The Witch's Daughter (10 page)

Tim could not speak. When he didn’t move to take her hand she bent, groping for him, and tugged at the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Come on. Oh—you are
lazy
,’
she scolded.

‘We can’t …’ Tim looked despairingly at Perdita.

‘We can’t get out of the cave,’ she cried. ‘Oh Janey, don’t you understand?’

She stood between them, looking puzzled. ‘Why can’t we?’ she asked. ‘Why can’t we just go back the way we came?’ Toffee Papers did, didn’t he?’

‘He had a torch,’ Tim said. ‘He could see. We can’t, it’s dark …’ It seemed impossible to explain this to Janey. ‘We can’t find our way back in the dark,’ he mumbled.

For a moment, Janey said nothing. She seemed to be puzzling something out. Then she said, slowly, ‘I think
I
could, though. I don’t mind the dark.’

S
OMETIMES
T
IM
T
RIED
to imagine what the world must seem like to Janey. He would close his eyes and walk about, listening and feeling. But it was impossible for him to know what
darkness
was really like for her, as impossible as knowing, even though you could swim under water, what water must be like for a fish. Or air for a bird.

Or dark, for Janey. Looking at her, he caught his breath. When someone said ‘I can’t see in the dark,’ it must seem very strange to her, as strange as it would to a fish—if you could talk to a fish—if you said, ‘I can’t breathe under water.’

‘Are you sure you can find the way back?’ he asked slowly. She only needed to be shown round a strange house once, but if she got lost there were always people to help her. Once in the tunnel there would be no one. He and Perdita would be
helpless
. Blind.

Perdita said, ‘But
how
can she find her way?’

‘Just the same way I always do,’ Janey said. She was silent for a minute, as if wondering how to explain what that way was. Could
he
explain, Tim thought, how he could see with his eyes? Janey smiled suddenly. ‘It’s like Perdita’s second sight, I suppose.’

They led her to the mouth of the tunnel. Once there, she put her hand on the wall. Tim put his hand on her shoulder and Perdita clutched the back of his wind cheater. They began to walk down the rocky stairs. For the first few yards, while the light lasted, Janey’s pace seemed slow to them; then, as soon as the last blue glimmer vanished and they were in the dark, it seemed terrifyingly fast. They stumbled, panic stricken.

‘Go slower, Janey,’ Tim begged.

‘I’m going slow,’ she said indignantly. ‘Why don’t you walk properly, ‘stead of banging about all over the place?’

‘I don’t know how,’ Tim said humbly. It was true. Walking in the pitch dark was different—and frightening: you lifted your foot and it was like stepping off a cliff into black, empty air.

Janey stood still. ‘Feel,’ she said, after a pause. ‘Feel with your feet. That’s what I do.’

She moved on again. The two behind her began to learn. Keeping one hand on the wall, they slid their feet forwards, feeling with their toes and the balls of their feet. Their progress became steadier and their panic ebbed a little.

‘That’s better,’ Janey said. ‘You’re doing fine—just fine.’

She spoke in the bright, encouraging voice her mother
sometimes
used to her, when she was trying to do something that was hard for a blind girl to do.

Once she stopped. ‘I’m listening,’ she explained, and Tim and Perdita tried to listen too, but though they strained their ears, they heard nothing. It was horrible standing still and waiting in that cold, silent blackness. Tim remembered the ravine they had passed over. That terrible drop! Janey had not seen it, she couldn’t know how dangerous it was.

He whispered hoarsely, ‘Janey—there’s a sort of hole in the rock, with water a long way down.’

‘I know,’ she said, quite calmly. ‘Wait a minute.’ She stamped with her feet. ‘It’s soon—can’t you hear? The ground’s sort of hollow.’

She was right. They couldn’t hear—or feel—the hollowness, but a few steps later they heard the water. Miles below them, miles and miles … Tim stood still suddenly, and Perdita bumped into him.

‘Come on,’ Janey said. ‘It’s all right close to the wall.’

She led on and they followed, fearful but trusting her. They had to trust her. They went on, slowly shuffling, and the water
sounded loud on their left. They were crossing the ravine. Tim tried so hard to see into the darkness that his eyeballs burned.

‘Past it now,’ Janey said.

On a little further. ‘Tim,’ Perdita said. ‘Tim …’

‘Yes?’

‘Tim …’ she repeated slowly, and then the words tumbled out in a rush. ‘You know what you said about Mr Smith. Well, if you tell Mr Tarbutt, will he go to prison?’

‘I expect so.’

She let out a long sigh.

Tim felt uncomfortable. ‘If he’s a thief, he ought to go to prison. We’ll have to tell Mr Tarbutt what we know, and I expect we’ll have to tell the police, too.’ This prospect was rather exciting. Surely Perdita would find it exciting, too? ‘Perhaps they’ll want to talk to you as well. Perhaps you’ll have to give evidence.’ She made no response and he went on, encouragingly, ‘You might even have to be a witness in court. Tell them how Mr Smith wouldn’t let you go to school or mix with other children. That shows he had something to hide, you see, so it will be important evidence. You might even get your picture in the papers …’

‘Oh, do shut up,’ Janey wailed. ‘How can I see if you talk?’

One more tentative step, then another. Was it his
imagination
, or was Janey’s progress less certain now? She seemed to be stopping more often. She had stopped now, and they all stood still, rigid, waiting …

Fear grew in Tim’s mind. He should never have let Janey attempt this … this madness. Of course she thought she could do it, but she was only nine, she had no real idea of danger. Less idea, perhaps, than most children: although she had always been encouraged to be independent and do things for herself, there had always been someone close at hand to see no harm came to her …

Perdita said, ‘Go on, Janey.’ Her voice was impatient, not
frightened. That was because she believed in magic, Tim thought. He knew—had a glimmering, anyway—of how Janey could find her way. Perdita had none: it was a kind of magic to her.

Suddenly Janey shouted. ‘Aaaaaaah …’

Tim almost screamed with fright. Hysteria rose up in him. He tried to suppress it and speak in an ordinary voice. ‘What on earth did you do that for?’

‘This is one of the places where we shouted,’ Janey said. ‘I think I can tell where we are, by the echo.’

They began to shout. Their cries rang back at them from the unseen walls. Then they stood silent and listened to the echoes die away.

‘Once more,’ Janey said. They shouted again. And listened. Janey gave a little sigh. She left the wall and walked slowly, her hands spread out. She bumped into rock, sooner than she expected, perhaps, because she gave a little cry. Then her shoulder moved under Tim’s hand as she began to feel the
surface
of the rock, stroking and patting and muttering under her breath. ‘
There
was
a
little
crack,
my
fingers
went
in
it,
only
it
was
the
other
hand
because
I
was
going
the
other
way,
and
there
was
a
bit
jutting
out
lower
down,
I
banged
my
knee
on
it
and
it
bleeded
a
little
and
stuck
up
my
sock
so
it
must
have
been
a
bit
sharp
…’

Tim held his breath. Then Janey gave a low, triumphant giggle. ‘I’m
right
,’
she said. ‘This is the right place. In a minute, we’ll be able to hear the sea.’

And they did. But before they heard the sea, they saw the light, at first just a faint paling of the darkness ahead and then the darkness seemed to form round to make a shape, an arch. It was the mouth of the tunnel that led into the main cave and out to the beach and the sea …

Janey seemed to be moving very slowly now. ‘Hurry,’ Tim urged, pushing her from behind, and then letting her go and running past her, towards the light.

Perdita followed him. They reached the main cave, tumbling
over each other like puppies. The light was grey because the day was darkening, not only with evening but also with a
curtain
of rain, blowing into the cave and hissing on the shingle, but it was
light.
Light—after that terrible blackness. Perdita and Tim shouted with joy. They shouted so loud that for a little Janey could not make herself heard.

‘Tim … Tim …’

He heard her at last. She had come out of the tunnel and was standing in the cave, her hands out in front of her. ‘I can’t see anymore, there aren’t any more walls,’ she said.

The other two fell silent. They looked at each other and then down at their feet. Neither of them spoke.

‘What’s the matter?’ Janey asked. She smiled broadly and wrapped her arms across her chest, hugging herself with
delight
. ‘I found the way out, didn’t I? You’d never have found it yourselves …’

Tim ran to her, put his arms round her and hugged and kissed her. ‘You were wonderful,’ he said. ‘A heroine, Janey. You saved our lives.’

‘Oh, it wasn’t very hard,’ Janey said modestly. ‘Can we go home now? I’m so hungry.’

They went to the mouth of the cave. The sharp rain prickled their faces and hands and the blustering wind caught their breath and almost blew them back inside. Tim had to put his arms round Janey, to steady her.

‘Let’s wait a bit. It’ll be awful, going back along the cliff in this,’ he said. ‘Absolutely awful.’

But Janey pouted. ‘I don’t mind the rain. I’m hungry.’ He looked at her and saw she looked pale and tired, suddenly, as if the effort of getting them out of the cave had exhausted her. ‘I want to go home,’ she said, and the pout turned into a
miserable
little trembling of her lips. ‘I want my Mum.’

His heart smote him. ‘All right,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t cry, Janey. We’ll be home quite soon.’

He put his arm round her, to protect her as much as he could from the wind, and began to help her over the rocks towards the cliff path. ‘Come on, Perdita,’ he shouted over his shoulder, but she answered something he couldn’t catch and turned towards the cliff where the water of the lower fall crashed onto the beach like thunder. ‘Come back, idiot,’ Tim shouted, but either she didn’t hear, or had determined to take no notice: she began to climb up the side of the fall.

Tim hesitated, torn. That was a dangerous climb, even for a girl who was used to cliffs and mountains. But he daren’t go after her, he daren’t leave Janey …

‘Where’s Perdita?’ she asked now. ‘I want Perdita …’

Tim remembered what Perdita had said yesterday, when he told her about his climb down to the cave. ‘She’s gone up the cliff,’ he said, ‘that’s the quickest way home for her.’

‘I expect she’s hurrying home to tell about horrible old Toffee Papers leaving us in the cave,’ Janey said. There was an ominous shake in her voice as if she had just realised that this was a frightening thing to have happened. ‘Just like the Babes in the Wood,’ she said. ‘D’you remember, Tim? The wicked man took them into the wood and left them and they died and the robins came and covered them with leaves.’

‘It’s all right, we aren’t dead, are we?’ Tim soothed her. They were off the rocks now, and on the path between the high walls of the cliff. It was more sheltered here, though overhead the wind cracked like a giant whip. ‘But if she tells Mr Smith …’ Tim began, and stopped. If she told Mr Smith, told him everything, he would know the police were likely to be after him and he would try to escape, like Toffee Papers. ‘We better hurry …’ Tim said.

He set too fast a pace for Janey. Though she tried to keep up, she was very tired and began to sob under her breath and stumble. He slowed to match her pace, though it was an effort: his own tiredness had vanished at the marvellous prospect of
bringing a criminal to justice. Why, he would be the hero of the hour! And what would his father say? His father, who had always refused to believe anything really exciting could ever happen.
Too
much
imagination,
old
chap?
He would never dare say that again, Tim thought, and laughed aloud.

When they came to the end of the sheltered stretch, the path along the cliff face was as slippery as he had feared it would be. He was too occupied, then, encouraging and comforting Janey, to dream of future glory, too occupied, even, to be frightened, although the storm had whipped the sea below them into a witch’s cauldron of black waves and flying spray. By the time they reached the bay, Janey was crying properly and could walk no further. With an immense effort, Tim heaved her up into his arms and carried her a few yards before he collapsed on the beach. ‘I can’t,’ he gasped, ‘you weigh about a
ton.’

She clung to him, crying, and they huddled together, too cold and wet now to think of anything except the little shelter they could give each other from the rain and the wind that flung stinging sand into their faces. The wind howled and screamed round them as if it were trying to tear the clothes from their backs: it made such a noise that they could hear nothing else. They did not hear Mr Tarbutt until he stood above them and jerked them to their feet.

He was wearing black oilskins. His tow-coloured hair lay in strands over his face.

‘Silly young fool,’ he said angrily to Tim. ‘I’d have thought you had more sense …’

He picked Janey up in his arms, and for once she did not
protest
. He carried her over to the shelter of the great rock and set her down there for a minute, while he wiped the sand from her face.

‘We found Mr Jones,’ she said, when her sobs had quietened. ‘How’d you find us?’

He explained that he had been searching since five o’clock. It was now almost nine. He had been to the bay before, but seen
no sign of them. ‘You’ve led me a fine dance, all over the island,’ he scolded. ‘It was just chance I came here a second time …’ Then his eyes narrowed, as if the other thing Janey had said had only now come home to him. ‘
What’s
this about Mr Jones?’

‘He stole Tim’s ruby,’ Janey said shrilly. ‘He was the burglar. And he took us into the cave and left us there, he’s not a nice man at all, he’s a horrible
beast
…’

He eyed her incredulously. ‘But what …?’ he began, and then decided not to question her further. ‘Best get home,’ he muttered. ‘It’ll wait …’