Waiting

The tunnel really wasn't that bad- in fact, if she could choose between this place and Charn, Polly would have chosen the tunnel a hundred times over. How comforting those dark walls were! How friendly the roof! There was no glow of red, no dying sun- no hammer, no bell- no witch. A part of her wished to stay there and rest.

Of course, there was her mother to think of. Oh, her mother would be furious no matter what happened!

Lie! A voice in her head urged her, and she was shocked. She could do no such thing! She must tell the truth!

As she emerged from the tunnel into the attic of her own house, she saw a long skirt.

Slowly, she raised her eyes.

"Where have you been, Polly?" asked a white-faced woman, her voice painfully sweet, but shaking with suppressed anxiety. "It is not like my daughter to be late for dinner."

"I'm sorry, Mother," said Polly, and scrambled up. The water dripped from her stockings to the floor. Suddenly she felt very cold, and sneezed.

"Where have you been?" shrieked her mother, suddenly very concerned. "Child, you'll catch a cold! Betsey!"

Betsey rushed upstairs. "Yes, ma'am?" she asked.

"For heavens' sakes, look at Polly! Light the fire in the drawing room, bring a cup of tea, make yourself useful!"

Betsey scurried away, and Polly meekly followed her mother to the drawing room, the water sloshing in her shoes.

"Sit," her mother ordered, and Polly sat by the armchair near the fireplace. A small fire was already crackling, and Polly stared at the tiny embers of red. They were a similar shade to the sun in Charn.

She shivered.

"Richard!"

Polly winced as her father entered the room. He took a long look at her, and raised his eyebrows. She bowed her head in shame.

"What on earth have you been doing?" he said in wonderment, and shook his head before she could answer.

Oh! Thought Polly. I've only been forced into another world by Digory's horrid uncle, I've only been harassed into entering Charn, I've only been laughed at by Digory- who struck the bell and the hammer like a silly idiot- I've only been scorned, been abused by the horrid Witch- I've only seen the end of a world, I've only had to endure hours of hell!

Said Polly: "I've been out with Digory Kirke."

"Digory Kirke?"

"Our neighbour, mother," Polly explained, attempting to look hopeful and innocent. Oh, if they should find out where she'd been it would be horrible! They mustn't know of the Witch, they mustn't! She couldn't lie, but oh- how could she tell them?

"What have you been doing, Polly?" said her father. His voice was low and grave, and she felt incredibly ashamed of herself, although she could not fully understand why. "Your stockings and shoes are dirtying the floor."

"Poor Betsey," moaned her mother, "she cleaned the carpet this morning!"

"I… I got my feet wet in a pool of water," said Polly, guiltily.

"A pool of water?"

It was more of a statement than a question, but it was a statement requiring an answer, nonetheless. This, Polly knew well, and she writhed at the thought.

The wall opposite her was really very nice, when you thought of it. Perhaps if it were painted a pretty shade of yellow it should be even nicer. Perhaps-

"How did you know I was in the box-room attic, Mother?" she asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Do not change the topic, Polly!" snapped her mother. "Where was this pool of water?"

"It was in a wood," said Polly, quite truthfully. "I have no idea where, though."

"A wood," mused her father. Suddenly, he became quite stern. "Could this wood have been in a nearby park?"

"… Perhaps," said Polly, again quite truthfully. "I really don't know where it was. It may have been a sort of a park, though."

"Good heavens!" gasped her mother. "A park- Polly, you've been wondering off to some part of London you didn't know- you didn't tell anyone- and you've gone into strange parks and amused yourself by jumping into puddles? Polly! You have been an exceedingly naughty girl, and I do not want you to ever play with that Kirke boy anymore, especially if an outrage like this occurs again!"

Not to play with Digory!

"But-"

"No buts! That Kirke boy has been having a very bad effect on you, ever since the two of you became acquainted!"

"That Kirke boy has a name," snapped Polly. "He's Digory."

"Polly, you have disappointed us," said her father heavily.

"You will go to your room for two hours and consider all that you have done wrong today," said her mother coolly. "Betsey-" for Betsey had entered the room with the cup of tea- "you will see to it that she gets her dinner."

"Yes, ma'am," said Betsey, and curtsied. (She did not miss Polly's wet stockings or shoes, or the wet patch on the carpet, and was feeling rather sorry for herself and vindictive towards Polly.)

"Polly?" repeated her mother, and Polly sighed and looked upwards.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I expect not to hear a single noise from your room. Go."

As Polly trudged to her room, she paused at the door and looked at the grandfather clock in the hallway.

The second hand seemed to take an age to move.

Oh, she thought piteously, how slowly time can go by!

The sound of a cab trotted by the house, and Polly looked miserably outside.

Footsteps sounded towards her, and she quickly hurried into her room and shut the door.

And wondered what Digory was doing.

XXX

A/N: So… it seems like I'm working through all of CSL's female characters, doesn't it? Actually, I think that is what I'm doing. Oh dear. Well, I hope you liked it, at any rate! (But even if you didn't, leave a review, etc, etc...)