Again he looked about him. Then he looked at me— just as, a moment before, I had looked at him— as if seeing me for the first time. He looked at my hair, my dress, my india-rubber boots. I drew my feet under my skirt.
'I— I'm not sure,' he said.
'Not sure? Not sure of what? Of whether you want to go back to your aunty's and live w i t h t h e p i g s ? O r w h e t h e r y o u w a n t t o g o a n d b e m a n t o M r R i v e r s , i n London— London, mind! Remember them elephants a boy can ride on for a shilling?
Tricky choice, I call that.'
He lowered his gaze. I looked at Nurse Spiller. She had glanced our way, was yawning, and had taken out a watch.
'Pigs?' I said quickly. 'Or elephants? Which is it to be? For God's sake, which?'
He worked his lips. v
'Elephants,' he said, after a terrible silence
'Good boy. Good boy. Thank God. Now, listen. How much money have you got?'
He swallowed. 'Five shillings and sixpence,' he said.
'All right. Here's what you must do. You must go to any town, and find a locksmith's shop; and when you find it you must ask them for— ' I pressed my hand to my eyes. I thought I felt that cloudy water rising again, that flapping curtain. I nearly screamed in fright. Then the curtain drew back— 'for a ward key,' I said, 'a ward key, with a 290
one- inch blank. Say your master wants it. If the man won't sell it, you must steal one.
Now, don't look like that! We shall send the man another when we reach London.
When you've got the blank, keep it safe. Go next to a blacksmith's. Get a file— see my fingers?— same width as this. Show me the width I mean. Good boy, you got it.
Keep the file safe as the blank. Bring them back here, next week— next Wednesday, only Wednesday will do! do you hear me?— and slip them to me. Understand me?
Charles?'
He stared. I had begun to grow wild again. But then he nodded. Then his gaze moved past me and he twitched. Nurse Spiller had left the door-place and was headed our way.
'Time's up,' she said.
We stood. I kept hold of the back of my chair, to keep from sinking. I looked at Charles, as if my eyes could burn into his. I had let his hand fall, but now reached for it again.
'You'll remember, won't you, what I've said?'
He nodded, in a frightened way. He dropped his gaze. He made to draw free his hand and step away. Then a queer thing happened. I felt his fingers move across my palm and found I could not let them go.
'Don't leave me!' I said. The words came from nowhere. 'Don't leave me, please!'
He jumped.
'Now then,' said Nurse Spiller. 'We've no time for this. Come on.'
She began to ungrip my fingers. It took her a moment or two. When his hand was free, Charles drew it quickly back and put his knuckles to his mouth.
'Sad, ain't it?' Nurse Spiller said to him, her arms about my own. My shoulders jumped. 'Don't you mind it, though. It takes them all like this. Better not to come at all, we say. Better not to remind 'em of home. Whips 'em up.' She drew me tighter.
Charles shrank away. 'You be sure now, to tell your people that, when you say what a sad way you found her in— won't you?'
He looked from her to me, and nodded. I said,
'Charles, I'm sorry' My teeth were chattering about the words. 'Don't mind it. It's nothing. Nothing at all.'
But I could see him looking at me now and thinking that I must be mad, after all; and if he thought that, then I was done for, I should be at Dr Christie's house for ever, I should never see Mrs
Sucksby and never have my revenge on Maud.— That thought was sharper than my fear. I willed myself calm, and Nurse Spiller at last let me go. Another nurse came forward, to see Charles to the door: they let me watch him leave, and oh! it was all I could do to keep from running after. As he went, he turned, and stumbled, and met my gaze. Then he looked shocked again. I had tried to smile, and suppose the smile was dreadful.
'You'll remember!' I called, my voice high and strange. 'You'll remember the elephants!'
The nurses shrieked with laughter then. One gave me a push. My strength was all gone, and the push knocked me over. I lay in a heap. 'Elephants!' they said. They 291
stood and laughed at me, until they wept.
That week was a terrible one. I had got my own mind back, the house seemed crueller than ever, and I saw how far I had sunk before in growing used to it. Say I grew used to it again, in seven days? Say I grew stupid? Say Charles came back, and I was too funked to know him? The thought nearly killed me. I did everything I could to keep myself from slipping into a dream again. I pinched my own arms, until they were black with bruises. I bit my own tongue. Each morning I woke with a horrible sense that days had slipped away and I had not noticed. 'What day is today?' I'd ask Miss Wilson and Mrs Price. Of course, they never knew. Miss Wilson always thought, Good Friday. Then I'd ask Nurse Bacon.
'What day is today, Nurse Bacon?'
'Punishment Day,' she'd answer, wincing and rubbing her hands.
Then there was the fear that, after all, Charles wouldn't come— that I had been too mad— that he would lose his nerve, or be overtaken by disaster. I thought of all the likely and unlikely things that might keep him from me— such as, his being seized by gipsies or thieves; run down by bulls; falling in with honest people, who would persuade him to go back home. One night it rained, and I thought of the ditch he was sleeping in filling up with water and him being drowned. Then there came thunder and lightning; and I imagined him sheltering under a tree, with a file in his hand . . .
The whole week passed like that. Then Wednesday came. Dr Graves and Dr Christie went off in their coach and, late in the morning, Nurse Spiller arrived at the door to our room, looked at me and said, 'Well, ain't we charming? There's a certain young shaver downstairs, come back for another visit. We shall be putting out the banns, at this rate ..." She led me down. In the hall, she gave me a poke. 'No monkeying about,'
she said.
This time, Charles looked more afraid than ever. We sat in the same two seats as before and, again, Nurse Spiller stood in the door-place and larked with the nurses in the hall. We sat for a minute in silence. His cheek was white as chalk. I said, in a whisper,
'Charles, did you do it?'
He nodded.
'The blank?'
He nodded again.
'The file?'
Another nod. I put my hand before my eyes.
'But the blank,' he said, in a complaining tone, 'cost nearly all my money. The locksmith said that some blanks are blanker than others. You never told me that. I got the blankest he had.'
I parted my fingers, and met his gaze.