Liz stared at her. 'Something certainly did.'
'I don't know why you're looking at me like that. What do you mean?'
Liz hadn't the patience to reply to that. 'What do you mean, spreading rumours about me? It was you who told people that I'd left Anna alone the night I came to Gail's party, wasn't it?'
'Oh, Liz, I really can't remember. I may have passed on some story of the kind. I'm sorry if it wasn't true -1 wasn't at the party, after all. Don't let's fall out. Hasn't there been enough viciousness without our starting too? We ought to rally round.'
Liz almost laughed out loud, though without a trace of humour. 'Surely you can't believe that Jane would want to see you.'
'Well, why not? I'm her friend too, aren't I? I should have thought we could forget our differences under the circumstances. I'll do everything I can to help.'
Liz punched the table-top to restrain herself from lashing out. The noise was so loud that parents glanced across from the nursery. 'Are you really as stupid as you make out, Alex? Haven't you done enough?'
'If you're trying to imply that what happened was my fault, I think you're very cruel.' She looked as if she were trying to suppress the moisture in her eyes. 'In any case, I don't agree with you. I really think I relieved some of the strain on their marriage. Derek came to me for things he couldn't get from Jane.'
'I'm sure he did.'
'It's true, however awful you try and make it sound. Do you know that she hadn't let Derek touch her since she was pregnant? Jane didn't kill Georgie because of me, she did it because she should never have had a child. I know we don't like to think of it happening to someone we know, but it happens all the time. You can hardly pick up a newspaper these days without reading of another case.'
Liz hid her fists under the table; her nails were tingling again. 'Do you honestly think it was just another case of a mother losing patience – another battered baby? Have you any idea what Jane did?'
'I know she killed him, and that's all I want to know. I should think that's all you know, as well. You weren't there, were you?'
'No, but I've heard what happened. Someone who was there was so appalled he couldn't keep from talking.' No, but she'd been as near as made no difference, and she'd talked to Jane on the night of their dinner about wanting to harm one's child; she might as well have been at Jane's side, egging her on. 'She didn't just kill him; she tore him to pieces. You made her do that by giving her too much to cope with.'
Alex stood up, overturning her chair. 'I think you're the cruellest person I've ever met. I never want to speak to you again.' She stumbled away, one hand at her eyes, and vanished around the side of the hotel. The parents who had been watching turned away.
But, curiously, speaking her mind hadn't made Liz feel any better, however much Rebecca and Gail would have applauded her; instead she felt exhausted and depressed. Accusing Alex had simply been a way of avoiding her own guilt and Anna's, bloody Anna's. She decided to go back and talk to Jimmy. It was easy to coax him into talking about pleasant things, that was part of his job. Anyway she felt sorry for him; this wasn't much of a preparation for having to deal with a roomful of children. One was more than enough.
She talked to him until the bar closed, then she collected Anna from the nursery, where she and another girl were playing tennis with plastic bats and a sponge ball. Anna looked bored and resentful. At least Maggie had given her lunch; Liz realized that she'd eaten lunch herself at some time during her stay in the bar, and that she was quite drunk. It was a good job she hadn't brought the car. Being drunk didn't make her feel any less guilty about Jane, though.
Her guilt followed her home. The sun swelled as it sank toward the hazy fields; families trudged up from the beach, slow as a herd of cattle in search of water. Anna was tired, and beginning to whine: 'My shoulder hurts. It hurts, mummy. It hurts.' She sounded as if she might go on like that all the way home. 'You won't die of it,' Liz snapped, and the child shut up.
Liz was unlocking the front door when the phone started ringing. Perhaps it meant company. She ran down the hall and lifted the receiver. 'Liz Knight,' she said.
'Mrs Knight? Hetherington here. I fear I owe you an apology.'
Her momentary panic faded; he couldn't know about the claw. 'Why's that?' she said.
'Because I'm afraid I let someone find out your number. Joanna Marlowe, the wife of the anthropologist who gave your husband the artefact. Your number was on my desk when she came to my office the other day, and I suspect she may phone you. Please make allowances for her – 2 expect you know her husband killed himself. You'll appreciate that she's still in a hysterical state.'
Liz knew at once that she'd already had the call – hers was the anonymous shrill voice; but she couldn't admit to it, she wanted time to think. 'Thank you for letting me know,' she said.
'I've been trying for some days. While we're speaking, perhaps I can ask you if there is any news of the artefact.'
'No,' she said at once. 'None at all.'
'Well, please do inform me if anything transpires.'
She put down the receiver and gazed at nothing. She couldn't think now, not until Anna was in bed. Anna had taken off her blouse and was waiting for Liz to notice her shoulder. The bruise was fading a little, which made the scratches more vivid. 'It doesn't look too bad,' Liz said, refusing to feel guilty; the child had asked for it. 'Just don't lie on it.'
'Oh, then can I swim tomorrow?'
'No, not yet. You said it was hurting. You mustn't go in the pool until it's better.' Liz couldn't help enjoying the way Anna had talked herself into that. 'And you must wear a blouse until it is.'
'I don't want to. It looks stupid.'
'Of course it doesn't. I don't, do I?' Why must all her conversations with Anna be so excruciatingly banal? 'Now, no arguments. You know what happened the last time you made me lose my temper.'
They had nothing to say to each other at dinner. If Anna wanted to be sullen, Liz decided she was best ignored. The silence intensified the sounds of eating, as though they both were trapped in a film whose soundtrack was turned up too high – the sea might have been the hiss of the soundtrack. Eating made her feel uncomfortable, as if she'd forgotten how to do it properly. The meat tasted overcooked. Perhaps it was.
Afterward Anna found an Enid Blyton to reread, which at least kept her quiet for a while. Nevertheless Liz couldn't think while the child was in the room; she might want to mumble to herself, she might give herself away somehow; she felt too confused to plan silently. The night closed in, the sea rumbled forward; Liz dozed and felt that the house was sinking into dark water, that she was sinking into a darkness within herself, where something raw was waiting. When she jerked awake and saw that Anna was nodding over the book, she sent her up to bed.
Being alone didn't help much. There were too many thoughts and feelings to deal with: Joanna Marlowe, who'd sounded like a spiteful villager but might have had a message for her after all; the way Liz had accused Alex, as if that would stop her feeling guilty herself; Jane and Georgie and Alan and Anna and, thank God, Jimmy; the claw.. . but whenever she thought of the claw her thoughts slipped awry, and she had to start again.
For some time she dozed. When she woke, she was convinced that she'd made Jane kill Georgie so that she could steal back the claw. The idea had the internal logic of a dream, but was more difficult to shake off than that; she couldn't help feeling that it contained some distorted inkling of the truth. She forced her eyes open, and at once her heart was pounding. Anna was in the doorway, staring fearfully at her.
Why was she looking like that? Liz would give her a reason – she was scared of the claw. She struggled to control her feelings, to wake herself up. 'What's the matter?' she demanded. 'What are you doing downstairs?'