Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

been a doctor and had an eclectic collection of nonfiction that encompassed most of the sciences. But Ellie wasn’t having any of it. He’d tried to interest her in the small pile of toys left over from their visits but nothing appealed. In desperation, he took her into the hall and, pulling down the loft ladder, followed her into the dark and dusty attic, the musty stale air causing his nose to wrinkle and his eyes to stream. It used to be his favourite place on rainy days. Now he could hardly bear to think about those happier times, let alone find the energy to follow her as she bounded up the vertical rungs.

There was a light, only a forty-watt bulb, hanging from an element in the middle of the ceiling but he left it switched off, instead choosing to use the narrow beam from his torch.

‘Make sure you’re careful where you put your feet,’ he said, repeating the same mantra his grandfather had first told him all those years ago, his throat constricting at the thought.

‘We do have an attic, you know.’

‘Really? I should have remembered. After all, you have told me all about your home and the reason why you ran away,’ he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

But instead of replying, she turned to the largest of the tea chests and started to drag out random items of clothing, spraying dust particles into the thin band of light. In exasperation, he propped a hand against one of the roof supports and continued to watch as she tried on an old felt beret with a badge on the front.

‘Very fetching. Why not try on the feather boa to match?’

‘Feather what?’

‘That long pink thing you’re holding made of feathers! It used to belong to some aunt. I can’t really remember her,’ he said, his voice fading because now there would be no one to remind him of who she’d been, no one to pass on the memory. His mother had never been interested in that sort of stuff and his father had always had too many other things to do. It was only his grandfather who’d had the patience to share his stories: bright sparkling stories of intrigue and espionage that he must have embellished for little boys’ eager ears. He clenched his fingers around the wood, the feel of the raw timber biting grooves into his soft skin a welcome diversion from where his mind was leading him.

‘You’re lucky having all this. Apart from my mum and me there’s no one.’

‘Believe me, you’ll soon learn that the only one that you can rely on is yourself.’

‘That’s not very nice.’

‘You think so? I would have thought that it’s something you’d have realised already, having run away from home like you did.’

‘That was different.’ She replaced the feather boa, running her hand through the silky texture, a look of deep regret on her innocent face. ‘I didn’t have a choice because they would have …’ She shook her head, her bottom lip quivering under the weight of her thoughts.

‘They would have what, Ellie?’ he prompted gently. ‘You can trust me, right? And who am I going to tell anyway?’

The colour leeched from her skin, turning it the colour of alabaster, her bright blue eyes almost hidden by the black pools of her pupils. If she had been one of his brothers, he’d have been tempted to draw her into a hug even though he wasn’t that great with physical contact. But he didn’t want to drive her away. He’d gained her trust and hopefully her confidence. One false move on his part and it would all come down like the houses of cards he’d used to spend his time perfecting in the quiet of his bedroom.

‘They were staring at me. Those bloodshot eyes—’ She blinked, a tear then two trembling on her lower lashes and dripping down her cheeks. ‘I can’t describe it. Please don’t make me. If they ever find out …’

‘Ellie, you must. I know it’s hard for you but I’m one of the good guys. Perhaps it isn’t what you thought. You might even have made a mistake. I can’t help unless you tell me.’

He watched her gulp, her throat working overtime, her fingers flexing and unflexing around the sides of the tea chest as if she suddenly didn’t know what to do with them and, for the first time since waking, he regretted his decision to find out the truth. Not because of what it might do to her but, selfishly, of what it might mean to him and how he was going to handle it.

‘There’s a shed at the back of the house. I shouldn’t have been there – Mum has always given me strict instructions – but I was bored and had nothing to do so I thought I’d see if I could find something to play with on one of the shelves. The key was in the lock so I—’ She stretched out her hand, only to drop it like a hot brick at the sound of the front door slamming below followed by shoes slapping against the quarry-tiled floor.

They stared at each other, Ellie’s horrified expression reflected in the widening of his gaze and the droop of his mouth as he banged his head gently against his hand.

He’d thought he’d been clever in taking her here, a place that no one wanted to remember. A house that his mother couldn’t even give away at the current knockdown price. He’d been stupid or naive – most likely both. Someone knew and, with the person walking in their direction, they were completely trapped. There was nothing to defend themselves with apart from a pencil-thin torch and a pile of rags only fit for the bin.

‘Quick, the ladder …’

But it was too late. The noise had stopped along with what felt like his heart. He’d certainly stopped breathing. His fingers stretched to flick off the torch even as he pointed for Ellie