Free Girl of Shadows by Deborah Challinor

in which she had worked in London, and whom she had loathed. The last she’d heard he was rotting on a prison hulk in the Thames, and a bloody good job, too. Her belief that men could not be trusted had only been reinforced by Ratcliffe’s double-crossing ways, and herresolution to maintain her own version of honourable behaviour was further entrenched as a result.
    So she continued to steal from Adam, though growing increasingly ill at ease with her conscience as time passed. Occasionally she picked pockets on the street but this rarely netted more than a few pounds; it took time to set up a potentially lucrative mark and she hardly ever had that luxury, even after Adam ordered Esther to allow her more freedom.
    ‘How long have you known Jared Gellar?’ she asked, hoping Adam wouldn’t tell her it was none of her business, which it wasn’t.
    He didn’t look up, intent on what he was doing. ‘Why do you want to know?’
    Because he gave me the shits, Sarah thought. ‘You seem to be good friends,’ she replied.
    He did glance at her then. ‘Six or seven years.’
    ‘Is he in the trade?’
    ‘No, originally he was a book-keeper. Owns a schooner now and has moved into imports. He also buys up ailing businesses just before they go bankrupt, then injects his own money and resurrects them.’
    ‘He is doing well then, for one of us.’
    Adam reached for his flat-nosed pliers. ‘He’s not a convict. He immigrated here about eight years ago.’
    ‘Is that when you met him?’
    ‘A year later, perhaps. Why the interest?’
    ‘He did rather get the royal treatment last night. I just wondered why.’
    Sighing, Adam said, ‘Jared Gellar is very wealthy. Esther thinks my business could benefit from an injection of his cash. Which really isn’t your affair, Sarah.’
    She knew then it was time to let the subject drop. ‘I couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t very happy this morning.’
    ‘No, she wasn’t.’ Adam put down the pliers, removed hismagnifying spectacles, pushed his stool back and turned to face her. ‘Sarah, what exactly did she overhear you and Harrie talking about? This business about a ghost?’
    ‘Did she not mention it to you?’ Sarah said innocently.
    ‘Yes, she did, and she seems very distressed by it. I want to know exactly what was said.’
    ‘Well, Harrie was here one day and we were talking about the dreams we’ve both been having, about Rachel. Our friend who died.’ Sarah felt awkward lying to his face. It was uncomfortably like stealing from him. ‘Mrs Green must have overheard us.’
    ‘Yes, but what did you say about her?’
    ‘Mrs Green?’
    ‘No, Rachel .’
    ‘Oh. Well, we said that in our dreams Rachel told us she’s all alone out at the cemetery, at St John’s. And just that we had the impression she was angry at us. That’s all.’
    ‘And this is all true? You’ve both been having the same dreams?’
    Sarah nodded, willing herself not to look away from him.
    Adam’s dark brows went up. ‘How bizarre. Well, Esther’s got it into her head that there actually is a ghost, that the spirit of your friend is here and causing mischief.’ He reached for a cloth, wiped his pale, sweating forehead and poured himself a tumbler of lemonade. ‘She’s always had an unhealthy interest in the supernatural. She thought the last house we lived in was haunted, too. This won’t do her nerves any good at all.’
    Dearie me, Sarah thought, that’s terrible news.
    Adam sipped his drink. ‘She told me you planned to consult a cleric. Did you?’
    What? Then Sarah remembered her remark to Harrie about accompanying her to church: she’d actually gone on a picnic with Friday to Hyde Park. ‘Yes, we did, the priest at Harrie’s church. He told us to pray.’
    ‘I think Esther was hoping he might come here.’ Adam swept his hair back off his face. He looked tired and a bit defeated. ‘What do you think, Sarah? Has the spirit of your friend really come back?’
    ‘I’m not