wasn't even mummy any more, and that was worst of all.
She ran past Seaview, the road that was falling off the cliff, and then she started to wonder where she was going. Could she hide along there, in the long grass that overhung both sides of the disused road and was beginning to tear the road apart? She thought of hiding for a while and then going home in the hope that mummy would be herself again, but then she heard the rattle of the garage door. Mummy was going to come after her in the car.
Anna fled toward the edge of the cliff. Her thoughts were so jumbled that they could only drive her onward. The longer she stayed out of mummy's reach, the worse mummy would be when she caught her, but Anna couldn't bear the idea of being caught even now. She remembered how daddy had chased her toward the hotel, and had the horrible thought that whatever had made daddy like that had got into mummy too. That made her run with no idea at all where she was heading.
Eventually she reached a path along the edge of the cliff, where mounds overgrown with sandy blackberries hid her from the road. As she stumbled along the path, she began to sob. She might just as well go back to the road; mummy would find her sooner or later. She heard the car stop on the road, the slam of the car door and mummy shouting her name in a voice she might have used to call a bad dog, then the engine snarling as mummy drove on. She could hear how much mummy would hurt her when she caught her. She stumbled onward, hardly, seeing.
Grasshoppers leapt out of her way, seagulls screamed above her as if they were trying to guide mummy to where she was. The sandy twisting path and the gathering heat were slowing her down until she felt there was no point in going on, and then, as the path turned outward toward the edge of the cliff, she saw the disused windmill. From where she was standing, it looked the size of a bollard, a blinding white bollard with tattered toy vanes stuck onto one side. The sight of it made her begin to run in earnest, not to reach it but to get to the house beside it, Jane's house.
The slam of the car door sounded as if it was just the other side of the blackberry mounds. 'Anna!' mummy shouted, so close that Anna had to hold her mouth shut with her fingers so that she didn't cry out. She stood still, though trembling, until the car moved off, and then she fled toward Jane's. Surely everything would be all right once she got there: mummy had said she wanted to see Jane, and Anna could look after baby Georgie while the grown-ups talked.
She was hundreds of yards from the cottage when she ducked down, panting. The path turned here, toward the edge of the cliff, and the blackberry mounds gave way to a field of long grass that surrounded Jane's hedgeless garden and the windmill. The grass was dry and thick; she'd never be able to run through it without making a lot of noise. Mummy would hear her long before she got to Jane's. She wished she could scream for Jane, but she couldn't do that to mummy, even mummy as she was now. As she kept her head down and peered between the blades of grass, she felt as if she were trapped in a tunnel too low for her to stand up – the small dark grubby place again.
Mummy's car was still moving, though it had reached Jane's cottage now. It hesitated a few moments while mummy craned out, then it went on. Anna dashed into the field at once, desperate to reach the cottage before mummy stopped the car again and was able to hear. Grass-blades clashed around her, a bird of some kind clattered up. She tried to bend as low as she could while she ran, and for most of the way she could see only grass – grass that slashed at her arms and legs. She felt she was bleeding all over, but she hadn't time to look.
When she broke out of the field she found that she had only a few scratches, hardly big enough to see. She was still running, because she couldn't hear the car. Had it stopped, or was it too far away to be heard? Perhaps she couldn't hear it because of baby Georgie, who was scream- ing upstairs – screaming as if he'd never stop. Maybe she could help Jane look after him. Jane didn't seem to be very good at calming him down.
She ran across the lawn, past the unkempt rock-garden that looked like mouldy bread and rotting wood. The thirsty fields quivered in the heat, the vanes of the windmill looked as if they were straining to turn. She was heading for the back door of the cottage, so that mummy couldn't see her from the road. She wanted to get to Jane as quickly as she could, not only because of mummy – she wanted to stop Georgie screaming. She'd never heard him cry like that before.
The cottage blocked out the sunlight, seeming to fall over her like a pale shadow. The windmill loomed at the edge of her eye and made her feel nervous, as if something else were near. She was straining to hear the car, but all she could hear was Georgie. Now she saw that the back door was shut. She'd have to make herself heard over Georgie's screaming, and mummy might hear her too.
She was almost at the back door when several things happened, all of them in Georgie's room. She heard a thump like a ball thrown against a wall, or perhaps it was more like a fruit. Georgie stopped screaming. She was glancing up at the window of his room – the sudden silence frightened her, she didn't know why – when someone looked out at her.
The silence seemed to swell in her ears. She could hear nothing but her own gasp of horror. The figure at the window was the man she could never quite see, the man who was too red. She could see him now, grinning down at her with his sticky crimson teeth. She could see now that he wasn't a person after all, not with that face as long as an animal's, not with those eyes and teeth.
She had no idea how long he stood there before moving away. She stood trembling, staring at the blank window, feeling smaller than a baby. She wanted to run home, away from her terror, away from the thought of him up there with Georgie, Georgie who had stopped screaming, too suddenly. She wanted to scream until mummy heard her and went in to find out what was wrong. She wanted to find mummy before mummy went in there, wanted to scream at her not to go in. She didn't know what she wanted, and so she couldn't move, not even her mouth.
She was staring up at the empty silent window when mummy came round the house and dragged her roughly away to the car.
Thirty-six
The car wouldn't start at first. It sat coughing dryly in the garage while Liz pumped the accelerator and turned the ignition key again, again. It was giving Anna time to get away, but it wouldn't help her in the long run; Liz would only be more furious when she caught her. Her throat was ragged with her one shout to the child. As she shifted the lever back into neutral, her nails scratched at the knob, sliding off the plastic. The stubborn car and the impossible child were driving her into a frenzy. She was grinding her teeth, until the taste of blood made her stop.
Eventually the car lurched backward onto the drive. She slammed the garage door into its slot and sent the car screeching into the road. Had Anna had time to reach Jane's? It would serve her right if she ran into Jane while Jane was in such a state – but Liz didn't mean to let her. She'd deal with the child herself, by God she would.
The car felt swift as a big cat now, chasing effortlessly round the curves. Fields shot by, pale with speed. If she didn't catch Anna before she reached Jane's it would be the worse for her. She'd teach her to give Jane gossip to spread – how Anna had run away from her mother, how she'd looked scared to death. Liz would make sure she had reason to be.
She stopped the car and craned out of the window, trying to see over the blackberry thicket that stretched for half a mile along the cliff-top. She couldn't see Anna, and the glitter of the sea lodged in her eyes like broken glass. If the child was in the thicket, Liz hoped she was caught among the thorns. It was nothing to what she deserved.
When Jane's house sailed into view, a blob of dazzling white that expanded as the windmill sidled out from behind it, Liz wondered if Anna meant to take refuge with Jane after all. She stopped the car by the house. She could hear Georgie carrying on – at least that ought to keep Jane busy and would give Anna no chance to tell tales. But suppose the child was already past the cottage? Liz drove on, peering at the fields.
A few yards on she halted. Anna couldn't have had time to run so far. She must be hiding 'somewhere along the way. She wanted to play hide and seek, did she? She'd find Liz wasn't in the mood for games. Liz turned the car, and as she did so she caught sight of Anna. She was at the back of the cottage, gazing up at Georgie's
