Malevolent Hall 1666AD Read Free Page A

get it started.  As not only would she need it to cook with, it would be a good source of heat for the approaching winter.
    Mike filled the oil tank for her when he did the electrics, and at the same time, he checked the Aga over for her, and he reckoned it would work.  She walked to the fireplace and leaning a hand on the oak surround, her fingers traced the simple artisanship of the rose carvings decorating it.  She would get Mike to have a look at the chimney tomorrow, and if it were safe to do so, she would light it for some extra warmth.
    Walking to the larder at the rear of the kitchen, she opened the door and inside found tins and packets of food just as it was the day it happened.
    “Tilly, pass me the flour, pet,” her mother called from the end of the table.
    “Can I help mummy?” she asked, picking up the tin containing the flour and giving it to her.
    “Of course you can,” she said, with a smile.  “It’s your birthday cake after all.”
    Matilda watched her memory as she helped her mother make her birthday cake.  Why did it have to happen to them, what was it that had killed them all?  Whatever it was it had left her an orphan, and the pain of being alone never went away.
    “I’m going to find you and destroy you,” Matilda said aloud, wiping yet more tears from her cheeks. 
    “Tilly.”   She froze; shivers went down to her feet and back up again.  Taking a sharp intake of air, she spun around.
    “Who’s there?” she yelled, releasing her breath, certain the voice was not in her head.  Matilda noticed a broom leaning against the kitchen wall.  Grabbing it, and lifting it defensively, she walked to the kitchen door and glanced down the hallway towards the spacious foyer.
    “Who’s there?” Matilda called again.  No one replied and only quietness echoed back at her.  She drew a breath, were her nerves getting to her, maybe she just imagined it.  Walking back in the kitchen and telling herself she needed to get a grip, she leaned the broom against the wall.
    Opening her holdall, she took out a kettle, mug, milk, and teabags and walked to the butler sink.  Staring out of the window that ran the entire length of the wall, the back garden looked an overgrown mess.  She turned on the cold tap letting it run for five minutes to get the old, stale water out of the system before filling the kettle and switching it on.  Mike had done a temporary repair on the old boiler, so she walked over to the emersion and switched in on.  The red light came on, it clank and groaned, and eventually started up.
    Taking her mug of tea, she began to wander the Hall.  Last time they were here, Mike and his crew put up a temporary partition, separating the burned half of the Hall to this side, making it safe and secure.  Turning the handle to what used to be their day-lounge and pushing the door open, she walked inside.  Despite the windows being filthy dirty, a glimmer of the failing afternoon light streamed through, brightening it just enough for her to see.  The sofas in front of the fire were moth eaten.  She forgot they were green, and, in fact, looking at the green curtains and matching cushions, she had forgotten her mother’s favourite colour had been green.
    Walking to the fireplace, and looking at the dust-covered family photographs lining the mantle, tears coursed down her cheeks.  As she stared at one of her brother, she picked it up and gripped it in her shaking hand.  Teddy would have been fourteen this year.
    All Matilda had were vague memories of them and a worn out newspaper clipping with a photo tracked down from article written about her family’s murder in the local newspaper.  No one from the fostering agency had bothered to collect her belongings, or any family mementoes.  Matilda arrived at her first foster home with just the clothes on her back.
    Beside the fire was an old box of his toys, and on the coffee table was something that belonged to her.  Matilda sniffed, put