collided with Anna. 'There's someone in the house,' the child whispered.
Could it be Alan? 'Where?' Liz demanded.
'He looked out at me.'
That was all she would say. Liz unlocked the front door and called 'Alan' once, before the child whispered, 'No, it isn't daddy.' The lit hall led to darkness and closed doors. Liz eased the door shut and stood listening, but all she could hear was the sea, the constant undertone of the house. Eventually she made herself go forward, switching on lights as soon as she could reach them. The ground floor was deserted, which meant that she had to go up, and up again. Each empty room made the next door yet more threatening.
The house was empty, silent except for the sea and the wind, snuffling somewhere she couldn't quite locate. Had Anna really thought she'd glimpsed someone, or was she just getting her own back on Liz for refusing to let her visit Isobel? Perhaps she'd pretended to see an intruder because of the argument about the key. Just about everything had been her fault – letting Isobel see the marks on her arm, making Isobel think she was frightened of Liz. She'd played up enough for one night. 'Come on, quickly,' Liz said harshly. 'I want to get to bed.'
'I want to sleep in my own room.'
'No, you don't, and you're not going to.' If the child was frightened of her, she'd better do as she was told. Liz's face must have said so, for Anna undressed in the master bedroom and climbed into bed. She looked meek and submissive now – or was that fear? Just now Liz didn't care. She went through the house, switching off the lights, and was sure as soon as she turned off the bedside lamp that they weren't alone in the dark. The snuffling which she hadn't been able to locate sounded closer now; it made her think of an animal, lying there in the dark beyond the bed. Her nervousness was Anna's fault too. She dragged a sheet over her ear to shut out the moist snuffling, and tried to sleep. It was Anna who was making all this happen. Once again, as she hovered on the edge of sleep, she felt that somehow her dreams would tell her what to do.
Thirty-four
Sunlight woke Liz. It filled the room and glowed in Anna's hair as the child lay asleep, face buried in the pillow. Liz lay and gazed at her, at the small, still face, and wished they could stay like this for ever. Anna's mouth was pouting slightly, her left cheek was flushed by resting against the pillow, her hair was a stream of auburn fire. Liz remembered how she'd felt when she had first held her in her arms, remembered the first time she had seen Anna asleep, all the peace in the world in that tiny face. She was growing hot with sunlight and a kind of protective fury. Anna was still her child, Liz wouldn't let anyone harm her. Nobody was going to take her away.
She gazed until Anna began to stir, as if Liz's gaze was making her uneasy. Liz inched herself out of bed so as not to wake the child, and then she noticed that Anna was lying at the very edge of the mattress. Had she moved as far from Liz as she could manage? Liz suppressed her annoyance before it could take hold. She didn't like feeling that way about Anna, she mustn't let herself do so.
But she had to struggle with her feelings as she showered in the bathroom. She was remembering yesterday evening; the argument with Isobel, Anna siding with her against Liz. It was no wonder the child was nervous, after all that had happened, but why should that make her disloyal? She simply had no excuse. Liz towelled herself roughly, without knowing how much of her roughness was meant for herself, then she stared at herself in the mirror until she realized that she had no idea what she was looking for – some sign in her eyes of what she felt about Anna, perhaps? She hurried downstairs to make breakfast, to give herself less time to feel.
The smell of frying bacon must have woken Anna. Liz heard the toilet flushing, the gurgle of the washbowl, and eventually Anna came down. She went straight into her playroom. Couldn't she even say good morning? She was behaving as if she were afraid to come near her. She was making Liz tense, which was the last thing Liz wanted. The situation between them had to be sorted out. Liz called 'Breakfast's ready' before it was.
Anna trudged in as if she expected to be punished, sat down and stared at the table, hardly glancing at Liz. All right, then – if that was what she expected, that was what she'd get. No, that wasn't the way to sort things out. But Anna seemed determined to annoy her, picking babyishly at her toast and bacon as if she needed Liz to cut up her food for her.
'Don't you want any more?' Liz said at last, and when Anna shook her head, she ate the child's food herself. 'Have some cereal,' she said.
Anna emptied cornflakes out of the packet until her bowl was piled high, sprinkled the pile with sugar and doused it in milk, then sat staring at it while the sugar dissolved and the cornflakes drooped. Wasn't she going to eat at all? Was she going to starve herself so that people could accuse Liz of that as well? Liz forgot her decision to keep calm. 'Anna, what on earth is the matter with you?'
Anna stared at her as if she were a stranger. If anything had destroyed their closeness, it was her and her disloyalty. At last Anna said, 'Why won't you let me go anywhere any more?'
Liz controlled herself. 'Now, Anna, that isn't fair. Why, we went to Yarmouth Just the other day.'
The child stared more blankly than ever at that, but it wasn't Liz's fault that, Anna had gone to Yarmouth determined not to enjoy herself. 'You never let me go anywhere I want to go,' Anna said, poking at her soggy cereal until milk spilled onto the table and a drowned plastic whistle poked up from the mound, a hidden gift.
'I can't go to Granny Knight's or make things at the shop – I can't do anything I want to.'
'I didn't realize you were so fond of your grandmother.' Sarcasm wouldn't help. 'And I've explained why I don't want you to go to the shop. Look, we'll go to the nursery today.'
'I don't want to.'
'Oh, Anna, don't be difficult. I can't go far.' But now she'd said that, she wasn't sure why. Suppose Alan rang? 'If there are any calls for me and they can't get through, they'll probably try the hotel.'
'I don't want to go. I don't like the children there.'
'Will you leave that alone!' Anna was still poking at her cereal, spilling milk out of the bowl. 'I don't think much of them either. But there's Jimmy, you know he'll play with you if he's free. I think it's very nice of him.'
'But I want to go to Rebecca's.'
'Look, we've been through this before.' Tension was dragging at the skin above her eyes, tightening on her forehead. 'I want you to stay where I can see you.'
'But I'm not little any more,' Anna complained.
'Then why are you whining? Anyway, it isn't that. I'm nervous, that's all. I don't want you going off where I can't see you – not for a while at least.' But evidently Anna didn't believe her. All at once she had a disturbing notion that Anna might be right not to trust her – that she was lying to her without realizing it. 'If you must know,' she said in an attempt to retrieve the truth, 'I want to go to the hotel because I won't have people thinking I don't dare show my face there.'
'Oh, mummy, why are you being like this? You sound so horrible. You're behaving as if you don't like anyone. Soon we won't have any friends at all.'
Liz had to close her eyes and clench her fists to control herself. Her head was pounding, her hands wanted to be claws. Inside her eyelids everything was red. If Anna made one more remark like that, she'd be sorry – and Liz didn't care who saw the marks. Was this all the thanks she got for protecting her – suspicion, disloyalty, insults? Her nails were scratching her palms, and that made her even more furious: it wasn't she who should be hurting. Her eyes were burning, she didn't think she would be able to keep them closed much longer, even though if she opened them she would almost certainly let fly. She ground her fists against her temples in an attempt to rub away the tension, the tension that felt like a storm about to break, and then she jerked, eyes wide, bead pounding as if there was a pneumatic drill in her brain. The phone was ringing.
She lurched down the hall and grabbed the receiver. Barbara, Alan, another anonymous call – the possibilities were multiplying. 'Yes?' she cried.
'Liz?' It was a woman's voice that she couldn't identify. 'Is that you?'
'Yes.' Perhaps it was a bad line – long distance? 'Is that Barbara?'
'Barbara who?' There was a long pause, then the voice said, 'Are you sure you're Liz? It doesn't sound like you.'
