I am no fool. These fantasies are childish and desperate. However, I am a man of my word and what good is reality when it punishes you for simply loving someone? So, I give myself to the fantasy and long for it. I dream of it, both in sleep and waking.
My family will forget me. Just like my brother Archibald whose name has not been uttered in years, they too will learn to live without me. However, I take comfort that our story will live on one day. There will come a time when others can scream about mine and Teddy’s love for each other, until every soul across the globe hears it. For now, I will be happy if our song is whispered for only us both to hear.
Tonight, I will sit, no doubt in silence, with my parents in the drawing room. We will drink our evening tea, then perhaps wash that down with a glass of father’s brandy. We will play pretend, painting a false image of a family in love. Tomorrow, I will throw this journal into the well, making my final wish as these secrets sink to the bottom. It is the only place I can think of where my words will be forgotten. It was built a summer back, a gift from Sergeant Andrew Dean in memory of my brother. I used to sit on its side and read a book, until one spring morning I almost fell in. I was far too engrossed in the story I read that I tipped and almost tumbled. Father was there, ready to scorn me hard, telling me that if I had fallen, no one would ever have gotten me out. ‘The perfect place to hide,’ he said.
I will put my father’s theory to the test.
Reader, our time is up, the show has ended, the curtain must fall. I go. First, I will visit the drawing room, check for Teddy’s journal. Then I will play pretend, the dutiful and God-fearing son. I can be convincing when I need to be, trust me.
Do not worry for me. I will be okay.
I feel this last entry is the old Robert’s obituary and the birth announcement for the man who I will finally become when I leave Hanbury Manor behind.
Until then, I wish to write one final thing.
I, Robert Thomas, love Teddy Jones with such vigour that without him, I am nothing. Let this be known, even if it is only between us.
Our little secre–
PART 6
Friday
Tears streamed down William’s face, blinding him as he read the final line of Robert’s journal. And it really was the final line. He cleared his eyes with the back of his cold hand, focusing on the harsh stroke of the pen that stretched across the journal’s page connected to the final word.
William turned to the next page, searching for more words, but there was nothing. Looking back at what was the final entry, he drew his finger across the final word and then to the scored ink that trailed from it, coming to a harrowing conclusion.
Robert was never able to finish this entry. Something, or someone, had stopped him. William looked up, sodden eyes lingering on Robert’s desk, picturing the young man hunched over it, quill in hand. In his mind’s eye, he could see Robert turn towards his bedroom door as someone barged in – the shock of the intrusion knocking his pen hand to the side.
The bedroom door was wide open.
Discomfort speared through William, making his skin itch beneath the heavy press of the duvet. He kicked himself free, clutching the journal to his chest and moved cautiously to the landing. He couldn’t bear being there a moment longer, and Hanbury seemed to agree.
“Edward?” William called out, wondering if he waited in the yawning dark of the landing. “Are you there?”
Silence replied, answering that question for William.
There wasn’t even the question as to who opened the door. Deep down, William knew. Nor was he scared anymore.
From inside the wall to his right, there was a strange, misplaced sound. A scratching, coming from beyond the peeling wallpaper. William paced closer, oddly at peace, and lowered his ear to the wall.
Something was either inside it, or beyond it. A shuffling of feet, followed by the tapping of something methodical and slow. William tapped on the wall, waited and listened to the sounds stop.
He stayed like that for a moment, ears stretching to pick up something else misplaced. But whatever it was had stopped.
His need for Edward was so strong that he couldn’t ignore it. He told himself it was to show Edward the entry he’d read, but the louder part of him, the deeper part, revealed that it was the comfort Edward could offer him.
William pushed off the wall, satisfied nothing was amiss, and moved for the stairs. When he reached them the hollow vibrating began. The rhythmic buzz of a phone was coming from above him. As the buzzing continued, William paused, all other sounds from the manor fading to nothingness.
William knew without a doubt that his phone was what made the noise. Because it was originating from the attic, calling to him. Except how? There was no signal in Hanbury, at least nothing as of yet. And yet the noise continued, growing louder until the floor and walls seemed to shake. There was only one way to find out, and as he took the stairs one at a time, it was the first time that fear evaded him.
The darkness enveloping the attic was almost comforting. The thick velveteen black of a blanket swaddled him, welcoming him in. Beneath his bare feet, the wooden boards creaked, but the constant buzzing drowned out the sound.
Deep down, William recognised that he should’ve been frightened. Scared. He had been during every other moment here. Except he had woken up changed, or perhaps it was the diary entry that altered his brain’s chemistry.
Either way, he didn’t care about the dark belly of the attic, or the possibilities of what lurked in the corners.
He only cared about finding his phone and getting to Edward.
