*

  Cairo sat, tense and uneasy on her bed, legs crossed, the forehead above her dark eyes furrowed by a frown. She always felt that way when Sir Clive was at home but this time it was worse. Recent events had changed everything, her mind was in constant turmoil. She was worried about her mother but she was in even more consternation about her own situation. She constantly thought about Richard, “Where was he?...” She pursed her neat lips, “…Will he come back like he promised?” She imagined leaving the house, running into the woods like Richard had done. She desperately wanted to talk to somebody, Mr Underhill was nice but not someone she could confide her innermost thoughts to.

  Then there was Button, she had always told him everything, but since that night with Richard she had left him neglected under the bed. She needed him again, but not like before, not under the bed with twilight whisperings, she needed him out in the daylight - in the real world!

  Slowly and a little nervously she reached under the bed, he was still there where she had left him, gently she pulled him out. She could not remember the last time she had seen him in daylight. He gave her quite a shock. The old teddy was shapeless and filthy, and worst of all he was lifeless. He was dead to her. With gut-crunching sadness she held him close for several minutes, no idea what to do, finally, with great courage, she crossed her room and placed him on a shelf with many of the other relics of her childhood.

  Sitting on the floor beneath her window, unable to cry, for the first time in her solitary life she felt completely alone.

 
Timothy Pearsall's Novels