The gates finally opened. The lodge-keeper smiled at Maud as they walked through and Maud smiled back a bit uncertainly. They were outside, and they were safe. When she glanced back the lodge-keeper was standing there waving to them so she waved back.
Mamma did not speak as they went along, but she held Maud’s hand very tightly, and her hand was cold and trembly. Maud wondered if she dared ask about the man, but she was afraid mamma’s voice might take on the dreadful mad sound again so she said nothing. They were just over the little crossroads, and nearing the turning to Scraptoft Lane when a figure stepped out from behind a tree. The man was in front of them, barring their way.
There was no time to wonder what had happened or how he had got out. Mamma gasped, and then keeping tight hold of Maud’s hand began to run back the way they had come. The lane was bumpy and rutted; Maud stumbled several times and struggled to keep up. She thought the man was following them, but surely at any minute they would be bound to meet someone who would help them–a carter or a farmer about an early-morning task.
But there was no one. There were not even any cottages where they might have knocked on the door and asked to be taken inside. Her mother hesitated, and then took the road that led past Twygrist. ‘We’ll have to go this way,’ she said, gasping with the effort of running. ‘We can’t go home because he’s behind us. Blocking the way. So we’ll go towards Amberwood Magna–there are houses just beyond the bridge. We’ll ask for help at one of them.’
‘I can’t run any more–mamma, I can’t—’
‘Then I must carry you.’ But they had only gone a very short way before mamma had to set Maud down and double over, gasping for breath. The bridge was still some way ahead of them and clearly they were not going to reach it before the man caught them. There was only one building along this stretch of the road where they might hide. Twygrist.
Mamma, still struggling to get her breath, stared at it, and when Maud said, ‘In there? Can we hide in there?’ she shuddered. But then she said, ‘Yes. Yes,’ there’s nowhere else.’
They had gone up the slope together and in through the door–Maud could not remember now if it had been open or if her mother had broken the lock to get them in–and then they had been in the safe dark silence of the mill. Mamma pushed the door nearly closed, and they stood behind it.
‘We’ll stay here, Maud. He won’t see us and even if he does, he won’t dare come inside. He must have slipped through the gates while the lodge-keeper was waving to us, that’s what must have happened.’
Her voice was strained and frightened and Maud saw she was listening very hard for the sound of footsteps. Maud was listening for them as well, but everywhere was quiet.
Her mother peered through the chink in the nearly closed door, and said suddenly, ‘He’s coming. Oh God, he’s coming. We’ll have to hide–but where? Where?’
‘Up there?’ said Maud, pointing.
‘Yes, clever girl. Quickly then. We can crouch down and even if he does come in, he’ll never see us. Don’t make a sound.’
So they had gone up a little flight of flimsy wooden stairs, and had hidden in the corner behind the stone grinding wheels. Maud, whose teeth were chattering with terror, thought they should not really hide from a giant behind grinding wheels: giants liked things like that, they sang a song about grinding men’s bones to make their bread. If the giant knew there were grinding stones in here, he would be sure to come inside. She glanced nervously behind her at the waterwheels towering into the shadows.
Here he came now. The door was pushed open, and the dull morning light came in. There was the sound of heavy footsteps, and of the floor creaking under them. It was an old floor and it creaked a lot.