Chapter 3
She shouldn’t be here. But, oh, how she’s missed her beloved Raven Hall.
She hurries up the driveway, on full alert, prepared to be challenged at any moment.
She used to feel so proud of this long, open approach—the way it shows off the grand beauty of the house to any visitor from a quarter of a mile away.
But now, the lack of cover feels like a hostile security measure.
No matter how tightly she wraps her arms around herself, or how low she shrinks inside her jacket, the new owner could glance from a window at any moment and spot her approaching.
And what would they do if they knew who she was?
As soon as she’s crossed the last drainage ditch, she veers off into the scrubby grass toward the side of the house, heading for the high wall that borders the back garden.
She quickly passes out of sight of the front windows.
Only someone peering down from the turret bedroom would be able to see her now.
When she reaches the garden wall, she places her palms against its sun-warmed, wind-softened surface, and it doesn’t feel like stone at all; it feels almost like a living thing. Home, she thinks, have you missed me?
But she can’t waste time being sentimental.
She hurries alongside the wall and around its corner, and she smiles with relief to spot her beloved old tree house peeping out from among the leaves at the back of the garden.
A little farther along is the familiar curving branch that used to give her a route out into the fields to go looking for hedgehogs and badgers.
Now she climbs up and over, dropping into the laurel bush on the inside of the garden wall.
She wiggles through, scratching her face and hands, until she can see the lawn, and then the garden chairs, and then the back of the house itself.
Her gaze skitters from window to window, and back down to the veranda, but the only living creature in sight is a small white, fluffy dog, apparently asleep, just outside the open French doors.
Slowly, cautiously, she creeps along the garden’s border, ducking behind bushes, parting branches, and keeping her gaze fixed on the back doors.
The little dog lifts its head and scratches itself behind the ear, then settles down again, and she releases a shuddery breath.
She finds a dry spot behind a red robin bush and checks the view across to the back of the house, and then she settles in to wait.