Anne Perry's Christmas Vigil Read Online Free PDF Page A

would hurt just as badly. She would miss the uncle who had made her laugh and had loved her, and the donkey who’d been her friend.
    â€œWe’ll find ’im,” Gracie said impulsively, swallowing hard, and knowing she was making a promise she would not be able to keep.
    Minnie Maude forced herself not to cry. She took an enormous breath and turned to face Gracie, her cheeks tear-streaked, wet hair sticking to her forehead. “Yeah. Course we will,” she agreed. She led the way along the rest of the short path, barely glancing up as a couple of pigeons flapped above her and disappeared into the loft over the stable. She pushed the back door of the house open, and Gracie followed her inside.
    A thin woman with a plain face stood over a chopping board slicing carrots and turnips, herlarge-knuckled hands red from the cold. She had the most beautiful hair Gracie had ever seen. In the lantern light it was burnished like autumn leaves, a warm color, as if remembering the sun. She looked up as Minnie Maude came in, then her pale eyes widened a little as she saw Gracie, and her hands stopped working.
    â€œW’ere yer bin, Minnie Maude?”
    â€œLookin’ for Charlie,” Minnie Maude replied. “This is Gracie, from ’Eneage Street. She’s ’elpin’ me.”
    Aunt Bertha shook her head. “In’t no point,” she said quietly. “ ’E’ll come ’ome by ’isself … or ’e won’t. In’t nothing yer can do, child. An’ don’t go wastin’ other folks’ time.” She regarded Gracie with only the tiniest fraction of curiosity. There were dozens of children up and down every street, and there was nothing remarkable about her. “Good o’ yer, but in’t nothin’ yer can do. ’E must a got a scare when poor Alf died.” She started chopping the turnip again.
    â€œÂ â€™E wouldn’t be able ter find ’isself,” Minnie Maude agreed. “ ’E weren’t on ’is own route. ’E were on Jimmy Quick’s.”
    â€œDon’t talk nonsense, Minnie,” Bertha said briskly. “Course ’e weren’t. Why’d ’e be down there?” She chopped harder, drawing the knife through the tough vegetables with renewed force. “Yer got chores ter get on with.” She looked at Gracie. “Yer got ’em too, I ’spec.”
    It was on the edge of Gracie’s tongue to say to Bertha that she’d sold Charlie, and why couldn’t she just be honest enough to tell Minnie Maude so. Then at least she wouldn’t be worrying about him being lost and hungry, wandering around in the sleet, wet and maybe frightened.
    The outside door opened again, and Stan appeared. He looked at Minnie Maude, then at Gracie. “Wot yer doin’ back ’ere again?” he said sharply.
    â€œShe’s ’elpin’ me look fer Charlie,” Minnie Maude told him.
    â€œShe’s jus’ goin’,” Bertha interrupted soothingly. Her face was pinched, her eyes steady on Stan. “She were only ’elpin’.”
    â€œWell, yer shouldn’t bother folks,” Stan told Minnie Maude. “Yer looked. ’E ain’t around. Now do like yer told.”
    â€œÂ â€™E’s lorst,” Minnie Maude persisted.
    â€œDonkeys don’t get lorst,” Stan said, and shook his head. “ ’E’s bin doin’ these streets fer years. ’E’ll come ’ome, or mebbe somebody took ’im. Which is stealin’, an’ if I find the bastard, I’ll make ’im pay. But that’s my business. It in’t yers. Now go and do yer chores, girl.” He looked at Gracie. “An’ you do yers, an’ all. Yer must ’ave summink ter do better ’n wanderin’ round the streets lookin’ fer some damn donkey!”
    â€œBut ’e’s lorst!” Minnie Maude