The Little One

Chapter Five

As soon as Margaret had driven off, Barbara wasted no time in dressing. She was eager to look over the house in daylight. She headed for the stairs and reached the first landing without any problems. She tried the door of the bedroom she’d looked into the night before. It was locked. She moved from one door to the next, but they were all locked.

Even though it was morning, it was still dark up here. When she switched on a landing light, it was dead. Moving cautiously back towards the stairs, she heard an odd sound in one of the rooms, like something hitting a wooden floor. She thought at first it must be the old central-heating pipes. But they would have made a clang, while this sounded more like a thud.

She moved to the locked door and touched the handle. It was cold and as she pulled her hand away the noise stopped. Completely puzzled and unnerved, she headed back to the kitchen.

Once there, Barbara gave the stew a good stir and decided to set the table. She found the dinner plates and started to hunt for knives and forks. While opening drawers, she came across Margaret’s photograph albums.

She listened carefully to hear if the car was returning. It wasn’t. So she lifted out the albums and flicked through one after another. The second album contained pictures of a pretty dark-haired woman who resembled Margaret. On the back of one of them was written ‘Julia in Hastings’. There were also several pictures of a gorgeous blonde-haired little girl.

Barbara took four or five loose photographs and put them into her handbag.

She gave the stew another stir and was just replacing the lid when she heard the sound of the Land Rover returning.

Margaret came in the back way. Her cheeks were a rosy red and she had flecks of snow on her shoulders.

‘I said it would snow. It’s really coming down heavily now,’ she said, placing her shopping bags on the kitchen counter. ‘It’s very cold out there. I think it may settle. We’ll have such fun.’

She suddenly stopped, as if realizing for the first time that Barbara was there.

‘Sorry. I get so used to talking to myself,’ she said, and gave a light, soft giggle.

She took off her coat, shook it and rested it over the back of a kitchen chair.

‘Oh, you’ve set the table too. How nice of you.’

Margaret removed her wellington boots and woolly hat, running her hands through her long hair. She then went over to the Aga and gave the stew a taste.

‘Mmm, I’m hungry. Let’s have lunch early.’

She fetched a bottle of wine and opened it.

‘Screw tops! Cheap plonk. How things change... no more corks.’

Margaret was so bubbly and friendly, Barbara couldn’t help but enjoy her company.

Barbara was also surprised to find herself more than ready to eat lunch, even though she’d already had a cooked breakfast. She usually ate sandwiches or takeaways and very rarely a proper meal. Today, though, she felt starving.

They sat at the old oak table. The stew was delicious and Barbara had two helpings. They had cheese and biscuits to follow. Between them they drank the whole bottle of red plonk before washing the dishes together.

Margaret made a fresh pot of coffee and they were sitting beside the blazing fire when she suddenly jumped up.

‘Look! Look outside!’

The snow had indeed settled into a thick sheet and was covering the ground like a soft white blanket.

‘This will last, I’m sure. The roads were already icy when I went out. Good job I restocked when I did. Last winter I was frozen in here for over ten days.’

She suddenly put her hand to her mouth.

‘Oh, my goodness. We’d better call Alan. He’ll have to set off straight away if he wants to collect you.’

Barbara took out her mobile, dialled and waited. Alan was still on voicemail.

‘Maybe I should get a train,’ she suggested half-heartedly.

‘Certainly not. But your ankle does seem to be better. You’ve stopped limping, I see.’ Margaret gave an odd half-smile, as if she knew Barbara had been lying.

‘Is there a local taxi that could take me to the station?’

Margaret checked an old notebook hanging on a piece of string by the phone.

‘I have a few numbers. Let me call the station first and see what times the trains are running to London.’

She looked up, smiling.

‘If the worst comes to the worst, I can drive you.’

Margaret discovered there was a direct train at five fifteen, but the local taxi service was engaged.

‘You could stay on here. Do you have something to get back to London for?’ Margaret asked.

‘I don’t actually. I was going to look for a place to live,’ Barbara replied.

Margaret placed more logs on to the fire, making a really big blaze. The kitchen was as warm as toast.

‘Do you play Scrabble?’ she asked, as she opened a wooden box and delved inside.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Shall we have a game?’

Margaret opened the board and with childish enthusiasm began counting out the letters. Then she looked up, listening.

‘The wind is picking up. It howls round the house. Always sounds a lot worse than it is. Everything rattles.’

They played for over an hour. Margaret was very competitive and won every game. She called the taxi company again, but they were booked out for the afternoon.

‘Maybe we shouldn’t even think about your leaving today. I can fix up a bedroom for you, or you can stay down here as it’s so warm.’

Barbara didn’t hesitate. Another evening, another chance to gather more information.

‘I’ll stay over if you don’t mind.’

Margaret patted Barbara’s cheek.

‘Of course I don’t mind. In fact, I’m really enjoying your company. I like you.’

‘I like you too,’ Barbara said.

She blushed when Margaret caught hold of her hand and kissed her fingers.

‘I need a friend. Are you going to be a friend, Barbara?’

Barbara paused and then said softly, ‘I would like to be your friend.’