His Miracle Bride

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE drive to the castle took three hours, and Shanni blushed the whole way.

Part of the problem was she had too much time to think. She was driving her father’s car, unwilling to join the mob in Maureen’s wagon and be trapped with no transport at a place she didn’t know. Pierce had fretted about her driving with her bad shoulder but she’d ignored him. Her shoulder was better, she’d decreed.

Donald elected to go with her. Pierce was driving Maureen’s wagon, and she and Donald followed.

She was never touching those blue pills again.

If the pills had made her act out of character, the least they could do was erase the memory so she didn’t know what a fool she’d made of herself the next morning.

Stupid pills.

She’d forced him to kiss her.

And there was the hub of the problem. The kiss was replaying in her head, over and over. Donald was no help. Her small companion hummed a tuneless little ditty over and over, refusing to talk, refusing to help her divert herself.

So she blushed and she gave herself lectures and she blushed again.

She was supposed to be following Pierce, but even seeing the back of his car did her head in. So she fell back, so far that she ended up in Dolphin Bay with Pierce’s car nowhere to be seen. She had to stop and ask directions.

The lady at the post office was working on a garish piece of macramé. Macramé followed her everywhere, Shanni thought despondently. What, was there a world resurgence?

But as soon as she asked for directions the postmistress set aside her macramé and beamed.

‘How many kiddies this time?’

‘Five.’

‘Oh, my dear. Oh, you’re all going to have a wonderful time. I can’t tell you…’

It was a positive note. Shanni returned to the car and headed off again, vaguely worried that Pierce would be worried. She rounded the first bend out of town and there was Pierce, parked in a lay-by. Yes, he was looking worried. But then…

She saw the castle.

She eased off the accelerator and pulled to a stop, astounded.

Donald’s small jaw dropped open, and Shanni’s jaw dropped in consensus.

‘Wow,’ said Donald.

‘Wow is right,’ she whispered.

‘It’s a real castle,’ Donald said.

‘I’m scared,’ said Shanni.

Donald cast her a doubtful look. ‘I don’t think it’s scary.’

‘No?’

‘It’s just big and pointy, and like Abby’s storybooks. There probably aren’t any ghosts. Abby will like this place.’

What wasn’t to like? Shanni thought, stunned. The place seemed straight out of a gothic novel. The castle itself was set high on the cliffs above the sea, with purple-hazed mountains ringing the rear. Built of gleaming white stone, it was all turrets and battlements and vast stone walls. Flags flew from the battlements. Any minute now, she’d see warriors with spears and tubs of hot tar preparing to see them off.

Her car door was tugged open. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Pierce demanded, and she jumped about a foot.

‘Don’t-don’t do that.’

‘What?’

‘You scared me.’

‘And you scared me. I was imagining car accidents.’

‘Just because I drive sedately when I have children in the car,’ she managed, prim. And then she gazed at the castle again. ‘You’ve seen this before?’

‘I helped with the renovations. Isn’t it great?’

‘I…It’s unbelievable. What’s a castle doing on the coast of New South Wales?’

‘The original Loganaich Castle was in Scotland. It got bombed in the Second Word War. The last earl had been wounded in the war. He’d suffered a gutful of midges and fog and he craved sun, so he rebuilt here. Isn’t it fantastic?’

‘Fantastic,’ she said cautiously. ‘As an architect…’

‘Oh, I disapprove,’ he said, and grinned. ‘Talk about an environmental white elephant…But now it’s built I’m just as gobsmacked as the next man, and helping with the renovations was great. Talk about preserving kitsch. It’s fantastic.’ He peered in to Donald. ‘What do you reckon, Donald?’

‘Shanni says it’s scary,’ Donald said.

‘What’s to be scared of? There aren’t any dungeons. The old earl thought they could safely be left in Scotland.’ He pointed to the highest turret. ‘That turret contains the kids’ bedrooms. You want to sleep in a turret?’

‘With…’ Donald gulped. ‘With Wendy and everyone?’

‘Yes.’

Donald cast an uncertain glance at Shanni. ‘And with Shanni?’

‘Yes,’ Shanni said before Pierce could respond. ‘It’s an excellent idea of Donald’s that I sleep with the kids. Thank you for inviting me, Donald.’

‘Still scared?’ Pierce teased and grinned, and she knew he wasn’t referring to a few ghosts.

‘I was on pills last night,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

‘So you’ve told me five times today already. You want to come into the castle?’

He had to stop smiling, she thought desperately. He must. She was falling, falling, falling, and here was a crazy medieval castle looming before her, telling her she should leave reality outside and indulge in make-believe.

Yeah, right. Fairy tale or not, she had to keep her feet firmly on the ground.

‘Forget last night, and yes please,’ she managed.

The owners and the staff of Loganaich Castle were as stunning as the castle itself. Shanni had expected some sort of institution. There’d be kindly staff, she’d thought, efficient but ordered. Here though there seemed to be chaos. It hit from the moment they drove into the castle foregate.

There were three small girls sitting on the front step, twin girls aged about six and a toddler between them. They were concentrating on very large, pink ice-cream cones.

At their feet was a dog. A weird dog. The dog was brown, white and furry, with long floppy ears, a stretched-out body about the size of a cocker spaniel, a tail that added another two feet in length and legs that were about six inches long. The dog was looking at the girls, adoration mixed with the intense concentration of a dog expecting a dropped ice-cream at any minute.

Pierce pulled up first and Shanni pulled up behind. They emerged from the cars, and the three girls on the steps waved their ice-creams. Dangerously.

‘Hi,’ said one of the two twins. ‘Are you Mr MacLachlan?’

‘Yes,’ said Pierce.

‘Susie said there was a daddy but not a mummy,’ the other twin said, and she looked at Shanni as if she’d been sold a pup. ‘She said the mummy died.’

‘I’m Shanni,’ Shanni offered. ‘I’m the…housekeeper. Is there anyone…?’

‘Hello.’ As if on cue, a woman came flying out the front door, looking flustered. She was dressed in soil-coated overalls and she was covered in mud. She flew down the steps, beaming, holding out her hands in greeting. ‘Pierce. And Ruby’s Shanni. Welcome.’ Then, as Pierce took an instinctive step back, she looked down at her hands and winced. ‘Whoops. I should have washed. Sorry. I’ve been digging spuds.’

‘Spuds?’

‘Isn’t that right? I’m American, but I’m learning.’ She wiped her hands on her overalls, collecting as much mud as she was discarding. ‘I’m Susie, Lady of Loganaich. Isn’t that a weird title? It makes me think I should be wandering the halls, moaning and clanking chains. Hamish has gone into town for supplies, so I’m the reception committee, but we’re having a bit of a disaster with the pumpkin patch. It’s too wet and we’ve rot. Rot this early spells ruin. I’m building it up with pea straw. Jodie’s making beds and Kirsty’s helping. She shouldn’t be, but she’s insisting. Which of you has the chicken pox?’

‘Bessy,’ Pierce said, sounding dazed, motioning into the car where Bessy sat in her baby seat, gazing out with interest. ‘She was miserable before the spots came out, but only three spots appeared and now she’s cheered up.’

‘But you’ve all had them,’ Susie said as the kids started piling out of the car. ‘You guys deserve a medal. Did it really itch?’

‘It was horrible,’ Abby said, tucking in behind Pierce and regarding the muddy Susie with caution.

‘Pierce said we were making him itch just to look at us,’ Wendy added.

‘Well, you guys have come to the right spot here for post-itch therapy,’ Susie declared. ‘This is the best place in the world for getting rid of any recalcitrant itch. You lie in the surf and soak for hours. You guys ever been to the beach?’

‘N…no,’ Wendy said, gripping Abby’s hand.

‘Hardly any kids have seen the beach when they come to us.’ A rangy young man dressed in work overalls and bearing a crowbar emerged from a side gate. Susie turned to him and waved. ‘Nick, the poxy tribe are here and they’ve never seen the beach. Shall we show them immediately?’ She glanced at the twins and the toddler, who was coated in pink. ‘After you’ve been armed with ice-creams, of course.’

‘Excellent,’ Nick said, dropping his crowbar. ‘Hey, Jodie,’ he yelled, up to an open turret window. ‘Kirsty. The poxy tribe are here. We’re going to the beach.’

‘Not without us,’ a woman’s voice yelled in response from an open window above them.

‘Anyone who wants to do something boring like go to the bathroom or tote luggage gets to stay behind and come down with Jodie and Kirsty,’ Susie said. ‘Kirsty’s really pregnant, and she’s as slow as a snail. The rest of us…Let’s collect our ice-creams and hit the waves.’

Shanni and Pierce were left staring at each other, stunned. The kids, Susie, Nick and Jodie, and Taffy the dog, with a very pregnant Kirsty bringing up the rear, could be heard descending the track to the beach.

‘Bessy doesn’t go to strangers,’ Wendy was explaining to Susie.

‘I’m not a stranger,’ Susie was saying. ‘I’m Susie. I’m Rose’s mum. Bessy, you like me, don’t you? Nick, are you carrying Rose?’

‘Sure,’ Nick called from behind. He sounded as American as Susie. ‘Me and the twins and Donald are guarding your backs.’

‘What’s the set-up here?’ Shanni asked, dazed, though Pierce looked as dazed as she felt.

‘This place is geared up to give kids holidays,’ he told her. They were standing in a now deserted castle forecourt. The action was all over the road and down the cliff path.

‘But what’s its story? Who’s Susie? Is she really a…lady?’

‘The new Earl of Loganaich-Hamish-was a New York financier before he inherited the castle. Hamish is married to Susie. Hamish’s ex-secretary is Jodie. Jodie’s husband, Nick, is a social worker they invited to come out from America to help them set this place up. Susie’s twin, Kirsty, and her husband are local doctors in Dolphin Bay. The twins are theirs-Susie’s nieces. Rose-the toddler-is Susie’s.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t look like that. It’ll become clearer. I came here to do renovation plans, and for the opening, but I’m still trying to match dogs and kids to grown ups. It’s chaos, but it’s great chaos.’

‘It looks fabulous. And you never thought of bringing the kids here before?’

‘To be honest, I’ve been too busy to think past the nose on my face since Maureen arrived,’ he confessed. ‘It wasn’t until you suggested we all go to the beach that I thought of it.’ He hesitated and then admitted, ‘Yeah, and Ruby’s known here. Even if I had thought of it I’d have worried it’d get back to her. Me not coping with five kids.’

‘You don’t mind her knowing now?’

‘Susie swears it can stay in confidence.’

‘And Susie’s fine with the chicken pox?’

‘There aren’t any other kids here at the moment. They keep two weeks of every six open for emergencies, and we slotted into that. Everyone here has either been poxed or inoculated.’

‘So.’ She swallowed. More than ever she thought she wasn’t needed. She’d wanted time at the beach, but this was starting to seem…dangerous. Where was the excuse to stay? ‘I should just slope off.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m hardly needed.’ The kids had reached the beach now. Their astonished cries could be heard from where they stood. ‘You’re hardly needed, and I’m needed even less. The kids have disappeared without a backward glance.’

‘I’ll be doing some work here. As per your suggestion.’

‘By the look of it you’ll be able to. Even Bessy’s gone with them. So I can just…go.’

But the whoops and cries from the beach were enticing. She wanted to walk over to the edge of the cliff and look.

‘To Ruby’s?’ Pierce asked. ‘To the macramé?’

‘I can find somewhere. I’m not exactly friendless.’

‘I’m sure you’re not.’ He hesitated, looking across the road as well. The kids’ voices floated up, delirious with excitement. ‘We need to go and see…’

‘You need to go and see.’

‘We both need,’ he said, suddenly decisive. ‘You’ve just promised you’ll sleep in the kids’ wing, and I don’t see you breaking that promise.’ He put his hands on her forearms, fixing her to the spot. ‘Shanni, you suggested this. This was your idea, and it’s a fantastic one. I employed you to look after my kids and you’re doing just that in bringing them here. You’ve had a rotten time in London-anyone can see that. You’ve also been a lot sicker with your influenza than these kids have been with their chicken pox.’

‘How do you know?’

‘You’re washed out.’

‘I am not!’

‘And you have bigger shadows under your eyes than I do. The accommodation here is booked for two adults and five children. I intend to play with the kids and do some work. I think you should spend the next two weeks lying on the beach getting your colour back.’

‘I am not washed out.’

‘So you normally look like Susie’s moaning and clanking Lady of the Castle?’

‘I…’ She floundered, wishing for a mirror. Or an exit. ‘I don’t. I’m sure I don’t.’

He grinned. ‘You’re sure you normally don’t look as pale and wan as this? That’s what I thought. You’ve two weeks at the beach. Get used to it. Now…You don’t happen to remember what case we packed our swimming gear in?’

‘The red one.’

‘There you go, then. You’re useful already. Let’s go join the troops. Oh, and Shanni…’

‘What?’ she said, trying to figure whether she was being railroaded against her wishes or whether she really did want to stay.

He placed his finger on her lips. The movement was so unexpected she took a step back.

‘The kiss last night,’ he said, and he was smiling. ‘I’m not taking it seriously, so neither should you.’

She shouldn’t be here.

Shanni lay in the dark in her fabulous bedroom and stared at the moonlit ceiling, wondering what on earth she was doing, staying in a castle for disadvantaged children.

Things had moved so fast in the last few weeks she felt…weird. One moment she was running a struggling but hip art gallery in London, the next she was recuperating from flu in a castle on the coast of New South Wales. She had a velvet canopy over her bed. She was surrounded by gold embossed wallpaper. There was a fireplace at the end of the room so big and so ornate it looked like a work of art in its own right. The bathroom down the end of the hall had a picture of QueenVictoria staring sternly down at her, a chandelier hung from the ceiling and an aspidistra dangled over the cistern.

She’d giggled when she’d seen the picture first, but when she’d gone back later Queen Vic’s matriarchal stare had seemed disapproving.

‘I’ll make a donation and pay my keep,’ she’d told the monarch, but Victoria’s disapproval had only seemed to deepen.

She could go and stay with Ruby. She was sure Pierce would sign Ruby’s dratted consent form.

Or she could camp on Jules’s floor.

But for how long?

And suddenly it all seemed overwhelming. Grey and heavy and hard.

It had all happened too fast. Finding Mike and his horrible floozy had been dramatic and sordid, and she’d been too ill with influenza to think straight. But strangely now, in this fabulous bedroom, with five needy kids within calling distance, with Pierce just down the hall, it was the first time she’d seen clearly the mess her life was in.

She was twenty-eight years old-twenty-nine in three weeks. She’d lost her gallery and her apartment. She had no money and no career.

‘And no one will employ me,’ she whispered. ‘I’m qualified as a curator of an art gallery, yet the only one I’ve ever owned went bust. Some qualification. I’ll never get another job as a curator and I know it.

‘Maybe a provincial gallery…’

‘It’s too small a world. Mike will have bad-mouthed me, and he has powerful friends. I lost my head and my career’s kaput.’

She sniffed.

‘Don’t you dare cry,’ she told herself. ‘Not’

‘Shanni?’

It was a child’s voice. Hauled out of the indulgence of a good sob, Shanni made do with a bigger sniff and sat up in bed. She reached for the bedside lamp. Or should she make that the bedside chandelier? There was more crystal here than in the royal Palace of Versailles. Imitation crystal, she told herself. Susie had given them a grand tour, giggling at the ostentatious furnishings. ‘Deidre thought it was a hoot, making this place as kitsch as she could. Don’t you just love Ernst and Eric?’

Ernst and Eric were the two suits of armour guarding the stairs. Made in Japan.

‘Ersnt and Eric are the Loganaich keepers of secrets,’ Susie had told them, deeply earnest as she introduced the children to the suits. ‘Anything you say to these guys, they’ll take it to the grave.’

But right now Wendy seemed to want a warmer audience than two tin warriors. ‘Shanni, are you asleep?’ Her voice was trembling.

‘Nope,’ Shanni said, sniffing again and trying to sound cheerful. ‘I’m sitting in my royal bed waiting for a few minions to cater to my every whim. And my whim is that you talk to me.’ As Wendy ventured tentatively into the room, Shanni tossed back her covers and moved to one side. ‘Come on in. It’s warm in here.’

Wendy didn’t need two invitations. She practically bolted over to the bed, dived in and pulled the covers to her chin.

‘Hey,’ Shanni said, startled. ‘You’re not scared of ghosts, are you?’

‘N…no.’

‘Well, what?’

‘I had…a dream. I thought it was real.’

She was trembling all over. Shanni’s self-absorption disappeared in an instant.

She should have slept with the girls tonight, she thought, but Wendy and Abby had chosen a room just above her head, a turret with two bower windows and a bed in each bower. The girls had taken one look and whooped with joy, and there was only room for two. The boys had a similar room on the other side of the turret. Shanni’s and Pierce’s bedrooms were right underneath, so they could hear anyone call. Pierce had Bessy in a crib in his room and Shanni was in solitary splendour.

But it had felt wrong, Shanni thought as she hugged the little girl close. Why? What was she thinking? That she ought to be closer to these kids?

‘Problem?’

She glanced up and Pierce was in the doorway. He was still in jeans and pullover.

What was he doing, wandering the castle at night, still dressed at this hour? He must be tuned to the kids with extrasensory perception, she thought, to have heard Wendy’s soft call.

‘Wendy’s here,’ she said.

‘Wendy…’

Wendy was about as close to Shanni as it was possible to get, huddled under the bedclothes, her whole body shaking.

‘Nightmares,’ Shanni said, and Pierce winced.

‘Again.’ He took a couple of steps into the room and Wendy shrank tighter against Shanni.

‘No…’

Pierce stopped as if struck. ‘Hell, Wendy.’

‘Don’t swear,’ Shanni said automatically. ‘Hey, Wendy it’s only Pierce.’

The child was shaking so much Shanni was starting to be seriously worried.

‘Go away,’ Wendy whispered. ‘I don’t need…’

‘She’s had these nightmares before,’ Pierce said, staying where he was. ‘They’re awful, but she never lets me near. I took her to a child psychologist but she won’t talk about them.’

‘Nightmares are ghastly,’ Shanni said.

‘I know.’ Pierce looked lost, Shanni thought. And suddenly, she thought, he did know. This man had had his nightmares, too. Was he still having them?

‘What was your nightmare about?’ she asked Wendy, hugging her close.

A fierce shake of her head was the only response.

‘I used to have nightmares about frogs.’ Shanni grimaced. ‘Great, big slimy frogs. Frogs taking over the world. Horrid.’

‘Frogs are cute,’ Wendy whispered.

‘Not my frogs.’

Silence.

‘And I bet you had nightmares too,’ she said to Pierce. ‘What were your nightmares about?’

The silence lengthened.

‘I don’t…’ he said at last, and Shanni sighed.

‘So if we sent you to a child psychologist you wouldn’t tell us yours either?’

‘This is Wendy we’re talking about.’

‘It is.’ She hugged the little girl so tight she felt their ribs collide. Wendy was too thin. A waif.

‘Wendy, we need to talk about this,’ Pierce said heavily. ‘I know you’re scared. I know the dark seems awfully lonely.’ He hesitated. ‘Once upon a time I felt like that.’

‘Maybe sometimes you still do,’ Shanni whispered. ‘Sometimes we all do.’

‘No.’

‘Grown ups are sometimes scared, too,’ she told Wendy. ‘The thing to do is to talk about it. Honest. I talked to my mum after my frog nightmares, and she took me to the zoo and we learned all about frogs. We learned that the world’s biggest frog is the Goliath, and it’s bigger than my dad’s foot. Which is pretty huge. But it still only eats insects. Mum took me to a pond on our friend’s farm and we collected frog eggs. Dad dug a pond in the garden and we filled it with all the things frogs love. The eggs hatched into tadpoles and the tadpoles turned into frogs. I called them names like Hoppit and Cassidy. So then I started dreaming about real frogs, and my nightmares just…stopped.’

‘Your parents loved you,’ Pierce said softly.

‘They abandoned Susie Belle,’ Shanni retorted. ‘My beautiful doll,’ she explained to Wendy. ‘Let’s not be too nice about my parents. Wendy, what are your nightmares about?’

‘I want…’

‘What do you want?’

‘Pierce to go away,’ Wendy whispered.

The words were so shocking that Shanni froze. She glanced up at Pierce, and she saw something on his face that shocked her further. Pain. Pure, unadulterated pain.

Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t Pierce Wendy was afraid of, she thought. That look…

‘Pierce is our friend,’ she whispered. ‘Pierce loves you.’

‘He’s…’

‘What are the nightmares?’ she pressed.

‘Dark,’ Wendy murmured.

But it was too much. Pierce was backing out the door. He looked stricken.

‘I’ll leave you,’ he said, woodenly, stiffly. ‘I’ll be up on the battlements. Too far away to hear.’

Shanni wanted to call him back, but she knew she mustn’t. Wendy was still pressed tight against her. Was she fully awake from the nightmare, or were traces of it still lingering?

Was Wendy afraid of Pierce?

This didn’t make sense. Wendy seemed desperate for this oddly constructed family to work. She must have had plenty of opportunities with the social welfare people to say Pierce wasn’t treating her well, that she wanted to leave.

Or…abuse? That didn’t bear thinking of, but Shanni took a deep breath, swallowed and decided she had to be an adult here. She needed to wipe any preconceived ideas out of her head and tackle this like she knew nothing. Which she did.

‘Pierce is gone,’ she said.

‘I know.’

‘So you can tell me what the nightmares are now.’

‘I…No.’

‘Wendy, I saved Donald from the bull,’ she said, deciding a bit of bossiness was in order. ‘I’ll save you from your terrors, too, but I need to know what they are.’

There was a long silence. Then, ‘Dark,’ Wendy whispered.

‘Dark?’

‘I…Yes.’

‘There’s a night light in your room. Isn’t it light enough for you?’

‘Just…When I go to sleep…’

‘It’s dark when you go to sleep?’

‘The cupboard,’ Wendy said, and Shanni held her breath.

‘What cupboard?’

‘He puts me in it. He hates me, cos if he hits the kids I tell Mum. Mum’s in bed-she’s always sick. And every time…’

‘Is this Pierce?’ Shanni interrupted, appalled. The nightmare obviously was mixing past with present, horrifically.

‘No.’ It was barely a whisper. ‘The other…’

‘Another man?’

‘We were with him for ages. Mum said we had to stay with him cos she didn’t have anywhere else to go. So I didn’t tell her about the cupboard. I’d tell her if he hit the kids, but she got upset when I told her anything. I told the kids it was okay. I didn’t mind. I pretended it was a-a game. But it wasn’t. Then one night he hit Donald, really hard. He made Donald’s eye swell up and I kicked him, even harder than he hit Donald. But then he locked us both up. Only, Donald cried so loud that Abby went and told Mum. Mum got up and yelled and yelled, and Donald said I was always in the cupboard. Even when I told him not to say it. Then Mum cried all night. The next day, Mum put us all in the car and we went to Pierce’s.’

Dear God.

I’m not qualified to deal with this, Shanni thought desperately. I don’t know what to do.

But she was all Wendy had. Apart from Pierce, who Wendy was obviously mixing in her head with her mother’s ghastly partner. Only in her sleep, she thought, but it was enough to mean Pierce couldn’t help her now.

‘Wendy, that’s a dreadful story,’ she said. ‘It’s awful. How dare he treat you like that.’

‘I…’

‘He ought to be arrested.’ She was angry, and she decided it couldn’t hurt to let her anger show. ‘Of all the ghastly, scary things…Oh, Wendy, how could you bear it? And you had to look after the other children, too.’

‘It was…dark.’

‘And your mother didn’t know?’

‘Once I tried to tell her, but she got so upset she got out of bed and fell over. He told her I’d been naughty, and he said he’d only put me in there for a minute. But it was for hours and hours. And it was over and over again. All night, sometimes. Until Donald, I tried not to say.’

‘Oh, Wendy, love,’ Shanni whispered. ‘Oh, my brave Wendy. You’re the bravest kid I know. Bar none.’

‘I hate the nightmares,’ she said.

‘You know Pierce isn’t like this man.’

‘I…I know.’

Shanni took a deep breath, then swung her legs out of bed, got up and turned on the overhead light. This suddenly seemed of immense importance.

‘You know I saved Donald from the bull.’

Wendy nodded, not sure where Shanni was going.

‘Wendy, I swear to you, if anyone else were to hurt you I’d react exactly the same as if they were the bull. No matter who. Do you believe that?’ She put her hand under the little girl’s chin and forced her to meet her eyes. ‘Wendy, you have to believe it.’

‘I…I do.’

‘So, are you afraid of Pierce?’

She was holding her breath. Surely she couldn’t be wrong about Pierce’s character, she thought, but this child was trusting her, and suddenly Shanni knew the enormity of what was being offered. Trust…

‘Please,’ she whispered under her breath, but she forced her face to stay absolutely clear, absolutely empty, non-judgemental, not likely to react to the worst…

‘No,’ Wendy whispered.

‘You didn’t want him to come in just now.’

‘No, I…’

‘You what?’

‘It’s just the dreams,’ Wendy said desperately. ‘Our mum said Pierce was a friend. She said we could trust him for ever. She said we’d be safe. And we are, and he’s nice as nice, and sometimes I even hug him like the other kids, but at night I have dreams and he gets all mixed up with…with the other one.’

‘Has Pierce ever done anything to you in a way you don’t like? Anything at all?’ Was this Shanni asking these sort of questions? She was a city girl with no responsibilities, with her head in the art world. What was she doing, asking questions like these?

But she must.

‘No,’ Wendy said, and there was something about her that told Shanni she couldn’t lie about this. It was too important. For some reason she’d decided to admit Shanni to her confidence, and she was going as far as she could.

‘So there’s no reason to be afraid of him except the dreams?’

‘I can’t stop dreaming,’ Wendy said desperately. ‘I try and I try, but the dark comes.’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Shanni said, trying not to cry. ‘You’re safe now. You’re absolutely safe. I’m protecting you. Pierce is protecting you. So is everyone in this castle, and tomorrow we’re going for a swim at the beach before breakfast.’

‘I…I know.’

‘Who cut your hair?’ Shanni asked suddenly. The child’s crop looked as if it had been attacked by a pruning saw. Ragged and uneven, it ranged from almost touching the collar of her pyjamas to being almost scalp-short.

‘I did,’ Wendy said, distracted from nightmares for a moment. ‘When we had the chicken pox. Abby spilled her drink, and I was mopping it up under the table when Donald spilled craft glue. It went into my hair. I tried to wash it out but it wouldn’t wash. So I cut it.’

‘What did Pierce say when he saw?’

‘He phoned the hairdresser, but she wouldn’t cut it cos of the chicken pox.’ She put a hand through her ragged curls. ‘It’s okay.’

‘It’s not,’ Shanni said. Here at last was something she could do. Girl stuff. ‘After your swim tomorrow, what say you and me go into town and find a hairdresser? And a clothes shop. You’re wearing the same clothes as Abby.’

‘Mum said it was easier.’

‘Yes, but your mum was sick, and I like a challenge.’ She grinned. ‘There’s nothing like a bit of retail therapy to drive away nightmares. I’ll hit Pierce for an advance on my wages if he won’t pay.’

‘Retail therapy?’

‘Clothes,’ Shanni said. ‘Clothes and shoes and hair. Pretty stuff. Girl stuff. You’re eleven years old, Wendy MacLachlan. You can be a kid and have fun all you want to, but it’s time you had a play at being a young lady.’