The Claw

Fifty

Anna sat and waited in daddy's room. Her dizziness had almost gone now, except when she tried to watch the blurry dance of the fog. Her head still hurt, but she thought that was mostly because of waiting. She wouldn't have long to wait now; Granny Knight was coming for her. She didn't want to wait much longer. She didn't like it up here.

She used to like it, before daddy had gone away. She used to love sitting here at his desk, pretending she was daddy. He would even let her sit at his typewriter and switch it on. But now the room looked old and sad, as if daddy had left it for good. His books and papers and his desk were going grey; she thought there might be spiders among the books. If she let herself, if she stopped reminding herself that Granny Knight was coming, she could almost believe that there was something very much bigger than a spider somewhere near, watching her and waiting.

She stuffed her fist into her mouth. She wanted to cry out to Granny Knight to hurry up, but she mustn't in case mummy heard. She must be patient; Granny Knight was bound to have to wait until she could come upstairs without mummy noticing. She wouldn't be long now. Anna had been waiting for so long.

She got down from the chair. Its wobbling was only making her nervous. Granny Knight was coming for her, she'd said that she was, but Anna wanted to see if she could hear her. She pressed her ear against the locked door. Now she would hear as soon as Granny Knight came up.

At first she could hear nothing, except perhaps the sea.

Or was that the sound of blood in her ears? She oughtn't to press her ear against the door; it would only make it more difficult to hear. But she did, and almost cried out before she realized that the sudden loud noise was her heartbeat, which sounded as if it was resounding through the wood. She managed to lever herself away from the door a little, for fear that mummy would hear her heart or that she would deafen herself.

Why couldn't she hear voices downstairs? She held her breath. She wanted to hear Granny Knight, to be sure she was still in the house. Her head was ringing with the effort of holding her breath, and she was beginning to feel as if someone was laughing at her silently, someone who was crouched just the other side of the door, when she heard a sound at last. It was the slam of a car door.

It sounded close to the house. But it couldn't be – or if it was, it couldn't be Granny Knight's car. Anna mustn't cry out to her – that would spoil everything. Another door of the car slammed, and then the engine started. Anna was fighting not to cry out now, and only just succeeding. It couldn't be Granny Knight, she'd promised to come for her. She wouldn't go away, not when Anna had told her about mummy. It couldn't be Granny Knight's car that was moving away, fading into the fog…

Suddenly Anna's heart leapt, and she had to stifle another cry, this time of joy: she could hear someone on the stairs! It hadn't been Granny Knight's car, Anna had known that all the time really, it probably hadn't even been as near as it had sounded. She was already forgetting it. All that mattered was the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

They slowed at the first landing, then came on up. Granny Knight must have told mummy that she was going to the toilet, and now she was hurrying up to the top floor before mummy realized. Couldn't she make less noise? She was climbing fast, but all the same she ought to take more care that mummy didn't hear her.

Anna was hopping jerkily from foot to foot with nervousness. Why, Granny Knight wasn't trying to be quiet at all. She'll hear you, she'll hear you, Anna cried, in a whisper that was trapped in her throat. Mummy must have heard by now that Granny Knight was coming up to the top floor. Why wasn't she trying to stop her?

Then Anna knew. She felt as if someone had grabbed her by the throat. It hadn't been Granny Knight on the phone at all. It had been Granny Knight who'd driven away, and now it was too late to scream. It had been mummy on the phone, mummy who'd said she would come for her, who was coming for her now. Anna was shaking so badly that she couldn't run or hide, she couldn't even think. She was paralyzed by the knowledge that it was mummy on the stairs, her footsteps on the landing now, mummy at the door and standing there to listen or to enjoy the thought of what she was going to do to Anna, mummy who was slamming back the bolt.

As the door opened, Anna moved. She had to, otherwise it would have knocked her down. She dodged behind it, out of sight for the moment, and watched in helpless terror as mummy came into the room.

Mummy was smiling. Her smile was crueller even than her outstretched nails: it wanted Anna to know that she was trapped, that there was nobody to help her, especially not Granny Knight. It wanted Anna to realize what was going to happen to her now. It grew wider as mummy glanced around the room. 'Flaying games, are we?' mummy said softly. 'I know you're here waiting to be rescued. I'll rescue you, you little maggot.' She was reaching behind her to close the door.

Anna tried to duck under mummy's arm, to dodge round the door before it closed, before mummy noticed where she was. But there wasn't room. Her head bumped mummy's arm, and Anna screamed. Everything seemed to slow down like a nightmare: mummy turning triumphantly on her, her smile widening and her eyes gleaming as she jerked the door towards her, trapping Anna between the door and herself. 'So there you are, you little insect,' she said, grabbing Anna with her other hand.

Anna wrenched herself out from between mummy and the door just as mummy's hand closed on her shoulder. Mummy's nails ripped her blouse and her skin, but Anna was free and running desperately out of the room. Mummy slammed the door to trap her in it, to squash her in the opening like the insect she'd said Anna was. She was a fraction too late. Anna was beyond the door and on the stairs, almost falling. She couldn't hear her own feet on the stairs for her screams.

The door of daddy's workroom slammed open before she was halfway down the first flight of stairs. She fell then, clutching wildly at the banister, managing to hold on just as her feet struck the edge of a stair. The impact hurt her ankles terribly, but her only hope was to run downstairs – otherwise she'd fall. She hadn't time to regain her balance, for mummy was already on the landing.

She ran limping and sobbing to the front door, and fumbled with the latch. Her fingers felt like someone else's, swollen and clumsy; she was terrified that any moment she'd forget how to open the door. As the latch clicked and she remembered to pull at the door, mummy came into the hall.

She wasn't smiling now, though she was showing her teeth. Anna remembered a dog she'd once seen, dribbling white froth. Mummy had hugged her and told her not to move until men in uniform had come in a van to take the dog away. Mummy looked like that dog now – her face did, as she came rushing down the hall at Anna, her long nails reaching for her.

How could Anna turn her back on her? But somehow she did, and fled screaming into the fog, which surged forward as if it were helping mummy, telling Anna that she was trapped, that there was no point in running. It made her feel that she wasn't running at all, just trying to struggle through the grey that hardly moved, while mummy overtook her easily, nails stretched out to drag her back. When she reached the gate and limped out onto the road, she felt she'd run almost as far as she could.

But she could hear a car, on or near the road to the village. Was it Granny Knight's car? It didn't matter who it was, surely they'd hear if she screamed loud enough for help? She ran along the slippery road, screaming at the top of her voice. Her throat felt scraped to shreds by her cries and the fog she was sucking in.

She hadn't reached the road to the village when she stumbled to a halt. She couldn't hear the car any longer. She began to sob, and then she held her breath, she tried to be completely still, not even to shiver. She couldn't hear mummy either. She didn't know where mummy was, how close she might be in the blinding fog.

She'd started to cough, and then to sob because she couldn't suppress her coughing, when she heard the car again. It was on the village road. She wanted to scream for help before it went away, but she made herself be quiet, even though her throat was burning with the urge to cough. In a few moments she was sure that the car was coming back.

Granny Knight must have heard her. She ran towards the village road, screaming Granny Knight's name. It took her so long to reach the road that she thought she'd run past it in the fog. But here it was at last – and here on the verge at the corner, a silent figure was standing. She was dodging away from the looming figure, screaming louder and more desperately, when the fog thinned and she saw that it was the signpost, its pointer dripping like a nose. How could she have thought it was mummy? But any looming shape in the dense fog could be; Anna still didn't know where mummy was.

She limped along the village road as fast as she could. Whenever she slipped on the glistening tarmac, shapes lurched at her out of the fog. She hadn't the breath to cry out now, even though the car was nearer. In a few minutes she saw its lights, steaming like ice. The light touched her and probed beyond her, picking out a crouching shape about to leap. The shape was a stile. The car had halted a few yards from her, and the door behind Granny Knight was opening. Once Anna was in the car, she would be safe.

Then the man who'd opened the door climbed out and came toward her, and she began to scream.

It was daddy, but all she could see were his nails. They were longer than mummy's, and they were reaching for her. As she stumbled backward away from him, she caught sight of his face. It looked worse than it had the night he'd gone away: it was white and hungry and desperate, the face of a stranger who was hardly even bothering to look like daddy. As he opened his mouth to speak, she shoved her hands over her ears and fled screaming, without the least idea of where she was going, back into the fog.