The Guardian of Secrets: And Her Deathly Pact (24 page)

At
dinner,
all
I
could
think
about
was
having
a
conversation
with
Mr
Ayres.
I
kept
thinking
that
when
he
left
me,
I
would
be
here,
alone,
in
a
land
foreign
to
me,
with
customs
I
don’t
understand
and
people
I
still
don’t
know.
I
will,
after
all,
be
sharing
their
house
and
giving
my
child
into
the
arms
of
the
old
Spanish
peasant
woman
who
has
been
despatched
to
my
room
every
morning
so
far.
She
has
completely
taken
over
my
morning
routine.
She
now
bathes
Peter
(now
called
Pedro),
changes
him,
and
then
sits
with
him,
while
I
am
ordered
to
meet
with
Marta
and
Rosa,
who
talk
for
hours
about
their
menfolk
and
gossip
from
the
village.
I
am
forgotten
sometimes
and
have
been
forced
to
sit
and
listen
to
the
unrestrained
Spanish
tongue,
leaving
me
with
a
headache
and
wondering
how
I
can
possibly
fit
in.

At
dinner
this
evening,
I
experienced
a
moment
of
panic
and
almost
opened
my
mouth
to
ask
Mr
Ayres
and
Mr
Rawlings
if
it
was
too
late
to
change
my
mind
about
remaining
in
Spain.
Later,
I
scolded
myself
for
even
thinking
about
such
a
thing,
for
as
much
as
I’d
like
to
go
back
to
my
aunt,
protected,
loved,
and
with
my
own
kind,
I
know
that
I
am
still
too
afraid
of
Joseph
Dobbs
to
set
foot
in
England.

Oh,
how
I
miss
the
quiet
lands
and
rolling
hills
of
Kent.
I
miss
my
aunt
and
the
bond
of
love
that
has
pulled
me
through
the
darkest
hours.
Old
Mrs
Baxter
with
her
booming
voice
and
motherly
discipline
has
never
seemed
so
dear
to
me,
but
Joseph
stops
me
from
going
home
at
every
turn
 
.
 
.
 
.
If
only
he
were
dead!

Ernesto
Martinéz
comes
to
my
mind
at
this
moment,
and
I
wonder
if
he
is
the
kind
and
thoughtful
man
he
portrays
himself
to
be.
Or
is
he
like
Joseph,
with
an
evil
and
twisted
hidden
agenda
that
will
show
itself
later?
I
must
admit
that
I
am
a
little
afraid
of
him
and
wouldn’t
like
to
be
alone
with
him,
for
his
eyes
and
fixed
glances
in
my
direction
penetrate
my
very
soul,
and
I
feel
I
can
hide
nothing
from
him.
I
must
stop
thinking
about
him!

I
spoke
to
Mr
Ayres.
He
is
the
dearest
of
men
and
has
put
some
of
my
fears
to
rest,
just
as
he
always
does.
He
convinced
me
that
all
would
be
well,
even
though
he
could
see
that
I
was
afraid
and
unsure
about
everything.
He
also
said
that
Ernesto
and
the
rest
of
his
family
liked
me.
He
added
that
they
had
in
fact
spoken
very
highly
of
me.

We
spoke
about
all
manner
of
things,
but
I
will
never
forget
what
he
said
about
Joseph.
His
words
will
stay
with
me
and
comfort
me
in
the
months
to
come,
for
they
will
give
me
strength
and
help
me
to
believe
in
myself.
“For
you
to
live,
Joseph
must
die.”
That’s
what
he
said.
Then
I
told
him
that
I
dreamt
about
Joseph
all
the
time,
even
when
I’m
awake.
I
began
to
cry
like
a
baby
and
was
so
embarrassed,
but
it
is
true.
Joseph’s
face
haunts
me,
mocks
me.
Maybe
it’s
a
sign.
Maybe
I’ll
go
to
hell
for
lying
and
wishing
him
dead!

How
can
I
live
with
these
people
who
have
shown
me
nothing
but
kindness
and
friendship?
I’ve
deceived
them
and
it’s
unpardonable,
but
when
I
told
Mr
Ayres
how
I
felt,
he
once
again
put
me
at
ease
with
his
kind
words.
He
said
that
if
God,
who
is
all-powerful,
could
forgive
a
man
like
Joseph
Dobbs,
then
he
would
find
no
trouble
in
forgiving
me.
He
told
me
to
take
my
life
back
and
said
that
I
mustn’t
let
Joseph
destroy
my
future.

She closed the journal, put it back in its place, and then fluffed up her pillows and got into bed. She lay back in the darkness and looked out of the window once more.

Mr Ayres’s words came back to her again as the sea of stars began to drift in and out of focus. She was sleepy now, but still so many thoughts were going through her mind. She could live again. No, more than that. She could become the Celia Merrill of old; she had already taken her father’s name back. She could strip Joseph Dobbs of his power once and for all. She smiled, closed her eyes, and dreamed, not of Joseph’s cruel distorted face, but of the kind, smiling face of Ernesto Martinéz.