Return to Harvest Hall. Chapter one (standard:horror, 1592 words)
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 17 2016	Views/Reads: 2484/1620	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapter one, sequel to my novel, The Long Gallery. Daisy Truman sets out on a perilous journey to return stolen pension funds that were hidden away in the depths of Harvest Hall.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


‘It's not a crusade,' Daisy said stiffly, turning her face slowly
towards him. ‘It's called doing what's right.' 

‘Whatever.' 

‘I need to plan my agenda, put it into a logical sequence of visits,
geographically speaking, and I'll need to check that William keeps Jane 
in check,' a slight smile flickered on Daisy's face as she added, ‘make 
sure she doesn't take over the house while I'm away.' Daisy pulled the 
remote from her pocket, pressed to open the gates and as Adam drove 
through, added, ‘You can stay if you want.' 

‘I have to work in the morning.' 

Daisy shrugged, giving Adam the feeling that his staying or going was of
no consequence to her, and as if to confirm as much, said, ‘Suit 
yourself.' 

Glancing across to the west wing, she saw that it was still bathed in
light. ‘Surely not, does that woman have no other life? Oh well, if 
she's going to keep the midnight oil burning, I may as well take this 
chance to clarify a few things in my absence.' 

And with that, Daisy was gone, leaving Adam alone. Did he go or did he
stay? Adam watched her nimbly climb the steps beneath the colonnade and 
then trudged behind her. 

*** 

Daisy marched through the large hallway and turned left, her shoes
resounding on the wooden flooring as she headed for the west wing. 
Opening the solid oak door at the end, she found herself staring at a 
newly-installed and highly polished reception desk, above which, the 
sign Weston-Lafarge Strength and Fitness Centre shone bright and bold. 
Her surprise, however, lay in the occupant of the desk's chair. Her 
expectation had been to find the tall, powerful redheaded Jane, whereas 
it was her partner, Daisy's blond cousin William Weston, who sat before 
her. 

Daisy swung around, took in the interior, the glossy reception area and
beyond the glass partition, the gym proper, now in semi-darkness. 

‘Great taste,' she said, her expression deadpan. ‘Anyway, I expected to
find your fiancée.' 

William sat forward, cupped his hands together. ‘You can call her Jane,'
he said wryly. 

‘I could call her plenty of other things,' Daisy retorted, perching
herself on the desk beside him. 

‘Except that I don't think you mean it, you've been almost tolerant of
one another of late—you seem quite disappointed that it's not her in my 
place.' 

‘I was keying myself up for the verbal encounter, I guess.' She frowned.
‘Anyway, why are you burning the midnight oil?' 

William glanced at the clock. ‘I'd hardly call it that.' 

Daisy's gaze remained steadfast. ‘You know what I mean, answer my
question.' 

William looked up at her, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.
‘Guests usually use the chairs.' 

‘I'm not a guest, I'm your landlord, now spit.' 

As if he'd been expecting the sharp response, William grinned. ‘Okay,
Miss Bossy Boots, just tying up some loose ends before the big launch 
next week, which you'll no doubt be missing with this venture of 
yours.' 

Daisy eyed her cousin crossly. ‘Why does everyone try to belittle this?
This venture as you put it is aimed at paying back the pension funds 
that were illegally stashed here for Stapleton and his cronies to 
steal, to the people who are owed it. It needs to be done.' 

Now the smile faded from William's face. ‘Don't think they'll thank you
for it.' 

‘I don't think that at all.' Daisy drummed her fingers on the desk.
‘Anyway, I've just had this conversation.' 

‘With Adam.' William nodded knowingly. ‘Well, he cares, when are you
going to realise that? Sometimes, Dais, I think you've got more brains 
than sense; you've got more qualifications than the length of my arms 
put together, and you end up as a ranger.' 

‘Head ranger,' Daisy interrupted indignantly. ‘ Okay, head ranger,' be
that as it may, you have a penchant for acting first and considering 
the consequences later—look at the trouble we've had at Harvest 
Hall—you could have ended up dead, but have you learned from that? Oh 
no, you're setting yourself up for a new mission of principle with who 
knows what dangers lying ahead—and are you going to listen?' 

Daisy leaned closer, breathed in his ear. ‘A simple word, ‘No.' 

William drew back, sighed. ‘That's four words.' 

‘But only one of them counts.' 

And with that, Daisy Truman leapt from the desk and headed into the
heart of the house, hustling through the morning room before crossing 
the cavernous foyer and entering the main lounge, where she saw Adam 
flicking through the channels on her flatscreen TV. 

“So you're staying and engaging in the absorbing habit of channel
hopping.” 

Adam sighed, placed the remote on the side of the Queen Anne chair.
“Hardly, nothing on the box. I was dropping off waiting for you.” 
Raising her eyebrows, Daisy asked, “Why?” 

Adam slapped a hand across his face, tried to think of a smart-ass
answer, but it was pointless; he elected for, “Like, where do I sleep?” 
Daisy glanced across the spacious room, her blue eyes resting on the 
Chesterfield sofa. WIthout returning her gaze to him, she said, “Well, 
you normally just crash out there,” adding before he could comment, 
“but there's a bed made up in the room next to mine if you're not 
afraid of ghosts?” 

Adam waited for Daisy's eyes to meet his and said with a wry twist to
his lips, “I thought our grey spectre friend had departed now that the 
Harvest Hall riddle has been solved.” 

Daisy's lips curved into a smile. “No, not exactly; he's maintaining a
quiet presence and still exuding a chill when he passes through, just 
as a reminder he's still around.” 

Daisy stretched. “Which prompts me to add, I'll be heading upstairs now.
I need to formulate the plan of action early tomorrow morning.” 

“I've been thinking about that,” Adam stated, following her up the broad
staircase. 

“Really?” Daisy glanced back at him, her blonde curls tumbling over her
shoulder. “You're about to let me in on whether I'm playing the Lone 
Ranger or not. Well,” she continued as Adam opened his mouth, “tell me 
tomorrow, I'm due some shut-eye.” Pointing to the oak-panelled door 
next to hers, she added, “Your bed awaits.” 

Adam shook his head, left to stare at Daisy's shapely backside as she
vanished into her room. *** 


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