Eighteen
Before long, the party overflowed out of the hotel bar and into the foyer. Red wine tinted the goldfish pond, cigarette stubs were gathering at the roots of the potted plants; now and then the roar of conversation and laughter made the cut-glass chandeliers jingle. Most of the hotel guests had been drawn into the party now that their children were in bed, and then there were Gail's and Ned's friends from here to Norwich – big-buttocked girls who ran a riding school, middle-aged ladies Liz had seen sitting at their easels on the cliffs, a fiery old woman called Mrs Tremayne, who had made an elaborate flower arrangement specially and was now shaking her stick at Gaiclass="underline" 'Don't you be saying I shouldn't have made you a present, Gail Marshall.' A pair of Labradors were chasing through the ground floor into the bar, where the chef was arm-wrestling all comers; from there into the lounge where Jimmy the barman was singing folk songs to a guitar – and finally round and round the goldfish pond, almost knocking Rebecca from her perch on the stone rim, where she sat looking pensive. No doubt she was thinking about Jane. Liz felt almost guilty for enjoying herself so much.
There was no doubt about it, she appreciated having an evening away from Anna. Of course, she and Alan could hire sitters – sulky teenage girls who seemed to regard the job as one more dull village activity – but a night like this was special. It was like not being married at all, except that at the end of it she'd be able to go home to everything she and Alan had built together. She felt ten years younger, especially now that she'd had a few drinks. To think she'd been doubtful about leaving Alan at home!
She wandered through the crowd, looking for someone she knew well enough to flirt with. At least Alex wasn't here, though in view of the fact that Jane hadn't come Liz wouldn't have been surprised to see her escorted by Derek. Of course the theft from Jane's bag was. really the last straw. She must have the Walterses round to dinner; surely there was a way to force Derek to face the situation before it was too late? In the lounge Jimmy was singing We Shall Overcome so passionately that she thought he must be quite drunk. Sidestepping the Labradors, she went into the bar.
Ned was coaxing corks out of several dusty liqueur bottles that had been here longer than the Marshalls. 'Here you are, Liz,' he shouted through the crowd. 'You don't want to miss this.' She struggled across the room, which was hot and smoky even though the windows were open, and he thrust a glass of something into her hand. She was about to take a sip when she heard a child crying; the switchboard was connected to microphones in all the rooms. 'It's Tessa,' Gail announced, and the little girl's mother hurried upstairs. Liz couldn't help smiling to herself: for once, she didn't have to listen for Anna – not tonight. She turned and chatted to Ned and some of his friends; then, when she-began to feel dizzy with heat and smoke, she wormed her way out to the foyer and went to see what Jimmy was doing.
The ferocity of his last song seemed to have lost him his audience, for he was sitting alone in the lounge, among the disintegrating magazines and the cupboards full of board games, with the guitar between his knees and his chin resting above the pegs. His long face and full lips were drooping.
'I hate to think what you're going to sing now,' Liz said, in an attempt to cheer him up.
He tried to smile. 'I don't feel much like singing at all.'
Liz sat beside him on the musty settee. 'Anything I can do to help?'
'No, and I can't do anything either.' He was running his thumbnail up and down the lowest string, making a sound like a discordant saw. 'It's my girlfriend Heather. She's in trouble with the law.'
'Nothing serious, I hope.'
'Depends what you call serious.' He slapped his hand over the soundhole, suffocating the echoes of the string. 'Half a gram of cannabis,' he said, with sudden fury. 'Just about enough to make one joint. Would you say that was serious?'
'No, not really.'
'Tell that to the law. You'd think she'd assaulted a child or something. If she lived in a big city, the police probably wouldn't even care; but she's living in a small town, so she'll have to go in front of small-town magistrates.' He was sawing at the string again, so savagely that his nail was cracking. 'And that's only the start of it. She's training to be a teacher – that's how we met. Christ knows what this'll do to her career.'
Liz was sympathetic, but growing ill at ease; another child was crying out for her mother, and it sounded uncomfortably like Anna. 'She'll still be able to get a job somewhere, though, won't she?'
'What, with a police record? You reckon that's a good qualification for teaching, do you?' He looked ashamed of losing his temper with her. 'Sorry – some of the people whojvere in here before got on my nerves. There was one girl so pissed she could hardly stand up who was telling me all about the evils of drugs. Anyone who uses drugs should be flogged in public, and all that frigging nonsense.' He grinned mirthlessly. 'Well, no use letting people like that get through to you. That won't help Heather.'
Liz squeezed his hand. 'I'm sure it won't turn out as badly as you think. Whatever happens, she's lucky to have you to look after her.' But Jimmy didn't seem comforted. She would have stayed with him – it dismayed her to see him so downcast, and she was sure that she could raise his spirits – but the faint cries of 'Mummy' were nagging at her. She knew she ought not to interfere: it couldn't be
Anna, however much it sounded like her. But at the same time she wanted to go and find out what was wrong.
Jimmy's long fingers were limp in her hand. Perhaps he was only suffering her touch and really wanted to be left alone. 'Let me know what happens, anyway,' Liz said, 'and you know you can count on me if there's anything I can do to help.' She was already heading for the foyer. Really, someone had to see to that child.
But when she reached the foyer, she could no longer hear the cries. Someone must have gone to her at last. Liz wandered around the foyer and almost fell over the romping Labradors. She couldn't see anyone she knew. She was relieved to see Mr Mullen, Joseph's father, hadn't come to the party; she wouldn't have known what to say to him. She paused by the switchboard – still no sound – then she went to see what Ned was uncorking.
She had just entered the bar when everyone suddenly went quiet. For a moment she thought it was something she had done. Conversations failed one after another, layers of sound peeled away to reveal the silence. But nobody was looking at her; they were ail staring at the open windows. Was it going to be another anniversary surprise? Then Liz heard the cries again, louder and more desperate – not from the switchboard at all, but out there in the dark.
'Anna!' she cried, so loudly that the crowd fell back to let her reach the window. Before she reached it she was running.
Almost at once she was beyond the light of the hotel, and the bright mats of grass, rectangular and spiky, were giving way to velvety darkness. Only the roaring of the sea stopped her short of the edge of the cliff. Underfoot the grass was slippery. She went forward cautiously, furious with herself for taking so much time.
When she reached the edge, she saw Anna. The beach was a long sinuous glimmer, foam flecking the border of sea and sand, but the palest shape was a small lonely figure at the foot of the cliff. 'Anna!' Liz cried, suddenly afraid that the tiny figure wouldn't move. But Anna cried out and began to run desperately back and forth as Liz ranged along the cliff top, looking for the nearest path down.
Finding it, she ran down the steep dim narrow slope, clutching at handfuls of grass, her heart lurching as sand slithered from under her feet. Anna was scrambling toward her, and they met halfway. The child hurled herself on Liz as if she was drowning and clung to her, shaking and sobbing. Though Liz couldn't see her in any detail, she seemed physically unharmed. That was one less fear – but what had happened to Alan? 'AH right, mummy's here,' she murmured, over and over. 'It's all right now. What's wrong?'