Sting in the Tale , livre ebook

A STING IN THE TALE
Henrietta Hammond
ARTHUR H. STOCKWELL LTD
Torrs Park, Ilfracombe, Devon, EX34 8BA
Established 1898
www.ahstockwell.co.uk




© Henrietta Hammond, 2020
First published in Great Britain, 2020
Henrietta Hammond asserts the right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission from the copyright holder.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Except where noted, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.



Dedication
To my stepson Michael Thomson, 1977 to 2017, for his love and faith in me as a person. He, of course, is the Michael in the story.



Chapter 1
The view over the sea from the clifftop was stunning. The sea shimmered with the late afternoon sun. Small frothy waves broke on the pristine sand. The beach was empty of people. On the clifftop sat a young boy. He clasped his knees and rested his head on his hands, oblivious to all the beauty around him.
It was only three weeks since the disastrous news of the car crash that took the lives of his parents. The shock had numbed his mind. At eleven years old it was a tremendous loss – it was going to change his life. Michael found it difficult to process the information that both Mum and Dad had gone. Many relatives and friends had filled the house, all with advice and concern for the young boy, who was so affected by the tragic circumstances.
Michael’s parents, Jane and David Hammond, had only a year ago bought the house near Filey in Yorkshire. David had retired from being a diplomat in Copenhagen, Denmark. He and Michael’s mother wanted a quiet life after their years of travelling around the world. They also wanted Michael to settle at one school during his secondary schooldays. All their plans came to an end with the crash on the A64, when they were on their way home from York.
Michael was tall for his age, slim, with thick black hair, brown eyes and fine bone structure. He was a quiet boy. His love of the computer kept him busy. He also had a piano and enjoyed playing, losing sense of time, just being in a world of his own.
Suddenly with a sigh Michael lifted his head. Looking at the sun, it seemed to be getting late. He stood up and turned to walk home. Aunt Dorothy would be getting worried, and Uncle Henry would be returning from business in town. His aunt and uncle had left their home in Ingleton, Yorkshire, and had come as soon as they received the news of the accident.
Arriving back at the cottage, Aunt Dorothy was already at the door anxiously looking for Michael.
“Thank goodness you are back. I was getting a little worried,” said Aunt Dorothy with a big hug.
Michael smiled. “I am all right, Auntie. I just wanted time to be alone.”
Keeping her arms around his shoulders, she walked with him to the kitchen. The room was warm and cosy with the late afternoon sun shining straight into the room, making everything bright.
Uncle Henry sat at the table. Michael could see he was not happy – he had his grumpy face on!
“Why did you come back late, young man?” Uncle Henry grumbled.
“Sorry, Uncle – I did not know it was so late.”
Then Michael rushed to the bathroom to wash his hands.
Aunt Dorothy was a slim lady, short with fair hair going grey at the sides. She always had her hair in a bun. Uncle Henry was not so slim. His hair was brown, short and going a little bald on the top.
Michael returned to the kitchen, where Aunt Dorothy was already putting plates on the table for dinner.
The meal was a very quiet affair. Uncle Henry did not contribute to the conversation, leaving Aunt Dorothy to try and engage Michael in cheerful talk, bringing up subjects she thought he would be interested in. Michael helped to clear the plates and cutlery at the end of the meal. When he placed everything at the kitchen sink his aunt handed him a tea towel. She believed in children helping with chores. As she would say, “It makes children part of the family.”
Uncle Henry was sitting in a large armchair in front of the fireplace. The fire was throwing out a lovely lot of heat, making the room warm and comfortable. Aunt Dorothy sat down on the settee and patted the seat beside her to indicate to Michael she wanted him to sit beside her.
When he was settled, she began: “Now, Michael, we need to talk about your future. We have to return home soon and Uncle Henry and I want you to come with us. There are good schools in our area and I don’t think it would take long for you to settle in with us.”
Although Uncle Henry was a man of few words, he nodded his head in agreement.

“What do you think? We could rent this house out for the moment and decide later what you would like to do with it?”
Michael had been looking very serious. “I realise I can’t stay here by myself, so, Auntie Dorothy, I would like to stay with you and Uncle Henry.”
It was obvious that it was very difficult for him to have to leave his family home, but then it would also have been very sad to stay with all the memories of being with his parents.
Michael spent the next week deciding what he wanted to take with him for the move. He also was encouraged by his aunt to get rid of anything he did not find precious and could not use any more. Sorry to say, there was a lot more in the ‘keep’ pile than in the ‘throw away’ pile. Also some items from the ‘throw away’ pile migrated to the ‘keep’ pile overnight!
The day came when Michael had to say goodbye to everything that had been part of his life for the last year. He had felt completely drained as he visited all the local areas where he had been so happy. He said goodbye to his friends at school, promising to email. Aunt Dorothy locked the front door for the last time. She put the key in her handbag and put on her gloves. The morning was damp from overnight rain, and the dark clouds were still preventing the sun from shining through.
Michael and his aunt got into the car. The car slowly drove out of the driveway and on to the road. Picking up speed, they were off – a new life for Michael. He looked out of the back window. His house grew smaller and smaller and then was gone.



Chapter 2
Michael barely noticed the countryside, which was showing signs of autumn, many trees turning stunning shades of red and yellow. He did not notice the villages they passed through, their old buildings full of character. Michael’s eyes were tearful. He struggled not to cry. He felt he should be strong. He knew he was lucky to have Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Henry. His aunt was very caring and loved him and was trying hard to keep him cheerful. Uncle Henry? Well, Uncle Henry was quite dour at times, not much of a talker, kept to himself. He had his own interests – mainly geology, which he was very knowledgeable about. Uncle Henry was, however, very kind, even though he showed few emotions.
At last the car arrived at Ingleton – not a large village. Most of the houses were built of grey stones. A winding road led them to a terraced house. The front door was painted blue. The window boxes were full of flowers. No front garden, but it overlooked the village green. Aunt Dorothy was glad they did not have to mow it.
Uncle Henry took all Michael’s various bags and cases out of the boot of the car with Michael’s help. They carried everything inside. Aunt Dorothy had already put the kettle on. A cup of tea came first before anything else was done. They sat around the kitchen table with little conversation. Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Henry were glad to be home again. They had lived in that house since they were married many years ago.
The house was small, but it did have three bedrooms. Aunt Dorothy showed Michael to a room that overlooked the street. It looked bright and comfortable, although the bedspread had a few too many flowers on it! Michael eyed a chair and a small table that would be handy to use as a desk. Looking around, there was an armchair – more flowers on it! – which he could use when reading his books, of which he had many. A tall wardrobe completed the room. On the whole he was happy with the room. He had the advantage of the window, where he could see the street and watch the comings and goings of the people in the village.
Michael unpacked and found places for all his belongings and clothes. He put his computer on the slim table, which he moved in front of the window. After checking his computer was connected, he found a couple of emails, which he replied to. Then he went downstairs and back to the kitchen. Lovely smells of cooking came floating out of the door. Aunt Dorothy was getting everything ready for dinner.
After the meal Uncle Henry spoke to Michael. “I think tomorrow I will take you for a drive so that you can see where everything is. We will go past your school and the shops; after that we could go and explore White Scar Cave. There are lots of caves in this area, but White Scar is the closest one. In time we could visit them all.”
Michael was surprised – this was the longest conversation he had ever had with Uncle Henry.
“I would like that, Uncle Henry. I love rock formations.”
And so uncle and nephew found a common interest.
Aunt Dorothy had already said she had quite a lot to do on Sunday, having been away for those few weeks, so it was agreed that after breakfast Michael and Uncle Henry would spend the day getting to know each other. Aunt Dorothy would pack them a picnic. The weather report on the television said the day would be