The Claw

Thirty

Liz drove home from Yarmouth feeling surer of herself than she'd felt for days. Dark clouds were crawling above the fields, toward the sea, but the darkness couldn't touch her. She could hardly believe how much destroying the letter had helped. When she thought of the letters, that one as much as the ones she'd rejected, she cringed inwardly. How could she have allowed herself to become so hysterical? She couldn't even recall now why she'd been so desperate to invite Barbara. She'd let everything get on top of her, that was all. No, not everything – just Anna.

That made her feel calmer, as if her problems were capable of being solved. Of course Anna was disturbed by all that had been happening, but there was a limit to the allowances that could be made for her, the liberties she could take. What had she been doing the night Alan had chased her along the beach? Perhaps Liz had been looking at that incident the wrong way. When she glanced at Anna in the mirror, at her untypically secretive eyes, she was almost sure she had.

The blackened road veered back and forth like smoke beneath the crawling sky, the verges glowed luridly. A phone box stood beside a deserted stretch of road – a red oblong rooted in the streaming supine grass. As the door of the empty box creaked open in the wind, Liz heard the phone ringing, ringing. It reminded her of the anonymous call, but that didn't bother her so much now; the voice must have been disguised – it must have been one of the people who were spreading rumours about her; perhaps the caller was the source of all the gossip. Now she was trying to scare Liz away for whatever warped reason an anonymous caller might have. She must have heard that

Alan had been with Anna the night the child had fled to the hotel – that was why she'd accused him. The call was another reason to doubt that he had done anything to Anna. Anna was rubbing her arm where Liz had held it, rubbing as if the pain would never fade. Liz was sure she hadn't held her that hard. If Anna was exaggerating that, why not Alan's behaviour that night as well?

The house was catching the last of the sunlight before the sky closed up. It looked unreal against the gathering dark. As Liz dragged the garage door into place, she wondered if the child would try to flee from her as she'd run away from Alan. But Anna went reluctantly into the house, into her playroom. That wouldn't save her from answering the questions Liz was determined to ask.

Anna stayed out of the way while Liz made dinner. Didn't that prove she had something to hide? When she ventured into the kitchen to pour herself an orange juice, wincing as she used the arm she wanted Liz to think was injured, her movements sounded clumsy, intrusive, far too loud. That was because the house was empty – empty of Alan. Liz had to make an effort to restrain herself from blurting out her questions.

As soon as they sat down to dinner, she said, 'Anna, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.'

'All right,' Anna mumbled through a mouthful of salad.

Liz waited until the child had finished her mouthful; she wasn't about to give her an excuse not to answer. 'What did you do that night I went to the party at the hotel?'

Anna stared blankly at her. 'Nothing,' she said, forking up another mouthful.

'It won't go cold. Leave it until we've finished talking,' Liz said, and the echo told her how loud her voice was. 'What did you do to make daddy chase you out of the house?'

'I didn't do anything.'

Her blank stare, and the forkful of food she was still holding, infuriated Liz. 'Put that down and answer me.

Anyone would think you were starving as well as everything else I'm supposed to be doing to you.' She glared at Anna until the fork dropped onto her plate. 'Don't ask me to believe that daddy chased you all the way to the hotel for no reason. What had you been doing?'

'I was asleep. He woke me up.'

She looked tearful and hurt, but Liz wasn't to be put off. 'And then what happened?'

'He frightened me.'

'How?'

Anna gaped at her as if the question were meaningless. Liz felt her fury growing. 'I'm asking you a question, Anna. What did he do to frighten you?'

Anna's eyes were blank again. She was silent for a while, then she said, 'He just did.'

Liz felt as if she should have known it all along: Anna had fled for no reason, Alan had only been trying to bring her back.. He'd gone away because Liz had lost the claw, not because of Anna at all. Even if he had lost his temper with the child that night, who could blame him? Liz had – perhaps that had been another reason why he'd gone away. She stared at Anna, then looked away quickly. If she lost her temper now, she didn't know what she might do to the child.

Anna was behaving as if Liz had already mistreated her. She winced whenever she reached for the salt or the pickles. 'Stop your play-acting,' Liz said. 'I didn't hurt you that much.' The bruises weren't very marked – less so than the scratches on the child's other arm. The sound of Anna crunching lettuce grated on her nerves.

After they'd washed up the dinner things – Anna taking plates mutely, holding herself aloof – Liz decided she couldn't stand any more. 'If you're going to sulk, young lady, you can take yourself off to bed.' It was a relief when Anna did so. Coming out of the bathroom, she hesitated over which bedroom to enter. Eventually she went into Liz's room as though she were doing Liz a favour. Liz tucked her up and made herself stoop to give her a token kiss, but the child turned away under the sheets.

For a while Liz sat in the long room with the telephone by her side and wished that Alan would call. She didn't blame him any more and would have hated him to feel that he couldn't come home. She would have called him if she'd known where he was. Eventually she moved the phone into the hall and made herself watch television, though she hardly knew what she was watching. Here were television cops, beating up someone as usual; here was a play that might be a horror story or a comedy, she couldn't tell which.

She'd moved the phone into the hall, yet she kept glimpsing red at the edge of her vision. As she glanced at the empty space on the mantelpiece, she realized that that was why the house felt empty – because she'd lost the claw. The sound of the sea made it feel even emptier, the sea that separated her from Alan, the sea that she could never cross.

Eventually she called her parents. Her father said he was glad of the rest – just what the doctor ordered; she could only pray that it was the line that made his voice so weak. Then she went to bed. Anna was asleep, otherwise she might have drawn away from her mother. Liz could hug the small warm body to her, purge her mind of other feelings, believe that they would be friends again tomorrow, reach inward to the untroubled centre of herself and sleep.

She'd forgotten her strange feelings of the night before until she switched off the bedside lamp. It was as though she'd wakened something in the dark by switching off the lamp – as though she'd wakened the dark itself. It was crouching by the bed, watching her, licking its lips. How could waves sound so much like slobbery breathing? She hugged Anna to her, to cling to reality, but the child was hot and restless. Liz inched away for fear of waking her, and felt as if she were trying to be inconspicuous. She lay stiffly on her back, trying to think of nothing.

She must have slept, for she woke in the night, halfway through a dream of lying in wait for someone. There was a taste in her mouth, so unpleasant that she stumbled to the bathroom without thinking of the dark, and gargled with cold water. The taste was gone before she had a chance to decide what it was. She switched off the bathroom light and groped back to her room.

The dark was darker after the bright room. She was tiptoeing barefoot through the dark, and she wouldn't see the crouching figure until she fell over it, or until her bare foot touched its face… She stumbled loudly back to the door and grabbed the light-switch.

The room was empty but for Anna, and the light had wakened her. 'What's wrong, mummy?' she whimpered, half-asleep. 'Where did you go?'

'Just for a drink. I'm coming back now. Snuggle down and go to sleep.'

'I want a drink too.'

'You would.' Liz brought her a glass of water, which she drained in two gulps. In bed Liz hugged the child until Anna pushed her away, complaining she was too hot. Liz lay awake as the child tossed and turned restlessly, and tried to control her thoughts – forced herself not to tell Anna to be still. Why should Anna's restlessness matter when there was nothing in the dark?

At last Liz slept, only to dream that something was dragging her down into darkness – darkness that was hot and sticky and capable of suffocating her with its stench. She hacked and sliced at her captor, but the small fingers wouldn't let go. At last she woke, still in the grip of the dream, and found that Anna was staring at her along the pillow. For a moment Liz thought the child knew what she'd dreamed. But at least it was daylight now, and they could get up.

After such a restless night, no doubt arguments were inevitable. When they sat down to breakfast Anna said, 'I want to go to the shop today.'

'No, not today. You were there all yesterday morning.'

'Rebecca doesn't mind. She says I can go every day if I want to.'

'Does she indeed. Well, I don't want you to. Not for a while at least.'

'But I want to go. I like being with her.'

'But you don't like being with me.'

'Of course I do,' Anna said – too quickly, Liz thought. 'But I like making things in the shop.'

'You just try staying at home with me for a while instead of running off all the time.'

'I don't want to. There's nothing to do.'

'So you have to go to Rebecca's to make things, do you?' Liz was losing her temper. 'I'm sure you'll find plenty to do if you put your mind to it. If you can't, it's your own fault.'

Anna sulked for a few minutes, clanking her spoon against her eggcup until Liz was ready to grab it from her.

'But I want to go to the shop,' Anna said at last. 'Why can't I go?'

'Because I say so, and you're not too big to have your bottom smacked if you can't do as you're told.' In the past she always used to explain things to Anna; what had happened to their closeness? 'Because I think Rebecca has used you as an unpaid worker long enough,' she said, 'and because I want you near me.'

She hadn't known until she said h how true that was. She remembered how she'd felt when she saw that Anna was going to run across Haven Bridge, she remembered the anonymous phone call, and there were other reasons, too deep in her mind to define. She couldn't help it if she was being irrational: she didn't want Anna to be out of her sight again.

'I don't like staying at home,' Anna was complaining. 'There's nobody to play with. You never have the time.'

'My God, I spend half my life making time to be with you.'

'We never go to the nursery any more. I used to be able to play there and look after the babies.'

'All right,' Liz cried, 'we'll go there today.' For a moment it seemed like the answer: Anna would be kept busy, Liz would be able to keep watch unobtrusively.

They hadn't been to the hotel since the night Anna had fled there. At first there'd seemed to be too much to explain, and then each day Liz had stayed away had made it harder for her to go back. Now Liz realized that by staying away she was only helping the rumours to thrive. It was about time she put in an appearance, if only to show that nothing was wrong.

They walked along the beach to the hotel. The morning haze subdued the heat and gilded the sunlight on the waves. Families were already staking their claims on the beach; children were digging eagerly as terriers, spraying sand all around them. Anna chased ahead over the clattering stones, and Liz grew tight inside. Must the child be forever making her feel this way?

She left Anna in the nursery while she went to tell Gail they were here. Joseph's father was reinforcing the posts that held up the wire netting around the tennis court. He stared out at Liz through the wire. Surely it must be the sun in his eyes that made him look so fierce?

Gail was calculating bills in the office behind the reception desk, her pocket calculator chirping each time she touched its keys. 'Hello, Liz,' she said with an abstracted smile. 'What brings you here?'

'I just came to tell you we'll be in the nursery today.'

'Oh, are you coming back?' All at once Gail's face was blank. 'I thought you'd given up.'

'Things have been a bit complicated lately. I'd like to come back, and Anna would, if you still want us.'

'You know we're always glad to see you.' Suddenly Gail was sounding more like a manageress than a friend. 'I'm always here if you want to talk. I just have to finish my sums first.'

'Go ahead, don't let me disturb you.' Liz went out of the hotel, the relentlessly cheerful chirps of Gail's calculator slowly fading behind her.

Anna was waiting by the gate of the nursery playground. 'They won't let me help.'

Were they going to make life difficult for Anna too? Liz's fist clenched on the gate as she dragged it open. 'Who won't, darling?'

'The big girls. They say they're looking after the link ones.'

'Well, let's see if we can't sort it out.' Dismayed by her own paranoia, she made to take Anna's arm as they headed for the nursery, then her fingers shrank back from the bruise.

There was nothing for Anna to do. The few children who were younger than her were being looked after by their older sisters, Vanessa and Thelma and Germaine and Kate. Kate, an eleven-year-old with large unrestrained breasts, was driving away anyone who tried to play with her baby brother Simon, and the other girls wouldn't let anyone touch their little sisters when they fell down or cried for mummy or wet themselves. 'They've been like that with us too,' Maggie confided to Liz. 'You'd think they'd prefer to go in the pool or look for boys or something.'

Perhaps they did want to, and that was why they kept picking on Anna, pushing in front of her at the slide, ignoring her when she tried to talk to them. Eventually Maggie let her help sort paints and building toys, but Liz knew how useless and frustrated she must feel; that was how she felt herself.

When the children were called in for lunch, Anna went out to the slide and Liz took refuge in the bar. Jimmy was polishing glasses. 'Isn't this your day off?' Liz said.

'Trish rang to say she'd be late.' He was already pulling a lager for Liz. 'I don't mind filling in,' he said. 'Better than being on my own.'

'Your girlfriend?'

'They fined her. Could have been worse. But the college principal had her in – said he'll have to let the schools know about it wherever she applies to teach. I don't know why he didn't just kick her out of college. It'd be a quicker way of ending her career.'

'Perhaps by the time she starts teaching it won't matter so much.'

'Sure, they'll all be smoking in the staffroom.' 'I meant she might find somewhere with a liberal head teacher.'

'They'd have to be pretty damn liberal. And there's the governors too.' He glanced toward the windows. 'Here we are, Anna,' he called. 'Come and cheer me up.'

Liz didn't want the child to stray, but all the same, couldn't she have even a moment to herself? Anna was stepping in through the open windows. 'Why don't you make the most of the playground while the other children aren't there?' Liz said. 'I don't want to. Someone's watching me.' 'Who?' Liz shoved her chair back. 'Where?' 'I know he's there, but you won't be able to see him.' 'Oh, Anna, if you start that again…' Well, what would she do? There were marks to show what she'd already done. 'Can't you just play by yourself for a while and let me have a rest?'

'Hang on a moment,' Jimmy said, as Anna trudged morosely toward the windows. 'Here's Trish now. I'll give you a game of something if you like, Anna. Is it all right if I take her along to the Space Invaders?'

It sounded fine to Liz. Now that she thought about it, he was just about the only person here whom she felt like trusting with Anna. Plump denimed Trish took his place behind the bar, and gave Liz another lager as. he and Anna headed for the seaward end of the village. Thank God there was someone to take Anna off her hands for a while! She only hoped they didn't meet anyone she knew. She wished she had dressed the child in long sleeves. Someone was bound to wonder about the marks on the child's arms.