Thornhall Manor Read Online Free PDF Page A

back of the loft.
    â€œLook, Clare - Grandad and Grandma.”
    Although many years had passed, there was no mistaking their grandparents.
    â€œWho’s the little girl holding the doll? There’s writing on the back: ‘Thornhall Manor. Mary, Ned, Rebecca’. That’s Mother, Paul. And here’s the doll.”
    She took the doll from the trunk, the doll’s dress now grey-white with age. They spent several minutes studying the other paintings. Clare noticed a strange look upon Paul’s face.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    He pointed to a portrait of a gentleman in riding breeches, with a whip in his right hand and their mother at his side. Right away Clare noticed that the man bore an uncanny likeness to her brother Paul.
    A long silence followed.
    Suddenly Clare exclaimed, “Paul - what’s the matter?”
    He seemed to be in a dream, just standing there, whip by his side.
    â€œGive me your hand, Clare.”
    Annie looked concerned when she saw Paul bringing a painting down from the loft.
    Paul said, “That’s Mother, isn’t it?”
    Annie’s face turned deadly white as she gazed at the portrait.
    â€œYes, Paul, that’s Rebecca. Paul, life’s not always as we would like it. Things happen which we must accept. It’s called growing up and that’s what you must do now. One day when you are older I will tell you, but now is not the time. Your grandparents were devastated by your mother’s death, as you both were. Now, be a good lad and return it to the loft - and not a word to Mary and Ned.”
    â€œNow, you two, off to bed.”
    As the children made their way upstairs Ned called after them: “Goodnight to you both.”
    â€œNed, they seemed uncannily quiet tonight.”
    â€œYes, I thought so - being on their own today, I suppose. I’ll have to make it up to them tomorrow - fishing, or perhaps a walk in the woods. We’ll see.”
    Clare lay there for what seemed like hours, looking up at the ceiling, shadows dancing about in the flickering lamplight. Outside they could hear the occasional cry of a fox and the hoot of an owl.
    â€œYou asleep? Look at this, Clare. I went back and found a painting of four children - three boys and a little girl holding a doll. One boy’s black, Clare.” She sat up in bed as Paul drew the painting out from under his bed.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have taken it.”
    Paul never answered.
    Though faded, written on the back was ‘Rebecca, William, John and Samuel’. There was a large mansion in the background.
    â€œThis must be Thornhall Manor, Paul.”
    Once again he never answered. She noticed a strange expression on his face.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Paul?”
    â€œNothing - go to sleep.”
    Clare woke to a fine sunny morning. She enjoyed helping her grandmother clear away after breakfast, especially now she was beginning to know where things went.
    â€œIs Grandad not well, Grandma?”
    â€œIt’s his legs - old age. They play him up at times, me dear.”
    â€œAnyone there?” They had a visitor.
    Grandad’s voice was heard next: “Come in and sit you down, Peg.”
    â€œThat’s Mr Pegington, Clare. His horse won’t move until she gets her knob of sugar.” Reaching up, she took three large knobs of sugar from a jar. “Now, Clare, go and give these to the horse. Keep your hand flat, like this. Her name’s Sally.”
    As she ran down the pathway, Clare turned her head. She could hear Paul behind her.
    As they walked back to the cottage, after feeding the horse, they could hear laughter, and they soon learnt how funny talkative Mr Pegington was with his round face and white beard.
    â€œHe can tell a good story. Makes them up as he goes along. He’s a loveable old rascal, our Mr Pegington,” said Mary, introducing her grandchildren to Mr Pegington.
    â€œNow, your grandad’s under the weather