The Long Gallery, chapters four and five. (standard:drama, 1621 words) [3/6] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 08 2014	Views/Reads: 2256/1680	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young woman inherits a large country house, but it seems that other forces are at work to cause problems for her.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

possible standard. 

I – or one of my associates will contact you personally in the near
future to describe our services in greater detail; meanwhile, should 
you have any queries, please do not hesitate to contact the 
undersigned. 

Yours Truly, 

Richard Frobisher-French 

Daisy frowned and held the letter out. ‘Is this normal procedure? And
how the hell did they get wind of my move so quickly?' 

‘Say again?' Penny Finch had finished on the phone and was staring
across inquisitively. 

‘Oh – talking to myself. Most strange though – never mind, it can wait
until later.' Daisy slapped her hands on the desk. ‘Now – before I get 
down to business, are you two making plans to join me at the Hall?' 
Red-headed Penny nodded and shot a glance at Alison, still busy on the 
phone. ‘Yeah, we both are. Well, I mean – we couldn't let you live in 
that great big place all alone.' 

‘Sorted.' Daisy gleamed. ‘We'll talk details later.' 

‘You know Adam will be miffed, don't you? I reckon he sees himself as
your protector. He's only just now been harping on about how unwise 
this is ...' Penny pressed a hand to her chin. ‘Is it?' 

‘Oh, don't start my off on that,” Daisy huffed in frustration, and don't
listen to him, either, I don't know what he's getting so worked up 
about.' She sighed, further irritated by the ‘protector' label that 
Penny had just attached to Adam. It did nothing for her good humour. A 
‘protector,' was one thing she didn't need. 

As far the niggling uncertainties that been chipping at her resolve were
concerned, she'd keep them to herself for the time being; if the girls 
didn't like it, then ... still, it wouldn't do to raise the girls' 
doubts unnecessarily before they'd even moved in. Their presence, when 
all said and done, could only be beneficial to her. It was time to be a 
little more open. 

She leaned forward in her chair. ‘Look, there are some things I don't
understand at the moment, I'll admit. I can't really elaborate, but 
they're not stopping me taking it up.' Directing her gaze at Penny, she 
added, ‘If you're having second thoughts you can always ...' 

‘No – we're not passing up on our chance to reside in a country house.' 

It was Alison, fresh off the phone who cut in. ‘Beats our current digs
all ends up. So then, when are we moving in?' 

Daisy relaxed a little. ‘That's what I like to hear, enthusiasm. Just as
soon as the paperwork's finished.' She grinned at her dark haired 
friend. ‘Now then, let's go check out the reserve.'   

Chapter Five 

The white Mercedes pulled up some thirty metres from the gates of
Harvest Hall. Close enough for the two men within to observe that the 
eight-foot, steel-barred gates were steadfastly shut. Beyond them, the 
driveway ran through to meet the house at its westerly point, forming a 
crescent bereft of vehicles. 

‘It seems we're a bit premature.' Taylor raised his balding scalp
towards his companion in the passenger seat. ‘I'd say the Hall is still 
empty.' 

‘A little forward planning won't go amiss.' French inclined his head and
then stiffened, eyes homing in on the large house ahead. The two men 
sat in silence for over a minute before French spoke, turning to 
Taylor, the trace of a smile on his lean face. ‘You're wondering why 
the fascination for Harvest Hall, I can tell by your expression.' 

Taylor stretched out in his seat, ‘Well, it would no doubt be a
substantial contract if you could secure it – a place of this size. But 
I sense something more on your mind, French, something other than the 
normal run of things may I venture to say, something you're being 
somewhat secretive about?' 

French let out a long, slow breath, continued his scrutiny of the house.
‘Let's say this place has history, four hundred years of it, and that 
there's been a lot of argy-bargy going on here – for countless 
generations.' 

Taylor raised his bushy brows. ‘Okay, but why does that make this place
such an attractive proposition?' 

French inhaled loudly, letting the air slowly out through his nose. ‘I
think there's a reason why the old man left this place to a slip of a 
woman. The problem lies in finding that reason, hence the interest.' 

Taylor grunted, placed his hands on the wheel. ‘You're not making a lot
of sense.' 

‘Patience, dear man. We'll leave it for a few days though not long
enough for Miss Truman to get too settled. I'd hate this little number 
to fall through our hands ...' 

French leaned forward, his eyes fixed suddenly on Taylor. ‘What is it,
man?' 

Taylor ground his teeth and contorted his lips before he spoke. ‘You're
not going to like this ...' 

‘I suggest you let me be the judge of that; come on, don't take all
day.' 

Taylor sighed, when he spoke his voice was just above a whisper.
‘Somebody just came through those gates. A figure dressed in grey from 
head to foot.' 

‘Don't talk nonsense man,' French said curtly. ‘They're plainly locked.'


‘Taylor's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening. ‘I know
that,' he said edgily. ‘It just ...' 

‘Then you'd better stop right there. I'm not a believer in ghosts if
that's the line you're treading – and if you want out of this 
organization, there are other ways of saying so ...' 

‘No, of course I don't. It was obviously some trick of the light.'
Taylor shivered and then jerked his head, scanning the heavens. ‘The 
sun, in and out of the clouds the way it's been. That's what will have 
caused it.' 

‘Maybe.' French though, looked unconvinced, affording Taylor a stony
look from his dark eyes. He raised a finger, crooked it. ‘But get a 
grip, right?'   


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