Clara woke up with aching breasts…the way
they used to ache when Joshua was a baby. She hugged her arms tightly to her
chest and rocked backwards and forwards on the bed. It was night and her
bedside table-lamp was on. She still felt a bit woozy from the sedatives but
she was determined to fight it off. She got up and went to the dressing table.
When she looked in the mirror in the half-light it was worse than she thought.
She looked like a mad-woman, with dark, sunken, staring eyes, and the skin
pulled tightly across her cheekbones. It looked like she had aged ten years. Twenty
more like it.
She reached for her brush and tried to drag
it through the mess of her hair, but her arms weren’t strong enough. She’d been
out for days. She had more luck with the powder and rouge, but they just seemed
to emphasize her stark condition.
“Never mind,” she thought grimly. “I’ve got
things to do. I got to find my boy. No one else is doing anything. It’s up to
me.”
At that moment she heard police sirens approaching,
the blue flashing lights reflecting through her windows as the cars drew up
outside. There was a banging of doors and Clara went to the window to see what
was going on. On the other side of the road she could see a couple of policemen
talking to someone, then the front doorbell rang. She hurriedly put on her
housecoat and slippers and, taking a last look in the mirror, hurried out of
the room and went downstairs.
The policeman in the hall was talking to
Samuel with Alice close by his elbow as usual.
“They’ve caught a young man loitering
outside,” said Samuel when he saw her. “He might have something to do with
Joshua’s disappearance. Apparently he’s there every night…watching the house…or
so Alice says.”
“I phoned it in,” said Alice, hoping to get
commended for her public spiritedness.
“Is that so,” said Clara with a wary eye. “What
young man? Where is he?”
“He’s sitting in the police car,” said the
young policeman. “We’re questioning him. We thought he might have something to
do with……..”
“I want to see him,” she said, pushing past
everyone and rushing out into the street in her dressing gown and slippers. She
had a strong suspicion who it was. Who else would be lurking outside her
window? Her hunch was justified when she got to the car. It was the young man from
the bus.
For the first time she noticed that he
reminded her rather strongly of Joshua…the eyes…the hair…but she didn’t want to
get fanciful. She couldn’t afford to start imaging Joshua in every person she
saw. Madness that way lies. But still. She felt very protective of him, and
somehow she knew he had nothing to do with Joshua’s kidnapping.
“Let him go,” she said to the policeman.
“He might be dangerous. I’d rather….”
“He’s not dangerous. Let him go.”
“But we don’t know who he is. And he won’t
speak.”
“I think he has trouble communicating. I
know him. I see him every day on the bus. Well, I don’t know him as
such…we’re nodding acquaintances. But he’s harmless; just a boy. Let him go.”
“But Miss Mitke told us he’s been standing
here every night for the last week…apparently watching the house?”
“Maybe he’s got a crush on me. Who knows?
But he isn’t dangerous. He’s just a kid. Anyway, the Miss Mitke who told
you this had no business phoning you. I am the mistress of this house.
She’s just a guest. A very temporary guest. I am telling you, you have no reason to
detain him. He has done nothing wrong and no one here is willing to press
charges so…..” she said with finality. “Please get him out of your car.”
The policeman looked at Clara for a moment
and decided that obedience was the better part of valour. He had nothing on the
boy anyway.
“Okay,” he said, helping the boy out.
“You’re free to go.”
Before anyone could do anything Clara had grabbed
the young man’s arm and steered him halfway down the block.
“Off you go now,” she said to him kindly.
“You go off home now.” The boy nodded and continued walking into the night.
Clara turned back to her house and for the
first time saw all the neighbours hanging from their windows, ogling at the
spectacle. Some were standing in well-lit doorways, others had even come out
onto the pavements, getting as close as possible in the hopes of overhearing
something. Clara turned a blind eye to them and strode purposefully into her
house.
Once inside she marched up the stairs into
Joshua’s room and collected all Alice’s clothes into a bundle. She took them
out onto the landing and threw them down into the hall below. For a moment she
watched them float towards the floor, then went back into his room for her
suitcase and shoes and toothbrush – anything that wasn’t Joshua’s – and threw
them over the banisters too. After this she went downstairs and got their only
bottle of liquor from the glass cabinet in the lounge. She opened the bottle,
took a swig of fiery liquid and, taking the bottle with her into the kitchen, put
it on the table. Then she took the alarm clock off the dresser and put that on
the table next to the bottle. Next she took a large carving knife from the
cutlery drawer and placed it carefully next to the alarm clock and the bottle. Then
she sat down in front of the objects and waited.
Beulah was the first to come in from
outside, quickly followed by Samuel and Alice, the pile of Alice’s things in
the hall by no means going unnoticed; as were the things on the table in front
of a tight lipped Clara. She waited till they were all in and looked at Samuel.
“You have five minutes to get that bitch out
of my house,” she said, fingering the handle of the knife. Then she turned her
eyes back to the clock in front of her and fell silent. Samuel hesitated for
the briefest of moments, then took Alice’s arm and led her out the kitchen.
