Free Property of a Lady by Sarah Rayne Page B

was just the bad old dream again, truly it was.’
    Through hiccuping sobs, the child said, ‘It wasn’t a dream. He was here . The man. He was in my room – I saw him. He was standing in the corner again.’
    Michael looked involuntarily towards the corner. There was no one there, of course.
    Over Beth’s head, Nell said, ‘She’s been having a series of nightmares – really vicious ones. Last night was particularly grim, so she was going to have a bit of a sleep this afternoon, to catch up. I’m sorry to have alarmed you—’
    ‘I’ll go,’ said Michael, feeling inadequate. ‘We’ll sort out the decanters another day.’
    ‘There’s no need. She really will be all right in a minute. Beth, darling, stop crying, I promise you’re absolutely safe. There’s no one here – only Mr Flint who’s a friend of— Sorry, I think that should be “Dr”, shouldn’t it?’
    ‘Hello, Beth. I’m Michael.’
    ‘You gave him quite a shock shouting like that,’ said Nell. ‘He’s a friend of the American people with the little girl who’s going to live here. I told you about her.’
    ‘Yes.’
    Michael said, ‘I’ll go downstairs and check everywhere. Just in case there really is anyone prowling around. Would that make you feel better, Beth?’ The two figures on the bed seemed to him dreadfully vulnerable and fragile.
    ‘Um, yes, thank you.’
    ‘Had I better lock the shop door while I’m there? Just for the moment?’
    ‘Would you?’ said Nell. ‘Drop the catch and turn the sign to “Closed”.’
    The shop and the rooms above it were innocent of any passing burglars, and the back door, which appeared to open on to a small courtyard with outbuildings, was firmly locked and bolted. Michael went back into the shop, intending to make a tactful exit, but Nell came down to meet him.
    ‘Can you stay for a cup of tea? I’m just making it.’
    ‘Well, that would be welcome, but I don’t want to—’
    ‘If you were going to say “impose”, you aren’t,’ she said. ‘I’d like to thank you properly. You can tell Beth about Liz Harper’s little girl. Beth’s looking forward to meeting her. Come up to the sitting room.’
    Beth was huddled into a chair near the fire. She had a bright rug wrapped round her, and she was hugging a large, furry bear. The marks of tears were still on her face, and she looked so small and white that Michael forgot about being a stranger or intruding and sat down opposite her.
    ‘Hello, Beth,’ he said. ‘The American girl your mum talked about is my god-daughter. I think she’s about the same age as you.’
    ‘I’m seven,’ said Beth rather shakily.
    ‘Exactly the same, then. My god-daughter’s called Ellie, and she’s coming over here for Christmas. She doesn’t know anyone in England, so I think she’d like to meet you and have a friend here.’
    Beth said, ‘I didn’t know any people when I came here either. Is she nice?’
    ‘Yes, very.’
    ‘What does she like to do?’ It was said a bit dubiously.
    ‘All kinds of things. She likes animals.’
    ‘I like animals.’
    ‘Cats? Ellie loves cats. She likes hearing about my cat,’ said Michael. ‘His name’s Wilberforce, and he’s always getting into trouble.’ Without realizing he was going to do so, he started to relate one of the adventures he made up for Ellie – the one where Wilberforce got mixed up with the mice’s redecoration of their home.
    Beth’s small face was instantly absorbed, and she laughed when Wilberforce ended up sitting in the paint pot, very indignant, with scarlet paint on his whiskers.
    ‘I’ll send you a photograph of him, shall I?’
    ‘Can it be on the computer? I’m allowed to use it after homework.’
    ‘Yes, certainly.’ He could send Beth one of the photos he had sent to Ellie. He would tell Ellie about this possible British friend waiting to meet her, as well. He finished the cup of tea, then got up and said, firmly, he would leave them to it.
    ‘I’m so