Lesley Thomson - A Kind of Vanishing

‘What’s the matter?’ He was concerned, perhaps even nervous, which Alice thought strange. Maybe he wished she would leave and didn’t know how to suggest it.

‘I ought to be going. Thank you for having me. It’s a lovely secret hidey-hole. I like it very much.’ When Alice had imagined being with Doctor Ramsay, she had pictured herself having loads of interesting things to tell him and original comments to make about anything he showed her. Instead, here she was, like one of Eleanor’s abandoned dolls plonked on a huge settee, her feet only just reaching the carpet, with nothing to say. She was prickling with heat and unable to see properly because the hot sun flooding through the open window shone full in her face.

Eleanor would still be searching for her at the Tide Mills. Her Mum would be worrying about where Alice had got to. Doctor Ramsay had seemed an escape from playing with Eleanor, but he wasn’t. Tomorrow he would go back to being a doctor and Alice would have to see Eleanor for three more days. She wanted to go home. Even Doctor Ramsay was disappointing. He had promised a secret but there was no secret. Alice saw with a perception beyond her years that Doctor Ramsay was ordinary. She had been right all along. There were no real magic places. There was no Wonderland.

She would have to lie and say she had been ill and Doctor Ramsay had taken her to his study. She had never lied to her Mum. Maybe Doctor Ramsay himself already judged that Alice was a bad girl for agreeing to come with him and leaving Eleanor. Perhaps he had been doing the Traitor Test after all. Alice slid off the settee and stood up, tugging at her dress. Doctor Ramsay had locked the door when they came in. She would have to ask him to open it.

‘Oh, you can’t go. I haven’t shown you my secret place.’ He stood in front of her, his hands on his hips. He was frowning now, his eyes looking at something behind her, above her head.

‘I thought this was it,’ Alice retorted. In the distance she heard the grandfather clock strike four times. Four o’clock. The time she had told her Mum she would come home.

‘Oh no wonder you’re cross with me!’

‘I’m not cro…’

‘What I have to show you is far more special.’ Doctor Ramsay didn’t move. They might have been the waxworks Alice had hoped he would take her to see.

Alice was astonished by his expression. He was looking directly at her. He was frightened. Alice took a step nearer to the door.

‘If I’m late my Mum will kill me.’ The words tumbled out.‘I want to go home.’

He had her by the hand, strong fingers closed down on her thin wrist, not like before, which she had liked, but squeezing so tight that it made her eyes smart as he pulled her over to him. He began to shake her arm as if it didn’t belong to her while staring wildly at the thin flapping thing.

‘Just do as I say.’ Alice had heard him speak like that to Eleanor during the flower picking expedition and she had refused to pay proper attention. Eleanor had ignored him and gone running off by herself. There was nowhere for Alice to run. He was blocking the way to the locked door. He grasped her shoulders and spun her around to face the fireplace. All Alice could think in those last moments was that there would be bruises on her arms and that she would have to lie about them too.

They were walking towards the wood-panelled wall, keeping close together, the way her father used to march with Alice standing on top of his big black postman shoes.

Clump. Clump. Clump. Moving without moving.

She was going to bang straight into the wall. Then he leaned over her head and gave the carved wooden rose by the side of the fireplace a thump with the flat of his palm. This action made no sense to Alice, but then nor did what happened next.

The panelling began to slide. It swung inwards, like a revolving door. Then it shuddered to a halt leaving a low doorway through which came a guff of chill air that smelled like the tramp.

Doctor Ramsay pushed Alice through the dark entrance. Once inside he pushed the wall back the way it had come. At the same moment as it clicked back into place, a dusty bulb dangling from the ceiling on a long wire came on so that they were just able to see.

It was a very small space, about six feet square with a lower ceiling than the room they had left behind. In one corner was an old lumpy armchair. Beside the chair was a pile of notebooks and paper. A bottle of whiskey stood next to a glass that had fallen on its side. It was much like Eleanor’s den in the hedge but not as homely. Alice had no wish to make this den into a proper home.

As she got used to the dull light, Alice saw that a bundle in the far right-hand corner was a pile of clothes that looked like someone had got undressed quickly without hanging anything up. It made her think of the tramp after Doctor Ramsay had knocked him over. She staggered slightly as Doctor Ramsay loosened his grip on her and let her go. She leaned on the wall to stop herself falling.

Then she saw her cardigan.

She had been sure she had left it at the White House, but when she asked, no one had seen it. Doctor Ramsay had even said he would make sure to keep a special eye out for it and she had been pleased. He had offered to lend her his jacket for the flower expedition. Alice had suspected that Eleanor had stolen it. She knew she was lying when she said she didn’t know where it was. She had looked guilty. Afterwards Alice had felt bad for making it obvious she suspected Eleanor because she knew her Mum would be ashamed of her for even thinking such a bad thing of a new friend. Especially one of the Ramsays. But once again her Mum was wrong. The Ramsays did steal things. ‘I don’t like it here.’ Something prevented Alice from mentioning the cardigan.

‘No one knows about my den.’

‘I want to go home.’

‘You’ve only just got here. You wanted to come. It was your idea.’ He had the little boy’s voice again, but this time Alice didn’t want to make him better.

‘That’s not true.’ Alice pulled away as he tried to take her hand. She caught the whiskey bottle which tipped over. The top hadn’t been screwed on and liquid welled out over the floor, soaking the clothes. She dived forward and snatched up her cardigan.

Then as her eyes grew accustomed to the light Alice saw the passage beyond the bundle of clothes. It was beyond the darkest part of the chamber. There was another way out.

‘Calm down.’ Mark Ramsay wasn’t calm. He kept wiping his hands on his trousers. He appeared unable to make sense of how things had turned out and keen to make friends again. Once again he tried to touch her. It was obvious he only meant to calm Alice down while he found the catch to open the wall. He was sure there was still time to explain the mistake and take her home. That was definitely still possible.

But unexpectedly Alice made a lunge for the passage and Mark knew she could escape that way. At the end of the passage was another secret door. This only opened from the inside on to the landing. It was cleverly constructed to form part of the wooden panelling. Only Mark Ramsay knew it was there. All Alice would have to do was turn the knob and she would be free. It dawned on Mark what he had done. Alice running away from him was the worst thing she could do. He grappled fiercely with her. He held her. But she slipped away leaving only her cardigan. The whiskey-soaked wool that only last night he had clutched to his face with thoughts of such tenderness spelled his doom. He flew after her and halfway down the passage caught her and dragged her back by her lovely hair into the priest’s hole.

Alice stared up into his face uncomprehending as he smiled weakly at her. Her last impression was that he was trying to ask her a question but she couldn’t speak. As Doctor Ramsay’s hands closed around her neck, it seemed to Alice that the light bulb in the ceiling went out.