minutes.” There was another wail from Sarah. “Sarah, let go. I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”
When Mrs. Goodrich appeared in the front hallway, Elizabeth was valiantly trying to free herself from Sarah’s grasp. The smaller girl held on to Elizabeth’s wrist with both hands, and Elizabeth was making no headway at all. Each time she pried one hand loose, the other would grasp her anew. She saw Mrs. Goodrich, and signaled to her to hurry.
“Help,” she said, keeping her voice as light as she could. “Just hang on to her till I get out of sight, and she’ll be all right.”
Mrs. Goodrich seized Sarah and held her firmly while Elizabeth put on her coat. “You hurry along now,” the woman said. “The sooner you’re gone, the easier time I’ll have. Not that I’m saying I don’t like having you around,” she added.
“I know,” Elizabeth grinned. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Elizabeth went to the front door, opened it, turned to wave to Sarah, then closed the door behind her. She tried not to listen as she heard Sarah’s voice rise in a howl of anguish. Instead, she concentrated on the trees that lined the driveway. By the time she reached the Point Road, she’d almost convinced herself that Sarah had stopped her howling.
Behind her the battle that was raging was a strange one. Sarah’s outraged screams filled the house, and she struggled, twisting and squirming in Mrs. Goodrich’s arms. Her face set, the old woman drew every measure of strength she possessed to hang on as tightly as she dared, and hold the child without hurting her. Mrs. Goodrich saw no point in trying to talk to Sarah. She was sure the child would never hear her above her own din, and it would only be wasting her strength to try. Grimly, she held on.
Then Sarah bit her. The housekeeper felt the teeth sink into her hand, into the fleshy part at the base of the thumb. She steeled herself against the pain and lifted Sarah off the floor. She carried the child to a window and turned so that Sarah could see out Sarah stopped howling.
Mrs. Goodrich set her down then, and examined the thumb. The skin was broken, but not badly.
“It’s been a long time since a child did that to me,” Mrs. Goodrich noted out loud. Sarah, her attention diverted from the window and the empty driveway beyond, stared up into the housekeeper’s face. Looking down into the huge, empty brown eyes, a surge of pity swept over the old woman. She slowly knelt down and put her arms around the child. “But I don’t suppose you meant anything by it, did you? And you’re not rabid, so there’s no real harm done.” She continued to hold the child, soothing her until she heard the van coming up the driveway. Then she hauled herself to her feet and, taking Sarah by the hand, led her back to the front door. Sarah stood docilely while Mrs. Goodrich bundled her into her coat, and made no objection when George Diller led her to the van. Mrs. Goodrich stood by the door and watched the van till it was out of sight. She didn’t wave; she was too tired from the struggle, and she didn’t really think Sarah would see it anyway. When the driveway was empty once again, she closed the door slowly and retreated to her kitchen, where she bathed the injured hand, winced as she applied iodine, and bandaged it. Then she remembered the cat.
She was sure it was a waste of time, but she had agreed to make a search for Cecil, and she would. She decided to get the long climb to the attic out of the way first and work down from there. Getting to the second floor was no problem; she was used to that She carried the key to the attic door in her pocket, but instinctively tried the door as she reached for the key. The key dropped back into her pocket as the door opened, revealing the steep staircase. “Supposed to be locked,” she muttered to herself, pausing a moment to rest before tackling the stairs that led to the attic. As she climbed, she tried to remember the last time anybody had been up here. A month ago, when they had brought down the old portrait. She went into the attic and closed the door behind her.
“Cecil?” she called. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty …”
Elizabeth was halfway