Free A Christmas Promise by Anne Perry Page A

did come in there. Although what difference would one door along make, if he really did look for them?
    Then there he was, in the entrance, the street-lamp behind him making him look like a black cutout figure without a face. He was tall, and his chin was impossibly long, way down his chest.
    “Gracie …” His voice was deep and hollow. “Gracie Phipps!”
    She couldn’t even squeak, let alone reply.
    He walked toward them.
    Minnie Maude was hanging on to Gracie’s hand hard enough to hurt, and she was jammed so close to her side that she was almost standing on top of Gracie’s boots.
    The man stopped in front of them. “Gracie,” hesaid gently. “I told you not to go after the casket. It’s dangerous. Now do you believe me?”
    “Mr.…Mr. Balthasar?” Gracie said huskily. “Yer … di’n’t ’alf scare me.”
    “Good! Now perhaps you will do as you are told, and leave this business alone. Is it not sufficient for you that poor Alf is dead? You want to join him?”
    Gracie said nothing.
    Mr. Balthasar turned his attention to Minnie Maude. “You must be Minnie Maude Mudway, Alf’s niece. You are looking for your donkey?”
    Minnie Maude nodded, still pressing herself as close to Gracie as she could.
    “There is no reason to believe he is harmed,” he said gently. “Donkeys are sensible beasts and useful. Someone will find him. But where will he go if in the meantime this man who murdered Alf has killed you as well?”
    Gracie stared at him. There was not the slightest flicker of humor in his face. She gulped. “We’ll go ’ome,” she promised solemnly.
    “And stay there?” he insisted.
    “Yeah… ’ceptin’ we don’ know w’ere ’ome is. I’m gonna learn ter read one day, but I can’t do it yet.”
    He nodded. “Very good. Everyone should read. There is a whole magical world waiting for you, people to meet and places to go, flights of the mind and the heart you can’t even imagine. But you’ve got to stay alive and grow up to do that. Make me a promise—you’ll go home and stay there!”
    “I promise,” Gracie said gravely.
    “Good.” He turned to Minnie Maude. “And you too.”
    She nodded, her eyes fixed on his face. “I will.”
    “Then I’ll take you home. Come on.”

T he next day was just like any other, except that Gracie had more jobs to do than ever, and her gran was busy trying to make a Christmasfor them all. Gracie got up early, before anyone else was awake, and crept into the kitchen, where she cleared out the stove, and tipped the ashes on the path outside to help people from slipping on the hard, pale ice. Then she laid the wood and lit the new fire. She balanced the sticks carefully and blew a little on them to help the fire take. First she put the tiniest pieces of coal on and made sure they took as well. The small flames licked up hungrily, and she put on more. It was alarming how quickly they were eaten and gone. Lots of things went quickly. One moment they were there, and the next time you looked, they weren’t.
    It would be Christmas in two days. There would be bells, and singing, lots of lights, people would wear their best clothes, and ribbons, eat the best food, be nice to one another, laugh a lot. Then the next day it would all be over, until another year.
    The good things ought to stay; someone oughtto make them stay. The dresses and the food didn’t matter, but the laughing did, and you didn’t wear the bells out by ringing them. Did happiness wear out? Maybe things didn’t taste so sweet if you had them all the time?
    She was still thinking about that when Spike and Finn came stumbling in, half-awake. Reluctantly they washed in the bucket of water in the corner. Then, wet-haired and blinking, they sat down to the porridge, which was now hot. They left plates almost clean enough to put away again.
    By the end of the afternoon, Gracie’s chores were finished, and her mind kept going back to Minnie Maude. She had to be worrying about Charlie. What