Room Beneath the Stairs (27 page)

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Authors: Jennifer; Wilde

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Evan and Burke had begun a thorough search of the woods. They heard me running. Evan found me there on the path, and a short while later Burke discovered Grey wandering through the woods, totally confused, having no idea what he was doing there. Heartsick, Burke led him back to the house and locked him in the basement room, filled with sadness as he realized that his beloved charge would never have freedom again. After much deliberation, Evan phoned the police and told them of my discovery. He didn't mention Grey. He intended to tell them everything after Grey had been safely removed, knowing he might well be committed to a public institution otherwise. Right or wrong, he took that responsibility upon himself. He wanted just one more day.…

It was over now, all over. The police and officials had been most understanding, realizing Evan's motives and sympathizing with them. Through some miracle of influence and power, most of the story had been kept from the press. There had been a brief, insignificant story in the back pages; nothing more. Sensational though the events on Greycliff Island had been, the tabloids hadn't gotten wind of them. At least we had been spared notoriety.

“Did you feel
that?
” Ellie exclaimed.

“It was just an air pocket, Ellie.”

“I
hope
that pilot knows what he's doing. He's rather divine, by the way—six feet three, stern leathery face, wavy brown hair,
gorgeous
in his uniform.”

“You met him?”

“At the airport, while you were powdering your nose. He has a three-day layover in London. He's taking me to dinner tonight. I'm to wait for him in the lounge after we land.”

“You're incorrigible,” I teased.

“A girl has to do the best she can these days. Besides, I figured you and Evan might want to be alone.”

“I—I'm not sure he'll be at the airport. He didn't mention it in his letter.”

“He'll be there,” Ellie said knowingly.

We were flying much lower now. Through the window I could see a vague blur of misty green and brown patches, a network of gray. I thought about Evan's last letter. It had been full of information. He had sold the business to one of his competitors and intended to come to London and practice law. A firm of investors was interested in buying the big house, hoping to turn it into a hotel for tourists. It was ideally located, and though the villagers resented the idea, it would ultimately mean more business for all of them. Helen, he wrote, was going on a trip around the world, had already departed. Carlotta had startled everyone by buying a cottage in the country sight unseen, picking it out from a real estate catalogue. She was wildly enthusiastic and was driving him mad with talk about fresh eggs and real butter and simple, decent folks who were the salt of the earth and knew all there was to know about herbs and poultices and breeding animals and things that
mattered
. The place was really quite nice, he informed me, and Judy and Ned, recently married, had agreed to live there with her. Carlotta was embarking on a grand new adventure, I thought, and her neighbors were going to have quite a few surprises when she settled down in their midst.

The plane seemed to jolt, hanging suspended in midair. The powerful motors rumbled loudly. In the distance there was a vague impression of London, a cluster of gray and brown shapes rearing up, half concealed by a hazy violet mist. Ellie seized my hand and held it tightly as we descended, releasing it only after the wheels bumped and we touched ground. She gave a sigh of relief and began to gather up magazines, carryall bag, sunglasses and purse.

“Next time I
swim
across the Channel.”

“It wasn't so bad,” I said cheerfully.

Ellie gave me a withering look.

We were frantically occupied for the next thirty minutes, getting our passports stamped, reclaiming luggage, going through customs; and it was only after this was accomplished that I began to search the noisy, bustling crowd for that familiar face. He was standing beside a bookstall, wearing a gray and black checked overcoat, a white silk muffler dangling around his neck. His black hair was as unkempt as ever, his tanned, lined face as tough. He frowned as he searched the area. Loudspeakers blared. Children cried. Hundreds of people moved through the vast room, a kaleidoscope of movement and color. He looked impatient, worried when he failed to spot us.

“There he is,” Ellie said. “Over there, by the bookstall.”

“He'll see us in a minute or so.”

“You seem nervous, pet.”

“Why should I be nervous?”

“He's a fascinating-looking man,” she remarked. “Not at all handsome. Ugly, in fact, but—madly attractive.”

“I suppose he is.”

“He's in love with you, you know.”

“Don't be absurd,” I said irritably.

“Madly in love with you,” she continued blithely. “I knew it the first time I ever saw him. I imagine you'll be seeing quite a lot of him now that he's going to be practicing law in London. Well, pet, I'm going to go find my gorgeous pilot. Evan will be taking you to the flat. Be a luv and carry my bags along with you. I have no
idea
when I'll be getting in—”

“Ellie, don't leave me to—”

But Ellie did leave, giving me a quick, merry hug, disappearing into the crush. In the middle of that shifting, swirling crowd I felt alone and suddenly frightened. A group of boisterous servicemen swaggered past me. A little girl with pigtails and a lollipop knocked against my legs, threw me a hateful look and hurried on to join her fretting mother. The activity was frantic. The noise was shrill. Across the room, Evan looked up, finally spotting me. His face seemed to light up. He hurried toward me, smiling a broad smile. My fear vanished completely and I smiled too. I waved. Evan crashed into a startled porter, shoved him roughly aside without even being aware of it. He was running now, his overcoat flaring behind him. I knew then that everything was going to work out. Everything was going to be just fine.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1975 by Tom E. Huff

Cover design by Julianna Lee

ISBN: 978-1-4976-9838-3

This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

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