Маргарет Миллар - The Cannibal Heart

“You didn’t see any devils, did you?” Evelyn said.

“I heard them.”

“What nonsense! Come with Mark and me and we’ll show you what nonsense it is.”

“I’d rather — stay here.” She saw that her mother had turned quite pale, so that the freckles on the bridge of her nose and across her cheekbones stood out like brown crumbs on a white tablecloth.

“Now listen, Jessie. Do you want to know the real reason why the pool was boarded up? It was because the lady who used to live here was afraid her little boy might fall in. See, they couldn’t spare any water to put in the pool, and you can take a pretty bad tumble into a dry swimming pool.”

“What was the little boy’s name?”

“Billy. Billy Wakefield.”

Jessie nodded. Now that the little boy had such a real-sounding name, it was very possible that he was a real boy, not a once-there-was boy. This real boy was given to falling from places and into places, just like Jessie herself, so the story about the swimming pool sounded quite plausible.

“I never believed there were devils,” she said contemptuously. “I ran away for fun to scare Luisa.”

Mark raised his thick straight eyebrows in a half-amused way. “Even so, I think we’ll settle this business once and for all. Come on, Jess. We’ll go and get Luisa and investigate the pool.”

“She won’t come.”

“She’ll come if I have to drag her by the hair.”

Jessie giggled at this delightful vision — Luisa being dragged through the woods by her long crackly hair, screaming piteously. Luisa bereft of her magic powers. Luisa unbewitched, cut down to girl-size again.

Walking down the steps between her father and her mother, Jessie felt wonderfully brave.

“I forgot to tell you, Jess,” Mark said. “We’re having company today or tomorrow.”

“Company with children?”

“No children, no. It’s a grown-up lady called Mrs. Wakefield.”

“That’s the little boy’s name. Why isn’t she going to bring him with her?”

“I don’t know,” Mark said, after a slight hesitation.

Jessie let out a squeal of anticipation.

Company, even if it was only another grown-up lady, was always exciting. It meant someone new to talk to without interruption, and a new pair of eyes to marvel at her hoard of treasures — the doll igloo she was making out of abalone shells, her new friend, James the gander who could make fearful noises, the double swing Mr. Roma had hung from the pepper tree, and, best of all, the baby starfish she had found yesterday in a tide pool. The starfish was no bigger than a silver dollar, and Jessie kept it in a bowl of sea water in her room and fed it everything she could think of that a starfish might like.

“When is she coming?”

“We don’t know exactly.”

“I’ll show her my starfish and I’ll take her down to see...”

“Well, don’t make a nuisance of yourself,” Mark said, with a little warning glance. “And don’t talk her head off. She’s — not feeling very well.”

“Has she got nerves like you?”

“That’s right.”

They found Luisa in a corner of the kitchen reading a movie magazine and sucking an orange. She kept her gaze fixed on the magazine, deliberately ignoring their presence, until Mark spoke:

“We’re going to take a little walk in the wood. We’d like you to come along.”

Luisa’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, and she shook her head, with the orange still fastened to her mouth like a huge leech.

“I’d like to see these ghosts or devils of yours, Luisa.”

Luisa opened her mouth and the orange dropped into her lap. “I didn’t do a thing to her,” she said, with a black look at Jessie. “I didn’t do a single thing.”

“Come along, anyway.”

They walked in single file out the door.

James the gander waddled over from his usual place beneath the magnolia tree. No one knew for certain why he preferred this spot, though Mr. Roma had suggested that it was because the fresh-fallen magnolia petals looked like huge snowy goose eggs.

He advanced on them, hissing in a half-friendly, half-warning manner. James’ origin was uncertain; he had simply appeared one day, and stayed. He was very old now, and his one eye had clouded and his temper was uncertain, but he still felt it was his duty to patrol the yard, and keep things in order. Though he actually despised people, he sometimes needed them, in the absence of geese or other ganders. At night, when he had a spell of loneliness, he rapped his bill against the lighted windows, or scraped it up and down the screen door of the kitchen, coaxing for a little companionship, however objectionable it might be. It was difficult to be fond of James because of his haughty contempt for the human race, but it was equally difficult to dislike him.

Hissing, he followed them as far as the garage, then circled back again to the magnolia tree with cumbersome dignity.

“Here, James,” Jessie called. “Come on, James.” The gander snorted, and shuffled around and around among the fallen petals of the magnolia.

The beginning of the path that led to the woods was made of flagstones, bordered on the left with scraggly pelargoniums, and on the sea side a cypress hedge to break the wind. The cypress was dying from the drought, and when the wind touched it, it mourned and dropped its needles like tears. Further on, where the flagstones ended, the path was crackly with oak leaves that stung Jessie’s bare feet.

At the pepper tree where Mr. Roma had hung Jessie’s swing, the path curved abruptly to the left, past a wide barranca filled with scrub oak, and huge boulders where the lizards sunned themselves at noon. Over the barranca there was a bridge made of planks and wire cable, but no one knew who had built it or how old it was and how safe. When the wind blew, the bridge rocked and squeaked, and the only ones who ever used it were the jays and the mocking birds who came to sing and quarrel and splatter their droppings, and the termites who tunneled through the planks, leaving behind tiny pellets of wood.

With Jessie in the lead, they scrambled down over the boulders and up on the other side into a grove of eucalyptus and juniper trees. In a clearing in the middle of the grove was the small swimming pool, neatly covered with planks nailed together at the ends. It looked like a raised little dance floor, and this was precisely what Jessie had used it for until today.

“Well, I don’t see any devils,” Mark said, with exaggerated surprise.

“I just told her that,” Luisa muttered.

“Why?”

“I had to tell her something. She’s always following me. No matter where I go she follows me. I’ve got a life of my own to live.” She glanced at Mark out of the corner of her eye. “Besides, she wanted to take the boards off. She got a hammer out of the garage.”

“I wanted it to be a wading pool,” Jessie said anxiously. “In case it rains.”

“The boards are supposed to stay on. Mrs. Wakefield said so. She put them on herself.”

Mark went over and tried to loosen one of the planks but it wouldn’t budge. “She did a good enough job. It seems a funny spot to build a pool in the first place.”

“Mr. Wakefield liked privacy,” Luisa said. “He didn’t like anyone else around.” The mention of Mr. Wakefield seemed to make her uneasy. She glanced over her shoulder and added in a burst, “Can I go now? I’m supposed to be watching the beans.”

“It’s getting chilly,” Evelyn said. “We might as well all go, if Jessie is satisfied. You’re not frightened anymore, are you, Jessie?”

“No.” Jessie stared grimly down at her big toe where two ants were rather ticklishly playing follow the leader. Mr. Roma said all the ants were searching for water, which was why they often invaded the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom. Thoughtfully, Jessie spit on the ground, and then with her forefinger she eased the thirsty ants off her big toe so they could locate the spit. “I was never frightened a bit .”