Read The Serpent in the Glass (The Tale of Thomas Farrell) for Free Online

it?’
    ‘The Westhrops, Headmaster,’ Miss McGritch replied curtly.
    ‘Well, ‘blige me, they were quick! Do show them in!’ the other responded from inside the room.
    The Housekeeper opened the door, stepped inside and indicated for them to enter. Thomas walked into a room not much bigger than the Westhrops’ living room. A large desk, upon which rested an old red telephone, sat beneath two tall windows that looked out onto a forest of lean trees. In front of the desk stood a man of average height and build, though a little portly around the waist, with grey hair that hung long enough to cover his ears but was entirely absent from his crown and forehead. He wore a grey tweed suit and a shocking yellow tie with black spots, which didn’t go at all with the purple shirt beneath. The man’s round face and blue eyes were full of vigour despite him being, as far as Thomas could guess, about twenty years older than Mr Westhrop. He held a monocle to his eye as if examining them all in minute detail. After a few moments, the balding man dropped the monocle and it swung down to his tie. Thomas could now see it was attached to a thin silver chain that hung around the man’s slightly chubby neck.
    ‘Hello, it’s jolly nice to meet you all! I’m the Headmaster, Mr Trevelyan.’ He moved forward as he spoke, and then shook them all enthusiastically by the hand, starting with Mr Westhrop and ending with Jessica; this seemed to lift the latter’s spirits enough to make her smile briefly. After having them all sit down on some rather comfortable orange chairs dotted around his desk, Mr Trevelyan opened a cabinet next to a water dispenser and pulled out a tray of glasses which he placed on his desk. He then took a jug of juice from the same cabinet as well as a plate of fairy cakes. He gave the latter to Mr Westhrop who, not having a sweet tooth, passed them on to his wife. Mr Trevelyan, meanwhile, filled the cups with juice.
    ‘This must be a little strange for you,’ Mr Trevelyan said after handing out the drinks and seating himself behind his desk.
    Mr Westhrop nodded his head and forced a smile. The Headmaster’s accent was hard to place, but Thomas thought it must have been from somewhere in England rather than Scotland.
    Mr Trevelyan took a sip of juice. ‘I’m sure you have many questions, as will Thomas most of all of course.’ When no one responded the Headmaster carried right on. ‘I can have Miss McGritch show you around. It’s all quite modern — electricity, lights, that sort of thing.’
    Thomas looked up from the yellow-topped fairy cake he’d just bitten into. He couldn’t imagine a building without electricity, even though his own bedroom-loft barely possessed it.
    Mr Westhrop frowned. ‘No, no. I’m sure it’s quite all right.’ He pulled his small calculator from his inside breast pocket. ‘Your letter mentioned some financial matters?’
    If he was shocked at Mr Westhrop’s frankness, Mr Trevelyan didn’t show it. Thomas stole a glance at Miss McGritch who stood behind them. Her face was hard to read, but Thomas thought he caught a glimmer of disapproval flicker across it.
    ‘Yes, of course. Miss McGritch, perhaps you’ll take the children on a quick tour? If that’s all right?’ Mr Trevelyan looked to Thomas and Jessica, and then back at Mr and Mrs Westhrop.
    Mr Westhrop gave an indifferent nod and Miss McGritch led Thomas and Jessica out of the room. Thomas took a look behind him before he left the office. Mr Westhrop was fiddling with a piece of paper and his gold Swivet, Stibbard & Waverly pen. The Headmaster, or so it seemed, flashed a boyish grin at Thomas before Miss McGritch closed the door.
    A rather plain sports field spread out behind the Manor, its edges dipping down the hill into a bank of trees and blackberry bushes. A forest surrounded the whole hill, and the only discernible features on the horizon were the peaks of three hills far to the east. Thomas felt that he’d