the landing shone through them was standing in the doorway, watching her.
She cringed back until she felt the headboard pressing against her through her pillow. The floor just inside her room creaked as the figure came in. He was going to do to her what he'd done to the goats. Apart from the creak of the board she could hear no sound in the house – no sound of mummy or daddy. They had left her alone with Joseph. Her disbelief and horror almost choked her. 'Mummy!' she screamed.
The figure halted. Oh, please let mummy be here after all! Please let her scream have scared him away! 'It's all right, Anna,' the figure said. 'Go back to sleep.'
It was daddy. He was holding up one hand, making a gesture that was meant to calm her down, but it only showed his nails. How could she be calm when he didn't sound calm himself? 'I want mummy,' she said.
'She isn't here just now.'
'Where is she?'
'At the hotel. You go back to sleep now. I'm here.'
He sounded as if he didn't want to be. His voice was so harsh by now that it only made her more awake. 'I want her to come home,' she pleaded.
'She won't be long.' He stepped forward. 'Here, let me tuck you up, and then you must go to sleep.'
He'd moved so suddenly that she couldn't help flinching back, toward the far edge of the bed. Why was he so anxious for her to go to sleep? The sight of his nails made her distrust his words. She remembered the way he'd scratched her on the beach. She couldn't bear that now, here in the empty house, in the dark.
'What are you doing, Anna?' He was reaching for her with those nails. 'Don't do that, don't be stupid. You'll fall out of bed.'
Perhaps he only meant to catch her before she fell, perhaps that was why he made a grab for her, but his voice was savage now, and so was his face – what she could see of it in the dark. Before he could reach her, she struggled out of bed.
'What's wrong with you, child?' He came round the foot of the bed, and the light from the landing touched his face. For a moment she was terrified that it wouldn't be his. It was, but it looked so vicious that it didn't look like him after all. 'Get back into bed at once,' he said, as if he was still daddy.
As he moved toward her, trapping her between the bed and the wall, she climbed onto the bed. Her bare feet were tangled in the pillows; she was going to fall into his arms, into his claws. She clutched the headboard and kicked herself free, then she jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.
Where could she run? The house was empty; mummy wouldn't hear if she cried for help; nobody would. She thought of hiding until mummy came home, but where? She had just reached the downstairs hall when she heard him above her. 'Want to play hide and seek, do you? You won't like it when you're caught, by God you won't.'
She couldn't hide. It was as though he'd heard what she was thinking. She thought of hiding in the dark and waiting to be caught by those nails. She ran to the front door. She wanted mummy, she had to go to her.
The shock of her first step on the cold hard path made her realize how far she would have to run barefoot, all the way to the hotel. She might have given up, except that she heard daddy on the stairs. 'Going to tell tales to your mother, are you?' he was muttering. 'No you don't, you little fucker.' She ran down the path, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out as the stone hurt her feet, and out of the gate.
There was only one way she could run barefoot: along the beach. She could just see the cliff-top by the afterglow which hung like mist above the fields. She fled across the grass, veering away from where the poor goats had been killed. She couldn't see the remaining goats, but there was an animal smell in the air.
When she reached the path, she wavered. Did she really have to run all the way along the beach in the dark? It was so unfair. Waves made the beach seem to be expanding and contracting dimly; she could see nothing else. She glanced over her shoulder at the house, wishing desperately that she could go back. A dark shape was searching near the house, hands stretched out for her. She dodged out of sight at once, down the path.
At least the sandy path was kinder to her feet, though she had to go slowly for fear of skidding over the edge. Once the glimmer of the pillbox was out of sight she had a better view of the beach. It was dark, bleak, deserted. Only the waves shifted, hissing. Along the cliff, so distant that she couldn't imagine running all that way, were the lights and music of the Britannia Hotel.
She stumbled across the pebbles, bruising her feet, and slithered down the sea wall on her bottom. Another strip of pebbles, and then she was on soft sand, cool and soothing. She ran. At first it had been the pain in her feet that had made her cry, but now fear took over. What had happened to daddy to make him like this? She was sure that he wanted to harm her – that he hated her.
She turned, hearing his footsteps on the path down the cliff. Though she couldn't see him for tears, she could hear him. 'Running to mummy, are we?' he shouted. 'You don't stand a chance. You come back here right now or it'll be all the worse for you.' His voice no longer sounded like his. She fled in terror along the beach.
She heard him clattering over the pebbles and jumping down the sea wall. Pebbles ground together, a vicious sound that lodged in her head. He came thudding over the soft sand after her, cursing and snarling as his feet sank into it, becoming more savage with each step. The lights of the hotel seemed to have floated away. 'Mummy!' she screamed, and ran panting toward the receding lights.
At least he wasn't gaining on her, even when she passed beneath the graveyard. A shower of soil came raining down, and she dodged widely aside to avoid it. Now the sand underfoot was moist and chill, and she felt as if it were grabbing at her. A patch of polluted foam lay stranded yards from the edge of the sea, quivering like tripe. She flinched aside from it, and glanced back to see how far behind he was.
Then she screamed. He'd sneaked up, unheard, over the sea wall and now came clattering over the stones up there, faster than she could ever run on the sand or anywhere else. She screamed again for mummy, she turned to flee over the yielding juicy sand. She had taken only a few steps when he fell.
She faltered and looked back. His fall on the stones had been a heavy one, and she couldn't help hoping he might not get up – at least not until she'd reached the hotel. But already he was rearing up and brandishing the object that had tripped him. For a moment, as he raised it above his head and came for her, she thought he'd found the claw. But, no, it was a piece of wood. And as she turned, screaming, to flee, she saw that protruding from one end of it was a long, sharp nail.
Eighteen
Before long, the party overflowed out of the hotel bar and into the foyer. Red wine tinted the goldfish pond, cigarette stubs were gathering at the roots of the potted plants; now and then the roar of conversation and laughter made the cut-glass chandeliers jingle. Most of the hotel guests had been drawn into the party now that their children were in bed, and then there were Gail's and Ned's friends from here to Norwich – big-buttocked girls who ran a riding school, middle-aged ladies Liz had seen sitting at their easels on the cliffs, a fiery old woman called Mrs Tremayne, who had made an elaborate flower arrangement specially and was now shaking her stick at Gail: 'Don't you be saying I shouldn't have made you a present, Gail Marshall.' A pair of Labradors were chasing through the ground floor into the bar, where the chef was arm-wrestling all comers; from there into the lounge where Jimmy the barman was singing folk songs to a guitar – and finally round and round the goldfish pond, almost knocking Rebecca from her perch on the stone rim, where she sat looking pensive. No doubt she was thinking about Jane. Liz felt almost guilty for enjoying herself so much.
There was no doubt about it, she appreciated having an evening away from Anna. Of course, she and Alan could hire sitters – sulky teenage girls who seemed to regard the job as one more dull village activity – but a night like this was special. It was like not being married at all, except that at the end of it she'd be able to go home to everything she and Alan had built together. She felt ten years younger, especially now that she'd had a few drinks. To think she'd been doubtful about leaving Alan at home!
She wandered through the crowd, looking for someone she knew well enough to flirt with. At least Alex wasn't here, though in view of the fact that Jane hadn't come Liz wouldn't have been surprised to see her escorted by Derek. Of course the theft from Jane's bag was. really the last straw. She must have the Walterses round to dinner; surely there was a way to force Derek to face the situation before it was too late? In the lounge Jimmy was singing We Shall Overcome so passionately that she thought he must be quite drunk. Sidestepping the Labradors,
