When Elly gets to her bed, she reaches for the bundle of things in her side table. Her silver watch and pearl earrings she puts in her pocket, and her dirty wedding dress she presses to her face, breathing in the smell of the woods – earth, cold air, sweat – and the lingering after-breath of perfume. It makes her think of her wedding day. It makes her think of bruises and crackling songs on the radio and running, running, running. There’s no point trying not to cry. What will Ethan do when he sees her? She can already hear his voice, sharp as gravel. She can feel his hands. Maybe he won’t be able to hold himself back this time. Maybe she deserves whatever’s finally coming to her.
A soft creak behind her makes her jump. Elly turns to see Margot, soil streaked across her forehead, wild hair restrained by a tie.
“There you are, Little Mouse! I’ve been looking for you.” Her high voice makes her seem so much younger than she looks. She chuckles. “So lazy, hiding out in here.”
Elly doesn’t say anything. She folds her wedding dress carefully, placing it beside her on the bed.
Margot frowns. “What are you doing, Little Mouse?”
“I’m sorry,” Elly says, because she doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m leaving.”
Margot stands silently in front of her, her single greenish eye peering up from under dark eyelashes. She looks like Elly has struck her. “Leaving? But didn’t you just have your first session?” She sits down on Elly’s bed, bouncing a little so that it creaks. “Isn’t it just wonderful? Itoldyou it would be.”
“Wonderful?” Elly’s stomach feels hollow, and she puts a hand to it. She longs to feel the familiarity of the baby moving, to let it comfort her, but for now it is still. “This is crazy, Margot. All of it. What is this place? What are wedoinghere?”
Margot screws up her face, deep wrinkles appearing on her nose, hiding the faint freckles there. “Don’t like that word. Crazy. Haina says you shouldn’t say it.”
Elly feels like a feral dog backed into a corner, taunted, just as she had in Haina’s study. She has to get out of here. She has to get out of herenow. “Maybe I don’t care what Haina says,” she whispers, surprised at how combative her voice sounds.
Margot’s eye widens. She lunges sideways and claps a hand over Elly’s mouth. The shock of it makes Elly fall backwards but Margot has her other hand on her shoulder, maintaining her grip, bringing her close. She’s frightened,Elly thinks. She’s terrified. There are tiny red veins on her eyeball, spidering their way across the white. “Stop that right now,” Margot hisses. “No talk like that. Haina won’t like it.” Elly wriggles but Margot holds her tight. “Do you promise?” It’s only when Elly nods that she releases her hand, slumping back on the bed. There’s something defeated about her, as though it’s drained all her energy to speak. “Sick of clearing up the mess,” she mumbles. “Go on, then – try to leave. Go back into the world a lamb. See what it does to you. Don’t come crying to Margot.” She blows out an exasperated puff of air, shrugs, and leaves Elly alone in the dorm.
Elly watches the empty doorway for a while. She can still feel the ghost of Margot’s palm on her lips, the way her pupil had almost seemed to quiver when she said,Haina won’t like it. She feels heavy but forces herself to move – zipping up the hoodie she’s wearing, leaving the dress where it is on the bed, and making for the doorway. No one pays her any attention as she descends the staircase and walks back down the hallway. There’s a gentle hubbub from the kitchens, and a few more guests are lounging in the parlour room, playing cards. She can hear the faint tinkle of piano keys. Haina’s study door is shut, and Elly stares at it for a second before moving away. Outside, the day is hot and bright and the women in the gardens are hard at work, brows sweating and backs bent as they prune the rose bushes, weed the twisting borders, trim the grass. They look so normal, but do they all know? Do they allchange, too, behind the thick panelled door to Haina’s study? No one looks up as she makes her way down the path and into the woods.
Elly feels relief almost immediately as the house retreats further and further behind her, the trees offering a cool shade from the heat. The sun is still high in the sky. If she walks quickly, she could be at her mum’s house – radio always on, wellies by the door – before evening. The thought makes her stomach feel strange, like there’s a hook buried deep, starting to loosen.
But what will she say, when she gets there? How can she possibly explain where she’s been, why she left?
Don’t think about that now, she tells herself.Just keep walking.
When she’d run through the woods, she’d arrived at the house relatively unscathed. The skin of her bare feet had been almost unbroken, as if the woods had welcomed her, carried her. Now, twigs catch at her forearms and leave forked scratches, like bloodied lightning. She trips over protruding roots, and nettles give her red welts when she brushes past them. She feels unwanted, like an intruder, but forces herself onwards; crossing streams that shimmer in the sunlight and climbing over fallen logs grown over with lichen, no idea whether she’s going in the right direction. The woods are filled with the sound of birdsong, and she strains to hear the steady whooshing of cars. She keeps waiting for a trail to appear, or another walker, or the outlines of buildings in the distance. After a while, she stops to rest against a thick oak trunk. It would have been a good idea to bring some food with her, or at least some water. She’s starting to feel woozy and detached, her muscles weaker with every step.
Elly has been walking for another hour when she sees it. The pointed roof emerging from between the trees,the pretty gabled windows, the door left open to let the sunshine in and the women milling around the gardens like worker ants. It looks as inviting as it had on that first night: a mirage, an impossibility conjured from nothing.
No. It can’t be. The woods look the same from every angle – she must have gotten disorientated and walked in a circle. Elly backs away without taking her eyes off the house, half-expecting it might follow her in retreat, then sets off again in the opposite direction.
She walks and walks. There’s a blurriness to her vision now, as if everything is only half-formed and undecided. She stops at a stream to splash her face and then carries on. She doesn’t know how far she walks. The sun is starting to dip when the house appears from between the trees again. There are no women in the gardens now, and light is spilling from the kitchen window, along with the homely smell of something cooking.
“No.” Her own voice makes her jump, makes her stagger backwards. “No, no.”
Back in the woods again. Stumbling, feet on fire. The sky is a mellow blue streaked with coral, the sun disappearing, the air cooling. Elly picks up a stick from the ground and snaps it into a point, carves an X into the dirt at her feet. She walks on, making Xs at regular intervals. She won’t get lost. Soon, she’ll find a road.
She doesn’t come across any of her Xs. It’s dark by the time the house appears again. The lights are on in all the windows. She can hear the low hum of voices and she’s so tired that she can barely stand.
Elly limps towards the house and when she’s close enough, she watches the faces through the glass panes ofthe refectory. The guests inside grin as bowls of food are passed around and shared. The dough she kneaded earlier has become a proud loaf that’s being sliced and buttered, consumed by many mouths. The room is candlelit, flickering gently, in and out of focus. Someone is singing. Elly has the peculiar sense that she’s looking in at someone else’s family, at a scene forbidden to her. She shivers with jealousy. Inside her belly, the baby twists. She’s hungry, so hungry. The exhaustion goes as deep as her bones.
“Elly,” comes a voice from the open front door. Elly turns, blinking back tears. She’s overwhelmed by the house, by Haina standing in the doorway again, calling out to her, just like on that first night. The glow from the hallway seems to sit upon her skin, making her look golden. Elly already knows that nowhere else has light quite like that. “Won’t you come inside, my angel? It’s getting cold.”
Elly doesn’t say anything. She wraps her arms around herself, casts one last glance back at the woods, and then follows Haina inside.
The house is a different animal at night. Elly walks behind Haina into the low-lit parlour, where the women are now draped over chairs and drinking, spilling out into the garden with their cigarettes, others wrapped up in one another in shadowy corners by the slow-burning fire. Elly eats the slice of bread Haina has given her slowly, watching Janine and Lakshmi dance in the centre of the room, bodies hot and close. Everything is abundant: the piles of food on plates, the bottles topping tables. The room quivers in the light of coloured lanterns, casting everyone’s faces in shades of amethyst and emerald.Music thrums from a record player, throbbing bass and whispering guitar, low and suggestive, and Elly feels aware of her every limb. She doesn’t know where to look. There’s an edge to the atmosphere, as if the night is on the brink of turning feral. It smells of sweat and spice and something sweet, slightly burnt.
“I trust you won’t try that again?” Haina whispers in her ear, stroking her arm. Elly flinches and stares at Haina, but her smiling face doesn’t match her threat. She leaves Elly’s side and disappears into the crowd.
A moment later, Margot appears and nuzzles into her shoulder like a hungry cat. When she squeezes Elly’s arm, it only hurts a little bit.
“Knew you’d come back, Little Mouse,” she whispers. “Once the house wants you, it wants you.”
***
