The Girl in the Cellar

CHAPTER 22

Anne’s heart fainted in her. He had caught her. She put her hand on the handle of the door to steady herself. And it turned. It wasn’t a locked door barring her way to safety. It was open, and she was safe. The door swung in, and she with it. She shut it behind her, locked it, and leaned against it in the darkness. She felt faint with the narrowness of her escape. And then from the back of the hall in which she was standing a door opened and light shone out. A voice which was young, quite young, said sleepily, ‘Is that you? How late you are!’

There was a girl, and she was yawning. Behind her there was a partly open door to a lighted room. The light was dangerous. It was the dead middle of the night. There oughtn’t to be any light in a sleeping house. She moved so quickly that she had no time for anything except that one thought. The darkness was safe, the light was dangerous. She was along the passage and at the door, and in the same moment she was in the room and the door shut on her and on the girl. She leaned against it, drawing quick breaths and saying the first thing that came into her mind to say.

‘I’m so sorry. There’s a man-chasing me. Oh, please do help me!’

The girl looked at her. She was a little thing, and plump. Her fair hair was untidy, as if she had been asleep on it. She had on a short skirt and a flannel blouse, and she had kicked off her shoes. They were lying higgledy piggledy in front of a chair by the fire. Her round brown eyes were full of sleepy surprise. She said, ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Anne-’

‘Anne what?’

Anne said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you mean you’ve lost your memory?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh-how odd-’

Anne said, ‘It’s very uncomfortable.’

‘It must be. Would you like some tea?’ Her tone was brightly matter-of-fact.

And then quite suddenly there came a knocking on the front door. Every scrap of colour left Anne’s face. She had been pale before, now she looked as if only terror kept her alive. The girl nodded and said ‘All right.’ She put out her hand to the electric light switch and turned it off.

The hope of darkness… The words came into Anne’s mind and stayed there. She was covered and protected. She remained standing, her hand on the back of an upright chair and her whole reliance on this little creature with the steady brown eyes. Five minutes ago she hadn’t known of her existence, and now she was in the dark in a strange house, and all her reliance was upon this girl, younger than herself.

The girl went past her out of the room. The knocking on the front door came again.

A quiet came upon Anne. There were two things that might happen to her, and she saw them quite clearly. The girl could have gone upstairs to get away from her. She could have gone upstairs to her room, and she could lock herself in. And she could speak from her window and find out who was knocking at the door. And if she believed what he would say she would give Anne over to him.

Something in her mind refused to accept this as a possible happening. It didn’t even frighten her very much. Perhaps that was because she was past being frightened either much or little. She waited, listening with all her ears-with more than her ears-with the whole of her, body and soul.

The tapping on the door came again.

This time it was followed by the sound of a window upstairs being thrown open. A sleepy voice called out, ‘Is that you, Aunt Hester?’

‘Well, no-’ It was a man’s voice. It was his voice.

‘Oh! What is it? What do you want?’

‘I just wanted to enquire, have you seen or heard anything of my ward? She is missing.’

‘Your ward?’

‘Yes. She’s been ill. She’s not fit to be out alone. If she’s with you-’

‘And what would make you think she was with me? If you’ve lost someone, go and look for her! Don’t come here, wakening me up and frightening me to death!’

The voice from the other side of the door became softer.

‘I do apologise-I really do. If my niece is there-’

‘Your niece is not here! How many more times do you want me to say that?’

‘She isn’t there?’

‘No, she isn’t!’ The window above shut with a bang.

The man on the other side of the front door put his hand on the knocker. Anne heard it make a faint creak. Then his hand dropped again. He stood for a moment or two, and then she heard his footsteps going away down the path, down the four steps that led into the road. She heard him go, and she went on listening. Every sense seemed to be stretched. She could follow his footsteps in the road, she could hear him get into the car. He banged the door with a heavy decisive slam, and the car moved off, slowly at first, then quicker and quicker until it was gone.

Anne felt the stiffness go out of her. She hadn’t realised how cold she was. It came over her now. She stood quite still where she was and waited, she didn’t know for what. Now that it was over and he was gone, she groped her way to a chair and sat down, her head against the back of it and her eyes shut. She heard the girl come back into the room, dimly. She heard her voice, but she couldn’t speak or answer. There was an interval-light in the room. It was warm-blessedly warm. Someone was shaking her by the shoulder. A voice was saying, ‘I’ve made some cocoa-you’d better have it.’

She opened her eyes. She didn’t know what a desperate appeal they held. She couldn’t do any more than she had done. Her eyes said, ‘Help me-help me.’

The little plump girl patted her shoulder.

‘Drink this up and you’ll feel better.’

It was cocoa, warm and sweet. She drank it up. It seemed strange at first, but as she went on it was comfortable and warm. Her eyes were open and she was dazedly conscious of the room and the girl.

When she had finished the cup it was taken from her, and the girl said, ‘It was a good thing you locked the door when you came in. I had left it open-I’m awful about doing that. But the thing is, my aunt was coming back. She had been up to town for the day, and then when she rang up to say she’d met a friend and been persuaded to stay the night, I put off locking the door until I went to bed, and I sat down to read and went to sleep. And when I woke up I thought she’d come after all. It’s an awful warning, isn’t it?’

Anne blinked at her.

‘I suppose it is. But if you hadn’t left the door, I wouldn’t have got in.’ She shuddered suddenly, violently.

The girl had a little painted tray in her hand. She scooped up the cup that had had the cocoa in it and laughed.

‘I shan’t tell Aunt Hester, or she’ll preach like mad. She’s all right, but she does hold forth.’ She put down the tray and the cup and said briskly, ‘Now the thing is, what am I going to do with you. Have you got any ideas?’

Anne looked ahead and turned her eyes away. She couldn’t do anything with tomorrow yet. Wait till it comes…

She was just going to speak when the girl said, ‘It’s half-past one. I think we had better go to bed. I’ll lend you a nightgown. It’ll be rather short, but that doesn’t matter. I always sleep with my feet tucked up. You can too. Then in the morning we can think about what we’re going to do. My aunt won’t be back till lunch-time, if then.’

Anne took hold of the table edge to get up, but the effort spent itself, swept away by a flood of gratitude. She said in a low, stumbling voice, ‘That’s good of you. You don’t even know my name-I don’t know it myself. I’m Anne, that’s all I know.’

‘I’m Prissy-Prissy Knox. Come along up! You look as if you wanted a good sleep.’

All at once Anne felt that was true. She got up. And that was the last thing she remembered at all clearly.