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

took out an old Bible, which she placed on the table.
    ‘This belonged to my sister Julia.’
    The air in the room grew charged as Margaret stared at Barbara.
    ‘I want you to put your hand on it, because I’m going to tell you things that no one else has ever heard.’
    Margaret caught Barbara’s hand and held it tightly.
    ‘What I’m going to tell you must never be repeated. If you swear to do this in good faith, then your promise is binding.’
    ‘I promise. I won’t ever write about you, I swear.’
    ‘No, it’s much more than that. What I’m going to tell you will frighten you. It’s about this house. You might think I’m crazy, but I know you feel it. When you know
it all, you will have to swear never to tell another living soul.’
    ‘I’ll do it, I’ll swear.’
    ‘Not yet. Tonight. We’ll do it tonight.’
    ‘Let me do it now.’
    Margaret released her hand and picked up the Bible.
    ‘But you haven’t been told the secret yet. You don’t know what you will be swearing to do. You’ll have to wait until tonight.’

 
Chapter Eight
    Barbara felt impatient, but Margaret happily busied herself for the rest of the afternoon preparing a fish pie. She was transformed, singing, turning the radio on and finding a
programme with old music-hall songs. She even danced around the kitchen at one point. She was obviously not concerned about Barbara’s background as a journalist.
    Margaret then announced she would need to do some paperwork. Sitting at the kitchen table, she put on a pair of glasses and tackled a pile of documents. Every so often she would tear up
something that appeared to annoy her. Then she would turn to a small notebook and write copious notes.
    Barbara offered to make a pot of tea, but Margaret shook her head.
    ‘I need to have everything ready for tomorrow.’
    Finally Margaret stacked the papers she’d been working on into a pile and tossed everything she’d torn up on the fire. Then she put the fish pie in the oven.
    ‘I’ll come down at seven and we’ll eat supper together. You can open a bottle of wine.’
    ‘We are going to talk this evening, aren’t we?’
    Margaret turned at the kitchen door.
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    She gave a wide smile.
    ‘I can’t tell you what this means to me. It’s such a relief. I haven’t felt so at peace for years.’
    Barbara was left to contemplate the burning papers in the grate. They looked like legal documents of some kind, but the flames blackened them before she could make out exactly what they
were.
    She checked the fish pie in the oven. She tried to read. Eventually she opened a bottle of wine and helped herself to a glass. She was sipping it when she saw Margaret’s notebook left on
the table. She hesitated, but couldn’t resist opening it.
    There were pages of lists. How to light the Aga if it went out. How to check on the central heating, the hot water and washing machine. When to pay the milkman. Underlined was how to turn the
electric generator back on when the lights failed. Then, rather confusingly, came notes on homework: spelling tests, sums, multiplication tables and where to find atlases and encyclopedias.
    Bored, Barbara helped herself to some more wine and tore a few blank pages from Margaret’s notebook. She started to jot down a rough outline of the article for her editor. The more notes
she made, the more she wondered just how unstable Margaret was and what the evening would bring.
    At seven, the kitchen door banged open and Margaret hurried in. Barbara quickly stuffed the notes under her seat.
    ‘Sorry. Sometimes it’s very difficult. You’ll understand later when I tell you.’
    Margaret placed the hot fish pie on the table and poured herself a glass of wine. She seemed very relaxed and drank almost the whole glass in one go.
    ‘As soon as we’ve finished supper we’ll talk about the future. You’re the only person who will ever know. I need you, Barbara.’
    Barbara ate hungrily. The fish pie was