The hopeless shuddering sobs were subsiding. She felt slightly giddy with triumph.
“This little girl lived in a great big house by the sea,” Mrs Armitage continued.
Ella’s face, red and bleary, appeared for a moment over the top of her arm and whispered something.
“I can’t hear you when you mumble, you’ll have to tell me again.”
“Did she have a mummy and a daddy and a brother?”
“No,” said Mrs Armitage, firmly. “She lived by herself.” Was that something Ella would accept? Apparently it was. “She had everything in the house exactly how she liked it, and nobody ever got to move her things around or buy pictures she thought were ugly or tell her when she had to get up or what she was going to have for dinner.”
“But she must have been scared to be by herself,” said Ella, and licked unselfconsciously at a drip of clear snot. Mrs Armitage shuddered and reached for the box of tissues.
“Wipe yourself up, and don’t ever do that again. She wasn’t scared. She liked being by herself. It made her happy.”
“I wouldn’t like it,” Ella persisted.
“It’s not a story about you, it’s a story about the little girl.”
“What was her name?”
“Araminta.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“There’s no point complaining, that’s what she was called. And she liked having an unusual name, it reminded her that she was different. So she lived all by herself in her house by the sea, and she never felt lonely or sad, not even for a minute, because she had everything she needed.”
Ella’s eyes were red and swollen and her face was streaky, but at least her nose was now clean.
“Did the sea try to steal her house too?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” said Mrs Armitage, before she could stop herself. “So Araminta would stand with a bucket and catch the sea with it, and throw it back over the cliff.”
“The whole sea? In her bucket?”
“It was a magic bucket.”
“Oh. But what about night-time? Did she stay awake all night just in case?”
“No, she didn’t. She went to bed in her little bedroom right at the top of the house like a sensible person, and hoped she’d wake up the next morning on the land and not underneath the water.”
“Sometimes I don’t want to go to sleep,” said Ella.
“Then you’ll be tired the next day. Anyway,” Mrs Armitage said, “one morning, Araminta woke up and remembered something beautiful. Her best friend was coming for lunch.”
“Was she frightened of the sea too?”
“Araminta wasn’t frightened of the sea. And it wasn’t a her, it was a him. They’d been friends since she was little –”
“She’s little now, isn’t she? You said she was a little girl.”
“Fine, even littler. I’m old, everyone younger than me looks like a child. So when I said she was a little girl, well, you might say she was a bit older.”
Ella looked puzzled. “Older like you?”
“No, not older like me – how old do you want her to be?” Ella shrugged. “Well, have a think and let me know, and we’ll say she’s that age. So, she woke up, and she cleaned her house, and she put on her best party frock, which was all floaty and white and pretty, and she picked some flowers from her garden and she put them on the table, and she made a cake. And then at four o’clock, her friend knocked on the door, and she went to let him in.”
“Was he wearing party clothes too? What do boys wear to parties?”
“He was wearing an electric purple suit with a green shirt and a purple tie,” said Mrs Armitage without pausing. “And he’d brought a friend with him.”
“What was the friend wearing?”
“He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, because he hadn’t expected to be at the party. But he looked lovely anyway.”
“Was there somewhere for him to sit?”
“Yes, there was an extra chair.”
“And was there a plate for him?”
“She got another plate out of the cupboard.”
“And was there enough cake –”
“There was enough of everything for everyone,” said Mrs Armitage loudly. “It was a big house and she had plenty of food and there was enough for everyone and Uncle Roger.”
Ella looked baffled. “Who’s Uncle Roger?”
“Oh for goodness sakes. When I was a little girl, when we’d made too much food at dinner, we’d say we’d made enough for Uncle Roger if he called round. He’s not a real person, it’s only an expression.” She could see Ella’s mouth opening. “Forget about Uncle Roger, he’s not in the story. So, the little girl let the two boys in, and they sat in the garden and talked. And after a while, the little girl started to realise that even though she’d been best friends with the first boy for years and years, she might like the other boy even more.”
“But that would make the first boy sad.”
“Yes, it would.”
“It’s not nice to make people sad,” said Ella severely.
“Is it nice to make yourself sad? When you pretend your feelings aren’t real, that makes you sad.”
“But what if you’re feeling scared because of a dream, and you don’t want to feel scared, so you lie in bed and you pretend to yourself that you’re not scared so after a while you’ll stop being scared and then you can go back to sleep?”
“Is that what you do?”
“Yes,” said Ella. “No. I’m supposed to. But really I go and get in Jacob’s bed with him.”
“Well there you go then. It doesn’t even work. And pretending you don’t feel something is the worst thing of all.”
“Oh.” Ella reached for her felt-tips. “Should I draw you a picture now?”
“If you like.”
The next few minutes were blessedly silent. Ella reached for colour after colour, scribbling industriously. The rain had turned the air soft and sleepy. Mrs Armitage drank her tea and was glad she would not have to finish her story.
“There,” said Ella, and pushed the paper across the table. “Do you like it?”
Mrs Armitage held herself very still. She would not gasp. She would not flinch.
“It’s my nightmare,” Ella confided. “I nightmare that I’m with Jacob, and then the sea comes and someone pushes us into the water and we sink down and down to the bottom. And there’s a boat there, and we have to go onto it, then a crab comes and walks over our skulls.”
“I see,” said Mrs Armitage. Her voice was not as firm as she would have liked.
“You look frightened. Do you nightmare this too?”
“No. No, I don’t. It’s very powerful, Ella. Well done.”
“It won’t happen to you because you can breathe underwater. I’m learning to do that too, only I can’t hold my breath for very long, not like you can –”
“I have scuba gear on,” said Mrs Armitage. “I can breathe underwater because I wear scuba gear. I think you should learn to dive too, Ella, as soon as you’re old enough. Then one day you can come diving with me.”
“But you can breathe underwater, you told me so –”
About to interrupt with a sharp reminder that she knew exactly how underwater breathing worked, Mrs Armitage was herself interrupted by a rattling knock at the door. Someone had come into her garden, uninvited and unwelcome, and left the gate open so the sea could peer in.
“Someone’s knocking at the door,” said Ella, when Mrs Armitage didn’t move.
“I can hear them.”
The knock came again, far sooner than was polite.
“Should we let them in?” Ella asked.
“I’ll go and see who it is.”
Her unknown guest knocked a third and longer time, as if sheer loud persistence might get them a quicker admission. Mrs Armitage reached for the key. The handle shuddered and jiggled impatiently. Mrs Armitage counted to ten before finally unlocking the door.
“Is Ella in there with yo
u?” The man on the other side of the door was unremarkable in every way except for his rudeness. After a minute, she recognised him: this was Richard, Maggie’s husband and the children’s father. The man who liked quiet.
“Yes,” said Mrs Armitage, because she disliked lying, and then, because she was annoyed, “and who are you?”
“Thank God for that – I’m her dad. I’ll take her home right away.”
He wasn’t, exactly, trying to push his way in, but there was a definite expectation in the way he loomed forward into the doorway and into the kitchen. She wasn’t, exactly, trying to keep him out, but there was a definite steeliness to the way she stood, as tall and broad as she could, refusing to give an inch.
“She’s not causing any inconvenience,” said Mrs Armitage, leaning slightly on the she. “She’s quite welcome to stay.”
“She’s a little kid! She’s not supposed to be out on her own!” Thwarted by Mrs Armitage, not quite at the point where he was willing to push aside a stranger, he resorted to coercion. “Ella, come here, darling, it’s time to go home.”
Ella’s face was white, but she slipped obediently enough off the chair. “Are you going to shout at me?”
“No, of course I’m not going to – well, I’m not very impressed, okay? Going off on your own? Not telling your mother? Coming into someone else’s house? That’s” – a quick glance at Mrs Armitage, a deep breath – “that is not all right.”
“Mummy was asleep,” said Ella. “She sleeps a lot. She goes to bed when you’ve gone to work.”
Another furtive glance in Mrs Armitage’s direction, the instinctive reflex of someone who has much to hide.
“So,” Ella continued, her face very innocent and sweet, “sometimes I come to see Mrs Armitage. I don’t talk to strange people or anything. Why are you home now, Daddy? Don’t you have to work today?”
“We’ll talk about this when we get back.”
“Don’t mind me,” said Mrs Armitage.
“Mrs Armitage is my friend,” said Ella. “I like visiting her.”
With a visible effort, he assembled a smile.
“I’m sorry my daughter’s been bothering you,” he began, in a voice that made Mrs Armitage yearn to poke him with a stick.
“She’s not bothering me at all,” she said, with a smile as false as his own. “She’s very welcome.”
“She can’t be inviting herself here without even –”
“Ella,” said Mrs Armitage, “did you say your mother sleeps all day?” It wasn’t that she cared, she told herself, she was simply interested to see how much she could annoy this near-stranger, Richard. “Aren’t you home-schooled? Who teaches you to read and write and so on?”
“Don’t worry,” said her father through gritted teeth. “I’m sorting everything out. You don’t need to get involved.”
“But is your wife ill?”
“She’s fine.”
“Why does she sleep all the time?”
“She’s just – she’s not really ill, nothing serious – thank you for looking after Ella. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”
“Is Mummy poorly?”
“Ella.” His fingers flexed, then relaxed. “We talk about private things when we’re on our own.”
“But am I making Mummy poorly? I heard you shouting last night and Mummy said you didn’t know what it was like being stuck at home with me every day and she wished she could go out more.”
“It’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations.”
“And then you shouted at her and told her to stop going on about things she couldn’t have.”
“This is private.”
“And then Jacob said we could play the underwater breathing game, but I said you’d be mad if we did, and he said it didn’t matter, and then I heard you tell Mummy that you’d had enough of her and then something fell over and she started crying.”
“For God’s sake! Stop talking!” She thought he was going to hit the child, found herself moving between them to keep her safe, but instead he pressed his hand over Ella’s mouth, his fingers big and brown against the pink bow-lips and pale tender skin. When he saw Mrs Armitage looking, he flushed scarlet and let his hand fall.
“I only want to know.” Ella’s bottom lip trembled.
The pulse on his temple was bulging and blue. Poke poke poke, thought Mrs Armitage. Ella looked so small.
“Okay. We’ve taken up enough of this nice lady’s time.” His hand closed around Ella’s upper arm and propelled her towards the back door. “Get your coat. And your wellies. And not a word out of you until they’re on, do you understand? Not a word.” Ella reached obediently for her boots. “And hurry up. Or – or you’ll know about it.”
The scurrying anxiety in Ella’s motions as she hurried herself into her wellies and coat told a story Mrs Armitage didn’t like. She’d never seen bruises on the child. But had she been looking closely enough?
“I apologise for my rude daughter.” His words struggled to escape past his frozen jaw. “And for my rude self. I’m Richard, Richard Winter. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”
“She’s welcome to visit.”
He glanced at the table, at the felt-tipped pens, the pad of paper, the pictures that covered the fridge door. “She’s made herself at home.”
“She’s always welcome,” Mrs Armitage repeated.
“She can’t wander into strange people’s houses! Just because you’re not a murderer doesn’t mean the next person won’t be.”
“You might want to supervise her better, then.”
“Trust me, I’m working on it.”
“And in the meantime, would you prefer her to stay at home with a woman who’s asleep for most of the day, or visiting someone who’s at least conscious and responsive? Ella, do you hear me? Come whenever you like.”
“Forget what Ella said, kids exaggerate. My wife went for a nap, that’s all – look, it’s none of your business anyway. Ella, you’re not to come here ever again. Understand?”
Ella looked from one to the other.
“Now I don’t know what to do,” she said wonderingly. “What should I do?”
“What I bloody well tell you,” said her father.
“Whatever makes you happy,” said Mrs Armitage.
Outside, there was a low rumbling roar. The floor shud-dered and shook. Mrs Armitage steadied herself against the wall as the bones of her house quivered. Then there was the scent of earth and dust and a patch of sky where her garden fence had once been, and Ella’s expression.
“What was that? Daddy, what was that? Mrs Armitage, what was that?”
“Don’t worry. We’re all still here.” The sky was filled with swirls of dust and wheeling gulls and it was difficult to see clearly how much had fallen, but she could still glimpse the green of her lawn.
“But what was that? Is the sea coming to get us? Is it?”
“Of course not.” There was no point in trying to hide the truth. “It’s the cliff falling.”
“The cliff? The cliff’s fallen? Is our house safe? Is Mummy safe? Is Jacob safe?”
“Yes. I told you, mine will go first –”
“Now do you see why I don’t want you wandering off on your own?” Richard pounced like a cat. “You might have been walking on that cliff when it fell. And then what? Hmm?” Perhaps the pallor of Ella’s face, the panicky whoops of her breath, softened his heart, because after a minute he put his arms around Ella. “You weren’t on the cliff. Nothing bad happened this time. It’s all fine. Stop that noise now so we can go home.”
As he patted and stroked at his daughter’s heaving back, his eyes met Mrs Armitage’s over Ella’s head, and she read the words as clearly as if he’d spoken them: I win.
There was no point in complaining; it was a fair move. And besides, Ella really might have been on the cliff-top when it fell.
“How can we get home?” Ella managed between sobs. “We can’t even go home. And
now Mummy’s all on her own and Jacob can’t get home and they won’t know where we are and –”
“Fortunately for all of us, we can get back through the village.”
“I’m not allowed to walk next to the road.”
“Not by yourself you’re not, but you’re with me. But you are absolutely not allowed to come here again, do you hear me? Not by the village because you’re not allowed next to the road. And not along the cliff-top because now you know how dangerous it is. No more visits. Understand?” Ella nodded. “Right. Then that’s that.”
They set off together, Ella hiccupping with sobs, Richard stern and tall. Mrs Armitage watched them leave and tried to recall a phrase she had heard years ago. After a moment, she had it: the banality of evil. The dreadful truth that most acts of wickedness were committed by people who were perfectly unremarkable. Perhaps she ought to speak to someone. But what would she say? And who would believe her?
Ella had left her rain-hat on the table. Mrs Armitage held it for a moment, then folded it carefully into a tiny triangle shape and put it in the back of a kitchen drawer.
Chapter Twelve
Now
At three in the morning, Jacob woke to the familiar and terrible sound of his father’s door opening. Swearing quietly, he forced himself from his bed, his ears ringing with dizziness and his heartbeat slow and reluctant.
“Dad?” Jacob felt ridiculous knocking at the inside of his own door, but he knew it had to be done. “Dad. It’s me.”
“Everything’s fine, son. Go back to bed.”
If only he could. He opened his door. His father stood on the landing, peering into the darkness that pooled at the foot of the front staircase.
“It’s all right, Dad.” Jacob came to stand beside him.
“Go back to your room. I’ll take care of this. Shh! Did you hear something?”
“No, there’s nothing. Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”
“There! There it is again. There’s someone trying the back door. Right, I’m not having this.” His father drew himself together and began creeping down the stairs. “I’m going down to sort this out once and for all. Stay up here where you’re safe. I don’t want you getting involved.”
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