It was no use. At first all she got was, 'All lines to Carlisle are engaged, please try later,' and then, when at last the robotic voice vacated the line, her parents weren't answering. She only hoped they were still coming to stay, now that she had put off Barbara Mason. She would have loved to see Barbara again, jolly optimistic Barbara and her ancient capacious shoulder-bag that she refused to part with. She must call her parents later. If for any reason they weren't coming, perhaps she could still invite Barbara.
Suddenly she craned across the desk. The garden had been out of sight while she was on the phone and Anna had been alone downstairs. The garden looked half-drowned, the sky blackened everything. She shoved herself back from the window and hurried downstairs.
Anna was still writing. Nothing else moved on the ground floor except faint blurred shadows of rain, and even those vanished once Liz switched on the lights in the long room. All at once she was irritated by her fears; would even a maniac who disembowelled animals venture out on a day like this? Yet the curtains hiding the patio doors made her feel irrationally afraid. Keeping them closed in the daytime shrank the room. She strode forward and opened them wide with a tug on the cord.
Then she stumbled backward, choking on a cry. A crimson face was pressed against the glass, peering in at her.
The next moment she saw what it really was: the glistening movements in the empty sockets were of rain, not eyes – but that only made it worse. She ran up to Alan's room, almost falling, and dragged him down to look. She would have screamed for him, except that screaming would have brought Anna as well. By the time she got him downstairs, she was sobbing as much with frustration as with fear, because the face had gone; the rain had scoured it away. But she knew what she had seen: the imprint of a face that had been pressed against the window, trying to peer through the crack between the curtains – a face that must have been covered with blood.
Nine
When Anna heard mummy and daddy arguing, she felt shaky inside. It must be something very serious, because mummy had closed the playroom door and the door of the long room as well, so that she wouldn't hear. It must have something to do with the long room, because she'd heard mummy cry out in there and then bring daddy downstairs. She wished she could hear what they were saying. That might tell her why she no longer liked to go in there.
Rain staggered down the window in waves that kept washing away the roads and the fields. Teddy-bears sat forlornly in corners of her playroom, and she felt as they looked. The sounds of mummy and daddy arguing made her feel helpless, trapped in her room. Their muffled sounds were like the first rumbles of a storm.
She tiptoed across her playroom and pressed her ear against the door. Daddy was keeping his voice down, mummy's voice was rising. It sounded as if he was trying to convince her she was wrong about something. His voice seemed monotonous and overbearing; it made Anna's tummy tighten just to hear'it. She still couldn't make out a word, but she could hear that mummy had lost her temper. All at once, with a violence that made her jump back, the door of the long room slammed open and she heard mummy hurrying upstairs.
Mummy had gone to her workroom to phone – Anna realized that when she heard the downstairs extension ringing as mummy replaced the receiver. Who had mummy called? She wished she could ask her, but she didn't want to go out of her playroom in case mummy and daddy hadn't made up. Being near them when they weren't speaking to each other, or barely speaking, always made her feel uncomfortable and useless.
She tried to play, so as not to think. She got out her Little Red Riding Hood jigsaw and emptied the pieces onto her table. Separating the edges from the rest occupied her mind for a while, but in the end she just stared at them, defeated. There were too many edge pieces for her even to count, and she couldn't see two that looked as if they fitted together. Besides, she didn't like the picture on the box, the grinning wolf dressed up in an old woman's bonnet, his bright red tongue lolling. She didn't want to make that picture. She swept the pieces into the box.
She was replacing the box in her cupboard full of toys, when a car drew up outside. She peered through the rain, but the car was a humpy blur. The driver was almost at the house before she saw that it was a policeman, the red-faced policeman who had been to the house already.
She went and sat down, feeling dizzy and sick. Mummy must have called him. Soon she heard the three of them talking in the long room. Daddy's voice was loudest and angriest, but still she couldn't make out a word. What had happened now? She remembered the poor goat lying in the grass like an old torn doll, a doll whose insides were sticky and wet. Things had been crawling over its insides and over its eye. She used to stroke the goat and talk to it, but nothing could have made her touch it then.
Mummy was talking now, her voice was shrill and desperate. Suddenly Anna couldn't stand not knowing. She pulled open the doors and ran through. 'Mummy, what's wrong?' she cried.
The three of them stared at her as if she ought not to be there. 'Not just now, Anna,' daddy said sharply.
They must be talking about something so horrible that they didn't want her to know. She began to cry. 'The poor goats,' she sobbed.
Mummy squatted down beside her. 'Don't fret, darling. It was only-' She was hugging her tight, but Anna knew it was only to give herself time to think of a story; when she spoke she didn't sound very convincing. 'It was just that I thought I saw someone hanging about near the house.'
Daddy was nodding his head, looking smug. The red-faced policeman spoke while he had a chance. 'I was just saying, Mrs Knight, we did have a man keeping an eye on things. He says the only one he saw getting soaked around here this afternoon was himself.'
Mummy looked as if she wanted to be reassured but couldn't quite believe it. Daddy showed the policeman out and came back smiling. 'Pompous old bugger. Good riddance. Still, that's a relief, isn't it?' he said.
Mummy was nodding, rather dubiously. Anna felt as if they'd forgotten about her, and about the poor goat. She couldn't help it, she began to cry again. This time daddy put his arm around her. 'What's the matter now?'
'I was thinking about the poor goat,' she said, between sobs. 'He never hurt anyone. Why did someone want to hurt him? I loved playing with him. He was my friend.'
Daddy hugged her and swallowed and seemed to find it hard to speak.
'Sometimes people do very bad things,' mummy said. 'Not all people, just a few. Even in a place like this.'
'But why?'
'Maybe they don't know themselves,' daddy said. 'Something makes them do it. Maybe they can't stop themselves.'
Anna knew that mummy and daddy were doing their best to explain to her, as they always did when she asked questions. It made her feel happier to know they were anxious to comfort her, that she was no longer excluded, but even so their answers weren't very comforting. If nobody knew who had killed the goat or why, how could anyone stop him from hurting the others?
For the rest of the day she could think of nothing else; she couldn't play, she had to keep peering out through the rain to make sure the goats were still there. That night, she dreamed that someone was creeping up on the goats, out of the pillbox on the cliff: at first she thought it was the
Cowardly Lion, or the wolf in the old lady's bonnet, but then she knew she was too afraid to see his face.
When she woke next day, the room was blinding, even with the curtains drawn. Out on the cliff the grass was sparkling beneath a cloudless sky. The goats stood placidly, cropping the grass. She'd be able to keep an eye on them all day – but then she remembered it was Sunday, when daddy always took her and mummy for outings. She thought of asking to stay at home, but her parents seemed anxious to get her out of the house.
Today daddy took them to Cromer. Butterflies flickered like flames full of colours above the fields as they followed the coast road, jets swooped overhead with a sound like tearing. In Cromer, daddy inched the car through the clutter of tourists, shielding his eyes against the glare of white buildings while he looke
d for somewhere to park. Some of the maze of narrow streets led nowhere at all.
'We all need a ride on your favourite bus,' he said, and they caught the bus to Sheringham. It was an open-topped bus, which Anna loved. Mummy hung onto her as she craned out to see the heathery heath above West Runton, the glimpse through trees of the ruins of Beeston Priory, which always made her feel mysteriously expectant at the same time as it made her think about bees. In Sheringham she played hide-and-seek through the trains in the railway museum, a station with posters that were older than daddy or mummy, and wandered along the promenade that ran, twisty as a stream, beneath the fishermen's white cottages. Mummy and daddy walked hand in hand behind her. She thought it was the nicest day they'd had together for ages. At least, it was until they returned to Cromer.
Daddy stopped outside the car park, blocking the footpath. 'Jesus Christ,' he said, so loud that people turned to look. 'Look what some bastard's done to my car.'
Someone had dented his door; scraped metal glared through the paint. 'Who was parked next to me?' he said, as if mummy should know. 'I can't remember, can you?'
T think the space was empty,' mummy said, and Anna thought so too. 'Never mind, it doesn't look as if it'll take much repairing.'
'Well, it wouldn't to you, would it? It isn't your car.' He turned on Anna. 'This wouldn't have happened if we hadn't gone on your stupid bus.'
That seemed so unfair that Anna couldn't speak. Her mouth was trembling, her face was growing hot; she thought everyone was looking at her. Mummy put her arm round her. 'For goodness' sake, Alan. There's no need to take it out on her.'
Daddy stalked to the car and glared at the dent. He seemed to calm down eventually, and opened the door. 'Why don't you sit in the back?' he said, as mummy stepped forward. 'Let her ride with me for a change.'
Mummy hesitated; she didn't like Anna to ride in the front. 'Oh, please let me, mummy,' Anna begged. 'I'll put the seat-belt on.' Mummy must have realized she wanted to sit in the front as much to be with daddy and feel that he loved her as for the ride, because she said reluctantly, 'I suppose you're big enough.'
But before Anna had had time to fasten her seat-belt, daddy suddenly drove in a wide angry swoop around the car park and into the road. He had to brake sharply, and she lurched forward, grabbing at the belt.
'Watch what you're doing!' mummy said, in a shocked voice. 'Do you want to kill the child?'
He glared at her in his mirror. 'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'
They were frightening Anna; it was as if it was all her fault somehow. She scrambled over the back of the seat to mummy, accidentally kicking the glove compartment open and spilling a handful of maps. 'That's right,' daddy snarled, 'do some more damage, why don't you?'
'Perhaps I'd better drive,' mummy said, hugging her and giving her a secret look which meant Never mind, he doesn't mean it really.
'Fuck off.' He pulled out in front of a car that just managed to brake in time, and went swerving through the traffic toward the coast road. This time Anna didn't feel like giggling at what he'd said. She was too aware how worried mummy was about his driving.
He slowed down once they reached the coast road, and drove without speaking. Anna was afraid to speak too, both during the drive and at dinner afterwards; all the little noises she made while eating made her nervous – she was afraid he would shout at her again. Mummy talked to her, perhaps to tell her that she needn't keep quiet, but Anna had never been so glad to go to bed.
That night she dreamed of the Cowardly Lion again, but managed not to cry out when she woke, in case daddy came to her. She didn't think she would sleep again, but when she woke she was surprised to find it was morning. Today she was going to the hotel with mummy. She was glad that daddy was too busy to come down for breakfast – if he was finding it hard to work, he would blame her.? She didn't enjoy the nursery as much as she hoped she would. It was so muggy and hot under the whitish sky. The toddlers pushed her away and whined for their mummies, and wouldn't play with her or be looked after. The older children didn't want her either, and she just felt in the way. She was glad when mummy came out of the bar to get her at lunchtime.
But mummy wasn't taking her in the bar. 'I've just spoken to daddy on the phone. He wants us to meet him on the beach for lunch.'
Her face told Anna that everything was all right now. She went on: 'He's been writing all morning. He was just ratty yesterday. You know how he can be. He wouldn't hurt you on purpose.'
As they went down the sandy path to the beach, they could see him, a tiny figure in the distance beside a dab of green paint that was the thermos bag. The sea came rushing to meet them, louder and louder. Anna began to run, because she could see Joseph with his back to daddy – Joseph stooping about the beach, bow-legged, in search? of pebbles.
She hadn't quite reached Joseph when he looked up. She saw him gape, drop a handful of pebbles that squealed as they fell on the beach, then look behind him. Suddenly he was stumbling away from her and daddy, so clumsily that he splashed into the sea and almost fell. He didn't stop until he was beyond Seaview, the falling road, and had scrambled up the next cliff path.
Anna felt like crying. Why had he run away? She had only wanted to say hello and find him a special pebble. But then daddy grabbed her and threw her in the air, until she couldn't think for giggling and screaming. 'Never mind,' he shouted. 'We don't need that silly bugger, do we? Let's see what we've got for our picnic'
He'd packed the thermos bag full: cold chicken, cheese, salad, half a bottle of lemonade for Anna, a bottle of wine for him and mummy and maybe, though mummy didn't really approve, a little bit for Anna too. He kept standing behind Anna and saying, 'Here you are, madam,' like a waiter when he poured her wine. She was cheering up, but she wished she knew why Joseph had run away, wished she could bring him back to ask him…
When they'd finished eating, daddy chased her up and down the beach. Mummy joined in for a while, then she lay down in the sun. Daddy kept chasing, and Anna dodged him, onto the sea wall or onto the wooden groynes, but she wasn't really enjoying herself any more; daddy's nails were so long that he scratched her whenever he caught her. She was glad when mummy called, 'That's enough now.'
Daddy lay down with the Sunday papers. Mummy was already nodding with the heat. Restless, Anna began to hunt for shells and stones for Rebecca. 'Don't go out of sight,' mummy called.
Anna tired of the pebbles after a while. She went to the edge of the sea and watched a water-skier racing by on his V of water. She was tempted to see if she could walk along one of the groynes above the waves, try to walk as far as one of the breakwaters – giant iron arrows, orange with rust and green with weed – but the seaweed that trailed from the groynes made the timber look as if it was swaying, and she knew it would be slippery. She watched the shadow of the nearest breakwater for a while, drawing itself in over the waves like the shadow of a sundial, and listened to the sea; she thought she could hear pebbles rattling back into the sea with each wave.
A movement made her look at the top of the cliff. Several big boys with haversacks and red knees had been picnicking near the pillbox; now they tramped away. She glanced at her parents: mummy was asleep, daddy was fanning himself with the colour supplement – then she shaded her eyes and gazed up the cliff. She couldn't see the goats anywhere.
She went back to her parents, and stumbled on the stones as she watched the cliff. The only movement up there was a glimpse of red by the pillbox. It looked wet, but it was gone before she could make it out. 'Daddy, I can't see the goats,' she said.
'Can't you?' He seemed half-asleep, and annoyed that she had disturbed him. 'Well, never mind.'
He was no use. If she asked him to go up and look, he'd only be ratty. If she told him why she wanted to go up, he might tell her not to – grown-ups were like that sometimes, they didn't understand how important things could be. 'Please may I have some more lemonade?' she said.
'You've drunk it all.'
'
Can I go and get some more?'
'Yes, if you like,' he said wearily. 'Just be quick.'
He seemed glad to get rid of her. She clambered over the sea wall and ran to the path up the cliff before he could change his mind. She kept staring upward as she climbed. Grass shivered in the wind, a few wispy clouds drifted by above the edge; she felt as if the cliff were shifting. She glanced down at the beach as it fell away beneath her. Mummy and daddy were small as dolls now, and very far away. The wind blustered in her ears until she couldn't hear anything else. Would daddy hear her if she called out? She was beginning to wish that she hadn't come up by herself, that she'd woken mummy and asked her to come with her, but she had to go on now, to make sure the goats were all right. She toiled up the path, fighting the wind from the sea. She was nearly at the top now. Perhaps the goats were safe after all; perhaps she'd see them as soon as she reached the top, for as the wind caught its breath, she thought she could hear them. Yes, she could. Just beyond the edge, over by the pillbox, she could hear snuffling.
Ten
A scream woke Liz. It sounded as if the sky were splitting. Perhaps it was part of her dream, in which someone had been chasing someone else, but it was also above her. She saw the jets screaming away over the horizon as she opened her eyes, but at first she couldn't distinguish much else; the sun had got into her eyes while she was asleep, and everything looked bleached, over-exposed, difficult to interpret. Then she was on her feet and staring about. 'Where's Anna?' she cried.
Alan glanced up from a colour supplement; on the glossy cover a primitive mask bared pointed teeth. 'She went to get some more lemonade.'
The Claw Page 7
