Anne Perry's Christmas Vigil by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online

nothing, concentrating fiercely on what she was doing. She couldn’t let Minnie Maude see how scared she was. Minnie Maude would lose all trust in her. She took a deep breath and drew herself up onto the ledge, teetering for a moment, her legs in the air, then scrambled forward and fell flat on her face. She sat up, trying to look as if nothing at all had happened.
    â€œÂ â€™Is name was Mr. Balthasar,” she said solemnly.
    There was a kind of whir of wings and a clatter as a pigeon burst through the narrow entrance in the roof and landed on the wood. Minnie Maude ignored it. Gracie felt her heart nearly burst out of her chest.
    â€œDid ’e say as summink ’ad ’appened ter Uncle Alf?” Minnie Maude asked.
    â€œÂ â€™E di’n’t rightly know,” Gracie said honestly. “But ’e reckoned as it were bad, cos o’ them takin’ the cart, an’ all.” She lowered her voice. “MinnieMaude, ’e said as ’e thought the golden box were a casket, an’ could be summink really important, an’ mebbe that’s why Uncle Alf were killed. ’E said as we shouldn’t go on lookin’ fer it, in case we get ’urt as well.”
    â€œBut wot about Charlie?” Minnie Maude asked.
    â€œÂ â€™E said as donkeys are useful, so they’ll prob’ly look after ’im, feed ’im, an’ give ’im somewhere ter stay.” She remembered Mr. Balthasar’s face as he had said it, the dark, sad look in his eyes. She had seen that look before. He did not mean it. He had said it to comfort her. Now she was saying it again, to comfort Minnie Maude.
    Minnie Maude stared in front of her. “ ’S all right,” she said quietly. “Yer don’t ’ave ter look fer Charlie. I un’erstand.”
    â€œI di’n’t say I weren’t gonna look fer ’im!” Gracie retorted with indignation. “I’m jus’ tellin’ yer wot ’e said!”
    Minnie Maude raised her eyes very slowly, bright with hope.
    Gracie could have kicked herself, but there was no escape. “We gotta think fast,” she warned.
    â€œIt’s cold,” Minnie Maude replied, as if it were the natural thing to say. “Let’s go over inter the ’ay.” And without waiting for agreement, she tucked her skirt up again and crawled back into the dark, rich-smelling crowded space in the corner. She went into it headfirst, then swiveled around, and a moment later her face appeared and she smiled encouragingly, a long wisp of hay behind her ear.
    Gracie had no dignified choice but to follow her. She tucked her skirts up also and crawled across the space to the bales, then pushed her way in, twisted around, and sat down. It was prickly, but it smelled nice, and it brought back dim memories of the past, of being in the country, long ago. She imagined in time it would be quite warm where they were, compared with the stone floor below.
    â€œSummink really important,” Minnie Maude said thoughtfully. “S’pose it would ’ave ter be, terput it in a casket, an’ all.” She sat motionless, her eyes very wide. “D’yer think it’s magic?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMagic,” Minnie Maude repeated, her voice hushed with awe.
    â€œWotever put that inter yer ’ead, yer daft little article?” Gracie demanded. “In’t no such thing.” Then the minute she had said it, she wished she hadn’t. Minnie Maude was only eight. Gracie should have let her have a year or two more of dreams.
    â€œThere’s Christmas,” Minnie Maude whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.
    Gracie struggled desperately to retrieve the loss. “That in’t magic,” she answered. “That’s … that’s God. It’s diff ’rent.”
    Minnie Maude blushed. “Is it?”
    â€œCourse it is.” Gracie’s mind was