Once Read Online Free Page B

The deaths of his first, then second wife, later followed by the loss of his eldest son, who while serving as a British Army officer in Belfast had been blown to pieces by an IRA bomb before Thom was born, may have contributed to his aloofness, but only Hugo would ever talk to Thom of these tragic events; others in the Bleeth employ, including his mother, Bethan, were discreet to the point of secrecy where these tragedies were concerned.
    Now Sir Russell had an illness that would eventually finish him off and, although Thom had never had any fondness for the man - how was it possible to like someone you feared so much? - he could not help the sadness that spoiled his mood.
    ‘He should be in a hospital, where they can take care of him properly, ease his pain for him.’ Thom lowered his gaze to Hugo, who remained looking upwards.
    ‘You think we haven’t tried? He won’t leave his eyrie.’ Hugo said with such regret in his voice that Thom thought his friend might start to weep. ‘Lord knows I’ve begged him, but, well you know how stubborn he is … He loves it up there because he can view everything he owns right there from his bed. The room was probably designed for that very purpose, just so the original lord of the manor could indulge his own vanity. I never imagined it would become my father’s death chamber.’ He turned back to Thom and gave a brisk shake of his head as if to shed the mood. ‘He moderates the worst of his pain himself with an intravenous morphine drip controlled by a button at his side, but it can do strange things to him. Sometimes he raves or speaks of odd things. He also insists that before he is buried, his throat is cut, just to be sure he’s dead. He has a morbid fear of being buried alive.’ Hugo shrugged. It’s a matter of time, Thom, but let’s not dwell on it today. We should be celebrating the wanderer’s return.’
    He managed a smile and allowed his pleasure to reassert itself, a seemingly inherent ability that Thom had often wished he, himself, possessed. ‘How about a beer, or something stronger? You must have a thirst after your long drive.’
    Thom didn’t like to tell his friend that following his stroke he had lost much of his appetite for alcohol.
    Thanks, but no,’ he said, clasping Hugo’s shoulder with an appreciative hand, anxious not to offend. Td kinda like to get to the cottage and settle in. We can catch up tomorrow.’
    ‘Or later tonight?’ Hugo suggested hopefully.
    We’ll see. I’m not quite up to strength yet and as you say, it’s been a long drive.’
    Well… okay. But at least let me get Hartgrove to drive you over and help you unpack.’
    Thom glanced at the manservant, who still watched from the top step. ‘You kidding?’
    They both grinned at each other knowingly.
    ‘You know what I’d really like to do?’ Thom said. Td like to walk from here. It’s funny, but that was all I dreamt of when I was laid up in hospital, recovering from the…’ he hated the word ‘… from, the, uh, stroke. I just wanted to stroll through the woods again, you know? Come up on the cottage as I remembered it.’
    ‘Alone?’
    Thom nodded.
    ‘Understand perfectly, old son. If that’s your wish …’
    There was no direct road suitable for vehicles to Little Bracken; to take the Jeep would mean going back to the main road and finding the rutted track that led directly to it.
    ‘Leave the Jeep and I’ll get old Eric to drive it over later. It’ll give you time to get used to the place again.’
    Eric Pimlet along with Hartgrove and Mrs Boxley, the cook who came in once a day from the nearby village of Much Beddow to serve lunch and evening meals, were the manor house’s only permanent staff; gardeners and cleaners were employed on a once-a-week basis nowadays.
    ‘It’ll be good to see old Eric again,’ Thom said.
    ‘I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you, too. Now look, I’ve had your larder filled with essentials, plus a few goodies you’ll