Free World's End in Winter by Monica Dickens

was not afraid. But it was because he was not afraid that she could not wake him, and admit that she was.
    She thought of all the food that was still in the big refrigerator in the kitchen. She got up, called Charlie to go ahead of her, and went downstairs. A lamp was lit in the drawing-room. On the sofa, under the blind eyes of the flat-topped marble ladies, Lester was sleeping, rolled up in an eiderdown.
    A board creaked under Carrie’s bare foot, and he woke and sat up.
    ‘What’s the matter?’
    ’I’m hungry. You want something?’
    ‘A piece of that treacle tart. With cream.’
    ‘Did you come down because it was scary up there?’
    ‘No. But the room’s too girly. The bed’s too short. Yes ... it was scary. There’s a sort of - I don’t know. Not a noise, but a feeling. I felt there were trees. I couldn’t sleep.’
    ‘How can Priscilla sleep alone there?’
    ‘There’s some people hear ghosts,’ Lester quoted Miss Etty, ’and some that don’t.’

Twelve
    At breakfast on Sunday, Carrie said, ’Priscilla turned over in bed when she was asleep. Why does her mother say it’s hopeless?’
    ‘Her mother is a bag of old lard,’ Michael said, just as Mrs Agnew walked into the kitchen.
    She was too upset to hear. ’What’s going on? What’s Priskie doing?’
    Priscilla was eating treacle tart with her fingers and wiping them on the front of a ribboned party dress she had wanted to wear. As soon as she saw her mother, she put on that high baby wail. Mrs Agnew lifted her out of the chair and held her, patting her back while the child wailed and dribbled treacle tart down her back.
    ‘She can’t digest pastry.’
    ‘Last night she digested veal and ham pie.’ The others had been put off their food, but Michael went on eating cake.
    ‘What are you all doing here anyway? Where’s Mrs Fassett?’
    ‘In the hospital.’
    ‘What happened to her? Oh, I knew it. I knew somethingwas wrong. You see, Brian.’ Her husband had come into the kitchen in a sheepskin coat and Old Boys’ muffler. ’When I tried to ring up yesterday and the phone was out of order, I was right to say we must come back early.’
    ‘You were right, my dear’ (as if he was used to that). ’Here, give me Priskie.’ He put her down on the settee, where she sat like a dressed-up doll, her eyes gone blank. ’Where’s her chair?’
    ‘Outside,’ Carrie said.
    Mrs Agnew recognized her. ’You kids again! Why did Mrs Fassett let you in? What did you do to her?
What have you done with Mrs Fassett? 9
    ‘She got run over?’ Lester said it like a question, to make it sound not so bad.
    ‘What by?’
    ‘A car. She ran into the road.’ ’Why?’
    ‘She heard a ghost.’
    ‘Oh rubbish, she’s a fool.’
    ‘It wasn’t her fault. The car was going too fast round the corner.’
    ‘I’ll sue the driver.’
    ‘He couldn’t see round that high bank.’
    ‘I’ll sue the Rural District Council. They’ve been promising to level it ever since we came. I know you too.’ She levelled her healthy blue eyes at Lester. ’You’re the errand boy from the grocery.’
    ‘Yes, Madam.’ Lester did not bother to disillusion her. ’You’re out of marge. May I deliver?’
    ‘You may go. All of you. You’ve made enough trouble.’
    She didn’t know the half of it. They were not going to tell her about the drowning, but Mr Agnew called from the back door, ’What’s the wheelchair doing in the swimming pool?’
    ‘It fell in.’
    ‘With Bristler in it,’ Michael added honestly.
    ’Oh, my God.’
    ‘Michael fell in too,’ Carrie said.
    ’Was it his fault?’
    His fault, his fault. Why did accidents always have to be someone’s
fault?
    To rescue Michael, Lester said, ’He saved her life, as a matter of fact.’
    Before Mrs Agnew could decide whether to be angry or grateful, Charlie came in from the back door, dripping wet from a morning’s stroll through the undergrowth.
    ‘Get that hideous brute out of here!’ When she