‘All those names shouting upwards,’ I cried ‘It’s coming! It’s coming, Lucy!’

‘JAMES HENRY HAYWARD!’

‘Lucy! Lucy, it is here!’

I couldn’t hear any more then, not a thing. As if we were both already drowned. She was talking to me, saying something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. My head, oh my head. What a head, quite filled up, a drowning head. No pocket of peace. All full up, drowning, drowning.

22

A WOODEN TOOTHPICK

Concluding the narrative of Lucy Pennant

I have thick red hair and a round face and a nose that points upwards. My eyes are green with flecks in them, but that’s not the only place I’m dotted. There’s punctuation all over me. I’m freckled and spotted and moled and have one or two corns on my feet. My teeth are not quite white. One tooth is crooked. I’m being honest. I shall tell everything how it occurred and not tell lies but stay with the actual always. I shall do my best. One of my nostrils is slightly bigger than the other. I chew my fingernails. Sometimes the bugs do bite and then I scratch them. My name is Lucy Pennant. My name is Lucy Pennant and I shall never forget it.

‘I do love you I suppose, Clod Iremonger, you idiot.’

‘Lucy! Lucy, it is here!’

‘I do love you,’ I said.

He couldn’t hear. He’d gone all strange on me. His hair was up and he was sweating, his teeth clenched. He had all those noises in his head, eating at him. Only part Clod, then, the rest of him not available, not for now. I grabbed his chin and made him look at me.

‘We’ll be all right,’ I said, ‘we shall be. If you get lost I’ll find you. No matter what. I’ll find you. Do you hear?’

He nodded, but I couldn’t be certain. All right then. I pulled the ropes along, he did his side. And then with a great smack that took the wind out of us, we were done and down. We’d reached the bottom. We were in the cellars again, the other side of the hatch was the kitchen of Heap House, right then. I looked at him, just once more. On we go then. No fumbling. I shoved up the hatch. Out we scrambled.

No one there, and everything smashed about. So many broken things. The kitchen, this cooking place, the site of some battle. Clod behind me? Clod behind me.

‘All right, Clod? All right?’

He nodded a bit.