Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) by N.B. Roberts Read Free Book Online

incessantly
gloomy for a couple of years now. Very strange, I suppose.’
    ‘Speaking of strange,’ I said, ‘do you know what
that drumming noise is?’
    She listened from the desk. ‘I can’t hear
anything.’
    ‘It’s stopped again!’ I rose from my chair.
‘Weird! It’s been coming from that wall.’ I pointed.
    ‘Remember, Alex,’ she said with a steady voice,
unable to conceal a look of concern. ‘Many people report hearing and seeing odd
things in this place. Try to take it all with a pinch of salt.’
    ‘It’s not so much odd as it is annoying. It’s like
Chinese water torture.’ I rubbed my forehead.
    Right on cue, it would seem, Thom approached from
the other end of the hallway. Evidently, he’d heard part of our conversation,
of course. He half-smiled, looking only at one of us.
    ‘I warned you, Frances’ – he ringed his temple
with his index finger – ‘she’s a basket case.’ He continued strolling until he
was out the main door.
    She seemed unsurprised by his overfamiliarity on
this occasion. Perhaps she’d decided, as I had, the best action was to try to
ignore him.
    The morning post came and most of it was for Mrs
Evans. One letter was addressed to a Mr George Oldham, Curator .
    ‘That’ll be for Thom,’ said Frances. ‘He’s our
curator. George hasn’t worked here for years. Just pass it on to Thom, or Dan,
his assistant.’
    ‘Oh. So Dan works for Thom. I’ll certainly try and
get the thing to Dan if I can avoid being called a maniac again.’
    Frances giggled. ‘Well, you won’t get any personal
mail for Thom. His own mail gets taken round the back.’
    ‘His personal mail?’
    ‘He’s a tenant here,’ she said, as if I should
know that.
    ‘At the Gatekeepers Lodge?’ I asked, looking out
the small side window to the barely discernible cottage across the east lawn.
    ‘No, the caretaker lives there. Thom lives
upstairs.’
    ‘I never realised people could live here, I mean,
actually in the house.’
    ‘It’s not uncommon.’ She shook her head. ‘Although
usually it’s a descendant of the original family, or the owners themselves who
get an income from exhibiting the house and historic artefacts. I don’t know
how anyone could live in an old house like this, though.’ Frances feigned a
shiver of the shoulders. ‘I couldn’t stand to myself, nice as it is, and a
great place to work. It’s too deep and dark for me. It would bring me down.’
    I was at that moment thinking how I would love to
live at such a place as Halton Cray.
    ‘The estate manager lives in that house over by
the stables, but you hardly ever see her.’
    Just as she said this Mrs Evans strolled past and
subjoined: ‘If there’s anything she manages so well, it’s managing to stay out
of sight.’ And the woman was gone, out the main door, a pack of cigarettes in
her hand.
    Frances carried on talking to me.
    ‘Thom lives in what used to be the servants quarters.
The last Lady of the house made apartments out of certain upper rooms at the
back. Only Thom lives up there now, because the opportunity was given to him when
his predecessor left. It’s at the very back, in the attic space above the
southwest rooms. His post goes in at that little black door near the alleyway
to the courtyard. In fact, I have some time – well, give me five minutes and then
meet me in the Colman Smith Gallery. I’ll show you Thom’s office.’
    Good, I thought. While Thom was out of the building
I could leave the letter on his desk.
    The moment Frances walked away, the horrid tap – tap – tap returned opposite. I got up now and made my way
towards the house’s south extension, where many whitewashed rooms were
generally used for modern art exhibitions. These usually bored me quickly. I
found more interest in the originality of the house.
    Frances found me there and showed me Thom’s office
to one side of the gallery. With the door closed, she didn’t seem to want to
knock.
    ‘I don’t like to