“It’s a horrible place. I’ve seen enough of it”
“Well, when the tide’s high the water comes in. It comes through that grating, see … That’s what it’s put there for.
This was built with an express purpose, so Jem Tomrit told me. Do you know what today is?”
Today, Fanny?”
“Well, this Jem Tomrit told me a lot, he did. There’s times when the tide comes up higher than ever. It’s called spring tide, and there’s a reason for it. The moon and the sun or something. Don’t ask me. It happens at this time of the year, seemingly. Well, it’ll be tonight at half past eight”
I had begun to shiver—not so much with the cold dampness of this place but by the strangeness of Fanny.
“At spring tide this cellar is flooded right up to the top.”
“Fanny,” I said, “let’s get out of this place. It’s damp and cold. We’ll explore it properly later.”
“How are we going to get out?” she asked.
“The way we came in, of course.”
“It’s a snap lock. It shuts itself. You can only open it from outside. The smugglers saw to that”
“That’s absurd.”
“I’m only saying what Jem Tomrit told me.”
“Then somebody’s shut us in.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “someone’s shut us in.” She sat down on one of the steps and covered her face with the hand which was not holding the candle. “I had to be with you. I couldn’t leave you alone.”
“Fanny,” I said, “you know something you haven’t told me.”
“Yes, Miss Harriet”
“You know that someone is trying to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re trying to stop them. But what are we doing here? Are you telling me that someone has shut us in this place?”
She rocked herself to and fro.
“You’ll drop the candle,” I said. I was not completely frightened yet, because Fanny was beside me. It was like waking from a strange nightmare during my childhood and screaming. Fanny had come to comfort me then; her presence meant security. She gave me that reassurance now.
“You knew about this place,” I said, “because Jem Tomrit told you. You say it’s flooded at high tide, and tonight there’s a spring tide. That’s at eighty-thirty. It’s not four yet. We’ll get out before high tide. We shall be missed.”
“Who’d think of looking here?”
“There’s another thing that struck me. If the water floods this place at high tide, where does it go afterwards? A certain amount sinks into the sandy floor, I suppose, but wouldn’t there be much more water than this?”
“There was a big stone over the grating. Jem Tomrit told me how they used to take it away when they’d got prisoners here. Then they’d bail out after.”
“There’s no big stone over the grating now,” I said.
“It was hidden by brambles … and it’s been taken away. So now it’s how it used to be when this cellar was used for murder.”
“Fanny,” I said, “you’re not being very clear. You say you cleared the brambles. Then who took the stone away? Who shut the trap door just then? Fanny! Somebody is in this house now. They heard us go into the kitchen. They knew we had come down here and they shut us in!”
“He was here,” she said. “That was what frightened the wits out of Jem Tomrit. He saw him and he thought it was the ghost of a dead excise man, but it weren’t It were my Billy.”
“Your Billy. But Billy died years and years ago … before I was born.”
“Billy loved me true, but there was one he loved better. It was the sea. The sea was his mistress, and he’d leave me for her. You ought to have heard him talk about the sea. You knew then what he loved best. When he went away he said: ‘Don’t be frightened, Fanny. I’ll come back for you … I'll come back one day. I’ll take you to sea with me, one day. You wait for that, Fanny … and you be ready when the time comes. Then suddenly it came to me what he meant. There’d be a sign. And now it’s come.”
“Fanny,” I said, “what has happened to you? Let’s get out of this place.”
“We’ll get out of it in our own good tune. Hell be waiting for us. We’ll be with him … the two of us … safe and sound.”
“You’re not being sensible, Fanny. Do you remember how you used to tell me to be sensible. I’m going to try and open that trap door.”
“You’ll hurt yourself, lovey. I told you it can only be opened from the outside.”
“I don’t think you’re right, Fanny.”
“I am. I made sure. I didn’t want anything to go wrong.”
“Fanny! Fanny! What are you saying?”
I sat down on the cold step beside her. This companion of my youth, this beloved nurse, this woman to whom I had always turned for comfort had become a stranger.
“Fanny,” I said gently, “let’s try and understand what this is all about. Let’s sort it out, shall we?”
“There’s nothing to sort out, my pet.”
I stared into the darkness and wondered how much water there was down there, how much truth there was hi this Story of smugglers and excise men. I thought of Menfreya — my parents-in-law resting till tea, which they would probably take in their own rooms. Bevil would return. Perhaps for dinner? Perhaps after. But surely I should be missed by dinnertime! When I didn’t appear they would send a maid to my room to see if I wanted anything sent up. I should not be there; then they would grow a little anxious. Dinner at eight—high tide at eight-thirty. They would never be in’ time.
But I couldn't believe in death. Not death at Fanny’s hands. In fact I couldn’t believe this was really happening to me. It was like one of those fantastic nightmares which used to haunt my childhood.
I walked to the top of the steps and tried to push open the door. It was unyielding. Of course, it hadn’t been opened for years. It was bound to be difficult. I didn’t believe this story of spring locks.
I could not accept Fanny as a murderess. I sat down beside her. I thought: It must be four o’clock. How soon before the water starts coming in? Slowly at first, and then … the flood. Four hours … to wait for death.
I couldn’t accept it.
“Fanny,” I said, “I want to understand what this means. I want to talk to you.”
She said: “You’re frightened, are you?”
“I don’t want to die, Fanny.”
“Lord bless you, there’s nothing to worry about. Billy talked to me about death by drowning. He said it was the easiest way out. Billy will be there waiting for me … and I couldn’t leave you behind, could I? I couldn’t—not with all them that were trying to hurt you. I didn’t want you to die like your stepmother. Drowning’s better. ‘It’s easy,' I said to myself. You see, they wanted you out of the way … the two of them. They couldn’t fool me. He was never the one for you. I warned you against him. He was too fond of the women … just as Billy was too fond of the sea. I’d have liked Billy to take a nice comfortable job ashore. He wouldn’t. Not him. You see he couldn’t leave it alone. It’s the same thing. With Billy the sea, and with him … women. And since she came … with her wicked ways … I knew I couldn’t leave you … I knew her. She was going to get him; and now she’s carrying the child, she’s desperate. She’d got the stuff for her complexion just like your stepmother … but that poor lady killed herself with it … she was going to kill you.”
“Oh, Fanny, do you believe that?”
“I believe what I see, and I was frightened for you. I used to lie awake and my head would go funny … dizzy like with the worry of it. And then Billy came for me, and I said to myself I can’t leave her. It would be different if he was different, if she wasn’t there. I daren’t go and leave her. You see, when I lost my little ‘un you were my baby. I couldn’t leave you, could I? I’ll take you to Billy with me, and we’ll all be together.”