The Claw

Seven

By noon on Friday, Liz was exhausted. Though the sun was so harsh that you could almost see the grass bleaching, it seemed not to slow the children down at all. Anna was pushing two-year-old Faye in the baby's swing, Beryl and Deirdre were racing tricycles around the hotel playground, Julian and Thorn and Esther were splashing one another in the pool beyond the wire fence, and several children were scrambling up the fifteen-foot slide, toddlers included. One of the toddlers began dancing on the top rung of the metal ladder and Liz had to dash over to persuade him to get onto the slide. Then, since the two girls who worked fulltime in the nursery were busy in the dining-room, she had to prevent another toddler from climbing the wire fence that kept unsupervised children away from the pool, and disentangle Beryl and Deirdre, who had collided and were fighting. At least Hilary the Phantom Crapper had gone home, leaving a hotel legend behind him.

It wasn't only the children Liz found exhausting: it was their parents, too. Not all of them, by any means. Some were enjoying themselves as much as, and because, their children were. But Deirdre's mother was a teacher, and wouldn't leave the children alone; the moment she saw a child inactive for a moment, she would pounce. It was all that Liz and the girls could do to dissuade her from organizing games. Julian's mother couldn't find anything right with the hotel. 'Can't you give the children a choice of meals? They managed to where we stayed last year. And they organized outings for the children – surely that shouldn't be too much trouble…'

But the worst of them was Spike's father. Spike was a thin seven-year-old with a long, dull face and pinkish, peeling skin, and everyone could see how much his father disliked him. Yesterday his father had shamed him into braving the pool and had stood looking disgusted while Spike froze calf-deep in water, refusing to venture away from the side. 'Go on, you big baby. Look how everyone's laughing at you.' Eventually he had dragged Spike out and shoved him away as though he couldn't bear to touch him. 'Go on, you useless lump. Nobody wants to know you.'

This morning he'd virtually ignored his son, and seeing Liz trying to cheer Spike up, had shrugged and strolled away to read a magazine. Spike was in the sandpit now, picking up handfuls of sand and letting them trickle away without looking at them. Liz was about to climb down and propose a sandcastle competition for just the two of them, when his father reappeared.

'Don't bother with him. He doesn't like enjoying himself. I'm paying the earth to give him and his mother a holiday, but he doesn't care about that.'

Liz was biting her tongue, when Maggie came out of the nursery to call the children for their meal. She gave Liz a wink that said she would look after Spike, and Liz gladly left her to it.

Now that the slide was free, Anna made for it. 'I'm just going to have a drink before we go home,' Liz called. Nobody else was in sight except a reddish man at the edge of the cliff, a hundred yards beyond the playground wall. If he was as sunburnt as he looked, why on earth wasn't he in the shade? Against the glitter of the waves she couldn't make him out at all. She took refuge in the cool of the bar.

Jimmy was serving, a student teacher who worked in the hotel during the holidays. 'Here you go,' he said, drawing a lager without waiting for her order. 'And where's the little mother? I hope I get a few like her when I start teaching. When I look at some of them I wonder what I've let myself in for. Young Julian was skulking outside the window last night until someone left a drink close enough for him to grab. And how old is Faye – seven? She was saying she'd give me a kiss if I gave her a drink. Lolitas get younger and younger. Still, I'd rather have kids like that than Spike, poor little bugger.' Suddenly he ducked his head and began polishing glasses. 'Enough said. Here comes the fond father.'

Liz turned to see that Anna was still on the slide, and hoped Spike's father wouldn't come into the bar. He was striding past the pool enclosure, swinging his metal-tipped stick and fluffing up his curly black sideboards between finger and thumb. When he pushed open the windows and stepped into the bar she turned away. She didn't trust herself to be polite.

But he came straight to her. 'What's this, drinking alone? We can't have that. A Scotch for me, Jimmy, and give this lady whatever she wants.'

'I don't want anything just now, thanks.'

'Well, give me a shout when you do. I don't like to see ladies drinking alone. Mine's upstairs resting in case you wondered. No wonder, with what she has to put up with. I'm not surprised you came straight in here.'

Liz could only walk away without replying and sit in the window. Eventually he flung his corduroy jacket over a chair next to an old couple and began to hold forth to them. Liz squinted at the cliff-top. The reddened man was still there, but she couldn't make him out from this angle either, couldn't even decide if he was watching the sea or the hotel.

Anna was even less self-conscious now that she was alone, standing on the platform at the top of the slide like a sailor in a crow's nest, then letting herself slide down head-first, before running around to climb the ladder again. Liz watched until she realized she was risking more attention from Spike's father. She was downing the last of her drink when the door from the foyer opened. She'd never be able to slip away now, for here was Alan's mother.

She was a tall pale dry woman in her early sixties. Today she wore a silky blue ankle-length dress. She surveyed the bar as if she found nobody worth greeting, then she strode over to Liz. 'Hello, Elizabeth. Alan told me you were here, so I came to see my grandchild.'

'She's outside. Would you like a drink first?'

'Yes, but let me pay for it. Please, I insist. Yours is a lager, I take it.'

Liz felt as she'd meant Spike's father to feel. She and Isobel had never been friends – they seemed to have nothing in common except Alan – but Liz did her best, for Alan's sake and Anna's. Isobel returned with the drinks and stood waiting for Liz to open the windows Spike's father had closed. 'I think we ought to sit outside so that the child needn't come into the bar.'

A few round metal tables shadowed the lawn outside the bar. A breeze tried to flip over the beermats, like a baby doing its best to imitate its father. Liz meant to remark on the sunburnt man, but Isobel seemed not to notice him. Instead she stared at Anna. 'Surely you aren't letting the child go on the slide unsupervised?'

'She'll be all right, Isobel. She's been used to it for years.'

'Yes, I seem to remember your letting her on it before she was two years old.'

'That's why she's so confident now.' Liz recalled that holiday all too well; for a short time they'd stayed with Isobel, five miles inland, but there had been so much friction between the two women that in the end Alan had had to bring Liz and Anna to the Britannia Hotel instead. Isobel had paid most of the bill – they couldn't have continued their holiday otherwise. Liz hated feeling obliged to people she didn't like.

'Well, I can't bear to watch.' Isobel turned her back on the playground, as if Liz were forcing her to do so. For a few minutes she was silent, sipping her gin and tonic; from her expression it might have been vinegar. Something else had annoyed her. 'Alan didn't seem very glad to see me today,' she said.

'I expect he just didn't want to be interrupted. Did you let him know you were coming?'

Isobel stared affrontedly at her. 'It's a pity if I have to make an appointment to see my own son.'

'Oh, sometimes I virtually have to make an appointment to speak to him, and I'm in the same house.' Liz was trying her hardest, but evidendy Isobel was offended at being compared to a mere wife. 'He's. having problems with his writing just now,' Liz said.

'I wonder why that is? Has he anything to worry him at home?' When Liz shook her head, less angrily than she might have, Isobel stood up. 'Well, I can't wait all day for the child to come to me,' she said, and strode toward the playground.

Anna jumped off the slide and ran to her. She sat for a while with her grandmother at one of the parents' tables in the playground and chattered to her, while Liz tried to relax with her drink. She must get in touch with her own parents; they were supposed to be coming to stay. She hoped they were, because she'd just put off Barbara Mason, an old friend who'd written asking if she could take up an open invitation.

Anna was back at the slide now, crying 'Watch me, Granny!' as she ran up the ladder two rungs at a time, pushing away Isobel's hand as she tried to help her up the first rungs, and shouting 'Beep-beep' when Isobel waited anxiously to catch her at the bottom of the slide.

Shortly, the children crowded out of the nursery, having finished their meal, and Isobel returned to her gin. Spike's father emerged from the bar, Scotch in hand. 'They haven't let them out already, have they?' he complained.

Anna was trying patiently to show Spike how to ride a tricycle, and for once he didn't look quite so morose; he was pushing the pedals and realizing he was in control. 'He's fine. He's enjoying himself,' Liz said.

'That'll be the day.' His father strode irritably toward the playground. 'What's he up to now? He'll be running the babies over, he's that clumsy.'

Liz jumped up and grabbed his arm. 'It's all right, leave him alone. Anna's looking after him. And Maggie's there – she'll make sure there are no accidents.'

He looked amused by her vehemence; she could have hit him. 'True enough, that's her job. If anything happens, it's her responsibility.' Having found someone else to blame for his son's failings, he strolled back to the bar.

Liz wouldn't have minded another drink, but Isobel was leaning confidentially across the table, gesturing her to sit down. 'Elizabeth, I hope you won't mind my saying this, but I wonder if you oughtn't to care less for other people's children and more for your own.'

Liz controlled herself. 'What makes you think I don't care for her?'

'Well, since you ask, letting her play nursemaid, for one thing. She's too young – and besides, it's such a temptation. Children have dreadful things done to them these days, you've only to read the papers. I'm not saying that Anna would do anything like that, not if she's brought up correctly. But even she could copy things she's heard about or read.'

Anna was running toward them now, having entrusted Spike to Maggie, and seeing her, Liz felt her anger fade. If Isobel regarded Anna as she seemed to, then that was Isobel's loss. Anna scampered past them and into the bar. 'Hit me with an orange juice, Jimmy,' she cried, in imitation of some film.

'My God, another Lolita.' He uncapped the bottle and poured with a flourish. 'Are you going to pay me as well?'

'Certainly not,' Isobel said. Before Liz knew what she intended, Isobel had marched into the bar, thrust a coin at Jimmy and taken Anna by the arm. 'You shouldn't be in here at all, nor speaking to grown-ups like that.'

Jimmy's face betrayed his feelings. 'And I'll have no dumb insolence from you,' Isobel said. 'Did I hear you were studying to be a teacher? God help your class.'

Liz followed her angrily into the bar, on the verge of losing control. 'That's enough, Isobel. Anna's with me. Drink up, Anna, and then we must be going.'

Isobel turned her back on them. 'Well, of course she isn't my child.' That annoyed Liz less than the sympathetic grimace Isobel earned from the old couple in one corner of the bar. 'Goodbye then, Anna,' Isobel said, and to nobody in particular, 'Next time I shall ring up in advance to make sure I'm welcome.'

'Oh, for God's sake, Isobel,' Liz hissed, following her into the deserted foyer, 'don't be so bloody stupid,' but Isobel stalked off to her car and drove away.

Liz had another lager, and after a while her hands stopped twitching with frustration. If Alan was in as bad a mood as she assumed, there'd be no point in hurrying home. Still, she had said they'd be home for lunch. She finished her drink and winking at Jimmy, hurried Anna down to the beach. It was the quickest route, since the coast road was so winding.

Just now the beach was almost deserted. Bare strips of sand and pebbles stretched away for miles in both directions, walled in by sea and cliffs. The enormous sky was empty except for the white-hot sun. 'Do try not to show off in front of Granny Knight so much,' Liz said, but Anna was already chasing off along the beach.

Liz felt edgy, trying to keep pace with the child, and before long her feet were aching on the pebbles. As she passed beneath the churchyard, she found herself glancing up nervously at the precarious graves. She was glad when she reached the path to the top of the cliff, a quarter of a mile before the scar where Seaview had once been.

Anna went scrambling up ahead of her toward the pillbox. Beyond the cliff-edge, Liz could hear the bleating of the goats. When she reached the top she saw that they were beyond the pillbox, huddled just outside the hedge at the end of her garden. Anna was among them, chatting to them as usual, no doubt.

It was the way Anna was standing so still that told Liz something was wrong. She was staring into the grass at the foot of the hedge. Now she was backing away, almost falling over one of the kids as she went. Both she and the kid cried out, and Liz could hardly tell which cry was which. She ran to the child and hugged her, but that didn't stop Anna trembling. As the child clutched her mother's dress, burying her face in it, Liz stared into the undergrowth, afraid to see.

In the glaring sunlight everything was so intense that at first she could make out only an explosion of colours and textures beneath the spiky green grass: white, glistening red, and hectic swarming black. Someone had dumped an old rug there, ruined by tomato ketchup and covered with flies. It must be a rug, for she could see the legs at the corners: a rug that someone had used to carry offal to dump beneath the hedge – her hedge. But one of the kids was missing, and Liz knew what that meant even before she saw its head, still attached to the disembowelled body by what remained of the neck. A bluebottle was crawling over one bulging eye.

Anna fled crying toward the house, and Liz watched her go. As for herself, she thought she would be sick. She stumbled toward the gate, trying not to breathe until she was well away from the hedge, and saw Alan staring down at Anna from his workroom. The next moment he had vanished, presumably to open the back door. In the midst of her horror, Liz felt inexplicably uneasy because she hadn't had time to see his face.