Free The Mystery of the Cupboard by Lynne Reid Banks Page B

Jessica Charlotte!’ I had a great urge — an urge I’d never had — to cast
my own future
in the lead. It was my Gift, warning me! If I had heeded, could I have changed anything? That is what tortures me.
    But I rejected the call. I would not hear it.
    Exactly one week after I had stolen the earrings, I left my basement rooms to walk through the streets to the shops. I remember every detail of that day: the weather, my clothes, the look of my hand in its old kid glove as I handed over a penny for an evening newspaper. I remember the newsboy’s face.
    I glanced at the front page. And there was Matthew.
    Matthew photographed on his wedding day, in a top hat and morning dress, with Maria, a radiant bride, on his arm. And before I could brace myself I had read the words under it, the words that burst that evil bubble of elation and shattered my peace for ever.
    EX-COLONIAL DIES UNDER WHEELS OF CAB
    Half paralysed with horror, I read on. But what was written in the paper was obviously only part of the story. Why should Lottie have run out into the street, making Matthew run after her, straight under a taxi cab? It madeno sense — I couldn’t take it in. “It’s a mistake! A mistake!” I kept thinking. Matthew, dead! It was unthinkable!
    I ran in blind panic to a telephone. Maria’s maid, Millie, answered. She said what she always said, “Mr Darren’s residence,” and then burst into tears.
    â€œMillie, Millie! It’s Mrs Darren’s sister, tell me what happened, please, tell me at once!”
    â€œOh, Miss Driscoll, it’s too dreadful! I can’t tell you!”
    â€œDo as you’re told, girl!” I shouted at her down the line.
    My sudden anger made her control herself. She lowered her voice, still shaken with sobs.
    â€œIt was them earrings, Miss. The bluey-green ones Mrs Darren set such store by. They was lost, Miss. She couldn’t find them. And it seems no one could have taken them except Miss Lottie.”
    Something seemed to burst in my head. I nearly fainted where I stood. Lottie!
Lottie
take the earrings! What madness was this? My Lottie?
    â€œMrs Darren let her play with her jewels sometimes for a special treat. She said Miss Lottie was the only one who knew the secret of the hiding place where she kept the key. She called the child into her room (I was in the room next door, I couldn’t help but hear, Miss, really I couldn’t!). She questioned her, and poor Miss Lottie kept crying and saying she never took them and Mrs Darren said she wouldn’t be angry if she’d own up, but she wouldn’t, and all of a sudden she run straight out of the room and down the stairs.
    â€œMr Darren was just coming in through the front door, and Miss Lottie - she was crying something awful, Miss, crying and shouting out ‘I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t!’ hysterical-like, and she run right straight out through the front door under her father’s arm, and down the steps into the street! And her father run after her calling her to come back. And then there was a kind of screech in the road as the cab tried to stop, and a thump, and then it was all over.”
    I hadn’t breathed. But now I did, in gasps. I cried out, “And did she come back - Miss Lottie - is she safe at least?”
    And Millie said, “Yes, Miss, Miss Lottie is safe and sound. But the mistress is near to going out of her mind. The doctor’s given her something to make her sleep, but God knows what will happen to us all when she wakes up.”
    Omri stopped reading and looked out over the garden. The view was peaceful and beautiful, nine days of holiday lay ahead, Patrick was coming. But Omri saw and thought of none of it. He was inside Jessica Charlotte’s head, feeling what she must have felt when she learnt that by stealing the earrings, she had killed Matthew. That was how she would look at it. And through Lottie! Through