The Lake

Every now and then, in the pubs and bars of Little Kemsforth, the topic of the Pewsburys and The Lake resurfaced. Through generations, stories have been passed down, each more wild than the last. Everybody in the town knew the Pewsburys, some say they were the oldest family in these parts, and while Old William Pewsbury was an odd fellow, his fore-fathers left behind a good few stories.

There is plenty of nonsense in these parts about the history of the property of The Lake, but listen naught to fairy tales, and only what I tell you.

Old William Pewsbury and his son hold nothing interesting, so let us go back two generations on the family tree, to Old William’s grand-father, Wilforde Pewsbury.

Wilforde and Richard, the charming and handsome twins of Little Kemsforth.

They grew up to be decent young men, and the pride of the Pewsburys. It was extremely rare to witness a bond such as they shared. Together, always, forever.

After school, Richard went to college in London, leaving the family estate and business in the hands of his brother, including The Lake. He spent 5 years in London, then returned to Little Kemsforth with a gorgeous young wife and a formidable character. He moved back into the family estate and lived with his brother and his wife.

His brother, Wilforde, bitter with his brother for leaving and jealous of his success, had the better part of the family property and also his brother’s favourite, The Lake and its grounds.

Wilforde, charming as ever, and lonely, took a liking to Richard’s wife and decided on an exciting evening by The Lake with her to satisfy his demons.

Richard, on his evening walk, ran into Wilforde and his wife at the height of their adventures, in a fury, he shot his wife.

Savagely the two brothers rained fists upon each other, and in bitterness never spoke again. Richard died of cancer, three years after their fight. Wildforde killed himself after burying his brother, leaving everything to his wife and son.

Wilforde’s legacy continued, until I was born, William Pewsbury Junior, son of Old William.

Throughout everything, there was one watcher. A cursed, pained soul… The Lake. Often I spend evenings like today with my sweetheart by The Lake, giving its tortured soul a glimpse of love, of affection. My lover and I hope to cure this forsaken Lake of the damage my family dealt it. Hoping once again, to make its grounds green, and its water blue. This will be the story of William Pewsbury Junior, the story of the lake.