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I sighed.
He bent down and licked my sticky thighs. That was just the beginning of what he licked that night.
—Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide—
21
Marlow
/> She lay peacefully in a deep trance in my zero gravity chair. I looked at her face, innocent and utterly trusting, and felt a fierce instinct to protect her flash through me. I had experienced it before, but never for a woman.
The first time was when my son was born and the nurse had given him to me wrapped in a blanket, a wrinkled, mottled, red and, quite frankly, ugly little thing—more changeling than human. His eyes and fists were tightly closed, and the first sensation that flooded into me was not one of joy or happiness, but stark fear.
Would I be able to protect him from this cruel world long enough for him to be able to take care of himself? The feeling had gone as quickly as it had come but I had never forgotten it. The crippling panic. It was back now. The terror of not being able to protect her until she was strong enough to protect herself. I stilled it. I knew I could get to the bottom of this mystery. I knew it was not by accident that Ivana had chosen me.
My intention that day was to return her to the day her mother died, but I wanted to take her to a safe memory first. Something she could come out with and point to as another successful session in remembering the past.
‘You are safe from all harm, Olivia,’ I said quietly. ‘There is nothing that can harm you. You are six years old today and it is bedtime. Where are you?’
‘In the tower,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve had a lovely day. There are presents all over the floor. Ivana says I can have them strewn about today but tomorrow they will all have to be put away neatly.’
‘Is she there now?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled, child-like.
‘What is she doing?’
‘Ivana is reading me a story. “Why is Cinderella’s stepmother so cruel?” I ask her. “Stepmothers are often portrayed like that in fairy tales,” she says.
‘“Why?”
‘“Because they can’t help being jealous of their stepdaughters, I suppose.” I frown. “But you’re not like that?” “No, I’m not,” she says, and breaks into a cheeky grin. “But I would be if I didn’t love you so much.” I nod. It seems to make perfect sense to me. “Ivana?”
‘“Yes, darling.”
‘“Why didn’t Cinderella tell her daddy about what her stepmother and sisters were doing to her?”
‘“Perhaps because Cinderella was too nice to tell tales on anyone. And, I think, she might have thought that if her daddy knew it would have been really, really hard for him to choose between her and her stepmother since he loved them both.” I frown and think about what she has said. It is quite a shocking piece of information that Cinderella’s father might have loved both equally. “Do you think he might have chosen the evil stepmother over good, kind Cinderella?” I ask. Ivana hides a smile. Adults are always doing that. “Probably not,” she says and closes the book.
‘I snuggle back into the pillows. “If I were him I’d choose Cinderella,” I say. “So would I,” she whispers and, kissing me goodnight, switches on the blue nightlight, and quietly leaves the room. I hear the echo of her shoes going down the steps of the tower. And then I look out into the night sky full of stars and wonder where my mother is. I start to feel more and more sleepy. I fall asleep.’
She paused and I was just about to guide her out of that memory and back to the day her mother died when she spoke again, and I realized there was more to that memory, by far more.
‘The sound of scratching wakes me up. I am sleepy. I don’t want to wake up, but the sound becomes louder. I open my eyes and listen… And suddenly I am awake. It is not a scratching sound that I have heard but a clicking, the clicking of a dog’s nails on the stone steps coming up the tower. There is another tread coming up together with the dog. It is much heavier. And it is steady. Step by step they are coming up. I clutch my bedclothes to my chin and hold my breath. The door opens.’
Her limbs began to twitch restlessly.
‘Who has come into your room?’
‘Tom the gardener and his pitbull, Tiger,’ she said. There is a tremor in her voice. ‘I am afraid of them. I want them to go away.’
‘Nothing can harm you, Olivia. You are just watching a scene from a very safe place.’
‘Tiger comes into the room, his tags rattling. The sound makes me feel cold all over. He has powerful jaws and a big chest, but he is also very strong. I have seen him train with Tom in the garden. Under his shiny black fur his muscles are thick and rippling. His broad, square head turns in my direction and his small, piggy eyes find me. I am scared of Tiger.
