Christmas Tales of Terror (11 page)
Read Christmas Tales of Terror Online
Authors: Chris Priestley
‘Would he?’ I asked. ‘Would he disown me because I stay with you and not him?’
‘I would hope not,’ he said. ‘But you never know with the rich. I work with them all the time and, let me tell you, they are a rum lot. And if the rich are strange, then the landed gentry are stranger still. You never know what any of them will do . . .’
Bentley came to a halt here, realising he had strayed from the point.
‘Go to Hawton Mere for Christmas,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s my advice. That’s free advice from a lawyer, Michael. It is as rare and as lovely as a phoenix.’
‘No,’ I said, refusing to change my grim mood. ‘I will not.’
Bentley looked at the ground, rocked back and forth on his heels once or twice, then exhaled noisily.
‘I have something for you, my boy. Your dear mother asked me to give this to you when the time came.’
With those words he pulled an envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to me. Without asking what it was, I opened it and read the enclosed letter.
Dear Michael,
You know that I have always hated taking anything from that man whose life your dear father saved so nobly at the expense of his own. But though each time I did receive his help it made me all the more aware of my husband’s absence and it pained my heart – still I took it, Michael, because of you.
And now, because of you, I write this letter while I still have strength, because I know how proud you are. Michael, it is my wish – my dying wish – that you graciously accept all that Sir Stephen can offer you. Take his money and his opportunities and make something of yourself. Be everything you can. Do this for me, Michael.
As always and for ever,
Your loving mother
I folded the letter up and Bentley handed me a handkerchief for the tears that now filled my eyes. What argument could I have that could triumph against such a letter? It seemed I had no choice.
Bentley put his arm round me. ‘There, there,’ he said. ‘All will be well, all will be well. Hawton Mere has a moat, they tell me. A moat! You shall be like a knight in a castle, eh? A knight!’ And at this, he waved his finger about in flamboyant imitation of a sword. ‘A moated manor house, eh? Yes, yes. All will be well.’
I dried my tears and exhaustion came over me. Resistance was futile and I had no energy left to pursue my objection.
‘Come, my boy,’ said Bentley quietly. ‘Let us quit this place. The air of the graveyard is full of evil humours – toxic, you know, very toxic indeed. Why, I knew a man who dropped down dead as he walked away from a funeral – dead before he reached his carriage. Quite, quite dead.’
Bentley ushered me towards his carriage and we climbed inside. The carriage creaked forward, the wheels beginning their rumble. I looked out of the window and saw my mother’s grave retreat from view, lost among the numberless throng of tombs and headstones.
Steel yourself for more blood-curdling Tales of Terror
... not for the faint-hearted!
A fantastically frightening gothic thriller
from the Master of the Macabre …
CHRIS PRIESTLEY has found great success with his beautifully judged and macabre stories for younger readers. As well as the chilling and brilliant
Tales of Terror
series, he is also the author of many acclaimed novels, including for Bloomsbury
The Dead of Winter
and
Mister Creecher
, and the soon to be published
Through Dead Eyes
. Chris is also a talented artist and illustrator. His cartoons have appeared in many national newspapers and magazines, including the
Independent
and the
Economist
. Chris lives in Cambridge, where he continues to write his seriously scary stories. To find out more about Chris, visit:
www.chrispriestleybooks.com
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and Sydney
First published as an electronic edition in Great Britain in November 2012 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP
Copyright © Chris Priestley 2012
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4088 3840 2
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