The Lost Child by Ann Troup

towards the house. ‘Are you enjoying your stay?’
    Elaine noticed that Ada was staring at her neck; instinctively she reached up and adjusted the scarf. ‘Yes I am, it’s a beautiful place and the cottage is charming.’
    Ada nodded. ‘Yes, it seemed sensible to put them to some use. We used to let them to the estate staff but as the estate has shrunk so have the number of people. It would have been a poor show to let the cottages go to ruin. I’m so very glad you like the cottage, I chose the furnishings myself.’
    That little fact didn’t surprise Elaine one bit, it was fairly obvious that the cottage had been furnished by someone with utilitarian and somewhat eclectic taste. ‘It’s lovely. You’ve made it very comfortable and welcoming.’ She lied. It had been furnished with everything from Hallow’s Court that had been considered too good to throw away yet surplus to requirements.
    Ada inclined her head graciously. ‘You’re very kind.’
    ‘Well, I’d better be going. Thank you very much for the tea. I hope your brother feels better when he wakes. It’s been very nice to meet you.’ Elaine said, unable to ignore, and quite grateful for the subtle cue to leave.
    She made her way back to the cottage along the same lavender lined path she had used earlier, stopping to retrieve Jean’s abandoned urn as she passed. On picking it up she felt a pang of guilt, this really wasn’t the place she should have put her but it was too late. Even Jean deserved greater peace than this.
    As Elaine walked, the last few dusty grains of Jean fell from the near empty urn. They formed a Hansel and Gretel trail of crumbs on the gravel path, which would connect her daughter to Hallow’s Court until the wind decided to change.

Chapter Six
    Brodie got off the bus, pulled up her hood and made her way down the quiet residential road towards her destination. A few hours in the library had revealed his identity, and a few pounds of her precious money had bought her the address of the man she was looking for.
    Once she had located the right house she paused and steeled herself, remembering to pull down her hood and smooth out her hair before she knocked. The perfectly painted green front door sported a heavy brass knocker, which resounded down the entire street when she tapped it against its elaborate brass plate. The sound made her feel as if she were the only person alive in the whole road, not even a net curtain was twitched to belie her presence.
    A woman eventually opened the door. Brodie hadn’t been expecting that. ‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked.
    ‘Um, I’m looking for Jack Pearson, is he in?’
    The woman looked her up and down, frowning. ‘He’s in the garden. Not being funny love, but what do you want?’
    ‘I wanted to talk to him about one of his old cases.’ Brodie said with more confidence than she was feeling.
    The woman opened the door wider, crossed her arms and planted her feet firmly. ‘You do know he’s retired.’
    Brodie nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s an old case. I read about it in the papers and I know he was in charge, I just wanted to talk to him about it. It’s about the little girl who went missing, Mandy Miller.’ She fingered the toy dog, which lay in her pocket.
    The woman put her head back, curious, ‘And why would you want to know about that? It must have been years before you were born.’
    ‘It was, but I’m her sister, and something’s come up. Please, can I talk to him?’
    The woman sighed and slowly shook her head as if wondering at her own judgment. ‘Come on in, I’ll ask him, but don’t be surprised if he doesn’t want to see you. He never did get over that one.’
    Brodie followed her down a long hallway and into a tidy, modern kitchen, where she was told to wait while the woman went down the garden and into the greenhouse. It took a few moments but eventually Jack Pearson emerged, peering out of the greenhouse towards the house as if trying to get a glimpse of his