We walk in zigzags, and reach the cave.
We split up and walk in opposite directions. And end up facing each other.
I run up a rise in the floorboards, leaving Gowan at the bottom, and end up looking up at him. He runs away from me, and crashes into me from the other side.
And every
single
time
we end up at the mouth of the cave.
26
told you i was crazy
Round and round the halls we go
running from the shadows.
up and up and up we go,
when he gets you, he swallows!
1980: Catherine goes to check on Pamela and Anne as usual. Ever since Mama’s passing, Catherine has taken the role of carer. She holds the position with pride, and takes it very seriously. Pammy is fast asleep, legs splayed, blankets in disarray on the floor, mouth open—as usual. Cath smiles.
Wild child.
One day, she is beginning to realize, Pamela Grey will break the hearts of many boys. Many men.
One day she will run away.
The last thought is unexpected. She pushes it away, but an icy chill has taken hold of her spine, like a cool hand, and won’t let go.
She takes the blankets off the floor and covers Pammy up, then bends to kiss her hot cheek, and whispers, “Be careful, little nut.”
When Catherine goes to check on Anne, she finds the bed empty and the window open. Moonlight flickers into the room as the wind blows the curtains back and forth.
Dark, light, dark, light.
Flickerflickerflickerflicker.
“Anne?” Cath rushes into the room. “Anne?”
No, no, no…
She runs to the window and leans out, scanning the garden. Anne wouldn’t be that stupid, surely.… Python Wood looms in the darkness and Catherine senses its grin. She wants to scream Anne’s name into the night, but Papa would wake. It is her job to protect him from things like this. He needs to work so they can eat, and to work, he needs to sleep.
She swallows. I’m going to have to go out there.
She realizes this with a rising sense of dread. It is a cold, murky feeling inside her. She will have to go out there… at night. Out in Python Wood with the trees dancing in the wind with their long, leering shadows.
She has one leg out the window already when she hears it.
A sniffle from inside the room.
“Anne?”
Another one… and a soft whimper. It is coming from the wardrobe. She walks over to it slowly and opens the doors. Anne sits huddled at the bottom, wrapped in too many blankets to count, hugging her red-scarfed penguin doll tightly.
“Cathy?” Her voice is tiny in the expanse of the room.
“Anne! What are you doing in there?”
“I’m hiding. It’s safer.”
Catherine laughs, breathless in her relief. “Hiding! Hiding from what?”
Anne leans forward and peers around the room. “I can’t…”
Cath climbs into the closet next to Anne and shuts the doors from the inside. The darkness is total, and Catherine is loath to admit that she does feel, somehow, safer. It is irrational.
“What are you hiding from, Anne?”
“The Creeper Man.”
“Why would you hide from our protector? That’s silly.”
“But he’s not our protector, Cathy. He’s not. He’s a bad man. He’s all wrong.”
“Don’t say that. What would Pammy say?”
“Pammy already knows.”
Catherine is stumped. A secret? Anne and Pamela never keep secrets from her.
That you know of, comes the horrible thought.
A terrible empty hollowness has opened up in her belly.
“Oh.”
“We knew you wouldn’t believe us,” Anne says. Her voice is apologetic.
“I do. I do believe you.”
Cath can hear the smile in Anne’s next word. “Liar.”
“What the hell?”
Gowan shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“I think there’s a reason we keep ending up here,” I say, staring into the pitiless dark.
“I think so, too.”
“It’s like I’m supposed to go in and face whatever’s in there.”
Gowan nods. “I think that’s the only choice.”
“But it’s full of lies.”
“No. I don’t think so. I think it’s trying to show you something.”
I stare at the cave with rising foreboding. “I’m not sure.…”
“It’s your choice, Silla.”
“We keep ending up here. So… I think I have to try.”
Gowan smiles. “I’m with you.”
I am beyond what is impossible. I want Nori and I did hear her bell inside. No matter how dark or damp that cave is, no matter what I see, I have to go in. I have to find her.
I go.
This is a La Baume I’ve never seen. Sunlight streams through bright windows that shimmer like crystals, falling onto a table draped in a white tablecloth of the breakfast room. It is crisp, clean, and dry. The air smells floral, sunflowers sitting in a vase on the table. Next to the flowers are five large cans of yellow paint, one open, a tray and roller sitting to the side. Yellow paint, again.
A lovely voice floats across the room, as though carried on the sunbeams. It is warm, honeylike, and rich.