Ice - Anna Kavan [48]
I went to look for her. It was snowing again, the wind was colder and stronger. The streets were deserted, there was nobody to direct me. I thought I had found the house, but saw no sign. Perhaps I was too late: through an unaccountable failure of impulse had waited too long. ... I tried the street doors as I passed them; they were all locked.
The door of one house was unfastened. I entered without hesitation. Inside, the place was bare and shabby, had the look of an institution. The rooms were unheated. She sat wearing her grey overcoat, her legs wrapped in something that looked like a curtain. As soon as she saw me she threw this aside and sprang up. 'You! I suppose he sent you—didn't you get my message?' 'No one sent me. What message?' 'I left a message telling you not to follow me.' I said I had not received it, but if I had it would have made no difference, I should have come just the same. Her big distrustful eyes gazed at me, indignant and frightened. 'I don't want anything to do with either of you.' I ignored this. 'You can't stay here alone.' 'Why not? I'm getting on all right.' I asked what she was doing. 'Working.' 'How much do they pay you?' 'We get our food.' 'No money?' 'Sometimes people are given money when they've worked specially hard.' Defensively she went on: 'I'm too thin for the really hard jobs. They say I haven't got enough stamina.' I had been watching her: she looked half-starved, as if for some time she had not had enough to eat. Her thin wrists had always fascinated me; now I could scarcely take my eyes off them, emerging like sticks from the heavy sleeves. Instead of inquiring into the nature of the work she was doing, I asked her plans for the future. When she snapped: 'Why should I tell you?' I knew that she had no plans. I said I very much wished she would look on me as a friend. 'Why? I've no reason to. Anyhow, I don't need friends. I can manage alone.' I told her I had come hoping to take her away with me to a place where life would be easier, somewhere in a better climate. I felt her beginning to weaken, waved my hand at the window covered in heavy frost, snow banked on the sill to half its whole height. 'Haven't you had enough of the cold?' She could no longer hide her nervousness, her hands twisted together. I added: 'Besides, you're in the danger zone here.' Her face was starting to have its bruised look, she was gradually losing control. 'What danger?' The pupils of her eyes dilated as I watched her. 'The ice. . . .' I meant to say more, but the two words were sufficient. Her whole appearance indicated fear, she began to tremble.
I moved closer to her, touched her hand. She jerked it away. 'Don't do that!' I held a fold of her coat, looked at her angry, frightened face of a child betrayed, the look of faint bruising around the eyes like a child that has cried a long time. 'Leave me alone!' She tried to drag the heavy material out of my hand. 'Go away!' I did not move. 'Then I'll go!' She tore herself free, dashed to the door, threw her whole weight against it. It crashed open so violently that she lost her balance and fell. The bright hair spread on the floor, quicksilver, brilliant, stirring, alive, on the dark, dull, dead, dirty floor. I picked her up. She struggled, gasped: 'Let me go! I hate you, I hate you!' She had no strength at all. It was like holding a struggling kitten. I shut the door and turned the key in the lock.
I waited a few days although waiting was difficult. It was time to go. It was only a matter of hours before a disaster of the greatest magnitude. In spite of the secrecy which enveloped the subject, news must have leaked