Property of a Lady

When she tried to put together a few things to take to the hospital, her hands were shaking so badly she could not do it, and it was Lisa who folded pyjamas and slippers for Beth, and fetched sponge and toothbrush from the bathroom.

‘It’s only routine checks they’re doing,’ Lisa said. ‘She’s fine – the inspector was very clear about that. They might keep her overnight, just to be sure.’

Lisa drove them to the hospital, which was small enough to warrant the term cottage, and it was the sight of Beth obediently lying in the narrow bed in the children’s ward that finally broke through Nell’s defences. Tears streamed down her face, and she wanted to snatch Beth out of bed and never let her go.

‘Sweetheart, you had me so worried. What happened?’

‘I ‘spect you thought you’d lost me,’ said Beth, uncertainly.

‘No, I’ll never lose you, never ever. Wherever you are, I’ll always find you.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise absolutely.’ Beth seemed content with this. She submitted to her mother’s hug for a moment longer, then wriggled free and lay back on the pillows.

‘What happened?’ said Nell, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her hands.

Beth seemed reassured by this practical approach. She sat up. ‘I’m not ezzackerly sure,’ she said. ‘I went to school, only I think I sort of fell asleep because it was – um – like the nightmare.’ Her pupils contracted, and a shiver went through her small body. ‘I didn’t know you could fall asleep and not know,’ she said.

‘It hardly ever happens. It can’t happen again,’ said Nell at once. ‘And you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’

‘I don’t remember it much,’ said Beth. ‘Except it was the nightmare sort of starting while I was awake. Nightmares aren’t supposed to do that, are they?’ She looked at Nell for reassurance.

‘They don’t, and they won’t again,’ said Nell.

‘Oh, you’ve brought the animal people,’ said Beth. ‘Can I have them in bed with me? Thanks.’ She wrapped her arms round the furry creatures Nell had asked Lisa to pack, then, not looking at Nell, said, ‘He was there, that was the really bad thing.’

‘The – man from the nightmare?’ Nell said this cautiously. She had no idea if she should let Beth talk or if it would be better to let her think it really had been a form of nightmare.

‘Um, yes. I didn’t look at his face, but I know there weren’t any eyes in it – just black holes.’ The shudder came again. ‘And he sings as he walks along.’

‘Sings?’

‘The rhyme about the hand and the dead man – I told you about that.’

Nell thought: oh God, the Hand of Glory. That’s what she means. Alice’s rhyme.

‘Open lock to the dead man’s knock . . .

Fly bolt, and bar, and band.

Sleep all who sleep – wake all who wake.

But be as the dead for the dead man’s sake . . .’

In as down-to-earth a voice as she could manage, she said, ‘Some people do sing to themselves. It does sound a bit odd though, doesn’t it? And I think that’s a local rhyme – a bit like a nursery rhyme.’

‘It was pretty spooky, actually. But what was really odd is that I sort of had to go after the music to find out about it. I know I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers and stuff,’ said Beth earnestly, ‘but I couldn’t help it, honestly, Mum. It sort of pulled me along, an’ it’s not even as if it was nice music,’ she said, indignantly.

‘Some music can do that,’ said Nell carefully. ‘It’s pretty rare, though.’

‘I thought,’ said Beth, ‘that if I ever met him properly, that man from the nightmare, it’d be really frightening. But it wasn’t. He’s very sad, and you can’t be frightened of a sad person,’ said Beth, suddenly sounding much older than her seven years. She paused, frowning. ‘But there was something else, Mum, an’ that’s why I wasn’t absolutely all-time frightened.’

‘Yes?’

Beth was studiedly picking at a thread in the sheet, no longer looking at Nell. In a low voice, she said, ‘It wasn’t me he wanted.’

‘Well – well, that’s good,’ said Nell.