The Thornthwaite Inheritance by Gareth P. Jones

Author:Gareth P. Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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THE LADY WITH THE FLOWERS

On their way to the graveyard, Lorelli and Adam passed the village school. It was a small modern one-storey building, surrounded by a playground, with brightly coloured patterns on the concrete that would have been filled with children playing during term time.

‘What’s it like?’ asked Lorelli.

‘I don’t know, I’ve never been there,’ said Adam.

‘I mean, what’s it like going to school. I’ve only ever been taught at home?’

‘Oh that. It’s great fun. Saint Swivels is much bigger than this little school, of course. It’s got four football fields, eight basketball courts, twenty tennis courts, a science lab, a gym, and an Olympic-sized swimming pool. It’s even got a working farm on site.’

‘You sound like a brochure,’ said Lorelli. ‘What I mean is, what’s it like having friends, going to classes, being away from home, having teachers you like and ones you don’t . . . things like that?’ She was thinking of the various books she had read about school life.

‘Oh, that’s all brilliant,’ said Adam with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘I’ve got loads of friends and all the teachers like me.’

They approached the tall spire of the church. On the other side of the road from it was a flat-roofed building with a sign outside which said: PRINTING PRESS.

Lorelli pointed to the large wooden doors at the front of the church. ‘You don’t think Father Whelan’s in there, do you?’ she said anxiously.

‘No. He walked off in the other direction,’ said Adam. ‘Where’s your parents’ grave?’

‘I don’t know. This is my first time here,’ admitted Lorelli.

‘It’ll be quicker to find it if we split up to look,’ said Adam brightly. ‘I’ll head this way around the church, you go that way.’

Lorelli agreed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted Adam there when she found her parents’ grave, not knowing how she would feel when she saw it.

Walking alone through the graveyard, Lorelli found it an oddly unemotional experience to read the names, dates and inscriptions of people she had never known. Then she saw a name she did recognise.

Hedley Bagshaw

Now part of the local history he loved so much

Died aged 41, 1996

‘Here, my dear. Place this on his grave.’

Lorelli turned to face the woman who had spoken. She had kind eyes, long unkempt hair and several layers of mismatched clothes as though she had been unsure what to put on that morning and so had worn everything. In her arms she carried a bunch of colourful flowers, one of which she was holding out for Lorelli.

Lorelli took the flower and put it on the gravestone. ‘Did you know him?’ she asked.

The woman read the name on the gravestone. ‘Hedley Bagshaw? No, but I come here to put flowers on the gravestones of those neglected by the living. Even the dead need caring for, don’t you think?’

‘I’m looking for my parents,’ said Lorelli.

‘Where did you last see them?’

‘I mean, they’re dead. I’m looking for the gravestone.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ The woman smiled kindly. ‘What name, my love?’

‘Thornthwaite,’ replied Lorelli, nervous about revealing her name.

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