The Claw

Forty-eight

At first, when Anna realized she wasn't in bed, she thought she was at the dentist's. That was why she'd come back to herself in such a strange place, that was why her head and her jaw were aching. When she opened her eyes mummy would be there, leaning down into her eyes, saying, 'It's all right now, mummy's here.'

Then she remembered, and her eyes sprang open in terror, in case mummy was. But daddy's workroom was deserted except for her. One arm of the cross that his chair swivelled on was digging into her thigh, which throbbed worse when she flinched away. As she stumbled to her feet, she realized that the rough weave of the carpet had left an imprint on her cheek.

Standing up made her headache worse: the room was tilting, and she was crying out with the pain. As she limped giddily to the door, she was only half-aware of what she was doing. She shook the door when it wouldn't open, until she heard the noise she was making, and then she stumbled, sobbing, away from the door and sat in daddy's chair in case she fell down. Mummy had locked her in. What would she do if she heard her trying to open the door? She'd already knocked her down when Granny Knight was here – what would she do when Granny Knight had gone?

Perhaps Granny Knight already had. Perhaps mummy was coming upstairs now, stealthy as a cat. Anna glimpsed her creeping upstairs on all fours, her claws ready. She spun round wildly on the chair, but that made her feel so dizzy and vulnerable that she grabbed the desk. The desk jerked, the phone jangled, and she sat shaking with the effort of trying to be still for minutes while she wondered if the phone had also rung downstairs.

She began to relax eventually, but also to sob. The phone had told her what to do, but she was afraid to. She'd tried to phone from the hotel room; how could she go through all that again? But if she didn't phone, the only alternative was to wait until mummy came upstairs to her. Perhaps the phones downstairs wouldn't ring when she picked up daddy's phone. Sometimes they all rang, but not always.

She stared out at the billowing fog until it made her so dizzy she had to close her tearful eyes. Then, while her eyes were closed and she couldn't see what she was doing, she reached out and grabbed the receiver. As she lifted it off the cradle the phone rang, so loudly that she couldn't hear if the others had. Could that sound be heard downstairs? She clutched the receiver, afraid to open her eyes.

But she had it now, and she must use it while she had the chance. All she had to do was to dial 999 if anything was seriously wrong – mummy had told her that once. But her hand was shaking so much that she couldn't lift the receiver to her face. She was afraid that if she did, she'd hear mummy saying, 7 heard you.' She dragged the receiver through the air and pressed it against her ear, pressed it until her ear burned, until she realized why she wasn't dialling, why it was no use: you had to wait until you heard the buzzing, the dialling tone – mummy had told her that, too. There wasn't any buzzing. The phone wasn't working.

She laid the receiver on the desk and began to cry in earnest, hopelessly, her head and jaw throbbing with every sob. The fog surged at the window and drifted away, surged and retreated. She wished she could climb onto the sill and jump – she couldn't see the drop – but she wasn't brave enough. She could only wait for mummy to come to her. Wouldn't mummy hear her crying if she picked up the phone downstairs? It didn't matter, she didn't care. That made her cry harder. But then, suddenly, she hushed, swallowing and gulping. She'd thought she'd heard voices downstairs.

She made herself let go of the desk and crept to the door, pressing her ear against it. She was terrified that the door would open without warning, that mummy would be there – so terrified that she didn't realize how she was trying to hang onto the wall until she felt wallpaper gathering under her nails. That made her squirm, but she had to be still, because there was a voice downstairs that wasn't mummy's. She had to press her ear against the door until her blood sounded like the sea before she was sure that it was Granny Knight's voice.

She hadn't gone yet. Anna realized she'd been behaving as if Granny Knight already had. She wanted to scream, but suppose mummy heard her before Granny Knight did? Suppose mummy got to her first? Having Granny Knight still here only made her feel worse; she was sobbing loudly now, she didn't care who heard, she just wished someone would so that everything would be over. She didn't want to try and speak to Granny Knight. She didn't want to use the phone.

But she could, if she was lucky. If she jiggled the cradle of daddy's phone until it rang, it might ring downstairs as well. If Granny Knight picked up the phone, Anna could tell her everything – she'd have to. Could she take the risk of mummy hearing instead? But already she was stumbling back to the desk, sobbing as she sat down in daddy's wobbly chair, sobbing painfully as she picked up the receiver and began to move the cradle, jiggling it more and more violently as it rang and still nobody answered. It was ringing downstairs, she could hear that now, and she could hardly breathe for sobbing. Someone must answer – her bruised arm was already aching, her head and her jaw and her whole body were.

When she heard the click of the phone being lifted downstairs, loud in her ear as the closing of a trap, she almost dropped the receiver. She had to clutch it with both hands. She didn't dare speak. Then she heard the hollow shell-like sound of a hand cupped around the mouthpiece. 'Yes?' a low voice said.

It didn't sound like mummy. Nevertheless it seemed to take Anna forever before she could swallow and draw a shuddering breath and, risking everything so completely that she had to close her eyes, whisper, 'It's Anna.'

'Yes?'

The voice sounded even gentler. It couldn't be mummy; she wouldn't speak like that, not any more. That thought broke the dam of Anna's fear, and she began to babble into the phone. 'Oh, please come and get me. Mummy's locked me in daddy's room. She's going to hurt me, she wants to hurt me, she isn't like mummy.' Now she was sobbing not so much with fear as with having to say such things about mummy; her face was blazing with shame. 'Please don't go away, please come and let me out. Please don't let mummy get me…'

The silence didn't last long, it only seemed so. 'I'll be coming for you,' the low voice said, 'don't you worry,' and Anna replaced the receiver as quickly and quietly as she could. She sat hugging herself on daddy's chair and watched the door. Thank you, thank you, she said over and over, not knowing if she was speaking out loud, or to whom. Nobody but she could have heard the low voice on the phone.