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

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Margaret’s hand and admitted that Emily was Armande’s child. She said that the affair was over as quickly as it had begun. She wept and asked to be forgiven.
    Margaret shuddered and sipped more brandy.
    ‘I was in shock, hardly able to take in what she was saying. I didn’t want to believe it.’
    Julia then became hysterical, asking Margaret to go to her bag and bring her the Bible from inside it. Julia insisted that Margaret put her hand over the cross and swear on her life that she
would take care of Emily. If anything should happen to Julia, Margaret must swear to bring up Emily as her own child.
    ‘Of course I did as she asked. And that seemed to calm her. When the doctors returned she had become quieter. But then she suddenly went into convulsions. Blood poured from her nose and
mouth . . . it was terrible. She’d been bleeding in her brain and had sunk into a coma shortly afterwards. She had been dying in front of me all the time.’
    Barbara now knew how the blood had stained the Bible. She wanted to reach out to comfort Margaret, but there seemed to be no need. Margaret was in a world of her own. She sat very still, calmly
sipping her brandy.
    ‘So Emily was injured as well?’ Barbara asked.
    Margaret nodded. She explained that she had been in a state of shock over her sister’s confession, hardly able to take in that she had died. Eventually she’d asked if she could see
Emily.
    ‘I was told she’d been taken straight to Great Ormond Street, so I caught another taxi and went straight there.’
    Even though Margaret’s story was so shocking, Barbara couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. ‘She’s here, isn’t she? It’s Emily I’ve heard moving
around upstairs, isn’t it?’
    Margaret nodded.
    ‘When I got to the hospital, they told me that Emily was dead on arrival. I broke down in tears. To lose my husband, then my sister, then her child . . . It was all too much for me. I
collapsed and the following day I was taken back to the clinic to recover. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’
    Puzzled, Barbara frowned and shook her head. She had no idea how to react when Margaret continued, explaining that she’d managed to leave the clinic and go to the funerals. She then came
straight to the manor house.
    Margaret paused and looked straight at Barbara. With no emotion in her voice, she stated, ‘That’s when I realized Emily had returned.’
    Barbara could think of nothing to say.
    ‘She lives here, Barbara. She’s now seven years old. I’ve taken care of her all this time. I’ve been afraid to tell anyone. I knew no one would believe me. They’d
send me back to that awful clinic. Emily has dominated my life. I’ve treated her like the daughter I never had. I couldn’t just leave her and return to work. That was
impossible.’
    Barbara’s jaw dropped. She tried to say something, but no words came out. She was certain that Margaret was mentally ill. She didn’t want to upset her any further. She just wanted to
leave and get back to London as soon as possible. She knew about how schizophrenics could hear or speak in different voices. Eventually she found her own voice.
    ‘Thank you for telling me this, Margaret. I will never repeat it to anyone.’
    Margaret gave her a lovely smile.
    ‘Of course you won’t. I knew I could trust you. Now we share the secret, I’m so relieved that it’s over.’
    Margaret woke Barbara at seven the following morning. She was very smartly dressed. Her face was made up and her hair was coiled into a bun at the base of her neck.
    ‘I’ve run a bath for you. We’ll leave in about three-quarters of an hour.’
    ‘Terrific,’ Barbara muttered, feeling the start of a terrible hangover.
    She went upstairs, where Margaret had left out clean underwear and a lovely skirt with a thick cashmere sweater. She then came back down to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.
    The drive to the station passed without incident. Margaret kept up a