hanbury,” Mike added, his hulking form still shrouding the space William had chosen to sit at. “All of it. You decide.”
Buzzing with adrenaline, William leaned in, enjoying the face of real danger and the threat it posed. “Or what?”
Mike reeled back, brow furrowing so hard the lines across his forehead were deep enough to camp inside. “That bastard manor should’ve been demolished straight after that Thomas boy killed himself in it–”
William blanched, feeling the blood drain from his face. “What do you mean he killed himself in it?”
Mike’s grin cut from ear to ear, flashing yellowed teeth beneath cracked lips. “I told you, Hanbury’s where you go to bury secrets. If you don’t find them, they’ll come for you before you have a chance to run.”
Then, with that, Mike rocked back, shrugged his shoulders as if lessening a weight that had been on them, then left William to simmer in the revelation he’d just dropped like a bomb.
Killed himself–that Thomas boy–Hanbury manor.
Edward had said Robert Thomas died, but not once did William imagine it was because he’d killed himself. And more than that, he’d done it inside the manor. The manor William was adamant to call home just to piss off these small-minded people.
He sat there, dumbfounded, cold to the core. He looked down at his Guinness as a wave of nausea gripped his gut. He had never turned his nose up at a drink, but he couldn’t fathom putting anything past his lips.
Surely Mike had lied? Just another person, like Edward, trying to scare William into leaving Hanbury for good. Wasn’t it a rule that the solicitor would’ve had to inform William of these sorts of things? But then, why would they know? William knew that the answer was only given if he’d asked, and that’s if they even knew about it.
Hell, William didn’t even know Hanbury existed until after Archie died. It seemed like keeping secrets was a polished skill for him, something passed down his family line.
William had never felt so unwanted in a place. The feeling was so physical, so palpable, it ruined the taste of his drink and rushed him out of the pub. Even before the door closed on his back, he heard the conversation start up once again.
But he wasn’t leaving Stonewell yet – not without Archie’s coat. And for that, he needed to find Edward. How hard could it be in a village so small you could sneeze, and everyone would blame you for the spread of influenza?
He took himself to the local shop – a pokey little building with almost bare shelves and limited supplies. He wasn’t about to waste more money on meats and fresh produce this time, so it looked like he’d spend the rest of his week eating tinned soup, bread and a healthy amount of chocolate.
Of course, he brought wine – three more bottles, to be precise.
It almost took him by surprise when the shopkeeper smiled at him. What was more surprising was that it was as close to genuine as possible. She was a lithe woman with grey hair knotted in a bun. Kind eyes enlarged by round glasses that kept slipped down the thin bridge of her nose.
