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“Hello,” I said “who is there?” Then my mood changed abruptly as I heard the heavy breathing at the other end. “Who is it?” I stuttered, forcing the words out.
The voice laughed and then the phone was replaced.
I do not know how long I stayed in that cold empty study holding the receiver. It seemed like an eternity. I felt afraid then I remembered Julie. I walked back through the hall and up the never ending winding staircase to her bedroom. She stirred relentlessly as I tried to tuck her up and murmured a few words, softly crying.
“What is it darling?” I asked.
She sat up, and sleepily rubbed her eyes. “Aunty Jean,” she said and looked at the 10 door, “Where is my mummy?”
“It’s alright Julie.” I replied “I am looking after you for a little while. Mummy has gone to meet Daddy at the airport. Lie down and I will tuck you up.”
She sat and looked at me, her beautiful blue eyes still drowsy with sleep.
“I do not want that man to come. You won’t let him, will you Aunty Jean?” She looked frightened sitting there in her pale blue night-dress, long blonde hair tumbling round her small shoulders.
“What man Julie?” I asked.
The Clock Strikes Twelve, Eileen AMORE
Published in N°98 London Mystery
Norman Kark Editor
Ci-dessous les travaux réalisés par des élèves
