Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

A harsh voice said very quietly, ‘Get that bastard out of my house,’ and Ella flinched, not so much at the word ‘bastard’ – although it was a very bad swear word indeed – but at the voice itself. It was a terrible voice, harsh and grating, as if the owner’s throat was shredded into bloodied strips, or almost as if there was no throat there at all. She glanced nervously at her mother for guidance.

‘You’ve had your last lot of money from this family,’ said the faceless creature from its shadowy corner. ‘And you’ve been well enough paid for your whoring. I bought that cottage for you. But there’s no money left now, do you understand that?’

‘You’re a liar,’ said Mum. ‘You have money, all right. Plenty of it.’

‘How dare you speak to me like that? Remember your place, Ford.’

Ford. That was how people used to speak to servants. As if they were scarcely even people, not even entitled to their own names. Some of the anger came back into Ella, and then the head turned towards her again.

‘Does the child know who she is? Does she know what she is?’

‘No,’ said Ella’s mother at once. ‘She doesn’t need to.’

‘Get her out of my house,’ said the voice. ‘Or did you bring her here to gloat over me? Because if so—’ The figure stood up, moving slowly, and came forward. For the first time Ella saw that the gloved hands held a walking stick.

‘I’m not gloating,’ said Ella’s mother. ‘I never have. I’m sorry for you. But it doesn’t stop me hating you.’

‘You can’t hate me any more than I hate you,’ said the figure. ‘You ruined us all, you slut. And you – child – get out of my house!’

This last was aimed at Ella, and the stick was lifted, threateningly. Ella, frightened she was going to be attacked, flinched, stumbling backwards against the wall. In that moment her mother moved forward, screaming something. Ella couldn’t make out all the words, but it was something about evil cruel monsters.

‘Oh, you’re showing your true colours now, Ford,’ said the voice, and the stick was lifted again. Ella cried out a warning, but her mother had already dodged out of the way. Ella thought she would fall against the table, but somehow she regained her balance and lunged forward. Her fists were clenched and there was an expression on her face Ella had never seen before – a white twisted look of fury, like a snarling animal. It frightened Ella so much that she cowered back into a corner of the room, cramming her knuckles against her eyes so she could not see her mother’s face, trying not to cry in case they heard her, but hearing herself sobbing anyway.

There was the sound of the stick clattering to the ground and of a piece of heavy furniture scraping across the dry floor and banging against something. A dreadful harsh cry came and then there was silence. Slowly and fearfully Ella took her hands away from her eyes. There was the room, shadowy and a bit dingy, with the furniture all the same – desk, cabinet, bookshelves, the gramophone on a small side table, its lid open. But the stick lay on the ground and the chair had skidded back against the fireplace wall. The dark figure was seated in it once again. But it’s all wrong, thought Ella, trying to see clearly through her tears. People don’t sit like that, with their head lolling to one side.

She looked across at her mother, who was standing at the centre of the room. Her fists were clenched, and her hair had come loose from the scarf; several strands hung over her face. Her face was shiny with sweat or tears, and although the snarling-animal expression was fading, it was still there.

But then her mother said, ‘Ella?’ almost as if she was not sure who Ella was.

‘Yes. I’m here.’ She whispered it in case the figure with its lolling head suddenly got out of the chair and came towards them. She did not dare take her eyes from it in case it moved.

‘Are you all right?’ said her mother.

‘Yes.’ Ella was not all right, but it was better to pretend.

‘You’d better wait outside. I won’t be a moment.’

‘Is he all right?’

‘He’s— Yes,’ said her mother. ‘Oh, yes, quite all right. But wait outside.’ It was the familiar, slightly sharp voice, and Ella went out and sat down on the step of the French window. She could hear her mother moving around inside the room. There was a bumpy movement that sounded like a piece of furniture being shunted across the floor, and then into the silence came the music once again. Someone had started the gramophone record again. Had Mum done that? After a moment she came out, dusting her hands on the front of her skirt.

‘Everything’s quite all right,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry you saw that, Ella. But people sometimes say horrid things when they aren’t well. It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Should we get a doctor?’

‘Oh, a doctor isn’t necessary. I’ve even put the music back on. I expect you can hear it.’

‘Yes.’

‘But,’ said Ella’s mother, in a different voice, ‘I think it would be better if no one knows we were here today. We don’t need to tell anyone about it. Not even your best friends, do you understand that?’

‘Yes.’

Ella thought she would not want to tell anyone about it anyway, and she specially would not want anyone to know how her mother had looked for those few minutes, all twisted and snarly. Still, she was glad they did not need to get a doctor, which would have meant going to a telephone box and perhaps being asked why they had been inside Cadence Manor. It sounded as if the man had just been knocked out. People did get knocked out, she had seen it on the television.

Neither of them spoke as they walked along the lane, but as they came to the stile on the edge of Mordwich Meadow, Ella’s mother suddenly said, ‘I believe I’ll just sit down here for a moment, Ella. I’m not ill or anything, but my legs are a bit shaky.’ She managed a half-smile. ‘What they call reaction. It’s quite nasty to be shouted at and threatened. So we’ll sit here for a minute or two while I collect myself. I’ll have a drop of my medicine, I think, then we’ll go straight home.’

The medicine was kept in her handbag in a small bottle; she reached for it now and unscrewed the top. Ella waited until Mum had drunk two capsful.

‘That’s better,’ she said, putting the bottle away. ‘We’ll go home in a minute.’

Ella wanted nothing more than to go home to ordinary things that would help her forget the way her mother had looked inside Cadence Manor, and that shadowy lolling figure sitting in the chair. There were lots of things to look forward to. The TV serial, and tomorrow she would be writing the programme for the school play, and on Friday was the nature study lesson, which she always enjoyed…

Nature study.

She said, ‘I left all the gentians in that room. I dropped them on the floor.’

‘For goodness’ sake, that doesn’t matter.’

‘Yes, but I wrapped my hankie and scarf round them because of the roots. And it’s my school scarf with my name on. You said no one must know we were here.’

They looked at each other and Ella saw for the first time that her mother was not just shaky because of being shouted at or because of drinking her medicine, she was frightened. This was the worst thing yet, because Mum was never frightened, not of anything in the world. But here she was, sitting on the stile, which normally she would never have done, her legs all floppy as if they had no bones in them, reaching for another dose of her medicine with hands that shook so badly she spilled some of it down her front. Her face was streaked with tears and she was frightened to death because Ella’s scarf with her name was inside that room.