THE SIXTH GUEST: Chapter Seven - Part Four

Clare left Mike in the kitchen doorway, hunkered down, explaining to Rosalie that he had to go out for a little bit, while she returned to the lounge doorway. This was all taking far too long. They had to get out there now and look for that guy. She understood that Rosalie’s feelings were important but she was afraid that the words of the strange threatening man trumped any other concern.

“Mike, come on,” she called.

He glanced her way irritably but gave Rosalie a hug and started leading her down the hall.

Henry was just getting to his feet when Clare reappeared. “Ah.” He glanced down at her empty hands and then frowned. “Where’s my tea?”

“Huh?” Clare gaped at him with incredulity. Did no one else see how important this could be? “I don’t have it. I’m sorry. But can you do me a favour?”

“Tomorrow perhaps. I’m going to bed.”

“Henry, please. It’ll only take ten minutes.”

“No. I’m sorry Clare but I’m exhausted. I need to go and lie down.”

“Please Henry. Mike’s going to stay here tonight with his daughter and we have to pop out for five minutes; that’s all. We just need someone to look after her and put her to bed.”

Behind her, Mike and Rosalie appeared in the lounge doorway. Henry turned his eyes off Clare to the unshaven, rather slovenly man standing there, then the dropped to the little girl the man was gripping gently on the shoulders. His mouth made a sagging O and the words of negation he’d been about to spit out caught on his tongue. Her hair; her shining eyes; her pretty crumpled dress... Henry said nothing but stared in open wonderment.

In her impatience, Clare noticed his response enough to be pleasantly surprised. When she’d told Mike that Henry loved children she was being optimistic but he was clearly delighted, falling into the fifty-fifty split of old people who didn’t think children should be seen and not heard (and preferably not seen).

“This is Rosalie,” said Clare, taking the child by the arm and drawing her forward. “Rosalie, this is Henry. He’s a very nice man who lives upstairs. He’s going to show you where you’ll be sleeping; okay?”

Rosalie peeped back at her father and Mike smiled reassuringly. Clare hated to hurry the moment but they were almost certainly out of time already. “Henry, Rosalie and Mike will be in the attic. The bed’s still made up in there. Please can you just show Rosalie the way to the bathroom and then take her up?”

He didn’t answer. He was still looked at Rosalie with an open expression of apparent awe.

“Henry?”

“Hmmm?” He snapped out of it. “Yes. Of course. I’d be glad to.”

“Thank you.”

Clare backed out of the room, taking Mike now by the arm to draw him toward the front door.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay hon?” he asked.

Rosalie shrugged.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit. I won’t be long. I’ll be there to tuck you in, I promise.”

And with that, Clare pulled him out through the door and Rosalie was left alone with the nice gentleman.