Free The Little One [Quick Read 2012] by Lynda La Plante

over the blanket.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Barbara?’ It was Alan. ‘Have you had the news on?’
    ‘I’ve only just woken up. What time is it?’
    ‘You don’t know, then.’
    ‘Know what?’
    ‘It’s been on the television.’
    ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
    ‘It’s Margaret.’
    ‘She’s not here. I expected her home last night, but she never turned up,’ Barbara began defensively, but something in Alan’s tone made her ask, ‘Has something
happened to her?’
    Sounding very upset, Alan told her that Margaret had thrown herself in front of a tube train at seven thirty the previous evening.
    ‘Oh, my God! That’s terrible.’
    Barbara slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
    ‘Was it an accident?’ she gasped.
    ‘According to the TV news, she was standing very close to the edge of the platform.’
    ‘I can’t take this in,’ Barbara said, close to tears.
    ‘A Mr Sullivan called twice, wanting to speak to you. As I had no idea where you were, I said I’d ring around to try and give you the news.’
    ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was hardly audible.
    ‘He wants to see you urgently, so you’d better ring him.’
    ‘Yes, of course. I will.’
    After a long pause, Alan hung up. Barbara was certain he’d wanted to say more but was too upset.
    She staggered to her feet and replaced the receiver. She was in such a state of shock that she wasn’t sure what to do. After searching in the pantry, she found a half-bottle of Scotch and
poured herself a stiff drink.
    When the phone rang yet again, it made her jump with nerves.
    This time it was Mr Sullivan, requesting in a brusque tone that she come to see him as soon as possible. He said he was certain she knew what it was about. He hung up before she had time to
question him further.
    Barbara drained her glass of Scotch before driving to the station. There she sat in the freezing-cold waiting room until the next train to London left.
    It wasn’t until she took her seat on the train that she thought about her initial meeting with the solicitor. She stared out of the window in horror as she realized that Margaret must have
intended not to return to the manor house. Why else had she gone to such lengths to alter her will?
    It was only now that Barbara digested the fact that she was to inherit the manor house.
    Barbara took a taxi straight to Knightsbridge and Edward Sullivan ushered her into his office.
    ‘This is obviously a sad time. I am very distressed, especially having spent so long with Margaret yesterday morning. She gave me no indication of her intentions. Shocking, so
shocking.’
    ‘Yes,’ Barbara said, her head bowed.
    Mr Sullivan took out a white handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.
    ‘There will be an inquest, of course. I was questioned by the police.’
    Barbara nodded.
    ‘They wanted to know when I’d last seen her. I had to confirm that Margaret had arranged yesterday’s meeting. I stressed that she displayed no emotional problems. To the
contrary, she appeared very calm. In fact, she was very positive and clear about her intentions. Of course, I had to tell them about her changing her will.’
    Barbara nodded again.
    ‘I also gave them your name as the main beneficiary.’
    He hesitated, twisting a pen in his long bony fingers.
    ‘I will require some more signatures, Miss Hardy. Obviously, until the coroner’s report nothing can be forwarded to you with regard to your inheritance.’
    Barbara was in a daze as she signed the papers. When he asked for her contact details, she didn’t know what to say.
    ‘Well, I was at the manor house last night.’
    ‘Until all this is sorted, perhaps you shouldn’t return . . . although I’m sure Margaret’s intentions were for you to live there on a permanent basis. We did read through
her conditions for you to inherit, didn’t we?’
    He looked at Barbara, who was so stupefied he asked if she needed a glass of water. She shook her head.
    ‘You signed the papers to say