He said, “That’s near enough.’
There was a long pause between them. She had the feeling of having given out all she had to give. It left her drained and weak. He said suddenly, ‘You’d never seen the girl before?’
‘No, never. At least I don’t think so-I don’t remember.’
He was frowning again.
‘How on earth did you get mixed up in it?’
‘I don’t know-I can’t remember.’ Then she made a small movement towards him. ‘Something happened yesterday.’
‘What?’
‘There was a man-I was planting bulbs;-I looked up, and he was where that gate opens on the border, leaning on it, smoking.’
‘Yes?’
‘I thought-he had mistaken his way. He stood there- smiling. He lighted a cigarette. Then he said-’ It swept over her again, the dreadful feeling which she had had in that man’s presence. Everything darkened. She put out her hand and Jim took it. It was only then that she felt how icy cold she was-how cold. His hands were warm. Their warmth brought her consciousness back.
He saw her turn fainting white. And then he saw the colour come again to her lips, to her cheek. He had a quite extraordinary sensation of having come home. He said, ‘Anne- Anne-you’re safe-you’re home. Don’t-Anne-darling!’
For a moment she leaned against him. Then she said in a confused sort of way, ‘I’m so sorry-I didn’t mean to. Oh, I’m stupid!’ Her eyes were full of tears. She groped in her pocket for her handkerchief and dried them, leaning against him. Then she said, ‘I don’t know what made me do that. He-he frightened me-I don’t know why’
‘He frightened you? What did he say?’
‘He said we’d got to have a talk. He said I wouldn’t want to have it in public. I-I turned faint like I did just now-I don’t know why. It frightened me-he frightened me. I said I had never met him before, and he laughed. He-he stood there and smoked. He said I knew what he might say-’ Her voice went away to a whisper on the word. ‘But I didn’t-I didn’t-oh, I didn’t. I didn’t know anything. I think that’s what frightened me. If I could have remembered, no matter what it was, I wouldn’t have been so frightened. It’s not knowing-not being able to see. It’s like waking up in the night and not knowing where you are.’
His arm was round her again. She leaned against him and trembled. He said, ‘Go on.’
‘There wasn’t much more. I said I didn’t know him-I didn’t know who he was, I didn’t want to. I said would he please go away. And he said-’ Her colour all went again and she gripped his arm, but her voice came steadily. ‘He said, “Well, I’ll go for now. Remember, we know where you are.” Then he said he’d got some orders for me. I wasn’t to tell anyone I’d seen him or what he had said, and when I got my orders I was to do just what I was told-at once. He said, “You’d better!” and he turned round and went away.’ She paused for a moment, and then she said, speaking very low and in a piteous hurried manner, ‘I don’t know what he meant, but it frightened me-dreadfully.’
He considered that, holding her hand in a strong tight clasp, only half aware of what he was doing or of the fact that what would have hurt her at a time of full security was in her present state something which she would not be without. In the end he spoke.
‘You don’t remember him?’
‘No-not at all. I don’t believe I had ever seen him before.’
‘Then why should he speak to you like that?’
‘I don’t know. I really don’t.’
He looked at her with the same frowning gaze. When she had seen it before it had set her wondering what she had said or done to anger him. Now in a strange sort of way she knew the frown for what it was, a deep concern for her, a deepening interest.
He said abruptly, ‘Listen to me! I don’t like leaving you here, but I don’t see any way out of it-not at present. All the same I don’t like it very much, but you should be all right if you do just what I say. Now listen! You’re not to go out of sight of another person-old Clarke in the garden-one of the people in the house. You’re not to go out by yourself-do you hear?’
‘Yes, I hear, but-’
‘There isn’t any but. You do what you’re told, and you’ll be safe!’ He repeated the word, ‘Safe. That’s what you want to be, isn’t it? And at present I can’t protect you, because I don’t know enough. I’ve got to find out who you are, how you come into this business, how to make you safe. And you’ve got to help. You can do that in two ways. You can do just what I say-never be out of sight of someone you can call to for help. And if you remember anything-anything at all-ring me up and tell me what it is. I think your memory will come back. Don’t strain, don’t try to remember. That’s not the way. But if you do remember anything, ring me up at once. Here’s an address that will find me within an hour or two.’ He let go of her hand and wrote on a leaf torn from a scrubby notebook. ‘These people will know where I am and what I am doing. You can speak freely to them.’
‘To anyone who answers the telephone?’
‘Yes. And there’ll be someone there always. It’s this end you’ll have to look out for. Don’t talk to anyone here. Lilian’s all right, but she’s a fool. And Harriet-oh, they’re all right, but they haven’t as much sense as you could put on a threepenny bit. So you won’t tell them anything-nothing at all! Is that understood?’
She said, ‘Yes.’ It was more than an agreement. It was a promise, and he took it as such.
He said, ‘All right. Then we’ll be getting back. I haven’t too much time.’
She didn’t say it aloud, but it came up in her with a kind of shaking strength.
‘Too much time-no, there isn’t too much time at all.’
Afterwards she was to wish that she had said it to him.
CHAPTER 17
It seemed no time at all until he was gone. The day went by and the night came. She went up to bed early. There was a kind of hush upon her spirits. Looking back on it afterwards, it seemed strange to her. It was as if everything waited, she didn’t know for what. She only knew that there was nothing she could do about it-nothing except wait. Deep in her mind the question asked itself, ‘What am I waiting for?’ and every time that happened something moved quickly in those under places and shut it away.
By the time that coffee had been drunk and the tray removed she was so tired that sleeping and waking seemed to be part of a pattern in which she moved uncertainly, with now one side of her awake and on the point of knowing what there was to be known about herself, about the dead girl, about the man who had threatened her; and now another side, not seen but dimly felt, pressing in, just not realized, but certain, sure, and inevitable. Except momentarily, there was no fear. She was able to talk.
There was a long period during which Lilian talked interminably about Christmas cards-how they must be certain to go over the list thoroughly and cut them down as much as possible.
‘Because really they are at least three times as expensive as they used to be, and though I don’t grudge anything to anyone, I must say it does seem a waste, because anything that is worthwhile spending on at all is such a price that I’m sure I don’t know where people get the money from.’
Harriet looked up and said, ‘If nobody sent any cards, we shouldn’t have them for the hospital. It’s dreadful to think of people throwing them away, when you think what has been spent on them.’
Lilian gave a sharp little glance at Anne.
‘I suppose you won’t have any cards to send,’ she said.
Anne wondered what she was to say to that. Then she found herself saying, ‘No.’
‘It gets worse and worse,’ said Lilian. ‘Every year.’
Harriet put down her coffee-cup.
‘Well, we needn’t think about it yet,’ she said.
For some reason the phrase went in and out of Anne’s shifting thought. No need to think or plan for Christmas or any other future day. Take things as they come. Take things as they are. What does it matter? There’s one end to everything.