Missing Joseph

Missing Joseph by Elizabeth George Page B

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Authors: Elizabeth George
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it? Has he answered your letter?” It was hard to believe. But Nick wrote to jockeys as a matter of course, always adding to his collection of letters. He’d heard from Pat Eddery, Graham Starkey, Eddie Hide. But Lester Piggott was a plum, to be sure.
    She flung up the sash. The cold wind gusted like a cloud into the room.
    â€œIs that it?” she asked.
    From his ancient leather jacket—long claimed to be a gift to his great-uncle from an American bombardier during World War II—Nick took an envelope. “It isn’t much,” he said. “Just ‘nice to hear from you, lad.’ But he signed it real clear. No one thought he’d answer, remember, Mag? I wanted you to know.”
    It seemed mean-spirited to leave him outside when he’d come on such an innocent errand. Even Mummy couldn’t object to this. Maggie said, “Come in.”
    â€œNot if it’ll make trouble with your mum.”
    â€œIt’s all right.”
    He squeezed his lanky frame through the window and made a deliberate point of not closing it behind him. “I thought you’d gone to bed. I was looking in the windows.”
    â€œI thought you were a prowler.”
    â€œWhy’n’t you turn on the lights?”
    She dropped her eyes. “I get scared. Alone.” She took the envelope from him and admired the address.
Mr. Nick Ware, Esq., Skelshaw Farm
was written clearly in a firm, bold hand. She returned it to Nick. “I’m glad he wrote back. I thought he would.”
    â€œI remembered. That’s why I wanted you to see.” He flipped his hair off his face and looked round the room. Maggie watched, in dread. He’d be noticing all the stuffed animals and her dolls sitting upright in the wicker chair. He’d go to the bookshelves and see
The Railway Children
along with the other favourite titles from her childhood. He’d realise what a baby she was. He wouldn’t want to take her about then, would he. He probably wouldn’t want to know her at all. Why hadn’t she thought before letting him in?
    He said, “I’ve never been in your bedroom before. It’s real nice, Mag.”
    She felt dread dissolve. She smiled. “Ta.”
    â€œDimple,” he said and touched his index finger to the small depression in her cheek. “I like it when you smile.” Tentatively, he dropped his hand to her arm. She could feel his cold fingers, even through her pullover.
    â€œYou’re ice,” she said.
    â€œCold outside.”
    She was acutely aware of being in the dark in forbidden territory. The room seemed smaller with him standing in it, and she knew the proper thing to do was to take him downstairs and let him out by the door. Except that now he was here, she didn’t want him to go, not without giving her some kind of sign that he was still hers in spite of everything that had happened in their lives since last October. It wasn’t enough to know that he liked it when she smiled and he could touch the dimple in her cheek. People liked babies’ smiles, they said so all the time. She wasn’t a baby.
    â€œWhen’s your mum coming home?” he asked.
    Any minute
was the truth. It was after nine. But if she told the truth, he’d be gone in an instant. Perhaps he’d do it for her sake, to keep her from trouble, but he’d do it all the same. So she said, “I don’t know. She went off with Mr. Shepherd.”
    Nick knew about Mummy and Mr. Shepherd, so he knew what that meant. The rest was up to him.
    She made a move to close the window, but his hand was still on her arm, so it was easy enough for him to stop her. He wasn’t rough. He didn’t need to be. He merely kissed her, flicking his tongue like a promise against her lips, and she welcomed him.
    â€œShe’ll be a while then.” His mouth moved to her neck. He gave her the shivers. “She’s been getting hers regular

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