Read Online The Hidden Girl by Louise Millar - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louise Millar
Tags: Fiction
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TSO colleagues could see her now, they’d never speak to her again. She put her head down as a fresh flurry started, and climbed back onto the crop ridges.
Behind her came a shout. ‘Take the road, please, not my field!’
The thought of Jane and her uncompromising brown eyes finally galvanized Hannah. She kept her head down and pretended she hadn’t heard; partly because she wasn’t used to giving in to bullies, and partly because if she tried to navigate her way back to Tornley Hall by the unsignposted roads, she knew she’d end up in Ipswich.
Hoping the farmer wasn’t allowed to shoot her for trespassing, she continued the way she came.
Midway across the field she allowed herself a glance back, and saw a second tall figure in a dark jacket, boots and a woollen hat arriving beside the farmer. Her son? The farmer was pointing towards Hannah.
Hannah quickened her step. She’d have to stay away from them. It was too risky. The last thing they wanted Barbara to discover next Friday was that Will and Hannah had fallen out with the gun-wielding madwoman next door, and that Hannah had been arrested for donkey-rustling.
She pulled out her phone to tell Will what was going on.
When he didn’t answer she left another message.
This was becoming annoying. Where was he?
Back at Tornley Hall, Hannah fetched the donkey’s coat, took it out to the garage, then led the animal shamefully back to its pitiful shelter. The donkey fixed its woeful eyes beyond her, and blinked with long lashes as the snow fell into them, as if accepting its fate.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, rubbing the donkey’s head. ‘I just can’t get involved right now, but I promise that when this is all over, I’ll have your back, OK?’
Her mobile buzzed.
‘Brian’ popped up on the screen.
‘Yes!’ Hannah hissed. A text appeared:
H/clearance ppl shd have put keys back in cupboard under scullery sink. Brian.
Hannah ran back to the house, trying to put the donkey out of her mind. Under the scullery sink was a cupboard they’d checked previously. She now saw, however, that inside it was a small box, painted the same green as the walls, with no handle. They’d missed it. She prised it open with her fingernails.
Two silver keys appeared, along with a bunch of old-fashioned brown ones, one of which she guessed belonged to the attic.
She took them to the sitting room. The first silver key turned in the lock straight away.
Yes!
Hannah’s mind flew to her schedule. This was fantastic. She could start painting the sitting room today after all, with the duck-egg blue. She opened the door, fired up again.
The room lay in shadow. The diesel smell was even stronger inside. The only light came through an old cream blind on the square rear window that led out to the side-alcove.
Hannah opened the first of the three sets of wooden shutters on the grand picture windows. Blue-tinged light rushed in, along with the great view of the lawn. Exhilarated, she turned to take in the dramatic effect.
Her eyes flew to the shelves on either side of the fireplace.
No!
There were books. Everywhere. The house-clearance people hadn’t taken them.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Hannah yelled. Her plans were being thwarted at every turn. Every space on every shelf was packed, right to the ceiling, with volumes piled horizontally on top of upright ones.
Ironically, in the gloom she could already see that the rest of this room was in better condition than the others, with smooth, papered walls, that stunning Victorian silver fireplace and the polished wooden floor. But it would take her hours to clear all these books before she could paint.
Over by the side-window there was also a pile of black rubbish bags that the house-clearance people had left.
Frustrated, she started to open the second set of shutters.
In her peripheral vision a black bin bag moved.
At first it was a rustle of plastic, like a spider or a mouse, then all the bags seemed to rise up right
Behind her came a shout. ‘Take the road, please, not my field!’
The thought of Jane and her uncompromising brown eyes finally galvanized Hannah. She kept her head down and pretended she hadn’t heard; partly because she wasn’t used to giving in to bullies, and partly because if she tried to navigate her way back to Tornley Hall by the unsignposted roads, she knew she’d end up in Ipswich.
Hoping the farmer wasn’t allowed to shoot her for trespassing, she continued the way she came.
Midway across the field she allowed herself a glance back, and saw a second tall figure in a dark jacket, boots and a woollen hat arriving beside the farmer. Her son? The farmer was pointing towards Hannah.
Hannah quickened her step. She’d have to stay away from them. It was too risky. The last thing they wanted Barbara to discover next Friday was that Will and Hannah had fallen out with the gun-wielding madwoman next door, and that Hannah had been arrested for donkey-rustling.
She pulled out her phone to tell Will what was going on.
When he didn’t answer she left another message.
This was becoming annoying. Where was he?
Back at Tornley Hall, Hannah fetched the donkey’s coat, took it out to the garage, then led the animal shamefully back to its pitiful shelter. The donkey fixed its woeful eyes beyond her, and blinked with long lashes as the snow fell into them, as if accepting its fate.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, rubbing the donkey’s head. ‘I just can’t get involved right now, but I promise that when this is all over, I’ll have your back, OK?’
Her mobile buzzed.
‘Brian’ popped up on the screen.
‘Yes!’ Hannah hissed. A text appeared:
H/clearance ppl shd have put keys back in cupboard under scullery sink. Brian.
Hannah ran back to the house, trying to put the donkey out of her mind. Under the scullery sink was a cupboard they’d checked previously. She now saw, however, that inside it was a small box, painted the same green as the walls, with no handle. They’d missed it. She prised it open with her fingernails.
Two silver keys appeared, along with a bunch of old-fashioned brown ones, one of which she guessed belonged to the attic.
She took them to the sitting room. The first silver key turned in the lock straight away.
Yes!
Hannah’s mind flew to her schedule. This was fantastic. She could start painting the sitting room today after all, with the duck-egg blue. She opened the door, fired up again.
The room lay in shadow. The diesel smell was even stronger inside. The only light came through an old cream blind on the square rear window that led out to the side-alcove.
Hannah opened the first of the three sets of wooden shutters on the grand picture windows. Blue-tinged light rushed in, along with the great view of the lawn. Exhilarated, she turned to take in the dramatic effect.
Her eyes flew to the shelves on either side of the fireplace.
No!
There were books. Everywhere. The house-clearance people hadn’t taken them.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Hannah yelled. Her plans were being thwarted at every turn. Every space on every shelf was packed, right to the ceiling, with volumes piled horizontally on top of upright ones.
Ironically, in the gloom she could already see that the rest of this room was in better condition than the others, with smooth, papered walls, that stunning Victorian silver fireplace and the polished wooden floor. But it would take her hours to clear all these books before she could paint.
Over by the side-window there was also a pile of black rubbish bags that the house-clearance people had left.
Frustrated, she started to open the second set of shutters.
In her peripheral vision a black bin bag moved.
At first it was a rustle of plastic, like a spider or a mouse, then all the bags seemed to rise up right
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