Authors: Anthea Fraser
âI hope we haven't spoiled your Christmas, Mrs Allerdyce. Enjoy what's left of it.'
There was no answer to this. Rona simply nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Her ears still ringing with Stephen's confession, she paused for a minute in the carpeted corridor and drew a deep breath, thankful to be out of the miasma of guilt, anger, embarrassment and grief in the room behind her. It had, after all, been she who had brought them to this point, who had coaxed the truth out of Nanny Gray.
If Kate hadn't asked her to look into Freya's dreams, Velma would have remained buried in the well, Stephen would continue to bear his secret guilt, and the Tarltons would have remained ignorant of the truth. And Freya would probably have outgrown her nightmares. But Kate
had
asked her, and she
had
found out these things, and she didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.
Behind the closed door, the subdued murmur of voices had resumed. If they came out and found her here, they'd think she'd been eavesdropping. But they'd be wrong; she'd already heard more than she wanted.
She walked quickly back to the lift and pressed the button. The doors opened at once â it must have remained there since they came up â and she stepped into it. Enjoy the rest of your Christmas, Dorothy Fairfax had said. Whether or not that was possible, she wasn't sure. What she urgently needed now was her own family about her. She pressed the button, and with a sigh of relief, went down to rejoin them.