and she found a new cassette for the answering machine, managing somehow to record a message.
An idea occurred to her and she rang the phone company, told them she wanted her number changed immediately. They were unhelpful at first, but when Lucie threatened to go to another company they agreed to change the number the following day and to make it ex-directory. She left the receiver off and went upstairs to wash her face. Lifting her head, she saw herself in the mirror on the bathroom cabinet. All the colour had drained from her face; she looked ill, punch-drunk. Oh, God, she thought, with a dejection close to anger. Why? Why have you done this to me? Hadn't she been punished enough? She'd served her sentence; why couldn't she be left in peace? Because you lied, some inner voice accused her. Because you lied to Seton.
With a moan she thrust the thought away. Her hands still unsteady, Lucie put on some make-up, trying to hide her pallor under a bright, painted mask. Luckily Seton was away on circuit and wasn't due back until the weekend. Lucie's mind stopped short and she gave a gasp of horror; never before had she been glad that Seton was away. The call from Rick Ravena had come only a hour ago and already her thinking, her priorities had changed for the worse. But what else could you expect when evil was let loose in your life?
Going into the sitting-room, Lucie knelt on the window-seat, watching out for the car that would bring Sam home. She desperately needed him now, needed the comfort of his solid little body held close in her arms, the sound of his innocent prattle in her ears to drown out the sound of that other voice. The drive, partially screened by fir trees, curved away towards the gate and the road. A figure, only dimly seen, walked along the road, looking towards the house, then seemed to pause at the open gate.
Lucie's hair seemed to stand on end as she suddenly realised that if Rick had her telephone number then he would also know her address. The figure turned into the drive, began to walk towards the house. It was a man, quite tall, his features hidden by the upturned collar of his coat. Lucie drew back, her heart pounding so much that she felt faint.
The man reached the door, rang the bell. With a sudden surge of rage, LUCK ran into the hall and flung the door open. It wasn't Rick. The man was much older, dressed in clean but shabby clothes.
'Sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you needed any odd jobs or gardening done? I can turn my hand to anything and—'
Lucie, usually so kind and understanding to the underprivileged, who had been there herself and knew what it was like, shouted, 'No! Go away,' and slammed the door in the man's face.
Hurriedly, she bolted the door, put the safety-catch on, then leaned against it trembling all over. Lucie tried to steady herself, took deep breaths, told herself that she was overreacting. Above her head, the bell rang again, startling her out of her skin, making her give a scream of fright. 'Go away!' she yelled through the door. 'I told you to go away!'
'Lucie?' Anna's voice sounded from the other side. 'Lucie, are you all right?'
With a sob of relief Lucie undid the bolt and chain and opened the door to find Anna gazing at her in concern.
'What on earth's the matter?'
'Oh. I... Nothing.'
'It doesn't look like nothing. You look terrible.'
'Mummy?' Sam, standing beside her, stepped forward and took hold of Lucie's hand. His little face was troubled as he looked up at her.
Bending, Lucie swept him up into her arms—not such an easy task now that he was four years old. 'It's OK,' she reassured him, trying to smile, to keep her voice light. 'I was just being silly, that's all.'
They went inside, Lucie still carrying Sam because she needed to have him close, but she made herself put him down when they reached the kitchen.
Anna wrinkled her nose. 'I can smell burning.'
'Yes, I—I burnt some toast,' Lucie lied in desperation.
'Toast at this time of
An idea occurred to her and she rang the phone company, told them she wanted her number changed immediately. They were unhelpful at first, but when Lucie threatened to go to another company they agreed to change the number the following day and to make it ex-directory. She left the receiver off and went upstairs to wash her face. Lifting her head, she saw herself in the mirror on the bathroom cabinet. All the colour had drained from her face; she looked ill, punch-drunk. Oh, God, she thought, with a dejection close to anger. Why? Why have you done this to me? Hadn't she been punished enough? She'd served her sentence; why couldn't she be left in peace? Because you lied, some inner voice accused her. Because you lied to Seton.
With a moan she thrust the thought away. Her hands still unsteady, Lucie put on some make-up, trying to hide her pallor under a bright, painted mask. Luckily Seton was away on circuit and wasn't due back until the weekend. Lucie's mind stopped short and she gave a gasp of horror; never before had she been glad that Seton was away. The call from Rick Ravena had come only a hour ago and already her thinking, her priorities had changed for the worse. But what else could you expect when evil was let loose in your life?
Going into the sitting-room, Lucie knelt on the window-seat, watching out for the car that would bring Sam home. She desperately needed him now, needed the comfort of his solid little body held close in her arms, the sound of his innocent prattle in her ears to drown out the sound of that other voice. The drive, partially screened by fir trees, curved away towards the gate and the road. A figure, only dimly seen, walked along the road, looking towards the house, then seemed to pause at the open gate.
Lucie's hair seemed to stand on end as she suddenly realised that if Rick had her telephone number then he would also know her address. The figure turned into the drive, began to walk towards the house. It was a man, quite tall, his features hidden by the upturned collar of his coat. Lucie drew back, her heart pounding so much that she felt faint.
The man reached the door, rang the bell. With a sudden surge of rage, LUCK ran into the hall and flung the door open. It wasn't Rick. The man was much older, dressed in clean but shabby clothes.
'Sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you needed any odd jobs or gardening done? I can turn my hand to anything and—'
Lucie, usually so kind and understanding to the underprivileged, who had been there herself and knew what it was like, shouted, 'No! Go away,' and slammed the door in the man's face.
Hurriedly, she bolted the door, put the safety-catch on, then leaned against it trembling all over. Lucie tried to steady herself, took deep breaths, told herself that she was overreacting. Above her head, the bell rang again, startling her out of her skin, making her give a scream of fright. 'Go away!' she yelled through the door. 'I told you to go away!'
'Lucie?' Anna's voice sounded from the other side. 'Lucie, are you all right?'
With a sob of relief Lucie undid the bolt and chain and opened the door to find Anna gazing at her in concern.
'What on earth's the matter?'
'Oh. I... Nothing.'
'It doesn't look like nothing. You look terrible.'
'Mummy?' Sam, standing beside her, stepped forward and took hold of Lucie's hand. His little face was troubled as he looked up at her.
Bending, Lucie swept him up into her arms—not such an easy task now that he was four years old. 'It's OK,' she reassured him, trying to smile, to keep her voice light. 'I was just being silly, that's all.'
They went inside, Lucie still carrying Sam because she needed to have him close, but she made herself put him down when they reached the kitchen.
Anna wrinkled her nose. 'I can smell burning.'
'Yes, I—I burnt some toast,' Lucie lied in desperation.
'Toast at this time of
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