Page 45 of Gold Digger
She focused back on me again, a little curiosity cutting through the fear in her expression as her head lifted slightly. She was wearing pink and white trainers, a thick winter coat and mittens. There was a book open next to her. She flinched slightly when I moved to pick it up.
“The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe,” I said as I examined the cover. “You must be good at reading if you’re halfway through this at age… six?” I hid my smile as she scowled at me. She looked closer to Florrie’s age, but I knew this would get a rise out of her. “Hmm, not six then. Five?”
Her head came right off her knees at that, and I could finally see her whole face. That jolt of recognition hit me again as her brown eyes flashed with indignation.
“I’m just kidding, sweetheart,” I said placatingly. “But even for your age, this is pretty good reading. Is that why you hid up here?”
She bit her lip and looked to the side, her nose scrunching in her pretty face.
“Listen, why don’t you come down from here and Mrs H will get you some cookies.”
She shook her head again, but as if on cue, her stomach rumbled.
“Come on,” I said in a soft, cajoling voice. “I know you must be hungry. I promise you’re not in trouble, but we can’t leave you up here.”
“It’s okay, lovie,” Mrs H put in, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it before. “He’s an alright sort really, the big lout.” The lack of respect for me in my own house was staggering but I didn’t care when I saw the little girl’s face break into a small smile. She uncurled herself and pushed up to her feet as I straightened from my crouch. There was a touch of fear back in her expression once I was at my full height again, but I smiled down at her, and her small shoulders relaxed just a little. She held on tightly to the bannister as she made her way down the staircase, then Mrs H bustled her through to the kitchen, coaxing her out of her bulky coat with dire warnings about how she “wouldn’t feel the benefit” if she stayed bundled up in it.
She looked tiny in my massive kitchen. On instinct, I lifted her up onto one of the stools, just as I would with Florrie. She weighed nothing and I frowned in concern as I set her down. Mrs H slid a plate of cookies and a glass of milk in front of her and she began nibbling one of them, her eyes flicking nervously between me and Mrs H.
“Your mum’s got to be frantic with worry, lovie,” Mrs H said. The little girl shook her head, and I frowned.
“She won’t be worried?” I asked, and she looked away and to the side. “Right, okay, so not your mum then. Is there someone whowillbe worried?” She bit her lip and shrugged, but her discomfort was telling. Clearly, someonewouldbe desperately worried about this girl’s whereabouts. I sighed. “You’re not very chatty, are you?” She shook her head again. “Listen, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but if you don’t tell us who to contact, we’ll have to phone social services to see if?—”
My words cut off as she leapt off her stool towards me, grabbed my arm and shook her head furiously. Her face had drained of all colour now, and there was real fear in her eyes. The hand she was gripping my arm with was shaking. What in the world?
“Okay, okay. Calm down,” I said softly, crouching again so that I was eye-level with her. “No social services, I promise. But you’re going to have to?—”
I broke off again as the doorbell started sounding repeatedly, accompanied by loud banging on the front door.
“What on earth?” I muttered, turning to look over my shoulder towards the source of the commotion. When I looked back at the girl, she was also looking over my shoulder towards the front door with a guilty expression. I had a feeling that whoeverdidcare about this child’s whereabouts had somehow found themselves at my house. “Wait here with Mrs H,” I told her as I turned and strode to the front door.
The banging and the doorbell ringing was becoming frenzied, and when I finally pulled open the door a woman practically fell into my arms, clearly being mid-door pound. The familiar lavender smell filled my nostrils as I lifted the small woman back up onto her feet and then I was staring into the same brown eyes I’d been looking at moments before. This was why I recognised that little girl.
“Is she here?” Lottie’s voice was frantic, her eyes wild as she gripped onto my suit jacket, balling the material in her fists and shaking. “Did she come here? Please, Ollie, please, please, please tell me she’s here?”
I heard small footsteps behind me, and then Lottie wrenched herself out of my arms to tear around me. She skidded onto her knees on the polished wood of the corridor and flung her arms around the little girl who’d emerged from the kitchen.
“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re here. You’re okay,” she chanted over and over again, her words shaking with tears. The little girl was gripping Lottie so tight around her neck that her knuckles were white. I walked to them slowly as Lottie pulled back and took the little girl by both shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “You can’t do that to me, Hayley,” she said, relief, frustration and anger lacing her words. “We’re a team, remember? You can’t just bail on the team.” Her face crumpled then as two tears tracked down her cheeks. “What would I have done if something happened to you, lovebug?” she said in a broken voice and the puzzle pieces of the phone call I’d overheard months ago fell into place. “You’re my world. I’d have nothing without you.” Hayley looked at her feet as a fat tear rolled down her face too. “I know things are tough,” Lottie went on, her tone softer now. “But we can do tough, can’t we? As long as we’ve got each other we can doanything.”
Hayley looked up at Lottie then and frowned.
“I know, hun. But youhaveto go to school. Everybody has to go to school.”
Hayley bit her lip and looked to the side, clearly not in agreement with Lottie there.
I cleared my throat, and both caramel-hair-coloured, brown-eyed girls flinched as their gazes shot to me. Lottie’s eyes went wide as if she was just now becoming aware of her surroundings again. She straightened and stood with Hayley’s hand in hers, glancing nervously between me and Mrs H.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her pale, tear-streaked face filled with mortification. “Hayley shouldn’t have come here. She’s having a tough time at school, and she just—” she broke off and shook her head once. “Jeepers, you don’t want to hear about all that. We’ve wasted enough of your time.” She took a step away, towards the front door, but I moved to block her path, my arms crossed over my chest.
“Neither of you are going anywhere until you explain,” I told her, and her eyes widened. “Now, Hayley was halfway through her plate of cookies. I suggest we go back to the kitchen and have a long overdue chat about what the fu…” I broke off and cleared my throat – so this was why Lottie never swore, “…fudge is going on.”
“Ollie, I’m sorry, but?—”
“Your Grace?” We all turned to look back at the still-open front door and the two police officers now filling it.
Chapter 21
Little stowaway
