The fog drew back along the road, which glistened like a giant snail's track. Drops of moisture clung like spawn to the spiky grass of the verges. Sometimes the verges heaved up, turned into spiny banks. If she could see all this, it must be morning; they must have left the hotel just before people began waking up, she must have spent all night trying to be stealthy. The thought made her sob hopelessly, until mummy glared at her.
The sun was breaking through now. Occasionally she saw herself and mummy silhouetted on the fog, a huge figure holding a small one, folded up like paper from their waists. Everything that loomed out of the fog and grew clear was uncomfortably intense, close as the photographs in her Viewmaster at home. Mummy and daddy had bought her that for her sixth birthday. She sobbed inside herself.
Mummy was walking faster now, as though by hurrying up she could break through the fog. Or was she trying to run away from something? For a moment, and then again, Anna felt that something was loping after them on all fours, just beyond the fog. It must be the man who hid from her, except that he wasn't a man.
They were passing the graveyard. Gravestones congealed out of the fog. The church drifted by, a dark vague meaningless bulk, and then there was nothing to be seen but dripping grass and slippery road. Far away in the village to her left she heard the intermittent hum of a milk-van, the clink of bottles. Mummy was almost running now, pinching Anna's bruised arm to make her keep up. But where was she running to? Not home, for suddenly they were passing their gate, and mummy wasn't turning in there.
They must be going to Jane's. Anna didn't like that idea very much, not when baby Georgie had died there. But there might be someone at Jane's. Now she thought about it, she felt there would be. Before she could try to think who, she was jerked to a halt; pain flared along her arm. Mummy was staring at their house.
At first Anna couldn't even see it. As the fog curled and uncurled, she squinted until she felt dizzy. Then suddenly the fog thinned enough for her to see the front of the house, and she realized what mummy had seen. There was a light on inside.
Was it daddy? She couldn't think who else it might be. If daddy had come home, she wasn't sure how she felt about it; she didn't know if she wanted to go to him, not when she remembered how she'd last seen him, changed like mummy. But she had no choice. Mummy jerked the gate open and hurried her along the path.
As soon as they reached the door, mummy rang the bell. After a while she rang again and began to search for her key. Anna was more afraid than ever: afraid that someone would open the door, afraid that nobody would. She might have run into the fog now that mummy had let go of her, but mummy was glaring at her as if she could read her mind. No doubt she could. She had her key now. She gripped Anna's shoulder as she opened the door, and sent her stumbling into the hall.
The fog was there already. The light looked smoky, burning out. For the first time, as far as she could remember, she couldn't hear the sea in the house. The silence made her skin prickle. It felt as if there were someone in the house, holding their breath. When mummy called 'Alan?', her voice seemed so loud that Anna cried out.
There was no reply. 'Alan?' mummy called again, shoving Anna along the hall. For a moment she sounded like mummy, but she was still behaving like the stranger. She called once more, this time sounding less like mummy. Anna sensed that she was growing angry. and nervous -which meant dangerous. By now Anna was sure that daddy wasn't here.
Mummy opened the door of the long room. The room smelled musty as an attic, like the rest of the house. Mummy was staring about as if she recognized nothing, not the videorecorder with a cassette still in it, not even her paintings of the sea, which looked dusty and faded. When she caught sight of Anna's tortoise made of shells, her eyes gleamed. For a moment Anna thought she was going to smash it, or her.
Mummy dragged her across the hall to the playroom. The floor was covered with toys; Anna hadn't cleared up for a while, she didn't like clearing up. Mummy's hand was tightening on her shoulder at the sight of the room, her nails digging in until Anna was ready to scream. She was afraid to scream now, so far from anyone. She was afraid of what mummy might do to stop her screaming.
Mummy was lugging her to the kitchen now, so roughly that Anna's heels dragged over the carpet. Mummy was staring at knives in the rack on the kitchen wall, and Anna's stomach twisted violently as she wished she could twist herself free. But mummy was pulling her toward the stairs. 'Someone put the light on,' she was muttering.
At once Anna realized that it had been mummy – that she'd left the light on the night they'd gone to the hotel. She didn't dare say so, but her fear and frustration made her speak. 'Daddy isn't here,' she complained. 'Why did we come home?'
Mummy stared at her as if she'd forgotten Anna could talk. 'Because you asked to.'
Her voice was cold and full of hate, the stranger's voice. 'I want to go back to the hotel,' Anna whimpered.
'You mean you don't want to stay here with me.' Mummy's eyes were brightening. 'That's the truth, isn't it? What a wise child.'
'What's wrong?' Anna couldn't help it, she was sobbing. 'You aren't like mummy.'
'Oh, don't I meet with your approval? It's all my fault, is it?' Mummy was hauling her upstairs, not stopping when Anna tripped and bruised her ankle on a stair. She must know by now that daddy wasn't here. What did she mean to do upstairs?
Fog shifted at the landing windows, as if the house were drowned and drifting under water. It didn't just smell musty, it smelled harsh; it made Anna think of a zoo. Mummy was dragging her from room to room, first her and daddy's bedroom, now Anna's, her hand pinching Anna's shoulder cruelly as she looked into the small untidy room. What was she looking for? Anna was afraid to think.
'Yes, of course,' mummy was muttering. 'There is one room.' She was making for the stairs again; she was dragging Anna up to daddy's workroom. Anna sobbed and struggled, but it was no use: mummy was stronger than she was – stronger than Anna had ever known her. Anna was on her knees as mummy dragged her up the last few stairs and across the landing, tugging her all the more roughly when Anna screamed. But before she'd reached daddy's workroom, they both heard a car draw up outside.
Mummy jerked her to her feet before Anna could resist. She must have meant to lock Anna in the workroom while she went to see who was out there, but then she decided that would waste time, for she dragged Anna to the landing window. Something red was out there on the road, reddening a patch of fog. It was a red car. Anna was praying that she knew whose it was, and it seemed her prayers were answered: Granny Knight was striding towards the house.
In the moment when mummy saw her too, Anna had the chance to scream for help, to bang on the window; Granny Knight would have seen her. But already mummy was jerking her away, hurting her arm so much that Anna couldn't even cry out. She threw open the door and shoved Anna into daddy's workroom, where she fell on the floor just short of the desk.
Anna struggled to her feet, terrified of mummy's eyes. 'Are you going to make a sound?' mummy demanded, in her stranger's voice. Anna wanted to say no, to promise she'd be quiet so that mummy would lock her in and go downstairs, so that she could scream for help as soon as she heard mummy opening the front door. But mummy was reading her mind again. She stared into Anna's eyes, then she lashed out. Mummy's hand swinging at her face was the last thing Anna saw as she fell.
Forty-seven
Liz gazed down at Anna where she lay sprawled on the workroom floor. She was ready to hit the child again if she moved – she was ready to do whatever was needed to make sure that Anna couldn't cry out to Isobel. But Anna wasn't moving. Liz must have knocked her cold before she fell, otherwise she would have cried out when she hit the floor so awkwardly. Satisfied, Liz went swiftly out of the room and bolted the door.
Isobel was knocking at the front door. The sound reverberated through the house as if the entire building were made of wood. It didn't matter that it made her jump and curse Isobel; at least it couldn't rouse Anna. Isobel was ringing
the bell, but Liz was calmer now; Isobel couldn't know she was in the house, she had only to wait up here until the interfering woman went away.
Isobel was knocking again and again. Let her knock -Liz hoped she went on until her hands were raw. What did the old bitch want, anyway? What was she doing here? Of course, she couldn't know that Liz was supposed to be at the hotel. Liz didn't even know what she was doing here herself, except that someone had left the light on in the house. Good God – of course, she had, the night she'd fled to the hotel. But she hadn't been going to the hotel that night, she'd been heading in the other direction… Only then those people in the car had interfered. She knew where she must go as soon as Isobel went away.
Isobel was knocking and ringing now. The knocking pounded inside Liz's skull, the ringing jangled her nerves. Stupid bitch, didn't Isobel realize she was only making it worse for Anna? Even now Liz was considering hitting
Anna again to make sure she kept quiet. But after one last thunderous knock, Isobel seemed to give up.
Liz listened to the silence and felt indescribably grateful. She was calm now, she didn't have to listen to Anna. Once she heard Isobel's car she would take Anna out. She could carry her, the child was light enough. Nobody would see them in the fog. She felt so calm it was as though she'd already done what she had to do, until she realized that she hadn't heard the car or even Isobel's footsteps receding. Isobel was still outside the house.
Liz risked a glance from the landing window and found that she was looking directly down on Isobel, a squashed dwarf whose most prominent feature was a pair of folded arms. For a moment Liz wished she could find something heavy, balance it on the sill, open the window stealthily -but there was nothing, and in any case, she felt unable to cope with complications. She had to get rid of Isobel as quickly as possible. That meant now, before Anna regained consciousness and began screaming.
Liz strode downstairs. Whatever happened, she wouldn't let Isobel in. Isobel was standing with her back to the house, but she turned and came forward as Liz opened the door. 'Where is Anna?' she demanded.
Her grim face made it clear that she didn't mean to be turned away. 'At the hotel,' Liz said at once.
Isobel peered suspiciously at her through the veils of misty breath that drifted between them. 'If she is, so much the better,' she said, stepping forward.
Liz found she couldn't close the door entirely; she'd let Isobel come too near. With barely controlled fury, she said 'Goodbye, Isobel.' The words sounded like a curse.
Isobel's eyes narrowed. 'Why are you so anxious to get rid of me?'
'Isobel, I'm tired. If you're so worried about Anna, why don't you go to the hotel?'
Surely that ought to get rid of Isobel – but Isobel stayed where she was. One good unexpected shove against the door would send her flying, but Liz controlled herself, though her hands were fists, and her fingernails were aching, aching. Shoving Isobel would hardly get rid of her. 'Isobel,' she said as calmly as she could, 'will you please let me close the door. I want to be alone.'
'I'm sure you do.' What did Isobel suspect, that she emphasized that so heavily? 'Not this time, Elizabeth, I'm afraid.'
Liz's fist began to tremble on the latch. Isobel would still be here when Anna regained consciousness. Liz's mind felt like her fists, hard and aching and unable to open, all the more so when Isobel looked beyond her and said, 'I thought you said Anna wasn't here.'
At that, Liz whirled round and strode blindly down the hall – anything to shut Anna up before she got to Isobel. But she'd taken only a couple of steps when she saw that the hall was empty. Of course it was; Anna couldn't have got out of the locked room. She turned to demand what Isobel was trying to do, and saw that Isobel had already done it. She was in the house.
As Liz watched, speechless with fury, Isobel closed the front door and stood with her back to it, arms folded. Liz was close enough to scratch her face and her hands were trembling to do so, but what good would it do? Eventually she said, in a voice she hardly recognized as hers: 'So you have to trick your way into my house now, do you?'
'If it wasn't Anna, I don't know what it was. It certainly wasn't tall enough for Alan.' Nevertheless something had undermined her certainty. 'He isn't here, is he?'
'No, he isn't,' Liz said fiercely, 'so there's no reason for you to stay."
Isobel gave a shrug which dismissed that and Liz as well. 'Perhaps it was a shadow. Well, I'm not here to talk about shadows,' she said, and stepped around Liz into the long room.
Liz's nails were throbbing, her nails were going to puncture her palms. Shaking with rage and frustration, she went to the foot of the stairs to make sure that Anna hadn't got out after all, though she knew it was impossible. Upstairs all was silent, but for how long? Suppose Anna was already conscious, and plotting? Suppose the child tried to phone for help? Liz grinned savagely: the phone wasn't working. But she couldn't afford to feel secure, she couldn't take the chance of Isobel's hearing Anna. She strode into the long room. 'Isobel, will you please leave my house at once.'
'Is it just your house now?' Isobel shook her head sadly and sat back in her chair, as if to be more immovable. 'I thought it belonged to my son.'
'I've told you he isn't here, nor is Anna.' Liz's head felt raw. 'So what do you want here?'
'You'll find out.' For a moment Isobel looked almost sorry for her. 'You'll see soon enough.'
'Don't play games with me, Isobel.' Liz^s voice was rising; soon she'd be screaming, loud enough to wake Anna. 'Can't you see I need to be alone? Will you please have the decency to leave!'
'Why are you here if Anna's at the hotel?'
Liz was trapped. Get out, you interfering bitch, you fucking dried-up cunt, she screamed. She had never expected to use language like that, and saying it out loud would be no use. Instead she said the first thing that came into her throbbing head – anything to get rid of Isobel before Anna heard her, or she heard Anna. 'Look, Isobel, I haven't been honest with you. Alan's coming home.'
'Indeed,' Isobel said, with an unreadable look.
'Yes, and I want to be alone with him. We haven't been together for so long. I have things I want to say to him as soon as he comes home. Surely you can understand that? If you care at all about our marriage, you'll leave now.'
'I can certainly see that you'd rather nobody was here when he comes home, but I'm sorry, Elizabeth, it's not to be.' She folded her arms again. 'He called you to say he was coming home, did he?'
'That's right. Why not?' Then Liz remembered that the phone was out of order. Well, that didn't matter; as far as Isobel knew, he could have phoned Liz at the hotel. Or had Isobel already called the hotel? Did she know Anna wasn't there – was that why she was insisting on staying? Liz's thoughts whirled about her throbbing skull; she couldn't get rid of Isobel without knowing what she'd come for, but she didn't dare find out in case that gave her away. By God, if she couldn't make Isobel leave, she'd render her incapable of interfering. Before she knew exactly what she meant to do, she was sneaking behind Isobel's chair; whatever it had to be, she was committed to it now – and serve Isobel right… Then Liz faltered; she'd seen that Isobel was listening.
Had Anna made a sound upstairs? So much the worse for her and Isobel. But Isobel wasn't looking upward, she was staring towards the fog where the road should be. Now Liz could hear what Isobel had been waiting for: the sound of a car approaching slowly through the fog, a car that was slowing to a stop outside the house. The ignition was switched off, and there was silence.
Isobel stood up. Liz stayed where she was; moving would be pointless now. She wanted to lash out at Isobel, but what was the use? She knew the police were out there. Isobel had called them and come here to wait for them. Liz could hear them, two sets of footsteps on the path.
Isobel strode into the hall. Liz followed her, though she wasn't sure why. Had she time to confront the police before Anna stirred, to persuade them that nothing was wrong except interfering Isobel, or could she still dodge up
stairs and sneak Anna out of the house? She was wavering as Isobel went quickly to the front door and let in the fog.
Beyond the drift of fog, two men were advancing down the path. At first Liz couldn't see their faces, because she was staring past them in confusion. The vehicle beyond the gate wasn't a police car at all, it was a taxi. It must be the taxi-driver who was helping the other man along the path. Liz's feelings were chaotic, and she had to support herself against the wall. Then the men came forward into the light from the house, and she saw that the man whom the taxi-driver was supporting was Alan.
Forty-eight
At first, when Anna realized she wasn't in bed, she thought she was at the dentist's. That was why she'd come back to herself in such a strange place, that was why her head and her jaw were aching. When she opened her eyes mummy would be there, leaning down into her eyes, saying, 'It's all right now, mummy's here.'
Then she remembered, and her eyes sprang open in terror, in case mummy was. But daddy's workroom was deserted except for her. One arm of the cross that his chair swivelled on was digging into her thigh, which throbbed worse when she flinched away. As she stumbled to her feet, she realized that the rough weave of the carpet had left an imprint on her cheek.
Standing up made her headache worse: the room was tilting, and she was crying out with the pain. As she limped giddily to the door, she was only half-aware of what she was doing. She shook the door when it wouldn't open, until she heard the noise she was making, and then she stumbled, sobbing, away from the door and sat in daddy's chair in case she fell down. Mummy had locked her in. What would she do if she heard her trying to open the door? She'd already knocked her down when Granny Knight was here – what would she do when Granny Knight had gone?
The Claw Page 31