Page 76 of The Memory Wood

The candle flame dips low, its tip flickering like a reptiliantongue. Again, Elissa’s world contracts into darkness. When she hears Elijah crouch down opposite, it’s all she can do to resist scrabbling away. One thing she knows, beyond doubt: shemustmaintain the pretence of trust. ‘Why did you come back?’

‘I wanted to see you.’

‘But not to talk?’

‘No.’

Elissa waits a beat. ‘What, then?’

‘I wanted to play,’ he says. ‘With you.’

There’s an edge to his tone that she doesn’t recognize. It sounds like he’s talking about a doll, a toy, an object constructed purely for his gratification.

Something sharp and painful blossoms in her chest. Summoning all her strength, she pushes herself halfway up. ‘Elijah,’ she begins. ‘When this is—’

‘I want to play chess.’

It takes a moment for his words to register. Such is Elissa’s relief that she closes her eyes. When she opens them, something about the shifting shadows tells her he’s moved a fraction closer.

‘I want to play chess too,’ she tells him. ‘I want that more than anything. But I told you before, we don’t have a—’

‘I brought a phone,’ he says, and suddenly everything is different.

III

At first, Elissa thinks it’s a trick, a cruel raising of her hopes. But when Elijah takes his hand from his pocket, the cellar is bathed in blue light.

Her chest grows tight. She can’t breathe – doesn’twanttobreathe – worries if she breaks this spell of silence between them that Elijah will come to his senses.

She can’t make sudden movements, can’t appear too keen, can’t afford to let a single ounce of hunger or cunning show in her face. The phone offers a chance of salvation, but she hasn’t won it yet. And Elijah, in the past, has proved far more immune to deception than she’d hoped.

You’re trying to trick me. Aren’t you? You want me to bring you a phone so you can call someone to come down here and get you.

Why, then, has he done exactly that?

A thought strikes her, contracting her skin into gooseflesh. Perhapsthisis the test for which he’s been preparing her.

At last, her oxygen runs out and she’s forced to breathe. It’s vital she steadies herself. If Elijah notices her agitation, he’ll likely turn and run. Her fingers have become claws. Her leg muscles, previously too weak to support her weight, quiver with adrenalin. Could she scratch out his eyes, if it saved her life? Probably. She’d never forget the horror of it, but she might see her mum again. That alone would make it worthwhile.

Elijah, still nothing more than a monstrous grey smear, leans away from her. ‘What’s wrong?’

She wants to snatch at him, grab hold of him, prevent him from leaving the boundary of her chain. But if she touches him now, uninvited, this chance will turn to dust.

With a dry tongue, she licks cracked lips. ‘Thirsty.’

The grey shape looms nearer, until it blocks out all the light. Suddenly, the Evian bottle is at her mouth. Elissa tilts back her head, allowing precious water to slide down her throat. The phone’s reflection glows in the plastic bottle. It’s so close.

‘You poorthing,’ Elijah murmurs as the last of the watertrickles out. ‘I should have brought you more to drink. I should’ve thought.’

‘It’s OK,’ she says, wiping her mouth. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Yes, it is. You’re down here dying of thirst and all I can think about is a stupid game. It’s selfish and stupid andwrong.’

‘I’m not dying, Elijah. Not yet.’

‘You’re not well. And that’s my fault too. I could’ve done something. And I didn’t. It’s just …’

Elissa waits, but Elijah doesn’t complete his thought. She asks, ‘You really came down here to play chess?’

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