Read The Little One [Quick Read 2012] for Free Online Page B

rim of the candlestick.
    The sound of the piano started again. Now it was even louder, as a duet began. ‘Chopsticks’. Margaret must be playing too. Then came clapping and Margaret saying, ‘Good. Very
good. Now practise some more.’
    Barbara made her way downstairs. She looked into the large drawing room with all the drapes over the furniture. She moved to the mantelpiece and held up the low flame of the candle to see
better. There was a portrait above the fireplace, obviously of Margaret’s sister. She had one hand resting on the arm of a chair. The other held the hand of a small child who wore a white
muslin dress. She had flaxen hair in lovely natural curls.
    Holding the candle closer, Barbara tried to see the girl’s face, only to almost drop the candlestick in shock. There was no face, just a shape of where it had been. Someone had painted it
out.
    The flame wavered and died as Barbara crept back to the kitchen, her heart thudding. She stacked up more logs to create a blaze, but her feet were freezing cold and she felt chilled to the bone.
It was so cold she eventually took the cushions off the sofa and piled them in front of the fire.
    Barbara woke with a start, her heart pounding. Margaret was rattling the grate and clearing out the ashes.
    ‘You were dead to the world,’ she said, smiling.
    Barbara felt stiff all over and moaned as she stretched.
    ‘Is your ankle hurting you?’
    ‘Er, no. It’s much better. Just a bit of cramp.’
    ‘That’s good. You do have a little bruise on your forehead.’
    She touched Barbara’s face gently, then brightly suggested they have some bacon and eggs.
    ‘It’s stopped snowing and the sun looks as if it might come out,’ she continued, sounding very happy.
    Eating a full breakfast even though she didn’t want it, Barbara was sure the ‘happy’ act was exactly that. Margaret looked tired, with dark circles beneath her eyes, and she
was very pale. She hardly ate anything but chatted about how she wouldn’t be able to function without her precious gas-fuelled Aga.
    ‘I think I’ll have a walk. Why don’t you come to church with me? It’s not far.’
    Barbara refused, saying that it would not be a good idea in case she slipped, especially as her ankle was healing.
    ‘I’ve left sweaters and a tracksuit with some underwear in the bathroom for you to use,’ Margaret said, pulling on her wellingtons.
    ‘Thank you. I really appreciate it. You’re so kind.’
    As soon as Margaret left, Barbara hurried up to the bathroom and ran the tap. The water was not that hot, but it was warm enough.
    Dressed in a green sweater and the grey tracksuit left for her, Barbara made her way to the stairs leading up to the second floor. There was the same rather threadbare carpet.
The sun streamed through the windows, making long shafts of light. Barbara peeked into two rooms that were clearly used for storage. At the end of the landing were double doors painted white with
wooden doorknobs.
    Barbara winced as the doors creaked loudly, then they swung open easily. They revealed stripped pine floors and a large blackboard with sticks of chalk held in a net bag. There were simple sums
on the board. Around the walls were childish paintings in bright colours. A desk with a small chair was placed in front of the blackboard. Exercise books were stacked neatly beside a row of
sharpened pencils. An upright piano was against a wall, music left open on the stand.
    There was nothing frightening here, although it was a little strange. She went out and closed the door. Leading off the same corridor was another small winding staircase up to the third floor.
There was a child’s gate across the stairs. They were uncarpeted, but stained in whitewash that looked as if it had been done many years ago.
    Barbara wondered if these stairs led up to whoever she suspected was living in the house. Just as she was about to unhook the child’s gate, she heard the sound of a car drawing up. She