The Girl in the Cellar

CHAPTER 42

Lizabet stood half-way to the corner and caught her breath to listen. There was no sound. There was no sound at all. She saw three figures together on the pavement, and then there weren’t any figures. It was as sudden and as quick as that. There was no cry, no struggle. One minute there was Anne with only a little way to go to the pillar-box, and the next it had all happened. It gave her a queer excited feeling and the beginning of something that wasn’t comfortable. She tossed her head, turned, and ran back to the house. She had left the door ajar. She pushed it open, took a step inside, and pushed it shut again. It was done. Anne had gone. And she wouldn’t come back again.

Bewilderingly there swept over her a sense of irretrievable loss. What had she done? And quick on that something that resisted. She hadn’t done anything-nothing at all. If Anne had gone with that man, she had gone of her own free will, hadn’t she? She had. She had.

She went slowly up the stairs and heard Janet call from the bathroom.

‘Is that you, Anne?’

‘No, it’s me. Anne’s gone up. Do you want her?’

‘No-not really-it will do in the morning.’

She went on up the flight of stairs which led to her bedroom and Anne’s. When she was half way up she called down to Janet in the bathroom. ‘Good-night! I’m awfully sleepy.’ Then she ran the rest of the way and came into her room with a sense of escape.

She locked the door and sat down on the bed in the dark.

She didn’t want the light. And then after a few minutes she did want it and she got up and turned it on. She undressed, put the light out, and got into bed. But she couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts were racing. She had been very clever, very clever indeed. There was nothing to feel uncomfortable about. What had she done?

What had she done? ‘I haven’t done anything.’ Anne had lost her memory. She didn’t know who she was, or where she was, or where she had come from. It was only kindness to give her back to her own people.

‘It was the basest betrayal in the world.’

Lizabet started on her elbow. Who had said that? Someone had said it. She was in her own room, locked in. She had been comfortable and nearly asleep, and someone had said that.

It went on all night. When she was quite awake she could argue with herself. These were Anne’s own people-it was much better for her to be with them. And then when she was slipping down into sleep the thought would come, ‘How do you know who they were, or what they wanted? How do you know?’ Round and round, and over and over the thoughts went on. There was nothing to distract your mind in the silence of the night.

The first faint breath of fear came and went. It did not stay long. It came back again. It kept on coming back until with the first faint streak of daylight it was there all the time and would not be talked down or covered up. She got out of bed, slipped on her dressing-gown, and went down to Janet’s room. She couldn’t bear it by herself any more. Janet would know what to do. Janet always knew.

She opened the door cautiously. Janet didn’t move. She could tell by her breathing that she was asleep. A wave of self-pity came over her. Janet could sleep. She hadn’t slept all night-not really. A sob came up in her throat. And at once Janet stirred and woke. She was up on her elbow looking across the faint dawn light that filled the room.

‘Lizabet-what is it?’

Lizabet was child enough to dissolve into tears. She ran across to the bed and sobbed.

‘Janet-oh, Janet!’

‘What is it? Lizabet, what’s the matter?’

‘I-I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Why couldn’t you?’

‘I don’t know.’ There was a fresh and more agonised burst of tears.

Janet got out of bed.

‘You’re all cold,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you some hot milk. Get in and cover yourself up. I won’t be a minute.’

It was nice and warm in Janet’s bed. Perhaps she could go to sleep here. She could try. And then just as she was beginning to feel comfortably warm and sleepy Janet came back with the hot milk. Lizabet sipped the milk. Then she became aware that Janet was looking at her.

‘What put you in such a state?’

Lizabet hung her head.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Something did. You’d better tell me what it was.’

‘It wasn’t anything.’ Lizabet drank up the rest of the milk and pushed the glass at Janet. ‘It wasn’t anything at all.’

Janet took the glass, put it down, and turned to the bed again.

‘If you don’t tell me, I must go and ask Anne.’

‘No-no-you can’t-’

‘Why can’t I?’

It was at that moment it came home to Lizabet that she would give almost anything for Anne to be still there. She caught Janet by the wrist and broke again into tears.

‘You can’t! She’s not there-she’s gone!’

There was a stunned silence. Then Janet said, ‘Where has she gone?’

‘I-don’t-know-’

Janet sat down on the bed. Her legs shook. She sat because she couldn’t stand any longer. She said as firmly as she could, ‘What have you done?’