A dark and colly supernatural story about three wicked brothers, one of whom is a pedophile, set on the South Coast in Edwardian England. Here is a section;
Benjamin came along in high summer, the result of a moderate Christmas and although he was underweight and two weeks premature, he looked as, 'fine a specimen a boy as I've ever seen' Oscar commented once he was allowed into their bedroom.
But things did not turn out to be as fine as expected. The child had diarrhea more than it was expected a child to have for his age and Isabella defiantly knew something was wrong when, at the age of six months, he did not swivel his head around at the direction of an accidentally dropping of a cup. Later tests proved that he was profoundly deft in one ear. Worse was to follow. He was exceptionally slow in learning any form of speech, in standing up and in walking. His features seem to grow out of proportion to the rest of his face and by the age of five, was slightly obese despite Isabella making sure he only received the normal amount of food a child that age should have received. Clearly, there was something wrong and it, once more brought to the surface Oscar's deepest fears.
More tests followed and finally it became clear that little Benjamin, once the light of his father's eye, was moderately brain damaged possibly by lack of oxygen at birth, the consultant had offered. By the age of ten his vocabulary amounted to less than two hundred and fifty simple words.
It was clear that the Trumpingtons were then faced with a challenge both to their faith and as parents. However it was Oscar's God, which rescued him from his dilemma by speaking to him in a dream. Gratefully, Isabella received the news and the full details of the woolgathering the next morning and Benjamin was saved from the asylum.
When he was thirteen he was officially given the only job he had ever shown any interest in; the churchyard. Specifically, the upkeep of it. However, much as Benjamin liked to spend time there; his mother believed it was for the peace and quite; he did not do much work.
In the northern corner, a tool and potting shed had been erected by Oscar when he first arrived and this held the tools and other related equipment required for grave digging and maintenance. It was one of Benjamin's duties to keep those tools in good order and this he did but his main reason for spending so much time in the shed was to tend to the injured animals he found every afternoon.
Amongst his, 'ospital' were jays, woodpigeons, red squirrels, dormice and tiny sparrows. Once, even a kitten. All were imprisoned in either homemade wooden cages or boxes and all were the result of Oscar's continued obsession with firing his air rifle, a hobby he practiced nearly every evening. He considered the churchyard to be an excellent place for honing his skill as a marksman for the place was overrun with 'vermin' as very few visitors took the time and trouble to weed away any plants which grew around the site they were visiting. Although it was Benjamin's job to make good this, Oscar did not pressurize the now young man for he was more than aware that the overgrowth attracted wildlife. All the same though, whenever he could, he would beat his son for not collecting litter and sweeping the paths.
The drama began as Oscar, clutching a bible and a cane strode purposefully along one of the gravel paths accompanied by Isabella who was clutching a bunch of flowers. Benjamin did not hear them until they were nearly on top of him.
"For pities sake woman, you should keep an eye on him. You are his mother."
"I wasn’t to know Oscar. He gets these ideas."
"Ideas? Pah! They are not ideas at all woman. They are the wonderings of a idiot. And where he gets them from? From listening to the rubbish you write. I’m going to forbid you to write any more Isabella."
"It’s only a pastime..."
"If you fell incline to write prose, to write then write with Christianity in your heart not detective stories."
"They are very popular Oscar."
"I’ll damn anyone who reads that betrayal. That filth. This good book is all we need to read. Be content with it. Be a loyal servant to God."
"I am Oscar. You know it"
"Then show it. You write heathen words woman and you’ll end up a heathen. There he is. Benjamin! Benjamin! May God forgive this boy. Why does he not turn?"
"Oscar. His hearing...?" Isabella sounded hurt that her husband did not remember about his son's impairment.
As Oscar continued walking and calling, eventually, a heavy set man in his early twenties, but not tall, looked slowly up from his current unique occupation of digging a grave for his father's brother's wife's mother. There was nothing luminous or ethereal about him whatsoever. He was a gray soul. Even if he had worn bright clothing, he would have expressed dullness. He was white-skinned, very overweight and shirtless, not exhibiting any degree of modesty, exposing flabby muscles and while his body was smooth with an almost complete absence of hair, he had a full head of long jet-black hair and parts of it clung to his forehead with beads of sweat. Underneath, his spotty face was huge, every part, whether it be his nose or ears or mouth or chin each helping to give the effect of a dullard. When he spoke his words were formed painfully slow.
"Daddy?"
But before Oscar could begin his rant, Isabelle interjected first.
"Benjamin, put on your vest! For Heaven's sake boy! Now what have you done with your father’s notes?"
Their son stared blankly back at them opened mouthed making no attempt to cloth himself with either his vest or shirt which had been draped over a nearby gravestone.
"His notes Benjamin. Did you take them?"
"There, as stupid as the day he was born."
"Benjamin. Talk to me. Where are the papers?"
He let his shovel drop then as if he had forgotten it existed and timidly pulled out a fold of papers from his back pocket.
Immediately Oscar jumped forward and snatched them then moved his hand to the end of his cane.
"Oh Oscar, no..."
"Boy must be taught Isabella that he cannot steal property belonging to me. Boy, get on your knees before God."
Benjamin, without a word fell onto the long damp grass, his wide hairy hands covering his mouth and from which moans could already be heard coming from him.
"Isabella, finish your work."
"Oscar, have some pity."
"Indoors woman. Now."
With the first stroke, which caught him across his wide shoulders, Benjamin yelped in pain like a dog and his mother turned away but never moved.
"Away woman."
The second stroke caused a fat red welt to swiftly appear on the back of his neck but Isabella only imagined that as she, slowly at first, then not being able to stand the constant howling, picked up her pace and hurried away, not looking back, her mouth and eyes flinching with every crack and stroke until she could not hear the beating anymore.