The Serpent in the Glass (The Tale of Thomas Farrell) Read Online Free PDF

that emanated from that distant figure in his memory. He knew his father would’ve visited if death hadn’t robbed him of that opportunity. The confirmation of it comforted him in a way; if his father had still been alive, Thomas wouldn’t have understood why he’d never come to see him. That would have been true abandonment. The invitation to the school gave him hope. The writer of the letter, or this ‘representative’, must’ve known his father. At long last he was going to find out who his father really was.
    Jessica turned to Thomas. ‘The name sounds a bit sinister.’
    Thomas looked at Jessica. ‘What? “Trevelyan”? It doesn’t sound sinister to me.’
    Jessica shook her head. ‘No, the name of the school! Darkledun Manor.’
    ‘Well, that’s good fortune,’ Mr Westhrop said, as he finished studying the sheet attached to the letter. ‘Everyone wait here, I’ll be back in ten minutes.’
    Mr Westhrop took fifteen minutes, not ten. He returned seemingly quite pleased with himself even though he’d taken five minutes longer than expected. ‘I’ve just been on the phone to this Mr Trevelyan and have arranged for us to stop by on the way home.’
    As the car pulled off, Jessica started rummaging through her bag, but Thomas paid little attention to her. This was all rather sudden. He was going to meet Mr Trevelyan. The thought that this man might be able to tell Thomas more about his father sent his heart racing, though whether with excitement or fear of the unknown, he couldn’t tell.
    ‘Dad?’ Jessica asked just as Mr Westhrop turned onto the main road.
    ‘Yes, Jessica?’ he said.
    ‘I didn’t know there were special schools for gifted children.’
    Thomas looked at his adoptive sister. He hadn’t picked up on that. Why had he been invited to a school for gifted children? There was nothing special about him.
    ‘Obviously this,’ — Mr Westhrop waved the invitation to Darkledun Manor in his hand — ‘was extended without any personal knowledge of Thomas. I think they’ll still take him. After all, it’s already paid for.’
    Jessica ignored the remark. ‘If Thomas goes to this school, how will he get home each day? I think it might be very late when he gets in. And you know how he gets lost so easily. Maybe we can meet him somewhere?’
    Mr Westhrop looked at his daughter in the rear-view mirror with what Thomas thought an expression of impatience. ‘Jessica, Darkledun Manor students don’t come home every day. It’s a boarding school.’
    Thomas hadn’t heard of one of those before. Did they make boards there or was the school itself made of boards?
    Seeing the confusion written on the two small faces in his rear-view mirror, Mr Westhrop went on. ‘A boarding school is where students sleep overnight. They don’t come home at the end of each day or even at the weekend.’
    Jessica seemed a little concerned. ‘You mean if Thomas goes to this Darkledun Manor we won’t see him again until he’s an adult?’
    ‘Thomas will come home in the holidays, Jessica.’ He didn’t seem particularly pleased about the idea from the way he spoke. ‘Now, no more questions. I have to concentrate on the directions. We don’t want to delay. The longer we do that the longer we’ll be driving in the dark on the way home. And you both know what that means.’
    They did. It meant Mr Westhrop would have to do something he didn’t like doing: turning on the headlights. He would often mutter when he saw other drivers with their headlights on before the street lamps were lit. ‘They’re wasting their batteries!’ he would say, shaking his head in disapproval.
    Jessica tried to fold up the map she’d been looking at, but wasn’t having much success. She seemed agitated. She eventually left the folded map next to her on the seat, where it promptly expanded open again. Thomas paid little heed to Jessica though; he was, after all, going to see a man who might know something about his father.

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