Free The Unexpected Occurrence of Thaddeus Hobble by Gareth Wiles Page A

of a cart one afternoon whilst at market. The wheels made a terrible mess of his smooth face, and the authorities advised Uncle Joe not to come himself but to send me to identify the body so as to remember his darling son as he was. The body looked terribly sad, but I told Uncle Joe that he had looked peaceful. Left with only a daughter, Uncle Joe drew up a new will and made me the main beneficiary. I was to get everything, he told me, and to earn this I had to marry Agatha when she turned sixteen. I was already sixteen, she was just fifteen. She did not seem best pleased at the arrangement, but I didn’t complain. We could make it work, even though we were cousins and had really grown up as brother and sister. Things instantly eased up for me and I was allowed to join the family in the main house, away from my room in the barn.
    Two weeks later, we three were sitting having breakfast when Uncle Joe came over all queer. All the colour drained from his face and he looked up to the heavens. Giving out a big groan, his face slammed onto the table and into his food. I leapt up, pulling him up to see what the matter was. And, as the porridge slipped from his cheeks and down his neck, I knew it was no good; he was dead. Agatha wept stoically, maintaining her reserved gait. The early morning sun caught her perfect face and I couldn’t help but stare. Displeased at my attention, especially as I was clutching her father’s dead body, she scorned me for my sins with a cuttingly cold stare.
    I was now the owner of the factory, and my speedy rise bred disquiet amongst my workers. I had once been amongst them, but now that I was telling them what to do they were not too happy. Resentment was quick to surface and I found it difficult to establish my authority. One such worker, Jack Ffoulkes, had toiled alongside me all my years at the factory. He was a year older and had to some extent taken me under his wing. I would not say we were friends, for I knew not what friendship entailed, but we oft had shared private conversations to make the time in the factory more bearable. He had long heard me speak of the cruelty of my deceased father, and my appreciation for cousin Agatha’s physical beauty and quiet aloofness. One day he had come to my uncle’s house and seen Agatha for himself. I saw the way he looked at her, and she at him, and I never again spoke of her to him. Now that my uncle was dead, and I was the only thing in Agatha’s way, Ffoulkes took it upon himself to let me know how he truly felt about her.
    He came into my office one morning with a fierce look on his face, and I didn’t take my eyes off him. I knew not to, for had I it would have shown weakness to him. He stood very quiet and very still, his chest going in and out, in and out.
    â€˜What do you want, Ffoulkes?’ I asked him.
    â€˜The workers aren’t happy, Aubrey,’ he snorted back.
    â€˜I was
never
happy as a worker. What is your point?’
    â€˜Are you happy now?’ he grunted, stepping closer. I too moved closer to him, our faces almost touching. He was tall like me, and we met on equal physical terms. ‘Happy that you have Agatha all to yourself?’
    â€˜Wouldn’t you be?’ I put to him. His face reddened and I prepared for his fist to meet my person. However, my defiance appeared to unsettle his bullying stance and he backed off, storming out of the room. I relaxed, sitting down. Suddenly he appeared again at the door.
    â€˜I want her,’ he said smugly. ‘And, I’m going to get her.’ He disappeared, leaving me alone once more. I stayed seated for a moment, wondering why my entire life had been a struggle. I wasn’t particularly harmed by it in any serious manner, but it was a trifle trite to have to keep dealing with these challenges. I got to my feet and approached the window, looking down into the courtyard below. Ffoulkes came out of the building and jogged out of the