A Ghost Story for Hallowe'en: Act of Kindness (Guest Post by L. C. Martin)

NOTE: Although we have taken a few break from this tradition while I settled in with our new baby (now toddler, Hugh), it has long been my tradition, each October, to write a ghost story or weird tale for Hallowe'en and post it here. I would like to resume that with some help this year. The following piece -- written very specifically in the tradition of M. R. James, J. Sheridan Le Fanu, W. W. Jacobs, E. F. Benson, L. T. C. Rolt, and Robert Aickman -- was generously submitted to me by a careful student of our genre and a fine practitioner of the form (my sincere thanks to Mr. L. C. Martin for helping us get back into this fine old custom). Accordingly it is 2026's "Ghost Story for Hallowe'en":

During the construction of England’s great canals, Tobias Wood leads a quiet, orderly life as a conscientious bookkeeper, far removed from the rough men whose wages he oversees. But when a tragic accident leaves a labourer’s family destitute, Tobias makes a private sacrifice to spare them further hardship. It is a simple act of kindness—and one that will have extraordinary consequences. As strange and violent deaths begin to trouble the canal country, Tobias finds himself the unlikely beneficiary of an unseen protector. At first, its attentions seem a blessing, shielding him from the dangers of a harsh and unforgiving world. But there is something unsettling about a guardian that does not understand the difference between justice and vengeance, or kindness and cruelty. For Tobias, gratitude may prove a terrible thing to owe.

A C T O F K I N D N E S S

It was one of those bitter autumn mornings, where the wind cuts through a man, its blades sharpened by the freezing temperatures whipped in from the north sea. Tobias’ pulled his coat around him, the lapels raised in a vain attempt to keep out the chill. It did no good, both his cheeks and nose were flushed red and his eyes produced a constant stream of tears that could not be stopped even when his face was turned away.

Smoke rose from the chimney of his cottage. When finished it would be the residence of the newly installed lock-keeper, but for the time being it would suffice as both his home and office. The canal had not progressed more than a mile from it, but as each day went on it snaked further and further through the land.

On entering he fought hard against the door as the wind made every effort to keep it open. After a short struggle he managed to close the latch and turned the key. It was only a small building, with a kitchen and living area downstairs and what would be three bedrooms on the floor above. If he had planned to live here permanently then the walls would have closed in on him but, especially in this weather, the size was of great advantage. He stoked the fire, feeding some fuel into it, and sat down at his desk, his coat still on.

He flipped open the ledger at the marked place and ran his finger down to where he had annotated the last column. The man in question had worked overtime the week over and was due his pay at time and half, yet there had been concerns raised whether the amount of workers documented had actually completed the job. That had occupied Tobias’ morning and resulted in a two mile walk to the foreman’s yard to check; then the two mile walk back.

Satisfied with his calculations, he took the key from the inside of his pocket and made his way to the middle of the room, where he folded over the rug and turned the key to open the safe. It was set into the floor and its location known only to himself, the directors and the man who installed it. Once the correct money was counted out, he secured it once more in an envelope to be provided at the end of the week.

This scene played out over and over again with meticulous precision until the dusk had well and truly passed and night was well upon him.

* * *

The working week elongated as it progressed and it was not unusual to see light burning in his windows well after the final workers had left for the night.

He had taken the time away from his desk to place the kettle on the stove, when he heard a commotion outside. It was not near, for the voices were faint, yet there was agitation in the tone. He stopped still to listen more intently but the whistling on the kettle as it brought itself to boil drowned the noises out.

As he carefully poured the coffee through the filter, he heard the voices again. They were louder now and with them came the sound of hooves. It strange for the horses and were never brought up the tow-path in the dark; the surface was too pitted and a danger to the beasts. In fact it was entirely strange to hear a group of people coming past at all at this time. The shift had finished a good few hours ago, the last of the workmen passing this way as the daylight waned.

It occurred to Tobias that he was very alone, with his nearest neighbour a good half an hour away. With that he stood deadly still in the middle of the room, the mug of coffee clasped in between his hands. He did not stir, he dared only breath the minimum amount that allowed him to sustain his life.

“Mr Wood! Mr Wood!”

He recognised the voices, not as one can put a name to it, but where it is known in passing. He ran from the house to see the bobbing of lantern lights from a horse and cart. The darkness was deceiving in its perception of distance but he could tell it was less than half a mile away.

“Hullo.” Tobias called out in the direction of the lights. “Is everything all right over there?”

There was a lull in time as the sound travelled before a response was called, “It is Phillips, he has taken a fall and he’s injured himself.”

“Bring him in.”

Running back inside Tobias grabbed the nearest lamp and hung it from the hook at his door, illuminating the surrounding tow-path. The slow procession eventually made it to his front door- placing the stricken man on the recently cleared table.

Phillips had a nasty wound to his head. Copious amounts of blood escaped the hole in his head, covering his face in a crimson veil the men had long given up trying to wipe away. By the accounts of his comrades they had been asked to finish a job by the foreman whilst many of the other workers left for the evening. In the failing light he had caught his foot on some loose rubble and tumbled into the trench, landing heavily on a rock which had caused the injury to his head. He had not regained consciousness since and, throughout the journey his breathing had become more and more laboured until it was barely a whisper.

Tobias’ dispatched one of the group to unhitch the horse from the cart and ride to the town to fetch a doctor. However it was no use, by the time the physician arrived, hours later, Phillips had passed from the mortal realm.

* * *

Phillips lay on the desk until transport was arranged the next day. As was custom in these circumstances, the cost of the care and transportation of the deceased was due to be taken from the wages that were owed to the dead man, yet this didn’t sit well with Tobias.

The men stayed with Tobias awaiting the doctor. They knew little about Phillips, bar the fact he was survived by a sister. Never married, he was harsh with those around him and he had been tormented for his lisp. Women shunned him, men mocked him, and from that, unsurprisingly, a bitter man was created.

When talk turned to the sister, they knew little more, bar the word of a friend of a friend. She was a widow, supporting two young children, and reliant on her brother’s wages to keep them from poverty. The thought of the young family thrown out onto the street to face the elements was too much for Tobias who himself had lost his father at a young age. The world made no allowance for such grief, it did not pay the bills.

The sister would be down as Phillips’ next of kin and a slight of hand with the documents ensured a full payment was made to her without deductions; the cost of which came from Tobias’ own pocket.

On top of all this, a small amount was added to pay for a proper burial. Phillips’ may have been unfortunate in life, but that should not have impacted upon his death.

* * *

A month had passed and Phillips’ memory had been resigned to the long list of men who gave their lives in building the canals of England. Autumn had turned into winter and the ground had become routine frozen to the tune of broken shovels and the cries of frustrated men.

On one of these mornings, a loud rapping woke Tobias from the trance he fell into when he worked. As was his way, he secured the safe and covered the ledger before going to see his visitor.

In front of him stood a large man, his arms thick with muscle and face covered with the rugged and red skin that clothes those who had spent a lifetime of working outside. His nostrils flared and a look of malice emanated from his eyes.

“Are you Tobias Wood?

“I am indeed.”

“The book-keeper who is in charge of our wages.”

“The very one.”

With the quickest of glances around, the man

shoved Tobias back and stepped over the threshold. The act of violence was completely against anything that Tobias’ expected and he staggered further than even the man had anticipated.

With a large finger jabbing at Tobias, the man said,

“You’ve docked my pay last week, a whole day and a half.”

His legs wanted to shake and his voice felt as though it could crack, yet Tobias found the strength from somewhere. Whether it was the fact he was being threatened in his own home, or that he knew his accounts were without fault, he did not know.

“You are paid for what you work, sir.”

“I was sent away, it was not my choice.”

“Who sent you away?”

“The foreman.”

“And for what reason?”

“That is none of your business.”

Tobias’ vaguely remembered a note from the Foreman informing him that a worker had walked off for a day and a half; the particulars were not included, but a man was only paid for what he worked.

“The foreman stated you walked off.”

“I was told to leave.”

“Unfortunately if you leave of your own volition, sir, then you will not be paid. You must take that up with him.”

“But I was sent away,” he protested. The volume of his voice rose and the jabbing finger became more impactful.

“If the foreman sent you away, in protest, you would still be paid. That is not the case here, sir.”

“I’ve already spoken to the damned foreman, he told me he informed you I was sent away- I bet you’re keeping the money for yourself. You don’t know what work is, robbing bastards.”

“I can assure you that is not the case.”

“Show me the note then.”

A chill ran down Tobias’ spine for he knew how it would look as the note was destroyed- as were all that were passed to him; he would have a room full of them if they were to be kept.

“I cannot do that.”

“Because you don’t have one. Listen, man, I will return on Friday for my pay- I want the missing day and a half returned to me then or I will come here and break your skull. Is that understood? And don’t think of going to the local Constable in town, he’s a

friend.”

* * *

Fear ate at him that night. The thoughts of being taken out by the brute of a man and beaten to within an inch of his life, or further, invaded his mind and brought on a melancholy that perturbed his sleep. When the first light of day entered through his window, he was unsure he had slept an hour when it was all added together.

As was custom, the workers came at their allotted time and their envelopes were passed over. They all greeted Tobias’ cheerfully, many not evening checking their pay; just acknowledging him with a good morning and carrying on down the tow-path.

Around an hour into it all, one of the men greeted him with a smile and, taking the envelope, said, “I imagine you’re a relieved man, Mr Wood.”

Tobias’ brow narrowed and he racked his brain for a reason why the man would suggest this. None was forthcoming and, if he was honest, he was the exact opposite of relieved.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Have you not heard?”

“Evidently not.”

“Ornstein, the man who threatened you. Oh, don’t

look so shocked, Mr Wood, the man was a drunk and made it very clear to all and sundry what he had said to you. Anyhow, you needn’t worry any longer, that is if you have at all, for he is dead.”

“Dead?”

“Very much so, saw his body myself as I was walking home.”

“What happened?” He couldn’t hide the panic in his tone.

“Don’t be like that, sir, you’re not a suspect; enough people saw it,” he laughed. A little strange all the same though. He was stumbling down the street, drunk as a fart, and stumbled, cracking his head against a wooden post. Killed him quite dead it did.”

“How awful.”

“Better for you, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so. A couple of us ‘ere were going to hang around when he came as he would have had qualms inflicting harm upon you; nothing he said was idle.

Looks like the Lord moves in mysterious ways. Anyway, I must get back to work, good morning to you, Mr Wood.”

The work and constant conversation kept Tobias’ mind busy and the unfortunate events that had befallen the man who had threatened him slipped from his mind- another casualty that the canal had taken. That was, however, until an incident two weeks later, that made the whole affair much more concerning.

* * *

On the rare occasions Tobias had to leave his home and not return to stay the night, he found that the rooms at the White Horse were both reasonably priced and spacious enough for his needs. A meeting with the director had dragged on; the delay the weather had caused meant that the government was starting to ask questions and, much to the alarm of every director, suggesting fines should the project not be completed in a certain time-frame.

The hour was growing late when Tobias’ finally found that his time was his own and arrived in the bar. For a night in the week it was busy, the crowd of inebriated regulars growing louder in volume, whilst the visitors were easier to spot for they held their own council in quieter corners. A meeting as the one he had just ensured was enough to raise a thirst in the most teetotal of men.

As he was steps away his progress came to a sudden halt as a body crossed his path. The owner of the said body was stout, strong enough to shock Tobias as they made contact, the the book-keeper instantly defaulted to his natural stance of an apology. The recipient did no such thing and growled an unintelligible word before glaring at him from glazed eyes.

Tobias carried on, ordering whatever victuals were available. His hunger had taken a leave of absence for the majority of the afternoon but now it had returned with quite a vengeance. The words had barely left his lips when the unreasonably angry man appeared at his right shoulder. With a hefty shove, he knocked Tobias to the left and started his own order. The barmaid had seen it all but looked around, wide eyed, unable to decide which course of action was the best.

“Excuse me, sir,” Tobias began, “but I’ll think you’ll find that I was here first and have already ordered.”

The man turned to face Tobias, swaying on his heels and extending an arm to the bar to steady himself.

“I think you’ll find,” he slurred his words so they all came out as one, “that it is no problem of mine. You can order when I’m done.”

“I must—” Tobias was cut off by another arm on his shoulder, however this one was softer. It turned him slightly, bringing him face to face with an older man with a kindly face.

“I’d leave it if I were you, son,” he said. “No good will come of trying to reason with that one.”

The old man brought Tobias to a seat in the corner. It was close enough to the fire to warm him through, but not too close that it would dry out and scorch the skin. His new companion took his seat in the corner and gestured for Tobias to take his choice of seats.

“But it is an injustice, he can’t treat people like that and expect to get away with it.”

“He can and he does. Look here, I don’t like it as much as you, but he’s got a hell of a temper on him, so much so that the local Constable won’t touch him if he has too. Come and sit with me, I’ll sort you out.” He held up two fingers to the barmaid and she nodded back.

“That man is a rogue,” Tobias finally said, when the drinks had arrived.

“A rogue and a thug,” the man replied, “but his father has enough money to ensure any witnesses always state he was defending himself. You’d have gotten a beating and nothing would have come of it, I can tell you that much.”

Once the two of them had ironed out the

complaints they had regarding the man, who Tobias now knew was called Thomas Yarwood, and the injustice that surrounded corruption and power, the two men went on to discuss about themselves.

The old man, who gave his name only as Noons, had lived in the town his entire life and had retired recently, selling off a large part of the land he had acquired throughout his youth to give him a comfortable pension to live off. He was intrigued by Tobias’ descriptions of the construction work on the canals and asked questions where many men would have changed the subject.

Tobias explained the inherent dangers of the work, which brought him onto the unfortunate Phillips.

“You lost another man did you not?” Noons asked.

“Not to my knowledge, we’ve only had the one casualty on the job this month.”

“Oh, not on the job, in the town the other week. He was one of yours I believe.”

It took a brief moment for he realised Noons was discussing the man who threatened him. He relived the incident in his house and the adrenaline shot through his body, quickening his heart and flushing his cheeks.

“Are you alright?” Noons asked.

“Yes, my apologies, I just had an unfortunate

memory.”

“Relating to the dead man?”

Without any sensible reason why, Tobias found he was telling Noons everything. When he had finished the old man sat stroking his chin.

“Well I know you didn’t kill him,” he laughed.

“You were there when he died?”

“It was out there, just across the street.”

Noons lifted himself from his seat and gestured towards the door before he carried on.

“I had just finished my last drink and I was no more than a few steps out of the door when I caught sight of the man; Ornstein was it?”

Tobias nodded.

“He caught my attention as he seemed to be running from something, but doing a damn poor job at it. He kept stumbling, flailing his arms around and ended up on the ground once or twice. He was well within his cups.”

“Was he saying anything?”

Noons paused as he thought, then said, “I think so, I’d had a few myself you must understand. He was telling someone to go away, but there was no-one there.”

“That doesn’t sound uncommon for a drunk.”

“Agreed, however that was not the reason it has stuck with me. As he came within a few feet of that.” Noons gestured through the window at a wooden post, “he stood upright and turned to something. One moment he was stood as straight as a soldier then his torso jerked backwards as though some unseen force had thrust both hands into his chest. His legs didn’t move, just his torso flying back until he hit that post with an awful sound.”

“You’re saying something supernatural did away with him?”

Noons shook his head, “No, I’m not saying anything, just telling you what I saw.”

Unsure what to say, Tobias drank slowly from his pint. Providence was looking down on him for, at that very moment, the front door of the pub burst open and a cry for help came from outside.

Those not too drunk to rise from their seats made their way to the street and Tobias had to push through a crowd, at least three deep, before finding what had caused the commotion. The rain had been coming down like the proverbial stair-rods, leaving the ground saturated and puddles covering any part that was not even. In one of these puddles lay Thomas Yarwood, face submerged below the surface.

“Why didn’t you get him out?” a voice in the crowd called to the man who had shouted into the pub.

“We tried, by the love of God himself we tried, but it was as if something had held him down until all the air in his lungs was gone!”

* * *

Tobias did not sleep a minute that night, tossing and turning in his rented bed. As soon as the sun was up he was gone, back along the road to his home and he did not stop until the fire roared and a hot drink adorned his desk.

He was not quite sure why it disturbed him as such, but the thought that two men who had threatened him now lay dead, and the circumstance around both of those deaths being odd, brought awful thoughts to his mind.

If the accounts were to be taken at face value, some unseen assailant had taken umbrage with men who had wronged him and decided that to take their lives was the best course of action.

Something sat at the back of his mind, something that his subconscious had picked up on and would not put down.

All this had happened since Phillips had died on the very table he now sat at. Phillips the loner, Phillips who had no friends, Phillips who also had a violent streak. It was most probably nothing, but the nagging feeling would not subside and so he wrote to the only person who knew the man well. The reply came within three days and Tobias rode out the morning it arrived.

Dark clouds loomed over him, stretching from one end of the sky to the next, but never following through with their promise. Instead it was the cold that dogged him and, by the time he hitched his borrowed horse up, all feeling had been lost in his limbs and outer extremities.

No sooner was he off the horse, then a woman appeared from the door, a small child in tow, half obscured by her skirts.

“Are you Mr Wood?” she asked.

“I am indeed. Mrs Phillips I presume?”

“Bodmin, I kept my late husband’s name.”

“My apologies.”

“It is an easy mistake. Please come in, take the chill from your bones.”

Preparations had been made for Tobias’ arrival. A kettle boiled contently on the stove, its whistle just starting to cut through the air as he reached across the threshold.

Another child now appeared, a girl much older than the one who stalked Mrs Bodmin’s every step, and she was instructed to take her younger sibling off upstairs to the master bedroom.

No matter how much he protested, a fresh stew and mug of ale, of much better quality than he expected, was placed in front of him. He ate it readily, the warmth finding its way down into his very being, whilst Mrs Bodmin perched on the corner of a chair, her eyes never leaving him.

“You are too kind,” Tobias said, dabbing a handkerchief on the corner of his lips.

No less than a moment after he had finished she was up, clearing the bowl and giving him both a smile and a small bow.

“You did my brother a great kindness, this is nothing in relation to that.”

“I feel you have spent too much on my account.”

“As I said, sir, nothing is too much.”

“I must protest—”

“And you can as much as you like, I stand by what I said.”

The next few minutes were spent discussing pleasantries; the health of the children, which could be worse, how she was coping with the loss of her brother, which could be better, and then onto how bad the winter looked to be- which could go either way.

As this started to come to its natural conclusion, she tensed up, her body going rigid, and looked Tobias in the eye.

“From your letter, I believe you have something you wish to discuss with me about my brother.”

“Quite,” Tobias began. Now he was here in front of her it all appeared ridiculous, the idea that her brother was somehow influencing the physical world from beyond the grave. He stumbled over his words until she stepped in.

“You believe that Nathaniel isn’t truly gone, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“How would you put it then?”

“I’m— I’m not so sure.”

“Please excuse my harshness,” she dropped both

her tone and volume, “I did not mean to come across like that. My brother was a man of passions and strong beliefs mainly because of the suffering that he had been subjected to all his life. He was harsh and kept the world out, by God, if you showed him a kindness he would act as though he owed you a life debt.”

“How do you mean?”

“Over ten years ago now, a man he once knew

saved his life when he fell into a pit he was digging that began to fill with water. I want you to understand, Mr Wood, that my brother was a strange man. He did things others would find unconventional and I put it down to a desire to be accepted. From that day, to all and sundry, he swore he would serve the man as best he could.”

“And what happened?”

“He died, an accident at work.”

“Oh.”

“That is not the end of it. The accident was due to some negligence; a rail that should have been secured was not.”

Tobias furrowed his brow but did not speak.

“Weeks later both the employer and the man responsible for checking the rail were found dead.”

“Did your brother—”

“I tell you what I know, that is all.” She paused, taking in a deep breath. “If you are asking me if Nathaniel was capable of it, then I will tell you he was and I saw how the man’s death cut deep into him.”

“I’m sure—”

She waved a hand at him and said, “Please don’t offer me empty platitudes. My brother was a violent and dangerous man to those who were not close to him. However, if he believed in something, well, woe betide anything, or anyone, who stood in his way.”

Tobias shivered. The thought terrified him so that he had to suppress it deep within him and the conversation naturally drifted off onto other subjects.

The middle of the afternoon started to set in and Tobias made his excuses to leave; depositing a small purse of coin in between the cushion and arm of the chair- well enough hidden Mrs Bodmin wouldn’t find it straight away and try to return it, but not so well it would remain there for months. She was doing the best she could and he did not want the family to suffer in the winter.

Mrs Bodmin pleaded with him to stay and travel when there was light. He would not even make it as far as the town before night had cast its arms over the countryside, however Tobias could not bring himself to accept the offer. With a promise to write in the future, he saddled up his horse and left on the western road.

* * *

Within half an hour of leaving the Bodmin household, Tobias began to regret his decision. The cold that had assailed him on the way in had not left, but instead had become emboldened by the winter sun’s retreat and attacked with a greater vigour.

It started with numbness in his fingers, before he could feel them no longer and only remained confident of their existence by the fact he could see them by the dim moonlight. Next came his legs and then a tightness in his lower back until all that kept him on his horse was the skill of the beast.

The bare trees cast long shadows across the puddled path and many a time he was plunged into near complete darkness as a copse blocked out all light that the moon could give.

By his mental calculation it had just passed the hour mark, for there was no chance he could take his watch from his pocket and not risk dropping it, when a commotion emerged from the left hand side of the path.

The scuffle of feet and low, hushed voices, slowed his mount and then, as though it had been created out of the air itself, a light appeared. He threw his hand up to protect his eyes and leant back in the process. His balance unsettled, he slid off the side of his horse, grabbing at the reins as he did so but achieving nothing bar material burns.

He didn’t hit the floor with full force, but enough to knock the wind out of him. The freezing dew seeped into his clothes and they stuck to him with an uneasy stickiness.

Someone took hold of the horse and gave a small laugh.

“Look’s like this one has done half the job for us, eh?” The voice was muffled, but Tobias could make out the accent was not local; deep and possibly Scottish. It carried on, “Didn’t think we’d see anyone tonight but there you have it.”

As Tobias’ eyes adjusted to the sudden influx of light, he could see the lantern that the man, for he could only see one at this point, carried. A grate had been pulled aside and had been used to stun him as they took control of the horse.

He heard the clink of metal and then the reflection of the light on a piece of long steel.

“Stand and deliver, sir, and no harm will come of you.”

“I don’t have anything,” Tobias said, his voice cracking.

“Oh, if that is the case you can leave,” a second voice said, the accent local.

Both men laughed, then the second carried on,

“Don’t play us for fools; I can see by both your horse and clothing you have some wealth. Hand it over and no harm will come of you, carry on like this and we’ll run you through then leave you here to meet your maker in mud.”

The true fear of the situation dawned on Tobias; he had only the smallest amount of coin as the rest sat in Mrs Bodmin’s parlour wedged in the chair. He tried to protest, tried to explain, but it caught in his throat.

“Get off me,” the Scottish man said.

“I’m nowhere near you,” the second man replied, his voice coming from the other side of Tobias’ horse.

“Don’t play around like that.”

“I’m not.”

The Scottish man gave a cry and Tobias saw him stumble, the lantern in his hand falling to the floor as the man went with it. It hit the ground with such a force the side came off and light poured into the night. The man moaned in pain and Tobias could see the steel blade of his sword protruding from his torso having entered through his back. Could he have fallen on it? That was a possibility but how did he fall?

A shadow moved to Tobias’ left. It looked like the outline of a man but it moved so quick it could have easily been his imagination. The other man, to the left of the horse, carried out to his stricken companion before Tobias heard a smack and the neighing of the horse. It moved so quickly, its legs flying out and giving a crunch of bone as its hoof connected with the skull of the second man. He went down without even trying to stop himself; dead or unconscious.

A silence filled the night air. Being unable to see whatever had stalked him caused the adrenaline to rise in his body and, with an effort he did not know he possessed, he was up and on his horse, galloping down the road, before the Scottish man had given his last mortal breath.

* * *

Tobias hid himself away, gaining the reputation as a man who had lost all of his wits. His mind was addled, but by terror instead of madness. Every time he turned a corner or allowed himself to slip into darkness he imagined the shadow was with him.

As well as that, he didn’t want someone to be the inadvertent victim of his shadowy guardian. All four men who had met their ends had offered him violence of some sort, but they had been dispatched with a ruthlessness that was uncomely, not including the two highwaymen.

Months went by and, eventually, Tobias found the fear of the shadow subsided and he began to socialise once more. He went into town, reconnected with Noons, and fell in with a nice young woman whose family had moved to the town only a few months before.

Their relationship grew, the young woman infatuated by Tobias; the one of only a few outsiders in a town consisting of the men who were born there and the labourers who came for work. A few further months on and the two were to be married.

As with all relationships that stand the test of time, and many that do not, differences arose and the two disagreed on them. For Tobias and his lady this came after around six months. She had accepted his proposal the month before and set about planning the coming nuptials with a rigour of a woman who had the idea in her head from a young age.

One evening, when Tobias had settled into his nightly routine of brandy and a book, a sharp knock came to his door. He rose, casting a quick glance through the curtains and seeing his beloved shivering in the cold. He quickly undid the latch and invited her in. She virtually fell through the door, teeth chattering, and took her place by the fire. As soon as she had enough heat inside her to speak, she passed a small piece of paper over with unpaid invoices.

Tobias stomach turned. He had both the money and intention of paying for it all, he’d been the person to suggest some of the items. However, his mind had been elsewhere and work had been busy, so much so he had forgotten. He tried to explain, but his reputation was that of a fastidious bookkeeper and to forget to pay a bill was against every part of his character. Under the circumstances, she concluded he intended to cast her honour to the side and break off the engagement and no amount of apologies could convince her otherwise.

The vitriol caught him off guard. He had expected tears, chastisement, but not the anger that was thrown his way. She claimed betrayal, disappointment and, her final act as she slammed the door shut and returned to the night, was to wish death upon him. The initial hurt stung his heart but, he reasoned, she was much younger than him and made immature remarks that she did not mean; should she be given a day or two she would apologise and they could work it out.

He took another glass of his brandy, one larger than usual, and eventually retired to bed with the thought he would send for her the next evening and explain that he did not have the money, but there was a reason for it that would be for her benefit, he could just not tell her what it was at the current moment.

The crashing of fists into his front door woke Tobias from an uncomfortable slumber. There was no rhythm to it, just the banging of fists and then cries for him to come to the door. He swung his feet outside of the bed, feeling the brisk air on his bare feet; a reminder that he was not dreaming.

Wrapped in his nightgown, he pulled open the door to find two burley men, their faces flush with cold and steam rising from their panting mouths.

“Mr Wood?”

“Yes,”

“You must come with us.”

“At this hour?”

“We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important?”

“What has happened?”

“It’s best—”

One man cut off the other and said, “Just tell him, David.”

The second man gulped, then looked Tobias’ straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve found a body in the canal, just a mile or two up from here.”

“A body of who?”

“A young woman. She appears to have fallen and

drowned.”

The events that followed blurred into one another.

The body was indeed of his fiancee and she had drowned. What was strange was the fact she did not need to walk down the tow-path to return home and there were scuff marks on her shoes, corresponding with the grooves in the grass that led the Magistrate to believe she had been dragged to the water.

Tobias was briefly investigated but, much to his fortune, the two workmen who had woken him had been working in a hut half way between Tobias’ home and the place where his fiancee was found.

They both confirmed seeing her pass, albeit flustered and at pace, as though someone was following her, but could attest to her being the only soul they saw. Tobias was cleared and the death put down as unlawful, but with no suspects.

It would feel as though this is a natural ending to the side story of Tobias Wood, yet it does become more tragic. Tobias had an idea of what had caused the death of the woman he loved, in fact he was so sure he all but retreated from public contact. He worked, for he still needed a roof above his head, yet avoided any contact with another soul when it could be helped and never exchanged a cross word. Occasionally, when alone, he would catch a shadow in the corner of his eye, whirling around and launching whatever was in his hand at it. The corresponding wall was the only victim.

Eventually the solitude became too much for Tobias and he resolved to end his suffering. He located a rope, attached it to the thickest of his stair-rods, and placed one end around his neck.

Half a bottle of brandy later he let himself fall, the rope going taught and the pain searing through his neck. He naturally gasped for air and clawed at his throat, realising that in his state of drink he had not fallen harder enough to snap his neck and would have to asphyxiate slowly.

A crunch came above him and, with the flit of a shadow, he fell the few feet to the floor, two pieces of stair-road tumbling after him. He lay there, the air returning to his lungs, whilst his eyes rested on the broken wood. It was as thick as both of his legs combined and there was no way that it would have broken under his weight. He looked up to where it had been attached to the stairs and, once more, saw the flitting of a shadow as it disappeared behind the curve in the stairs. Once again, no harm had befallen him.