dashed into the school.
Breathless, heart racing, she skidded to a stop in the reception area, grabbed the janitor. Chest heaving, she had to wait a minute or two to catch her breath before she could speak. ‘Little girl,’ she gasped out. ‘Jessica. Have to pick her up.’
Shrugging off her hand, he stated crossly, ‘And about bloody time!’
‘Sorry?’
‘Poor little mite’s been here ages!’
‘Oh.’
‘And Miss Henderson was not best pleased!’
‘Miss Henderson?’
‘The headmistress!’
‘Oh.’
Hands on knees, still trying to get her breath, she tried a conciliatory smile. ‘Sorry. Got held up.’ Well, she could hardly say she hadn’t known anything about it, could she?
‘All right, then,’ he murmured more reasonably. ‘Miss Henderson had to leave. She didn’t like doing it, but she had no choice. Said I’d look after her, didn’t I? What’s your name?’
‘What?’
‘What’s your name?’ he repeated crossly.
‘Alexa Giff... Blake,’ she hastily substituted. ‘Alexa Blake.’
‘And your telephone number?’
Bewildered, she slowly gave it. He nodded, muttered grumpily, ‘Have to be sure it’s the right person picking her up, don’t I? Gent said to ask.’
‘Gent?’
‘Her uncle!’
‘Oh, right, yes. Sorry.’
‘Can’t be too careful nowadays.’
‘No.’
‘It’s this way.’ Propping his broom against the wall, he led the way across the wooden block floor and pushed open a door on the far side. ‘In here.’
With a muttered ‘thanks’, she peered inside.
Hot, face red from her exertions, she stared at the little girl sitting rather primly on a chair, warmly wrapped against the cold. Navy hooded coat, thick knitted gloves. Grey eyes regarded her solemnly. Eyes too old for her little face.
Alexa walked across and squatted in front of her, smiled. ‘Hello, Jessica. Sorry I’m late. Did you think no one was coming?’
‘I’m Corrie,’ she announced with a rather worried air.
‘Oh, right, Corrie, yes.’ She gave the hopeful smile of one who wasn’t sure whether she was coming or going. ‘I sometimes pretend to be Jasper,’ she added stupidly. Jasper? Oh, boy!
Getting to her feet, she held out her hand. ‘Ready?’
Jessica nodded, slipped her hand into Alexa’s.
‘Thanks for your help,’ she told the janitor. ‘And sorry to be so late.’
He nodded. ‘Still don’t seem right...’ he muttered. ‘Leaving a little girl like that as though she’s a parcel. I was just about to ring the police.’
‘Yes, well, all’s well that ends well,’ she murmured hastily, and, grasping Jessica’s hand a little more tightly, hurried out. She could feel the tension in her small body, the tight grip of her little gloved hand.
‘Right. Well, your uncle is ringing as soon as we get home. And until he can get here,’ she continued brightly, ‘you’re going to stay with me.’
As they turned the corner into the main road the wind hit them with the force of a truck, and they both staggered. With a little shiver, she released Jessica’s hand and quickly buttoned her coat to the neck. ‘Shall we hurry? There’s a nice fire at home, and Mr Jones—he’s my dog...’
But there was nowhere for her to sleep except in with Alexa, probably nothing for a small child to eat in the house... House? It was a shed! A small, cramped cottage sandwiched between two old Victorian houses. A meagre slice of cheese between two large slices of bread. One tiny bedroom, one tiny lounge, a minuscule bathroom and a kitchen no self-respecting cook would be seen dead in.
Glancing down at the solemn little girl, she shook her hand. ‘What would you like for tea, Jessica?’
‘I’m Corrie,’ she announced again.
‘Oh, right, what would you like for tea, Corrie? We could have...umm...’ Mentally reviewing her cupboards in the possible hope that something appetising might be there that she knew very well wasn’t, she asked hopefully, ‘Shepherd’s pie?’ She’d bought mince and vegetables yesterday, but she hadn’t felt very hungry yesterday. ‘And I think there’s a tin of rice pudding... Would that be all right, do you think?’ She glanced down at the little girl, and she nodded.
‘Right. Good.’ With another shiver as the bitter wind found its way past her collar and against her neck, she huddled more warmly into her coat. The coldest January for thirty years, the weatherman had said. Before the accident that had robbed her of confidence, the head injuries that had robbed her of her lovely red-brown hair, she would have taken all this in her stride. And probably would again, she encouraged herself. She was getting better, she knew she was. Once her hair grew again, once she put back the weight she’d lost... Which you won’t if you don’t eat, Alexa. No. She hadn’t been beautiful, or stunning, but she had been attractive. Now she looked like a little ghost. Face too thin, making her eyes look too big, always cold. She’d had a lovely smile, but now it was sad, rather wistful. And nobody knew she was there. She’d deliberately moved out of Canterbury to the nearby village of Trenton, where no one knew her, cut herself off from her friends. And it wouldn’t do, she thought sadly. It really wouldn’t do. If only she could stop thinking about David... Wondering why he had done what he had. Wondering where he was now.
The phone was ringing when they got in and she dropped Jessica’s hand and rushed across to answer it. ‘Hello?’ she gasped breathlessly.
‘You got her?’
‘Yes. She’s fine. Would you like to speak to her? Jessica? It’s your uncle.’ Holding out the phone, she waited, watched, as the little girl took it, put it to her ear.
A slow smile spread across her face. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, to whatever was being asked. ‘No. Yes. Bye.’ She gave the phone back to Alexa.
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘I should be with you about midnight.’
‘You’re coming back?’
‘Of course I’m coming back! Did you see the headmistress? What did she say?’
‘Nothing. I mean, she wasn’t there.’
‘She just left her?’ he demanded angrily.
‘Yes, the janitor said—’
‘Alexa,
