Perhaps Granny Knight already had. Perhaps mummy was coming upstairs now, stealthy as a cat. Anna glimpsed her creeping upstairs on all fours, her claws ready. She spun round wildly on the chair, but that made her feel so dizzy and vulnerable that she grabbed the desk. The desk jerked, the phone jangled, and she sat shaking with the effort of trying to be still for minutes while she wondered if the phone had also rung downstairs.
She began to relax eventually, but also to sob. The phone had told her what to do, but she was afraid to. She'd tried to phone from the hotel room; how could she go through all that again? But if she didn't phone, the only alternative was to wait until mummy came upstairs to her. Perhaps the phones downstairs wouldn't ring when she picked up daddy's phone. Sometimes they all rang, but not always.
She stared out at the billowing fog until it made her so dizzy she had to close her tearful eyes. Then, while her eyes were closed and she couldn't see what she was doing, she reached out and grabbed the receiver. As she lifted it off the cradle the phone rang, so loudly that she couldn't hear if the others had. Could that sound be heard downstairs? She clutched the receiver, afraid to open her eyes.
But she had it now, and she must use it while she had the chance. All she had to do was to dial 999 if anything was seriously wrong – mummy had told her that once. But her hand was shaking so much that she couldn't lift the receiver to her face. She was afraid that if she did, she'd hear mummy saying, 7 heard you.' She dragged the receiver through the air and pressed it against her ear, pressed it until her ear burned, until she realized why she wasn't dialling, why it was no use: you had to wait until you heard the buzzing, the dialling tone – mummy had told her that, too. There wasn't any buzzing. The phone wasn't working.
She laid the receiver on the desk and began to cry in earnest, hopelessly, her head and jaw throbbing with every sob. The fog surged at the window and drifted away, surged and retreated. She wished she could climb onto the sill and jump – she couldn't see the drop – but she wasn't brave enough. She could only wait for mummy to come to her. Wouldn't mummy hear her crying if she picked up the phone downstairs? It didn't matter, she didn't care. That made her cry harder. But then, suddenly, she hushed, swallowing and gulping. She'd thought she'd heard voices downstairs.
She made herself let go of the desk and crept to the door, pressing her ear against it. She was terrified that the door would open without warning, that mummy would be there – so terrified that she didn't realize how she was trying to hang onto the wall until she felt wallpaper gathering under her nails. That made her squirm, but she had to be still, because there was a voice downstairs that wasn't mummy's. She had to press her ear against the door until her blood sounded like the sea before she was sure that it was Granny Knight's voice.
She hadn't gone yet. Anna realized she'd been behaving as if Granny Knight already had. She wanted to scream, but suppose mummy heard her before Granny Knight did? Suppose mummy got to her first? Having Granny Knight still here only made her feel worse; she was sobbing loudly now, she didn't care who heard, she just wished someone would so that everything would be over. She didn't want to try and speak to Granny Knight. She didn't want to use the phone.
But she could, if she was lucky. If she jiggled the cradle of daddy's phone until it rang, it might ring downstairs as well. If Granny Knight picked up the phone, Anna could tell her everything – she'd have to. Could she take the risk of mummy hearing instead? But already she was stumbling back to the desk, sobbing as she sat down in daddy's wobbly chair, sobbing painfully as she picked up the receiver and began to move the cradle, jiggling it more and more violently as it rang and still nobody answered. It was ringing downstairs, she could hear that now, and she could hardly breathe for sobbing. Someone must answer – her bruised arm was already aching, her head and her jaw and her whole body were.
When she heard the click of the phone being lifted downstairs, loud in her ear as the closing of a trap, she almost dropped the receiver. She had to clutch it with both hands. She didn't dare speak. Then she heard the hollow shell-like sound of a hand cupped around the mouthpiece. 'Yes?' a low voice said.
It didn't sound like mummy. Nevertheless it seemed to take Anna forever before she could swallow and draw a shuddering breath and, risking everything so completely that she had to close her eyes, whisper, 'It's Anna.'
'Yes?'
The voice sounded even gentler. It couldn't be mummy; she wouldn't speak like that, not any more. That thought broke the dam of Anna's fear, and she began to babble into the phone. 'Oh, please come and get me. Mummy's locked me in daddy's room. She's going to hurt me, she wants to hurt me, she isn't like mummy.' Now she was sobbing not so much with fear as with having to say such things about mummy; her face was blazing with shame. 'Please don't go away, please come and let me out. Please don't let mummy get me…'
The silence didn't last long, it only seemed so. 'I'll be coming for you,' the low voice said, 'don't you worry,' and Anna replaced the receiver as quickly and quietly as she could. She sat hugging herself on daddy's chair and watched the door. Thank you, thank you, she said over and over, not knowing if she was speaking out loud, or to whom. Nobody but she could have heard the low voice on the phone.
Forty-nine
It was Isobel who draped Alan's arm round her shoulders and guided him into the long room, while Liz searched for money in her bag to pay for the taxi, which had come all the way from Norwich. Alan seemed scarcely to realize it had to be paid for; he seemed aware of very little except that he was home. 'I'm all right,' he kept murmuring hoarsely to Isobel, 'I can walk.' But even if he didn't need to be supported physically, he was obviously grateful for the contact, pitifully so. When they disappeared into the long room, Liz gave the taxi-driver more than she'd intended, then closed the front door on him and the fog rather than wait for change. She didn't want to leave Isobel alone with Alan. She mustn't give her a chance to talk.
Alan was sitting in his usual chair facing the television. Liz was reminded of the time he'd shown her the Nigerian cassette, which was still on the videorecorder. She remembered the bloody man stepping towards her out of the mosque. The memory made her tremble, and so did the sight of Alan. He looked pale, famished, shockingly aged. His eyes looked as if he were hiding in them, or trying to.
Both he and Isobel were gazing at her. His eyes were pleading with her, Isobel's growing more suspicious every moment as Liz didn't go to him. Liz could see as well as Isobel that he was pleading with her to hold him, talk to him, ask him nothing for the moment; but she was afraid to go to him. Suppose he read in her face what she'd done to Anna? She was sure he would if she went near.
Eventually she did, for Isobel was growing visibly readier to tell Alan all she knew, or thought she knew. Christ, couldn't she leave them alone? Liz's body felt like one long tearing scream at Isobel, but she could only squat next to Alan and stroke his hair, massage his shoulders. He felt dismayingly thin and stiff and unresponsive; he didn't feel like Alan at all. Just now, what with the shock of his return and everything else that had happened to her, she, too, seemed unable to react.
Isobel’s face was wavering, trying to be calm for his sake, but then her feelings won. 'Oh, Alan, what have they done to you?'
He stretched out his hands to her in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring, but, as he lurched forward in the chair, Liz saw how long his nails were. 'Don't upset yourself,' he said. 'It's over now.'
He sounded as if he wasn't sure himself. His voice was cracked and uneven, as though he'd almost forgotten how to talk. No wonder Isobel said, 'You need a doctor. Stay where you are, Elizabeth, I'll phone.'
'The phone isn't working,' Liz said, searching desperately for a way to turn this to her advantage.
'I don't need a doctor.' Alan leaned back, trapping her arm behind his shoulders, and closed his eyes. 'Just let me be quiet.'
Liz saw how to get rid of Isobel. Once Isobel had gone she might be able to talk to Alan, tell him how she'd changed
– perhaps he could help her sort out her feelings. 'Isobel's right,' she said, for the first time in her life. 'We ought to fetch a doctor. My car's off the road, Isobel. I'm afraid you'll have to go.'
Isobel's eyes narrowed. She must know that Liz had got the better of her; how could she refuse? Yet she seemed prepared to do so, for she wasn't standing up. Liz was just wondering if hysteria would help – perhaps if she pleaded with Isobel to get a doctor, it would work on Isobel's anxiety – when suddenly her body stiffened, her lips froze. Upstairs a door was rattling.
It was the door of Alan's workroom. Anna had come round. Liz couldn't move; she was sure that Alan and Isobel knew what the sound meant. Perhaps if she didn't move, everything would go away. In a sense it seemed to, because the rattling wasn't repeated; Isobel relaxed, stopped listening; she must have decided that it had been only a draught. Liz was about to turn on the hysteria, when Alan demanded, 'Where's Anna?'
For a moment Liz couldn't speak for panic; she thought he knew. She swallowed painfully. 'At the hotel.'
'Are you sure?'
'Of course I'm sure. Why else would I say it?' Fool, she screamed at herself, he knows you're lying now; you wouldn't have said that if you were telling the truth. And see the way Isobel's looking at you now. But Isobel was watching Alan, who had put his hands over his face, peering out eventually through the crack between his hands as if he didn't want to be seen. He seemed both relieved and deeply distressed.
Isobel couldn't bear it. 'What's wrong with you, Alan?' she cried.
All at once Liz didn't want to know, dreaded hearing what had happened to him or what he might have done while he had been away. She didn't need to know just yet, only the doctor did. Alan seemed to agree with her, for whatever reason. 'I've told you, don't upset yourself,' he said, evidently unaware how his whole body was visibly writhing. 'I don't want to talk about it just now.'
'In that case, I might as well not be here at all,' Isobel said. 'I wonder why you asked me to come.'
Alan took his hands reluctantly away from his face. 'Because I didn't want Liz to be on her own.'
How much did he know? As much as Isobel suspected? Both of them were gazing at her. She could feel then-pressure in her brain, building up into a scream or a confession – she wouldn't know which until the pressure forced her mouth open. So Alan distrusted her too, did he? Everyone did. Her fury at that gave her back some control. She must get rid of them before they heard Anna; she still had time. Getting them out of the way was all that was important now. 'I don't know what's wrong with you, Alan,' she said, with a bitter delight in her ambiguity, 'but you must listen to Isobel. You need to see a doctor right now. It'll be quickest if she drives you to the village.'
Isobel nodded agreement. Of course – then she'd have a chance to be alone with him, to tell him all about Liz. Liz no longer cared what Isobel said, so long as she was rid of them both before they heard Anna. Isobel came and pulled him up by his armpits, as if he were a child again – he couldn't weigh much more than a child, by the look of him. Supporting him with one arm round his waist she gazed down at Liz, until Liz wondered what she was waiting for. Isobel pursed her lips impatiently. 'I take it you're coming too?'
That wasn't the idea at all. Liz couldn't leave Anna locked up; suppose the child escaped, or managed to attract someone from the road? She had to stay here with Anna, she had to deal with her once and for all. 'I'd better stay here,' she stammered, 'just in case.. .' But she couldn't think of another word.
'If I'm to drive, you'll have to sit with him,' Isobel said, almost furious. 'Both of us will be needed.'
Liz stared up at her, her nails clawing her palms inside her fists. She was thinking of wilder and wilder excuses not to go with Isobel, but none of them was any use -Isobel would know that she was lying. She might even suspect the real reason. Liz could only stand up, cursing and screaming silently, enacting on the small bright screen of her mind all the things she wanted to do to Isobel. But just as she stepped forward to support Alan, the phone began to ring.
It took her a moment to realize how it could, and who it was. A sudden delight, terrible and glittering, grew in her mind. Isobel was supporting Alan – only she could answer the phone. 'They must have fixed it,' she said, and went quickly to the phone before they could realize that it wasn't ringing as it should. 'Yes?' she said quietly, enjoying herself so much that she had to restrain herself from showing her teeth.
There was a silence whose nervousness she could almost feel, then a small timid secretive voice said, 'It's Anna.'
Liz made her own voice even gentler, so that Anna wouldn't suspect it was her. 'Yes?'
The words came out in a rush – Liz thought of diarrhoea, they were just as disgusting. 'Oh, please come and get me. Mummy's locked me in daddy's room. She's going to hurt me, she wants to hurt me, she isn't like mummy. Please don't go away, please come and let me out. Please don't let mummy get me…'
Liz was smiling sweetly. She turned to the others so that they could see. 'I'll be coming for you, don't you worry,' she said low and gently, and replaced the receiver. 'That was Anna at the hotel,' she said, knowing exactly what to say now. 'I have to go and collect her. You go on ahead to the doctor's and we'll join you there. I have to pack some things for her before I go.'
Isobel looked defeated; she couldn't argue now. But Alan seemed doubtful, wondering if he should speak. If he suspected Liz, if he said anything that suggested he did, she'd get to Anna before they did, by God she would. Then he shook his head and turned away. She watched Isobel helping him along the path into the fog. By the time they reached the car and she closed the front door gently, she was grinning so much her face ached.
Fifty
Anna sat and waited in daddy's room. Her dizziness had almost gone now, except when she tried to watch the blurry dance of the fog. Her head still hurt, but she thought that was mostly because of waiting. She wouldn't have long to wait now; Granny Knight was coming for her. She didn't want to wait much longer. She didn't like it up here.
She used to like it, before daddy had gone away. She used to love sitting here at his desk, pretending she was daddy. He would even let her sit at his typewriter and switch it on. But now the room looked old and sad, as if daddy had left it for good. His books and papers and his desk were going grey; she thought there might be spiders among the books. If she let herself, if she stopped reminding herself that Granny Knight was coming, she could almost believe that there was something very much bigger than a spider somewhere near, watching her and waiting.
She stuffed her fist into her mouth. She wanted to cry out to Granny Knight to hurry up, but she mustn't in case mummy heard. She must be patient; Granny Knight was bound to have to wait until she could come upstairs without mummy noticing. She wouldn't be long now. Anna had been waiting for so long.
She got down from the chair. Its wobbling was only making her nervous. Granny Knight was coming for her, she'd said that she was, but Anna wanted to see if she could hear her. She pressed her ear against the locked door. Now she would hear as soon as Granny Knight came up.
At first she could hear nothing, except perhaps the sea.
Or was that the sound of blood in her ears? She oughtn't to press her ear against the door; it would only make it more difficult to hear. But she did, and almost cried out before she realized that the sudden loud noise was her heartbeat, which sounded as if it was resounding through the wood. She managed to lever herself away from the door a little, for fear that mummy would hear her heart or that she would deafen herself.
Why couldn't she hear voices downstairs? She held her breath. She wanted to hear Granny Knight, to be sure she was still in the house. Her head was ringing with the effort of holding her breath, and she was beginning to feel as if someone was laughing at her silently, someone who was crouched just the other side of the door, when she heard a sound at last. It was the slam of a car door.
It sounded close to the house. But it couldn't be – or if it was, it
couldn't be Granny Knight's car. Anna mustn't cry out to her – that would spoil everything. Another door of the car slammed, and then the engine started. Anna was fighting not to cry out now, and only just succeeding. It couldn't be Granny Knight, she'd promised to come for her. She wouldn't go away, not when Anna had told her about mummy. It couldn't be Granny Knight's car that was moving away, fading into the fog…
Suddenly Anna's heart leapt, and she had to stifle another cry, this time of joy: she could hear someone on the stairs! It hadn't been Granny Knight's car, Anna had known that all the time really, it probably hadn't even been as near as it had sounded. She was already forgetting it. All that mattered was the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
They slowed at the first landing, then came on up. Granny Knight must have told mummy that she was going to the toilet, and now she was hurrying up to the top floor before mummy realized. Couldn't she make less noise? She was climbing fast, but all the same she ought to take more care that mummy didn't hear her.
Anna was hopping jerkily from foot to foot with nervousness. Why, Granny Knight wasn't trying to be quiet at all. She'll hear you, she'll hear you, Anna cried, in a whisper that was trapped in her throat. Mummy must have heard by now that Granny Knight was coming up to the top floor. Why wasn't she trying to stop her?
Then Anna knew. She felt as if someone had grabbed her by the throat. It hadn't been Granny Knight on the phone at all. It had been Granny Knight who'd driven away, and now it was too late to scream. It had been mummy on the phone, mummy who'd said she would come for her, who was coming for her now. Anna was shaking so badly that she couldn't run or hide, she couldn't even think. She was paralyzed by the knowledge that it was mummy on the stairs, her footsteps on the landing now, mummy at the door and standing there to listen or to enjoy the thought of what she was going to do to Anna, mummy who was slamming back the bolt.
The Claw Page 32