Episode 23 - The Little People

Episode 21 – The Little People

Welcome back to the Forgotten Library; as always, I’m Nikki Gee. To me, spooky season extends past Halloween, because the nights get longer, the sun goes down quicker, things can still lurk in the shadows. mwahaha So how about a book about creepy leprechauns . . . or fairies . . .or something . . .that have a horrible secret? Today’s selection is The Little People, by John Christopher.

I had never heard of this title before, but recently I had gotten the chance to read a book entitled Paperbacks from Hell: the Twisted History of 70s and 80s Horror Fiction by Grady Hendrix and Will Errickson, which I recommend as further reading after this episode. A plethora of obscure books abound in this title – there are some well known horror reads that are still quite popular today, but the bulk of it is not – and today’s book was featured in the introduction.

Don’t worry, there is nothing truly gory in this one; one content warning about discussion of the Nazis and the Holocaust, and details of atrocities that occurred there, but it’s related to the plot of the book. Also a few bits of domestic violence.

A quick primer on horror fiction: the history of horror fiction goes back centuries, emerging from the Romantic and gothic traditions – writers such as Horace Walpole (The Castle of Otranto) and even Mary Shelley. In the United States, you had Edgar Allen Poe, who thrived in the short story genre; and later, H.P. Lovecraft. Some decades on, Shirley Jackson, who wrote in several genres, is mostly remembered for her horror and dark fiction.

Towards the end of the 1960s and heading into the 70s, books like Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist, and Jaws became bestsellers and even movies, which made the genre reach the mainstream; suddenly horror books could hit number one on The New York Times bestseller list (which The Exorcist did in July 1971)! This led to a glut of horror and dark fiction books, spawning sub-genres such as psychological horror or body horror. The avalanche of books dwindled in the 90s, but of course, the old stalwarts, such as Stephen King, still publish often.

John Christopher is one of several pseudonyms of the British author Sam Youd. Youd was born in Lancashire and served for a period of the time in the Royal Corps of Signals, which is a division of the British Army. He received a scholarship which enabled him to pursue a career in writing. He was married twice and had five children. He died of bladder cancer in 2012.

Youd wrote under a bunch of genres, publishing fifty-six novels under nine different names, including his own. His science-fiction stories include the Tripods Trilogy, young adult dystopian fiction (which was adapted into a British TV series). I had never heard of him before, but despite being fairly nerdy, sci-fi is not my strongest genre.

Enough preamble – let’s get to the book!

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The Little People was originally published in 1966, and that is the edition that has the truly wild cover with elves, or leprechauns, or whatever they are supposed to be, marching out of a castle with swastika armbands. The edition I read from Archive dot org is a reprint from 2000 with a very non-descript cover of what appears to be a castle turret.

Chapter I. We are introduced to Bridget and Daniel, who are currently in conversation over breakfast. Daniel orders a mess of food and she comments that he claims to survive on meagre fare in the mornings, and he says that’s because he is a liar. He is very compulsive when he eats, but doesn’t gain weight because he expends a lot of energy in the bedroom. It’s not directly stated but by her quick interruption and the fact that she says “Dublin appears to bring out a coarse streak in you” that appears to be what’s implied.

She pours coffee and we are subject to Daniel’s impressions of her as she does so; she is very attractive, and he is a fairly typical-looking Englishman, by his own estimation. They work in the same law firm; he is an attorney and she is a legal secretary or paralegal, and despite his rule about not dating from the office pool, he took a chance on Bridget and fell in love with her. Lots of text is taken up with his ruminations on why she is different than the other girls he dated and why he wanted to marry her versus all the others that he appears to have “pumped and dumped.” This book has already brought out a coarse streak in me, I guess!

Bridget is an orphan; her father died soon after her birth and her mother passed a few years prior to the events in this book, leaving her a wool shop which Bridget sold. She lives with a few roommates. She has accepted his proposal of marriage and the opposition he might have expected from his own family did not take place. His mother was happy that he was finally settling down.

His parents had one caveat, however – they wanted Bridget to leave the firm immediately and basically just wait the eight months of their engagement, presumably to get used to the idea of being a woman of leisure? Bridget refused, and this was not a point Daniel wanted to press anyway. At least until they’re married.

So, the reason why they are in Ireland is because Bridget has come into an inheritance. Her father’s cousin, Seamus, who she never met (and was apparently estranged from the family) left his estate to her as the only surviving heir. The attorney mentions that it’s basically a house called Killabeg Castle, out in the sticks; no town within twenty miles, and the nearest railway station is more than thirty. There’s some talk about the attorney, Mr. O’Hanlon, not really knowing Seamus that well, as Seamus suddenly arrived in his office one day looking for a solicitor to handle the purchase of Killabeg. He apparently paid more than it was worth and then spent another few thousand on improvements. It’s unclear how much the property is currently worth. O’Hanlon suggests that, since they’re already in the country, they might as well go see the property and have an idea of what it looks like and what it might fetch for sale. Daniel wants to leave the next evening, but Bridget is curious and wants to stay on, even if her man doesn’t. Daniel tries to make excuses, saying that they can’t possibly spare her at work . . . but didn’t you want her to have quit already? They should get used to it, then, eh?

They agree to stay and O’Hanlon says he will arrange a car service to pick them up and take them to Killabeg, a four hour drive. And there is still some staff in the house, so they won’t need an additional place to stay once they get there. O’Hanlon says he will telephone and let them know that they will be coming.

As they are leaving, O’Hanlon tells Daniel that Seamus’ bank manager told him that Seamus’ bank account was only opened the month before he came to the solicitor, and the amount was a large sum, all in cash. Daniel asks if he didn’t look further into that, but O’Hanlon says that he seemed fairly respectable so it was Seamus’ own business, really. Okay, so why did you bother telling Daniel, then?

Bridget wonders about the origin of the money herself as they walk back to the hotel and grab a drink at the bar. Daniel says it was just after the war, so it could have been anything.

The next morning, the car arrives to take them to Killabeg, driven by a Mat O’Hanlon, the solicitor’s son. Daniel thinks that he’s just brought them the car, but no, Mat offered to drive them up there as a courtesy. Daniel is very surprised by this, as it’s a long journey, but Mat is fine – he was hoping to get some fishing in.

Chapter II. The house is really out in the middle of nowhere, in the heart of a desolate seeming landscape, which could partly be attributed to the weather and time of year. Apparently it had been built in the middle of a bog, originally as a rath, or earth fort; then a castle during Cromwell’s time, and then eventually, the house. Bridget thinks it looks pretty deserted, despite smoke rising from a couple of the chimneys. It is apparently a rather ugly place, with a round tower on one side and a two-floor building on the other part. Two house staff are left, a Mrs. Malone and a teenage girl named Mary. Mary is very timid and Mrs. Malone is the garrulous, hovering type. From her monologue, however, we learn that there’s no running hot water, and no electricity, but plenty of paraffin for lamps. There’s also not much food in the house, so lunch will be a meagre affair.

After she leaves, Bridget looks around the bedroom that Mrs. Malone has brought her to. There are some paintings on the walls, apparently done by a relative, based on the signatures at the bottom, but they don’t seem to quite fit the tone of the place. There’s also one of a crane with one eye closed, and a bit of text in German, of which the thrust is: to stay happy, one has to close one eye to what’s going on around them.

The meal is sad – hard AND soggy potatoes, very wet cabbage, and meat swimming in the same mess of liquid. The bread is uncooked in parts. Stewed plums with condensed milk for dessert, with a beverage claiming to be coffee; from the conversation between Daniel and Mat it’s some sort of bottled concoction. Bridget notes the defensive tone in Mat’s comments as she looks around at the furnishings; everything is in reasonable shape, but very masculine. As assets, they probably wouldn’t fetch much money on the market. Only a few rooms are furnished in the place, as well. There are some gardens near the house, but they are in poor shape due to neglect. A little farther on, there is a lake, which came back near the house to touch at the base of the tower. The trio decide against going down the back stairs, even with a lamp, but Bridget decides to have a look at the tower. However, the iron ring in the door won’t budge for her, nor Daniel. Mat gets the key from Mrs. Malone, who says that she has kept it locked, as Seamus always did when he was alive.

Mrs. Malone says she never was inside the tower herself until the day he died. Apparently he would go up into the tower in the mornings, doing whatever he did up there, and would come down for lunch. On that day, Mary heard a bunch of noises and Mrs. Malone went up to talk to him through the door, but all she could hear was groaning. Somehow, he finally got the key in the lock and that effort was enough to kill him; it seems he had had a stroke, or something, and he managed to crawl down the stairs and then died mumbling about the key. She says she thought it best to leave his playthings alone, so after that day she just locked the door and never touched the key until just now.

Bridget, Daniel, and Mat open the door and ascend the staircase. As they climb, Bridget asks aloud what they think Mrs. Malone meant by “playthings.” The tower is a mix of workroom and living room, with chairs, a bed, an electric cooker, a workbench with electric lighting and a bunch of different tools, and a pile of metal cages stacked atop each other. On the other side of the circular room is a village of doll houses. They are very detailed, even with plants in window boxes (which, of course, have withered due to neglect). There is furniture to scale in the bedrooms. Daniel admires the craftsmanship. Bridget thinks it was odd that a forty-five year old man was making doll houses and miniature furniture.

Daniel says that some of the tools seem odd in the place; Bridget is now uncomfortable and wants to leave the tower. Daniel says that there are worse things that Seamus could have been into. Mat wonders why there are screens across the little slits for windows around the tower. Daniel theorizes to keep out mosquitoes, but Mat points out that the mesh isn’t close enough for that. Daniel’s like, Bats, then. Bats would have used the houses.

The evening meal is just as depressing as luncheon, but with fattier meat and burnt potatoes. The apple pie is soggy, slimy, and overly spiced with cloves to the detriment of whatever apple there might be inside. They refuse the coffee, but eagerly take up the whisky. Mat refuses the offer of a drink and Daniel says he’s “not much of an Irishman.” Wow, you’re a prick. Bridget goes to bed, with Daniel extolling the virtues of Mat’s own country to him, and by virtues, I mean liquor.

The next morning, she enjoys the bracing air from her window, and then washes and dresses and heads out to the garden and the lake, encountering Mat fishing. They talk about what time she wants to leave to head back to Dublin Airport. She agrees with Mat that it was worth the journey to come look at Killabeg, but of course, she will have to sell it. Mat suggests making it a hotel, with the selling point that it’s at the “back of beyond.” Quiet places are in high demand . . . she’s more than capable of running it herself.

At the airport later, Mat says his goodbyes and that he hopes to see them again soon, maybe on their honeymoon. Daniel smiles like it’s an idea worth considering, but apparently they are going to Rome; Daniel has it all meticulously planned. Of course he does. Daniel tries to talk to Bridget on the plane, but she makes noncommittal noises and short replies. She is thinking of Mat’s idea and whether it is workable.

Daniel is driving her home from Heathrow and she brings it up. He laughs at her, not thinking she is serious. She says even if she only ran it for a season, it would better for sale in the future. He says she’ll never get it done in time. She will need money; apparently Seamus’ estate included a little money with the castle. So he gets angry, as she’s now planning to leave next week and he won’t see her until nearer the wedding? She said that he can always come for a visit. She asks him up for coffee, and he refuses, and kisses her perfunctorily. He says that they’ll “talk about things” tomorrow, presumably to pressure her to change her mind, but she knows that she will not yield. Daniel sounds like such a peach, doesn’t he?

Chapter III. We suddenly switch perspective – and it is sudden, and the first time reading I was confused for a few sentences – to a different couple, Waring and Helen Selkirk, who are American. Waring is thinking about their argument after a party at friends of theirs; Helen was drunk and holding forth about her time in the Gulf. He watches her and remembers she was prettier and thinner in her youth, but still had that same strident voice. Apparently, he also used to think she was intellectual when they first got together. And now? He had to stop her before she got too political, I guess? It’s very vague, but he has to cut his conversation short with another person at the party because Helen is talking about the “Palestine refugees,” but it isn’t explicitly stated WHAT that means. Waring and Helen leave the party early, with his excuse that they have to finalize their preparations for their trip the day after. Helen is quiet until they get in the car, but then they start fighting and don’t even stop when their teenaged daughter, Cherry, gets home. Waring accuses his wife of not caring what happens with her daughter, and Helen tries to choke him and then bites his leg.

The three of them embark on their sea journey, and things seem to look better in the light of day. Helen isn’t as irascible; Cherry seems happy and is the recipient of some flattering attention from a young man at their table at dinner. Everything is great until they arrive in Cork and the car he had hired to pick them up has not arrived. It’s supposed to be large, but it’s a small four-seater, so they have to cram in with some of the luggage and then put some of it on the roof. Waring resigns himself to this, not wanting to anger Helen with further delay trying to get a different service, or bigger car. And she seems fine at first, chattering away to the driver and admiring the view and what-have-you.

Of course, the car breaks down and it begins to rain heavily. The driver goes into the town to see what assistance he can get, and Helen begins to harangue her husband about his entire life and all his bad choices. Waring ignores her; Cherry ignores the both of them. They get back on the road; and then hit a bump, which promptly throws their luggage off the roof and scatters it into the muddy road behind them. This winds Helen up again. At this point, they are pretty close to their destination, and when Helen sees it from a distance, she is basically, Hell to the no; Cherry and I are leaving tomorrow and we’ll go to Morocco like I wanted to do originally.

Waring remembers she had mentioned Morocco when they were planning things, but it was because some of their friends had been going, and Waring didn’t want to witness them suddenly backing out once Helen broached joining up with them. Also, the idea had been a quiet place where they could, perhaps, try to work out their marital issues. She had seemed to be impressed by the idea of the unspoiled peace of Ireland, and also mentioned that it would be “safer” for Cherry there.

Helen’s program remains in Bitch Mode after they get to the hotel. The room is cold. The drapes are ugly. She doesn’t like the soap. The bed is too hard. Yet despite herself, she is intrigued by the guests – Mat O’Hanlon, and a German couple, Stefan and Hanni Morwitz. As they are going to bed, Helen asks Waring what he thinks of the Morwitzes, and he says they seem okay. She thinks it’s an odd combination, a very Aryan-looking man marrying a Jewish woman. Then she’s off speculating about Bridget’s engagement ring and that she seems a bit young for this sort of hospitality gig. Helen is a totally different person, as if the earlier diatribes on the way in had never happened. Then she even gets a bit salacious, telling her husband, as he starts to undress, that he has a good body; he realizes he will have to submit to her desires, to keep the peace, although it’s obvious she repulses him. Although, considering how she acts, I can’t say that I blame him.

Later, he wakes up to use the restroom and on his way back to the room, he looks out the window. The moon is nearly full and very bright, and he did not feel the need to put on his glasses, enjoying the shapelessness and soft wash over everything. Then he sees something moving out near the garden. He thinks it’s some sort of animal, but his mind rejects each option due to the size and the way it is moving. Waring snatches up his glasses and puts them on, and then he sees it again, over toward the tower, very briefly before it is once again lost to vision. He immediately dismisses it as a hallucination, but he must have unknowingly cried out, because Helen is awake, and wanting to know why the fuck he woke her up.

Chapter IV. Now we peek into Stefan and Hanni, the German couple. In Munich, they have a store. Despite wanting to enjoy his vacation and perhaps sleep in a little bit, Stefan is finding himself down early for breakfast every day. Even still, he is happy to be away from his workaday world and all those people; there are people in this hotel, of course, but he can easily leave them behind and go out for walks in the fresh air, which he has done every day he has been here. Even though at home he is fairly idle and has kind of let his body go.

On his walk back to the house, a car pulls up next to him. It’s Daniel, coming in, and he offers Stefan a lift, but is refused. Stefan’s first impression of him is not stellar, and he likes Bridget, so now he feels a little disappointed for her that THIS is the guy.

Later Bridget is spending time with the guests in the hour before dinner, passing around glasses of sherry. She asks Stefan if he would be willing to take a look at a notebook that she had found when she was cleaning up the house months ago; it’s all in German and hard to read. It’s a journal, she’s figured out that much. He translates the first entry for her on the fly; the names are reduced to first initials and it talks about self-discipline and no excuse for failure, and S. (Seamus perhaps?) drinks a lot. Bridget says it’s very melodramatic and has lost interest in it, but Stefan is intrigued and asks if he can keep reading. She says sure, you can tell me all about it later.

As for the Americans, Stefan thinks Cherry is pretty, but in a rather cold way, and Helen talks way too much, and asks all sorts of rather embarrassing questions. Waring is apparently a professor in the social sciences, and Stefan enjoys talking with him over dinner. Helen gets jealous that her husband’s attention is being monopolized and that no one is listening to her, so she suddenly blurts out, “You won’t believe what happened to Waring last night!” Of course, when she finally gets an audience she tells them that he thought he saw a fairy in the moonlight. He immediately gets defensive, citing a trick of the light and so forth. Bridget says that other people have seen such things – Mary, the maid, for example. Hanni does not understand the phrase “little people,” so Bridget explains, and Stefan says to her “Die Kobolde,” which is the Germanic version of a sprite or fairy. She says they do wicked things and Stefan says that they are not human.

This devolves into the differences between the fairy, and the leprechaun, and the banshee, and whether you can get a pot of gold if you catch one (Helen’s contribution, OF COURSE). Someone asks if the house might be haunted, but Mat says that they aren’t ghosts. Bridget mentions getting rid of the dollhouse furniture. Daniel says that Waring’s fairy was probably miffed to not have a place to lay his head when they got to the tower, so she’s getting cursed for sure.

Despite Waring being glad that the conversation had turned away from him, he mentions that the creature he saw actually gave him the impression of being female. Helen asks if she was pretty. But Daniel, even though he was joking or sarcastic to Bridget, seriously asks Waring if he did see something strange. Waring, because he’s logical, tries to rationalize it, but he can’t. Mat asks what kind of animal it might have been. Bridget says it probably wasn’t a cat, because all of theirs died rather mysteriously. The tension is broken with the dessert arriving to the table.

Later, Stefan and Hanni are in bed, reading; Hanni settles in for the night, but Stefan is still absorbed in his book, by Kirst, who was a German novelist who wrote many books dealing with Nazi Germany; based on Stefan’s thoughts, he must be reading one of these. He looks at Hanni while she is asleep and thinks about her being half-Jewish on her father’s side. If she had been fully Jewish, he thinks, nothing would have saved her. He knew about the list she kept in the family Bible, of all the family she lost at multiple concentration camps, but he never told her that he knew.

Then he thinks about Waring’s vision, and envies him, even if turns out to be a delusion. He turns out the light but can’t sleep.

Chapter V. Now we turn to Mat, the attorney’s son, who should have gone back home before Daniel got here. It’s obvious to everyone, he’s certain, that he is quite enamored of Bridget, and that is why he keeps putting off his departure. They seemed quite close before HE arrived, and even though she has an engagement ring, she seemed very easy about leaving her fiancé for months to set up this hotel. Plus, he does the mental gymnastics of an engagement ring doesn’t mean she’s married, and his sister was engaged four times before she finally got married, so . . . pant away, I guess? Gross.

The day of Daniel’s arrival, she didn’t seem ruffled at all, setting up a guest room for him like any other person coming to stay. When Daniel finally drives up, Mat rushes to the landing to see them greet each other, and the kiss is very casual, like you would give a family friend or something. Mat, stop being a fucking creeper. Later, he’s sitting in the library, but she doesn’t see him. Daniel and Bridget meet in the hallway outside, and then he watches them in a passionate embrace, she straining against him just as much as he is against her. He can’t look away as Daniel grasps her bum as they kiss. They break away and walk in opposite directions, and Mat is wretched. Now he knows for sure and he’s partly glad he didn’t say something and make a fool of himself, but it still rankles.

At dinner, he tries to concentrate on the other guests. He feels sorry for Cherry, as this is a boring place under normal circumstances, but with parents constantly at each other’s throats, it has to be terrible. She seems pretty dull and subdued, but he presumes that is a natural consequence.

This is the same dinner where Waring talks about what he saw, and from this angle, Mat is pleased later that his responses were so natural, despite him sweating the whole meal. He also wonders at the kind of female that can give an impression of being virginal? Oh, this tired shit. Fuck you, dude.

He watches her again later, when they all have coffee in the library; this figure of Bridget before him can’t be reconciled with the woman he witnessed in the passage earlier. What is the explanation? It has to be that hand – Daniel’s hand roving about her backside. What do you expect of an Englishman? She tolerated it from him, but certainly she hadn’t wanted or welcomed that caress; she’s a pure girl, he knows! This puts him in a more jovial mood until he goes to bed.

Mat’s room is right next to Daniel’s and as he lays there, hearing the other man fumble around getting ready for bed, he tries to think charitably towards him. A lot of men are like him, not just in England; Ireland, too! The grubby writers at the Bailey with their bawdy talk about fornication and adultery. He starts to doze, but then he hears the creaking of boards in Daniel’s room, like he is heading out into the hallway. Ah, probably just going to the loo. He’ll have to come back this way again in a few minutes. But now Mat can’t just go back to sleep. Ten minutes, then fifteen go by. Then, he puts on his slippers and dressing gown and slips out of his room. Immediately he wonders if maybe he just didn’t hear Daniel come back to his room. He listens at the door, but doesn’t hear anything; he uses the bathroom himself, and after he is done, he rationalizes that there is no harm in going into the one empty guest room next door to Bridget’s at the end of the hall. Sure, that’s not creepy at all, to go listen at the wall to make sure she’s asleep.

He goes to the spare room, and he hears two voices in her room, a man’s and a woman’s. But that could be just them talking; they didn’t have a chance to just chat privately all day, so this would be an opportune place to do it. He presses himself closer to the wall, as he can’t make out individual words. Then he remembers the glass to the wall trick and tries that. And he hears Bridget, sighing, and then her voice saying something explicit.

Now, he can’t go back to bed. He goes downstairs and wants a drink, despite being sober for nearly three years. He pours himself a whisky, then another, then dozes off in a chair in the library, and is awakened by a scurrying noise, which he presumes to be a rat. He checks the hallway, but there’s nothing there. He takes the rest of the bottle with him, and goes back up the stairs to his room.

The next morning he is tired but not hungover. So he has another drink as he readies for the day. There is nothing to keep him here but he already said he was staying a couple of days and he certainly can’t look like he’s running away now, can he? Besides, Bridget is nothing now, just another slut.

He tells her that he wants to settle his bill, including the bottle of whiskey. She’s surprised because he has done so much work around the house and so she really should be paying him. She’s also surprised about the liquor, but he says he has a cold coming on, so he had a few drinks. Then he goes to town and buys a few more bottles to hide in his room. But he doesn’t drink with the others, and he thinks that he’s holding his own quite well, that they can’t tell he has been drinking. They’re talking about the little people again, and everyone has taken a wee bit too much tonight.

The rain has stopped so they all gaze out the window; Helen suggests a search party for the fairy lady. Then Daniel says they should just turn out the lights so that the fairies think they have gone to bed. Mat ruminates on how Daniel stands behind Bridget’s chair, close but not quite touching her. But why bother thinking about her? She was everything, and now she’s nothing. What a fucking douche. Then he sees something outside, but doesn’t say anything, and then Hanni also sees it and informs the rest of the company. Then they all see it and it hops. A rabbit, or hare. Helen needles Waring again about what he saw – it was a crummy bunny, or a fairy with a fur coat. Mat suddenly needs to leave them so he excuses himself and goes to bed.

He feels someone in his room and he wakes a bit fearfully. It’s Cherry, and she claims that she had been heading to her parents’ room because she couldn’t sleep, but must have gotten confused. Then she pulls a, Well, while I am here, would you like to talk? It’s okay if you don’t and I’ll just go back to my room, alone . . . He says, no it’s fine, he is wide awake now. She’s wearing a rather silky robe with a nightdress underneath, and it is rather high up on the thighs. Oh, but THIS is okay, Mat? She sits on the end of the bed. He realizes she is seventeen, and she’d come to his room; oh, like a schoolboy fantasy. He thinks her face is so pure, but then remembers that that has made him a fool before. The womenfolk are all alike, no matter how young they are. They put on a mask of naivete, but inside they’re all harlots.

He proposes a drink. She says no, she doesn’t like the taste of it. He asks again why she is there and she says that she was nervous and lonely. Then she asks if she can lie down next to him on the bed, and he eases her down, then gets up to tuck a blanket around her and goes to sit in the chair. She asks him to lie down next to her. So he does, and then they talk for a while. Then she falls asleep and Mat gently slides out of the bed so that he can stay awake and when dawn comes, he wakes her up and makes her go to her own room. But he gives her a kiss before she goes. And now he’s happy.

So, let me get this straight. A grown woman that you fancied until only just the day before is suddenly a harlot because you eavesdropped on her presumably having sex with her fiancé, but it’s okay to lust after a teenaged girl because she’s all innocent and sweet. What the everloving FUCK? This makes me wonder about the author, it truly does.

Chapter VI. Back to Daniel’s POV. Bridget’s alarm wakes him up and he thinks about how flawless and white her skin is. He spoons her and grabs a handful of titty, then does some still more “intimate movement,” as the author coyly relates. She says no and leaps out of bed and gets on her slippers and dressing gown. This annoys him, but she explains that it’s already nearly seven-thirty and Mrs. Malone has probably overslept again, and at this point, Mat and the Morwitzes will be looking for breakfast shortly. This place is her responsibility, in case you forgot.

Daniel is like, whatever, I’m about five seconds away from getting out this bed myself and manhandling you. She basically replies, Fuck around and find out, and speaking of fucking, these nighttime visits can’t go on; I’m barely getting enough sleep as it is, and I don’t want the guests to find out that we’re boinking every night and not being married. He says if she locks her door against him he’ll just sit outside and howl like a dog, or beat the door down. I think you think you’re being cute, my dude, but guess what? You’re not. Then he says, Eh, quit and send them all somewhere else; her response is he’ll be packed off first instead. Heh. Then she tells him she doesn’t care if he lays all day in bed, but NOT in hers.

He obeys but sulkily, going back to his room and rumpling his bed so that it will look like it was slept in when Mary brings in the tea. He thinks about Bridget’s “We’ll see” about what will happen with Killabeg after the season is over. She can’t be serious; she’s just trying to keep him in line, right? This Bridget is so different from the one he used to work with. The whole idea is absurd. As he washes his face, he thinks that the idea of all the responsibility has gone to her head, just like what happens to newly promoted executives. They settle down after a time; and so will she.

After taking his tea in his room, he has some time to kill before breakfast; he knows he can’t bother Bridget right now. He decides to go outside and get some fresh air, take a walk around the lake. He does so, and then runs up the small ridge to take a look around the surrounding countryside. He finds it all rather drab and uninteresting. No wonder they make up stories about fairies and leprechauns. On his way back, however, he nearly passes by something that arrests his attention and he doubles back to look at it. In the clay, there is a small footprint, about two inches in length.

Bridget thinks that he’s joking. Daniel thinks that Waring or maybe Mat decided to pull a prank. They all go out after breakfast to take a look at it, except for Cherry, who slept in. Daniel watches all their faces, thinking, perhaps, that he will catch the prankster among them, but Helen is just as loquacious as usual, Waring is preoccupied with something his wife probably said, Mat looks hungover (he’s obviously not hiding his drunken states very well), Hanni has no idea what’s happening, and Stefan is just along for the ride.

They chat about whether or not it’s real; Helen is inclined to think it might be. After all, they thought the coelacanth was extinct and it wasn’t; who’s to say a small race of tiny people don’t still exist in a remote part of the world like this? Waring and Helen trade info back and forth in this vein. Daniel is lost; they reference people like T.H. Huxley and he has no idea who that is. (Thomas Henry Huxley, by the way; English biologist and anthropologist who advocated Darwin’s theory of evolution. He also was a big advocate of adult education, as apparently he was mostly self-taught). Waring winds up by saying it has to be a fake. Helen’s argument is – why here? Why so remote from the house when it wouldn’t be easily found, and maybe never if no one came this way? So what was the point, if it was faked?

Mat answers that obviously it was DANIEL who faked it. The English have a “special” sense of humor, you know. Bridget agrees with Helen – still doesn’t make sense why someone would place it here. Mat is bristling with hostility towards her. Stefan’s call breaks a bit of the tension and they go over to where he’s standing by a hole near the base of the tower. So what? Daniel and Mat argue. It’s a rat hole.

Waring says there aren’t any droppings or grease marks, so rats are unlikely. Then he sees a bit of cotton thread that came loose from whatever by being snagged on the rock. So it’s not like it was just blown there.

Stefan asks about the rooms at the bottom of the tower, and Bridget says they’re more like cells and they mostly have junk that she hasn’t had time to sort through yet. She’s only gone down with a torch (flashlight) because there is no light there and it smells a bit stale. Stefan asks if it’s okay to look at the rooms. Bridget says if they’d like to, but it’s obvious she feels weird about it. Helen wants to see them, too, and didn’t she say that Mary had seen things? Bridget says she’s a superstitious gal and kind of dumb, so . . . but food has been pilfered from the cupboards. Little bits like a child might steal. Mat pipes up that some candles, string and a penknife have also gone missing. Bridget tries to explain that away, that Mrs. Malone is always misplacing things.

All of this has Stefan very interested. Daniel just thinks it’s all absurd; they’re so absorbed by all this because they’re so isolated, surely. But how to explain the footprint. No one else but himself had been out there, and he didn’t do it.

Helen turns to Waring and apologizes about making fun of him for his vision the other night; she presses him for more details, but now suddenly, he shuts down and says he saw nothing, and talking about it inspired this bullshit, so I’m taking my ball and going home. He goes back to the house.

Chapter VII. Stefan has finished the journal; he feels a kindship with this man, this German who is out of his element, and trying to figure out meaning in the world. However, there is no clue as to how he came to be here, or what work he was doing. The mysterious V appears to have been his wife, and it’s obvious he had deeply loved her and had trouble accepting her death.

Stefan decides not to tell Bridget what is in the journal, as there is nothing there that would probably interest her, and some of its character or meaning is hard for him to explain in English. He rereads a passage and ruminates on it again. Then he turns out the light and goes to sleep. He has a dream about his family – his mother, grieving over the loss of a second son to the war. His father broaches the topic that perhaps he take something “safer” now, so that his mother doesn’t lose all of her children. He tells his father of the stories he has heard about work camps where they are murdering Jews and burning the bodies. His father tells him that those stories are all lies; those are work camps, yes, and they make the Jews work, but the smoke is from the smelting plants. His father continues, if there were murders happening, I would know about them. His father once again suggests for him to come back home, but Stefan refuses. That was the last time he saw his mother, and the next to last time he saw his father, of which recall makes Stefan curl into a little ball with the horrible memories.

At first, when he heard Daniel talking about the footprint, he also thought it was a joke, a prank. But then he saw the hole in the wall. And Waring finding the thread. And the theft of the food and string and candles are all things that tiny beings would need for survival in what, to them, is a giant’s world.

He really wants to see the tower. Hanni is too afraid, and he respects her boundaries. Waring scorns the whole idea, but Helen wants to go, as does Mat, and even Daniel. Bridget doesn’t have time, so she gives them some flashlights and tells them coffee will be ready soon.

Once below, they find a lot of junk and debris. Some of the rooms are flooded. They find a room that has a stub of candle on a ledge only a few inches off the ground. Mat says it wasn’t there a week ago, but Stefan argues that all the rooms look the same, so how could you be sure? Mat tells him there’s a cross carved above the door, and part of a letter S. Daniel says then Bridget did it, but Mat argues she’s been too busy. Blah blah, pissing contest. Helen is exasperated with them both, saying that this is a wonderful discovery, why are you ruining it? She also found the wrapping of a chocolate bar, which Daniel says could have been Mary, but Mat said she’s too scared to go down there. Daniel says they should be getting back, anyway. Stefan notices another notebook and slips it into his pocket as everyone else goes on ahead.

Chapter VIII. Waring goes out to the garden, remembering when he visited England once as a young man, and saw a garden much like this one. He had been looking for Bridget earlier to tell her about a dead lightbulb when he heard her voice mentioning his name in discussion with someone. Bridget and Daniel were discussing him and Helen and their constant bickering, and how it seems hard on their daughter. He moves away from the door before they could catch him, and he is annoyed, not so much at being discussed, but that equal blame is being apportioned when It’s obvious that Helen is the instigator. Oh, she was “trying to be civilized,” eh? How about the time she set fire to my suits and nearly burned down the house? Or punched me in the stomach while I was driving on the freeway? Then again, these folks would have no idea what she was truly like, and if they thought he was just as bad, well, he must have given them that impression.

He thinks back to the second day and her humiliating him at the dinner table, after humiliating him in bed the night before (I’m really curious what the author wants us to think this means; does she like pegging him?) and then his stupidity in telling her what he had seen out the window. He knew it was coming when he had been enjoying a conversation with Stefan and she was being ignored. He notices the roses, and even if someone tidied them up, they’ve been neglected for so long it probably wouldn’t make a difference; then he thinks of this in relation to himself: is this what his life will continue to be? And Helen really was trying this morning, with the talking about the footprint and the fossils and such, and all he was able to respond with was sarcasm and bitterness. But he knows what she has been like and what she will always be. In the end, he finally remembers Bridget’s comment that the fighting is hard on Cherry. It doesn’t matter which one of them is worse, what matters in a war are the noncombatants. There is no real justification for his actions this time.

Cherry came down late morning, claiming to have stayed awake late last night reading a book, and then picked it up again after she woke up missing breakfast time. He asks her what book, and she says it’s by de Laclos, so, presumably, Dangerous Liaisons. He says it’s well written and corrupt. Helen comes in at the end of this and asks who’s corrupt and she snorts about the book being corrupting. She asks aloud if they want to know what they found in the tower. Cherry does seem interested in the conversation, and would have liked to have gone looking in the tower with them. Waring thinks to himself that he shouldn’t worry about her too much. She’s obviously strong enough to withstand her parents’ fights. And then he thinks about a phone call he received from someone at a camp awhile back, with some “unpleasant” news, but we get no more glimpse into it at present.

Helen says that they’re going to do a watch tonight and see what happens; Cherry says she’ll join and Waring says, Why not, he’s in as well. He sees Helen smiling at him, and recognizes it as a smile of triumph, of bringing her dog to heel.

At dinner, listening to them all talk and seem to take it more seriously, Waring is becoming more convinced that it is a hoax, and that his experience was actually a hallucination. It’s not like he hasn’t had them before. At sixteen, he had stayed in a house where there had been talk of ghosts, and that night, there was a supernatural-seeming experience where a glow came through the wall towards him and he was so terrified that he could not sleep for some time. In the light of morning, however, he was convinced it was not real. Not ghosts, but moonlight and shadows.

What of the footprint? Maybe two of them in cahoots. Maybe Daniel had engaged Bridget; a little publicity for the guest house wouldn’t go amiss, after all . . . She also begs off from the watch, being too tired to wait up, and also not convinced there will be anything TO see. Waring smugly thinks to himself this is quite the right tack to take. Now he’s curious what the stunt is going to be.

Helen and Mat decide to stay in the kitchen, as does Cherry, obviously for Mat, her father sees that quite plainly. Stefan and Daniel will keep watch down below. Hanni decides to go to bed. Waring decides to join the men downstairs, as that is where the action will be, most assuredly.

They all check to see if everything is clear downstairs before settling in for the watch. Waring chooses a place where he can see the action better, or at least sense it in the dark if Daniel is going to try to enact some sort of scene for their benefit. They sit in the dark. Waring ruminates on his daughter’s infatuation with Mat. He seems like he would be good for her. He might be a Catholic, but Waring doesn’t really object to that. Even if she wanted to live in Ireland, he has no problem with that, either. She’ll be free of Helen, and then, he could be, too! Why not? He could be near to his daughter but still give her her space, and be blissfully alone.

He hears a small sound and it jolts him from his reverie. He still thinks it’s Daniel, even though it’s coming from a different spot than where he was sitting, but no matter – he could have taken off his shoes so they wouldn’t hear him. The sounds get louder, and also some whispering. But that could be faked, too. Daniel could have planted a tape recorder. Such an overly elaborate ruse. He gets to his feet, determine to turn on the light, but before that, the flashlight beam catches them – two little people, darting quickly into the tunnel. This was no trick; they were real!

Daniel puts on the light; they confirm they all saw them. Waring realizes the one in the moonlight was real, too, but these, in contrast to what he saw, looked like little men. Stefan interrupts them and they turn to look at what he sees; a little woman, in the corner, staring up at them.

Chapter IX. Bridget tries to read in bed but can’t concentrate, so she turns out the light and tries to sleep. She was surprised that Daniel had gotten involved in all the little people nonsense, but at least now she can get to sleep without him pawing at her tonight. Tomorrow night, though . . oh, well, she’ll worry about that then.

She’s glad that they seem to be doing so well after their separation, especially since Daniel had disapproved of the entire idea. Her own stubbornness to pursue the endeavor had surprised even her. She felt sorry for Mat, as she feels like she was kind of flirty with him in the absence of her man. Even still, though, he knew that she was engaged from the moment they met, so any other ideas he might have entertained are on him. Hopefully he will fall in love with the pretty little American girl, Cherry.

She falls asleep and then Daniel tries to wake her up; of course, she thinks it’s for sex, so she’s pissed about it, but no, they caught one of the little people. She still thinks it’s a joke to get into her bed, but then he explains more and she realizes by the look on his face that he is indeed serious this time. She gets out of bed to take a look at the little woman, who looks like a doll. They have placed her on the billiard table and she is dressed in green, with miniature rope-soled sandals. She has not spoken, but they can’t tell if she is unable to speak, or doesn’t speak English, or, perhaps, as Cherry points out, is too afraid. Bridget does notice she is slightly trembling. She wonders how old she is, and she also realizes that her head is tiny but not proportionate with her body. She also doesn’t have much breast to speak of.

Helen says she probably speaks Gaelic, but Mat tries and she doesn’t respond. Daniel raps the table and she looks up, so they know she is not deaf. Cherry picks her up and cradles her in her arms. She closes her eyes and trembles more. Cherry tries to reassure her. Stefan exclaims softly in German that she is so beautiful, like a doll. The little one replies, rapidly, her voice so high-pitched it is hard to understand, but it is German.

After a halting conversation, Stefan finds out that they live in the tower, and that’s where they have always lived. There are seven of them, five boys and two girls. Her name is Greta. She does not understand parents. There was a Big One – der Grosse (the great). Bridget realizes that Cousin Seamus wasn’t just playing with dolls’ houses, there were these live ones too. Waring doesn’t understand why they might have left them, but Daniel says that his dying up there might have been a big shock to them, especially if he was kind of a father and god figure to them, so they decided to hide somewhere else instead.

They all speculate about where they could have come from before. And why, if they were living in Ireland, and Cousin Seamus was from Cork and never said anything about Germany to anyone, he would teach them German. Der Grosse, according to Greta, spoke to them in a strange language to give commands. Like ‘Do this.’ Presumably the strange language is English.

Helen asks the very important question. What to do with her? Waring tells Bridget that her fortune is made, but Bridget does not like that idea at all. Waring does apologize for thinking that this was a scheme that she and Daniel had cooked up. Cousin Seamus kept them secret, but he was just one man. They won’t stay secret for long. Waring says that they need to be placed in the right hands, like scientists. Helen is contemptuous of his idea, saying that they would just be experiments to them, to be locked up in cages and have their every move studied.

Waring asks what the alternative is, freaks in a circus? Mat says they’re both wrong; they aren’t animals. They have souls and rights and privileges, same as they do. They can sell themselves if they want, with a  good business manager and a press agent, get their faces on cereal boxes, form a pop group. They’re human, so can be tempted. What would this one like? Diamond rings, a huge doll house with three hundred rooms? Paintings and Persian rugs cut up small?

Daniel says that they obviously need to give all this some thought, so, what to do with her in the meantime? Cherry offers to take her to her room, but Daniel is sure she will just slip out and escape and they won’t be able to catch one so easily next time. They decide to put her in the big clothes hamper; it will be comfortable enough for a few hours, and there is a strap that can be put around it so she can’t get out. They task Stefan with telling Greta what is going on, and that they are not going to hurt her. She says she understands and would like some water. Bridget gets it for her and then goes back to bed.

In the morning, Mrs. Malone brings her a cup of tea and says that she will handle breakfast this morning so Bridget can rest. Despite sleeping in a little bit, Bridget manages to get downstairs and in good order shortly. It’s only later that she remembers the little prisoner in the basket, but when she looks for the key she can’t find it. She goes to the cloakroom and sees that the hamper is open, but Greta is still sitting inside; Stefan is also in the room. She sees his face is very disturbed, and asks if it is something to do with Greta. He says, “I know now who the parents were.”

Chapter X. Mat believed in the little people before he even saw the footprint. He was annoyed how Daniel acted about it, and that’s why he accused Daniel of planting it. But he knew it was real and true even before Stefan found the hole.

He used to stay with his grandparents over the summer, and his grandmother would tell him the tales, of hauntings, and leprechauns, and banshees, and the little people of Connemara, where she was from. He also remembered how belligerent his grandfather was after drinking too much. When his grandmother died, he didn’t think about the stories, and drank a lot as a young man, until his three-year stint of sobriety that he ended on this trip.

But now, he took no more drink as he went into the cellars, with no expectation of finding anything. Whatever would happen, would happen, which is why he chose to sit upstairs instead of in the cellar like Waring and Daniel and Stefan. Even when he heard their commotion, he never dreamed they would actually have found any of them, until he saw Greta in Daniel’s hands. She was even wearing green like in his grandmother’s stories.

He had listened to them talk and argue, and tried to stay out of it, until his sardonic outburst about them getting a business agent and such. He went upstairs while they were still talking about what to put Greta. He drinks a whisky and is getting undressed when Cherry comes in; he’s in his underwear and feels a bit embarrassed but she just says that she wanted to be with him again. She just wants to kiss him goodnight. Her face is open and trusting, like a child. He kisses her and then bids her goodnight.

Chapter XI. Stefan is surprised that no one remembered the journal in all of these discussions; but he realizes that perhaps Bridget might be the only one who knew about it. He’s reluctant to bring it up because he does have some kind feelings for this man, lonely and far from home. He remembers that he hasn’t looked at the second volume yet that he took from the tower earlier in the day, so he slips into bed with the book and starts to read.

This volume obviously is from the time after the first one, but there are no years to go by. He talks less about his work in this one, but mentions something about after his death, “there will be objections, but the greatness of the accomplishment must be recognized.” Then later, talking about an F and G. G for Greta? Both were ill at one point and the author of the journal blames S (Seamus) bringing germs home from his trips. Stefan surmises that the author of the journal was probably the only one for a while with the little people, and then after he died, Seamus had taken his place, but less in a scientific experiment vein and more like living toys to pass the time.

Stefan passes a fitful night of sleep with bad dreams; when he awakes, he wonders about the papers the author of the journal mentions. Seamus might have burned them. But he also remembered that there had been other papers in the file where he took the journal. There were other boxes with no labels, so entirely possible that some evidence might still exist.

He dresses quietly as Hanni continues sleeping, then goes downstairs to get the key to the tower. He grabs at some of the papers from the file; some were typewritten, others handwritten and difficult to read by flashlight. He grabs the whole file to read upstairs and brings them to the library. As he’s trying to organize them, his eye catches on a sentence and he starts his reading there. Some of the papers make no sense to him, and some do. A picture is starting to form in his mind. He also thinks of his father, the last time he saw him, in a prison cell where an armed American guard stood watch. His father, so weak and trembling, pitiful. He tells Stefan that his mother’s property is clean and cannot be confiscated, so it is Stefan’s, but he doesn’t want it. His father also says that he is not to return; in a few weeks, he will be deceased, but he wants Stefan to think of the finality now, as he walks through the door.

He wandered aimlessly for two months after that, and met Hanni during that time, and they were married soon after. She knew about his father and is surprised that he never went back to see him, but Stefan says that he was a good German son and obeyed orders. He asks her on their first anniversary if she hates him for what he is, and she says she will always love him, but he is insecure in his own despair and does not believe her. He is so tainted, with his past, that it seems to him impossible that she should love him.

Back to the conversation about the parents, he tells her about the papers he found in the tower. In 1929, Veronica Chauncey of Cork and Karl Hofricht of Munich were married. Bridget says that Veronica was her grandfather’s sister; she did not know much about her, as she sided with Sean when the two of them fell out. So, the man who wrote it appears to be her uncle, and Veronica died in Germany before the war.

So, Uncle Karl started studying growth, normal and abnormal. In Germany. He was responsible for the little people. Bridget doesn’t understand how an experience like that would be allowed.

Well, that’s because Greta was born in 1944. In Germany. He had a laboratory and the Nazis sent him money and equipment for his experiments. It’s unclear if they knew what he was doing, but if they thought the study of aging could help the Fuhrer, then I’m sure they were willing to throw funds at it. He experimented on guinea pigs, white rats, cats, dogs . . .and pregnant Jewish women.

They screened them upon arrival at the camp. If they were pregnant and at the right stage, they were sent to him. He had discovered a drug, which he called Stearan, that at a certain stage in pregnancy would stop the future growth of the fetus, so it would have all of the appendages and everything else formed, but would grow no larger than a few inches in length, and less than five hundred grams in weight.

Stefan can feel tears start to form as he relates this. Years later the horrors are there with him still.

According to what he read, Karl left Germany in 1944 and went to Spain. What was left of the Nazis gave him papers and money, probably. Then from Spain to here, presumably making contact with Seamus and the two of them lived together here, and died here, as well.

Chapter XII. Back to Waring having a dream about his wife, where he’s having conflicting feelings about how they first were and how they are now. He starts arguing in his sleep, all of the things that he hadn’t thought of at the time. He wakes Helen up, which pisses her off, but then when she hears that he’s going down to check on Greta, she asks him to wait for her.

They head downstairs, running into Daniel on the way, and find Bridget and Stefan in the cloakroom with Greta, who’s just staring at them all. Stefan is very emotional and excuses himself; Bridget tells them the story after he leaves. Daniel says they should look at the papers in the library, even though they’re all written in German. Bridget picks up Greta and takes her to the library with them.

Waring knows a little German, so he corroborates Stefan’s details about the experimentation on pregnant women. Bridget doesn’t understand why no one has known about this before. Wouldn’t it have made the news? Daniel says that there are probably still hidden documents about the atrocities of the war, for one thing; and for another, maybe even the Nazis holding the pursestrings didn’t know what this guy Hofricht was really doing, since it was supposed to be anti-aging work, not “creating a race of pixies.”

Helen has been silent this whole time, and Waring wonders what’s going through her mind. Is it because of the inhumanity of what created these little people, or the sadness that there was no magic here after all? But he only says that they have to decide what to do about them. Daniel echoes Mat’s opening remarks from last night, that she is human, and has rights. Countries might fight over their nationality, but she’s independent. Waring agrees, but also argues that you can’t just throw her and the others into modern life without any assistance or knowledge. No press, either, at least not for the present. They’re all in agreement about that.

Cherry comes in during this last bit and comes towards the billiard table; Greta opens up her arms to her and lets Cherry pick her up. Cherry says they’re all forgetting the most important thing – food. She only had water last night. Her father gives her the German word for breakfast and Greta nods, but Waring notices, she does not ever smile.

Bridget gets out a baby’s high chair, which of course, is still overly large for Greta, but they amass some books on the seat and make it work. A saucer for her plate and a saltspoon for her utensil; the shot glass for her beverage doesn’t work quite as well, but she manages. Mrs. Malone watches this while absentmindedly making the sign of the cross over herself repeatedly. Bridget had told both her and Mary the story, and the younger woman seemed to have taken it a bit better, but Mrs. Malone is absolutely afraid.

Waring, despite what he said outwardly, was ruminating on calling Dean Matthews, presumably at his university. But a transatlantic call would be overheard and how to explain succinctly? And even if he did, Matthews would want to visit and then the cat would really be out of the bag. This needs to be approached creatively, and he’s not very creative . . . but he just can’t bear to think that these little folk will be handed over the government or thrust into the public eye. And then he thinks of McGredy, a Fellow of the Royal Society. He seems to be a man of integrity; he could keep a secret! This fucking guy . . . There is no need to rush; this can wait for a day or two.

He sees Mat come into the dining room and is pleased by the affectionate glances between his daughter and Mat. The Morwitzes come in as well; Hanni is pale and begins to cry once she sets eyes on Greta. Everyone is awkwardly silent for a bit, and then Stefan guides his wife out of the room.

Hanni stays in her room, but Stefan comes back down, not looking too well himself. However, Waring realizes that they need him to translate in order to communicate properly with Greta. Stefan agrees, reluctantly. They reassure her that she is not in danger and will be well cared for. Then they suggest that the other little folk come out of hiding. She agrees and says that she will call them to come out.

Daniel suggests that they let her go so she can bring them, which Waring immediately quashes. His excuse is that the others might harm her; we don’t know anything about these little folk, really. They haven’t really been raised human, so there’s no telling what might happen. Helen says to just let her go, but there’s no real heart in it.

Greta says, through Stefan, that they will come from the cellar in the tower. Cherry carries her. Waring feels a bit apprehensive when he sees his daughter pick up the little woman, but then dismisses this as nonsense.

The group, minus Bridget and Hanni, descend the stairs in the tower. Greta says that the rest of her folk are hidden behind the flooded area. Daniel wonders how they get across the water, as it’s several feet deep. Daniel encourages Cherry to put Greta down, despite Waring’s objection. Greta does not run, however, merely heads to the top of the steps and calls to them.

A few moments later, they see a child-sized toy boat on the water, with little folks plying the oars.

Chapter XIII. As it gets nearer, Daniel sees it’s more of a raft than a boat, with little splinters for oars. But he’s more interested in the occupants OF the boat. They are dressed in green, just like Greta. They have a cartoonish unreality to them, especially in the harsh beam of the flashlight. There are six of them, five men and another woman, and Daniel is astonished at how beautiful she is. Greta is pretty but this one, has long thick golden hair, dark eyes, a lovely complexion.

When the boat reaches the steps, Daniel immediately puts out his hand to her. She lifts her arms, and seems fearless as he picks her up, marveling at the warmth of her body, her curves in miniature. She shows her teeth, but not in a smile or a grimace, merely calm. The others also lift their arms, expecting to be picked up, and Cherry, Waring, and Mat each pick one up. Helen and Stefan just stare, and the two remaining men stand on the steps and don’t bother to anchor their boat. Waring encourages his wife to pick one of them up, and Stefan turns away, so Waring picks up the last one himself. Cherry starts to laugh and begins to sing the song from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. They take the small folk to the library; Daniel goes to the kitchen to talk to Bridget and update her on the situation. Bridget finishes with the pie filling and tells Mrs. Malone to finish up the pie for the oven while she heads to the library with Daniel.

Mrs. Malone can barely speak, she is still so frightened. Bridget tries to reassure her and tells her that there’s nothing to be afraid of from the little people; she offers her the brandy bottle if that will calm her nerves.

In the library, the others were standing on the table in the library. Everyone’s face is showing different emotions, except for the small folk – they are calm and expressionless. Stefan, once again reluctantly, begins to speak with them. Their voices all sound the same to Daniel, but there are some physical distinctions between them – one is a bit taller, one is very thin, some are dark-haired, some are blonde. They are all pale, except for Emma, the one that Daniel had carried; she has a little more color to her face. Stefan says that they do not seem to be afraid of the group.

Waring picks Emma up and runs his fingers over her, talking about making “proper tests” and so forth, and Daniel is irritated and tells Waring to put her down. Daniel quickly adds that it’s probably going to be too easy to think of them, and therefore threat them, as dolls and they need to resist that. Helen says that’s not what Waring was thinking, more as test subjects; she knows him well enough to know that his mind is reeling with he possibilities of a great thesis on these little people.

Mat, who is a bit drunk, repeats that they have human rights. A story in Life magazine, with all the pictures, and a commentary by McGreedy. (this last bit startles Waring). Mat continues to ruminate: their own television program called “think small.” A Chipmunk-esque band, with those voices! Then he whispers to Emma to remember him when she comes into her kingdom.

While this is happening, Daniel is thinking about why he had been so irritated with Waring. Jealousy? Preposterous. He asks Stefan to ask them if they have eaten. They adapted to the utensils as easily as Greta had earlier. Mary comes in and stares at them, but not with terror, merely curiosity. Daniel figures this is because she is a bit simple-minded, so these are the embodiments of her fantasies come to life.

After they eat, the group sets the folk down on the carpet, where they remain clustered together, answering the questions Stefan puts to them on behalf of the group. Most of their story is what Greta already relayed – living in the little houses in the tower and being visited by der Grosse. Until the day he fell down making his strange noises and never came back, so they took what they needed and descended to the cellar. Daniel asks if it is because they were frightened, but Stefan says that they do not expressly say that. Sometimes it is not easy to communicate with them, because the terms are not the same.

They did not understand the word rat, but once the concept was explained, they said that yes, there were rats, but they had killed all of them. Waring wants to know what kind of weapons they used. They do not understand, so Stefan tries to put it another way, and Fritz, who seems to be the spokesperson, says, Whips. Fritz sees the confusion in Waring’s face, so without any expression, he takes off his shirt and shows his back to them. They can see thin lines across the skin, which might not have meant anything to them seen alone, but now he understands what made them, but it still doesn’t make sense in the context.

The rest of the little folk, except for Emma, strip off their shirts (or in Greta’s case, unfastens her dress at the neck) and show their backs to the assembly. All have the whip marks. Stefan asks why. After a long back-and-forth with Fritz, Stefan says it was a misunderstanding. They used the whips to move the rats, but that doesn’t explain how the rats died. When they looked puzzled, the folk thought they did not understand the word he was using, and that was why they shows their backs, as their whips are in the cellar.

Sometimes der Grosse whipped them; other times he made them whip each other. Fritz also tells Stefan that other torments were done to them; he was squeezed so hard once that he nearly lost consciousness.

Waring does not understand how they could come willingly to THEIR hands after all they’ve been through. Cherry says that Greta told them it was okay and they would not have come out if there had been any danger. They have complete trust in each other. Daniel sees Waring look at his daughter as she says this and then look quickly away. He thinks to himself that they cannot be human.

Bridget has made accommodations to the lunch table so that the little folk can eat with them. Stefan takes Hanni lunch in their room, which lightens the mood at table considerably. After lunch, Daniel and Waring are in the library drinking coffee. Their conversation raises Waring’s esteem in Daniel’s eyes; the man is intelligent, speaks sensibly, and is very interesting. His wife isn’t there to dog him, either, and Daniel can’t help but feel a slight bit of contempt for a person who could be so dominated by another person, but overall, he finds that he likes Waring.

Daniel agrees that they can’t just let them out into the world, or rather, let the world in to them. How to protect them? Sure, you could call in the government, but nothing swift or rational is going to happen there. Waring suggests a scientist, but neither of them know anyone. Waring expresses once again how fascinating he finds them; then there’s talk of how the experiments were done and Daniel condemns the Nazis while Waring plays a little bit of whataboutism, then leaves to go look at them again and Daniel is alone, but he’s content to enjoy the breeze and the sunshine. He thinks about Bridget coming to meet him when she’s done with the chores, and maybe they’ll go to take a walk, somewhere secluded.

Suddenly, he sees Emma, the sexy one, walking towards him. He tells her to come to him, in German, and she lets him lift her onto his chest. He tells her she is beautiful, so beautiful, as he lightly touches her face. Then she wriggles off her dress and is completely nude in his hand. He gives her dress back to her to put it on, but she slides down to his lap and begins touching his fly with intent. He puts her down to the floor and gives her her dress, ordering her to put it back on. He realizes that she is the only one that does not have any whipping scars on her back.

Chapter XIV. Mrs. Malone is still freaking out and it is trying Bridget’s patience; she understood that at first it must have been a real shock to her, seeing the little people, but she’s still very pale and trembling. She can’t deal with it, despite Bridget promising that they won’t hurt her. Bridget asks if she wants to leave, but she knows that Mrs. Malone won’t leave; she doesn’t really have any place to go, and she’s had a rough life. She promises to pull herself together, as she knows that she’s not being rational. She just can’t believe they’ve been here this whole time, and that’s who Seamus would go upstairs to in the tower every day. She knew he was odd, but this is beyond odd to her. Aaaand to pretty much everyone, I would gather.

And then she backslides a bit when she sees them all at lunch; she just starts sobbing, and Mary is trying to comfort her, to no avail. Bridget pours her a stiff brandy and makes her drink it. It calms her down somewhat.

Bridget decides to check on Stefan and Hanni; Hanni has not come down, pleading a headache, so Bridget just wants to check in. Stefan brought up a tray but Hanni cannot eat. Hanni is ashamed of wasting the food and how she is behaving, but she lost so many of her family during the war, and these little people could be her cousins.

As she freshens up before her rendezvous with Daniel, Bridget thinks about what to do with the little folks. So many ideas being brought forth, but wouldn’t they be better off staying here? It’s the only place they know, and they would be protected from the media and nosy people. The people who would stay at the hotel would know. But who does that ultimately benefit, she thinks, as she stares at herself in the mirror. She remembers Waring saying that before they caught Greta he thought the whole thing was something Bridget and Daniel had cooked up for publicity, and here she is, thinking something even worse.

She comes upon Daniel in the library, looking very unhappy, and Emma standing a few feet away, staring at him from her place on the carpet. She feels sorry for him – so much has happened since that letter and the impromptu trip to Dublin. She deserted him, then when he followed her here, she kicked him out of her bed. And he’s probably worried about the legal angles of all this, as well.

She kisses him, but he doesn’t quite respond in kind, and it’s probably due to their being watched by Emma. Bridget suggests that they go outside. He asks about Emma, and she asks if he wants to bring her along; he emphatically says NO and just wants to know if they should just leave her there with the door open. They’re not prisoners, Daniel, they can go where they like. How should we be treating them, he asks; and Bridget says she’d like to just get out of the house for a spell and not think about ANY of this.

But then, she asks about advertising the house somewhere, which she thinks would please him that she’s thinking of selling, but he’s very distracted, and when she asks about it, he says, What are they? There’s something odd about them. Of course, when he starts talking about them, Bridget DOESN’T want to talk about them, and they walk through the garden. The garden, she discovers, is quite secluded, yet people inside can see the path towards it, and very plainly hear footsteps due to the gravel. She lays in the grass and waits for Daniel to make a move, but he’s still on about the little folk, that they don’t smile or laugh. Can they laugh? Isn’t that a feature of all humans? She stands up to leave, and says call me when you’ve figured it out. This gives him the hint and he draws her back down for a bit and they’re romantic until she’s annoyed and gently pulls away and says she has to go talk to Mrs. Malone about the stew.

He starts to tell her something but then says it can wait; they’re both very mixed up at the moment.

On Bridget’s return to the house she sees Mat and Cherry walking to the lake; she thinks they make a very handsome couple, and they look happy and at ease with each other. She doesn’t see Emma in the library as she walks through, but she sees that the door is open now, which someone else must’ve done. She has sympathy for the little people, in a world that’s so much bigger than them. Then she’s mad at herself because Daniel was trying to express his concerns about them, and she was being selfish and “an oversexed bitch.” Daaayum.

Mrs. Malone is not in the kitchen; Mary does not know where she is. Mrs. Malone had started the stew, however, which made Bridget a bit uneasy. Mrs. Malone doesn’t usually just slack off while a job is at hand. Maybe her nerves have gotten the better of her again, and she’s in her room, or the bathroom. Bridget resolves to go look for her. Her room is empty, and she’s not in any of the bathrooms, or any of the other rooms, either; she only comes up Waring and his wife arguing about something. They have not seen her, either.

Bridget decides she must have fled the house after all, in a panic. Before she decides to leave the house to look for her, she makes a quick check of the cellar, despite Mrs. Malone’s fear of it since the little people discovery. She puts on the light, and sees someone at the bottom of the stairs. It’s Mrs. Malone, of course; Bridget runs down, fearing she’s dead, but she’s all curled up in fear, with her eyes hidden behind her hands like a child. Mrs. Malone says the little people threw her downstairs, which Bridget finds preposterous, because they’re a foot high apiece and lighter than a cat. How could they throw a grown woman down the stairs? Mrs. Malone insists that that is what they did; they chased her to the cellar stairs and threw her down, then laughed at her while she lay at the bottom, playing dead so that they would leave her alone. Well, now Bridget KNOWS she’s bullshitting, because they don’t laugh OR smile, so it’s your fear and panic that caused you to trip (and she thinks to herself, too much brandy). She helps Mrs. Malone up the stairs to her room to rest.

The little people have disappeared, however; Bridget was too busy to really bother about it, but the others are concerned. They call through the house and search, but can’t find any of them. Daniel and Waring talk to Bridget about it. Waring says Mrs. Malone must have frightened them. No one heard any screaming during the time she fell. Bridget remembers that the door at the top of the stairs was shut before she opened it to check for Mrs. Malone; the men suspect it’s probably the wind, a small breeze could have blown it shut afterwards. Daniel feels that they’ll come back when they’re ready, so everyone should stop looking for them.

By the time Bridget goes to bed that night, they still hadn’t returned; oh, well, she thinks, too bad.

Chapter XV. There’s some nattering about how quiet and still the night is, and some nature talk, and how the rats are gone because of the little people. And that apparently, though the folk speak, they don’t need to, as they can read minds, and now a whole new world of vulnerable brains has been opened up to them.

Bridget wakes from a dream about her school days to hear someone crying far away, which she thought was part of her dream but now realizes that it’s not. She listens again – is it pleasure or pain? Definitely pain. She tries to turn on the lights but nothing happens. The sound appears to be coming from the tower. None of the lights work and her flashlight’s downstairs so she feels her way along in the dark to Daniel’s room, where she shakes him awake. He thinks she’s come for sexy time, but she tells him that she hears someone screaming; he can’t hear anything, and why doesn’t she come to bed where it’s warm? He finally comes with her to her room and listens with her, but now she can’t hear anything, either.

He climbs into bed with her and holds her, she’s still shaking quite a bit, and they wait to hear the screams again, while Daniel starts putting the moves on her and tries to tell her that perhaps the screams were a hallucination from her dream. She responds to his caresses, and then they both freeze, as the screams start again, and more desperately, and Daniel can hear them, too.

Helen wakes up Waring, because he was snoring and that woke her up. They bitch about their sinuses, then Helen says that they’re leaving tomorrow. What about the little people? They’re gone, Helen says, and she doesn’t care if they come back. She talked to Daniel and tries to guess who Waring was going to bring in; obviously to boost his own name a bit. She says he’s finally admitting to himself that he’s a failure. Not just in work, but in life.

He says that she’s the only one who thinks he’s a failure. She just wants a big success for a husband, enough shine to reflect on her. But when the spotlight is on her, she’s ridiculous, and people laugh at her when her back is turned. She’s better off living a quiet life; public functions are not for people like her. He steels himself for her physical attack but she just calls him a bastard and reiterates that they’re leaving tomorrow. Waring starts again, telling her that she attacks everything and everyone because she is jealous. Something like this would be a big break for him. So of course she’d be determined to muck it up for him.

She says, no, it was signs of wonder, and when they found the reality, well this was just a way to cash in for him, which is disgusting to her. He says he won’t leave, and she says, fine, she and Cherry will go. Waring smiles and says that Cherry isn’t going to go with her, because of Mat. Helen says he doesn’t mean anything; she can’t have any real interest in someone like Mat, a “boozing Puritan.” And if he knew the truth about Cherry, he’d run, far and fast.

Waring is appalled, that she would tell Mat about Cherry to break them up. All she knows is betrayal and she’s a heartless bitch. He’s a swine, and they stare at each other in contempt and anger. Waring feels himself leave his body and watch the verbal fray down below.

In Hanni and Stefan’s room, they’re both awake as well. Stefan puts the radio on and they hear a Bach sonata, which makes them remember the first holiday they had after they were married. The lovely chalet in Switzerland, the wonderful food, and the proprietor and his wife playing the cello and violin together at night. Stefan wants to go to Hanni, take her hand, and then the music is over, and then a strident German song, military perhaps? The announcer talks about Hitler and Stefan crashes the radio to the floor, while Hanni begins to weep, all the bad memories flooding back.

In Mat’s room, he wakes to find Cherry sitting on his bed; she likes looking at him while he’s asleep. She was looking for the little people and then decided to come into his room. Cherry asks Mat if he wants them to come back, as she gets the feeling that he doesn’t. He starts telling her about his grandparents, which we learned about earlier in the book. He finds it easy to tell her these hard, bitter things. Because she’s so lovely and innocent. She holds his hand and starts to talk about her childhood. She would visit her aunt, uncle, and cousins in New York; they had a bunch of animals and were near the beach. It was a good place to go, not just because of all the kids and animals and proximity to the water, but because it was a happy place. Everyone liked to joke, and sing, and everyone got along well together, and she felt like part of the family.

But then her aunt and uncle got divorced, and the kids got split up between them, and each of them got married again and had more children with their new spouses. She presumes they’re all happy now. Mat says that she needed all of that (the companionship and laughter, the love) too badly. She shivers, but not from cold; they can feel the house starting to rock underneath them. However, nothing is falling off shelves, there’s no real noise or commotion. They decide to just stay in bed together, and they cuddle and kiss under the blankets.

Back to Bridget and Daniel; she says that she knows he heard the cry, she felt his jump. He tries to explain it away – it’s an animal or something. She is certain it’s coming from the tower, but he’s uncertain, so he dumurs when she asks what they can do. They wait quietly for it to be heard again, and now this time, it’s more than one, and no mistake – it’s human and very real. They can finally make out the words: Mary, Mother of God, help me. Bridget realizes it’s Mrs. Malone, but Daniel says it can’t be. And certainly can’t be in the tower; it has to be a nightmare and it’s just echoing from her room through the house. So they go to check her room, but of course, it’s empty.

So then Daniel thinks that Mrs. Malone was obviously so shocked by the little people, that’s she temporarily insane and went to the tower under some sort of mental duress. Or she is a sleepwalker. They decide to go up to the tower, but first grab a flashlight. They hear Mrs. Malone again, pleading fearfully for something not to be done to her. Daniel is forced to realize that something very real is happening.

Helen is having a dream. She’s watching her younger self at a club ball , dancing with someone, and then seeing her father talking to some woman named Maisie. She had known for years that her dad was a cheater, but seeing this still makes her angry. Waring is there, too, getting a drink for a different girl. She and him made a beautiful couple, but at this point they had had a fight and she had thrown his engagement ring off a veranda and laughed at him as he went scrabbling in the dirt for it. Hence why she was here with a different guy, who she was only paying a portion of her attention to as she angrily watched for Waring. Then she goes and talks to her father and mocks his choice in women. In turn, he tells his daughter that she should stick with Pete. This is a direct quote from the book:

“I think you should stick to Pete. He’s a good boy. Intelligent, good-looking, great future with the company. Above all, though, he’s sweet-natured. Of course he’ll work out, as soon as he’s managed to lift his attention higher than your mons Veneris, that he’s married a shrew, but he won’t turn nasty. Eventually he’ll probably take a little girl on the side, but he’ll pick someone in contrast to you – someone nice and straight and soft-hearted – so she’ll stand no chance of taking him away from you. You’ll keep him until you’ve picked the flesh from his bones.”

Remember, this is her FATHER. Yikes.

He continues and says that Waring is as mean and nasty as she is and they’ll just fight all the time. Then he walks away.

Helen goes to talk to Waring, giving him a flash of her breasts so he’ll pay attention to her. They go outside to talk by her father’s car. She apologizes for her behavior the previous week, and he does, too. Then they kiss and presumably have sex in the front seat of her father’s Buick.

Hanni is locked in a memory of a time when she went to visit a concentration camp when Stefan was away on business. She brought flowers with her, as she had intended to lay them somewhere in remembrance of the family she had lost in the camp, but ends up bringing them back on the bus with her. She feels nothing as she goes around the camp, but on the bus, she is there, amidst the wind and the cold, and the starving, tortured people. She thinks of “him,” presumably her husband, and she runs towards the men’s side of the camp, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of him there. But then she sees the uniform that he is wearing and despairs at the horror in her eyes.

Cherry had drifted off to sleep in Mat’s arms, and the house has stopped its rocking. While’s she been sleeping, he’s been thinking. He probably has fifty years ahead of him, a lot of nights to look forward to. She asks if he wants to marry her, and he says yes. Cherry says that people will judge them, because it’s crazy and they hardly know each other. Different background, different countries, it’s madness! Mat asks if it really matters what anyone says.

She asks if he had been with anyone else before her, and he says two, one of whom was a sex worker. She admits that she had sex with five boys in the same night, but she claims she went willingly. She was fifteen. She says her parents had her go to a psychiatrist, and he talked kind of like god, and then one afternoon, her blouse was undone a bit at the top and she could see the hungry look in his eyes like he wanted to tear it open right then and there  . . . and realizing that the only reason he didn’t wasn’t to be decent towards a young, vulnerable person, but to protect his own reputation and career. She didn’t want to go back after that, and he wrote her off as “uncooperative.”

She went to summer camp, and so did one of the boys from her school, and he told other, and in the end it was a scandal and they had to send her home; that’s how her parents found out. When school started, all the boys continued to go after her so that’s why they came here, for what was supposed to be a quiet holiday, and they could keep an eye on her.

But this experience was nothing like those other times.

They look outside to watch the Northern Lights and decide to go out in their dressing gowns and slippers for a better look. As they head out of the house, they notice the little people have returned, and are standing at the top of the stairs, looking at them. She waves, they don’t respond, and she and Mat continue their trek outside.

Bridget is still trying to get Daniel to help her find Mrs. Malone, and he says he needs to think. Because that last cry was directed at someone, so she might be in real danger, and if that’s the case, they need to think matters out first. He wonders aloud if maybe she was speaking the truth earlier that the little people threw her down the steps. There IS something very odd about them. Bridget doesn’t understand why they would try to hurt someone. Daniel says that they realized that all humans aren’t the same, that they didn’t need to fear them. But they’re lab experiments, and they were tortured, so perhaps they are exacting their revenge, and Mrs. Malone is the perfect target due to her overwhelming fear of them.

Bridget can’t fathom this, because they’re so small. How is it even possible? Daniel doesn’t fully understand how, either, but he feels they should arm themselves before they face the little people. They start going downstairs to see what they can use, and Bridget is overwhelmed by the fear, amplified by Daniel’s own palpable fear. She starts to run down the stairs, when her foot gets caught by something and she falls. As she falls, she hears tiny evil laughter surrounding her. She can hear Daniel calling to her, but the laughter is even louder now. She cries for help and they continue to laugh. She feels like she cannot get up from the floor.

Waring is still having some sort of out-of-body experience, which then turns to a hallucination (I presume because the text says he has never seen this room before) of being in a sunny room near the water, as he can hear the surf. There is a very large woman sitting in an armchair, very sweaty and struggling to breathe. We are to presume that this is his future, as the television is now flat and hanging on the wall, and the phone doesn’t have a dial, and a few other things that did not quite exist in the 1960s when this was penned.

He hears someone coming through the door, and the woman yells out his name, and it is indeed, himself, much older and thinner than now. They start to fight, because she needs her pills, but he says that she could have gotten them herself. She says she’s too disabled for that, but he says that she didn’t have any trouble getting to the candy last week. She blames the household help, and then starts on him, saying that she’s seen him ogling her when the young girl is taking a break out on the deck. Waring says that he loathes her, more than he ever did before. When she dies, he will finally know some peace. He gives her her pills, but says that she’s living on borrowed time. And that his friend, whose wife passed some time ago, is also dead. Died a few hours ago. She laughs as she tells him this news, then says, Never mind, you still got me.

Hanni is shivering on the bed. Did she have a nightmare? It felt so real. She looks for Stefan and she sees him across the room, staring at her. She tries to reassure him but he asks her fearfully what she’s doing here. Presumably, he’s hallucinating that Hanni is his father, because he talks about the last time in the cell and Mutti’s money. He talks of his Uncle Paul, arguing with his father, and thinking that Paul was a weak man, and Stefan was glad that he was not his son. But there is no unclean money, just men, and he is unclean, because of his father.

Hanni tries to get to him, to comfort him, to break him from this waking nightmare, and he leaps on her and starts to choke her, saying that he could never have children, especially sons, after he realized what his father was, and what he himself was. Hanni presumably passes out and then comes to, later, with a very sore throat, and sees Stefan just staring at the wall. He thinks she is not real, because he thinks that he killed her. She forgives him, tries to convince him that she is real, and alive. She forgives him on behalf of her whole family and starts weeping.

The Northern Lights have faded, but Mat and Cherry linger outside. They sit under a tree and talk some more, about his alcoholism, and what caused him to begin drinking again this time. She says that he’s unstable, but so is she; no one would bet money on their future together.

They continue to talk and during this, Mat thinks about Bridget, and tries to recall what he felt for her. So strange, that he was so jealous of even thinking about Bridget with another man, and now Cherry has told him about her sexual past, and it makes no difference to his feelings.

They watch the sun come up and then go back to the house.

Back to Daniel and Bridget at the stairs. Daniel was going to warn her not to plunge heedlessly into the dark, but he didn’t get a chance to before she fell. He calls to her, but can only hear the laughter. He goes back up a few steps, feeling that this was a trap, and Bridget had fallen into it. If he goes down to rescue her, he would be caught in it, too. He needed to think about the best way to go about this, but he can’t seem to think clearly about anything.

She calls for his help again, and tries to will himself further down the stairs towards her, but he keeps thinking of himself lying helpless while the little people swarm over him and torment him. He loves Bridget, so despite his fear, he needs to gird himself and go down the stairs. But then he hears the laughter, seemingly right in front of his feet, and he runs back UP the stairs, into his room, and slams the door behind him. He leans, weeping, against the inside of the door for some time. Then the house is silent, and eventually, he falls asleep. Daylight begins to break into the window. He gets up and goes to the stairs. Looking down, he sees Bridget still on the floor, face-down, with the little people standing in a semi-circle around her head, just staring at her.

Daniel feels anger course through him and he slowly descends the stairs towards them. He kicks one into the wall, and only then do the rest of them begin to run, and he chases after them, kicking and cursing and sobbing, until he hears Bridget and then he goes to help her up. They watch together as the little people head to the cellar, two of them carrying one of their fallen brethren between them. Daniel starts to go after them, but Bridget says to let them go. You’ve done enough.

Chapter XVI. Everyone except for Bridget, Hanni, and Stefan, convene in the dining area and talk over coffee. Daniel says it must have something to do with ESP. Waring talks about psychosis. The little people never show any emotion. Daniel says he heard them laugh, though, and wouldn’t tormenting others convey some sort of emotion? Waring says no; they might just be imitating Seamus, right down to the laughter.

They wonder if this was how they killed the rats; they could not explain to Stefan how they killed them, so perhaps it was through their minds. Cherry asks why they didn’t stop Seamus then; Waring responds that Seamus was a god to them, so that might have been inhibiting, so they tried it on smaller creatures first, like the rats. Mat says they should have guessed they had telepathy, based on how they came out very quickly to Greta’s call the first time.

Daniel wonders why they waited so long before they tried to control the group. Waring replies that they probably presumed that all humans were like Seamus and therefore they wouldn’t be able to do anything, until they picked up on Mrs. Malone’s fear. And the power of suggestion probably has a lot to do with it, especially when it’s nighttime and your senses are a bit dulled from sleep.

Bridget comes in while they’re talking and says that she and Daniel were convinced that the fuses were blown. Did they actually try the switches, or did they just think that they did?

Cherry asks how the Morwitzes are doing, and Bridget says that they contacted the doctor, but he’s a good fifteen miles away. They got Stefan into bed, but he’s not responding to anything. Waring says it’s schizophrenia, acute onset, caused by the little people. Bridget says that Hanni isn’t talking much, but she presumes it has to do with the war. A worse experience than theirs, no doubt. It was just so terrifying, and only later did she wonder why neither she nor Daniel tried to wake anyone else up. But they felt so overcome. Mat says that when Daniel was able to move, no wonder he went a bit wild, by which I presume he means the kicking the little people like they were soccer balls. Bridget agrees that it’s not surprising, and Daniel looks over at her, and although she is smiling, he feels that the smile is a disguise for her true feelings – she knows him now as never before, and despises him.

He excuses himself from the room and she moves back to let him pass; he feels a little more space than was absolutely necessary. Bridget goes to the kitchen soon after. Waring finishes the coffee, now grown cold. He realizes they’ve all been sitting there for a while, but what else was there to do? He feels drained, empty. He wonders what is going on in Helen’s mind, as she has been extraordinarily quiet this whole time.

Cherry and Mat share the news of their engagement, which Waring thinks at first is a joke. What an odd time for this sort of levity. He looks at Helen, who is very angry, which surprises him, because surely this isn’t real? Helen says she’s a bit young (she’s seventeen) and Waring remembers his earlier thoughts about the two of them together, but now he is panicking inside. Cherry, a whole ocean away, married. What will he do without her?

Mat is 27 (I think this is the first time he’s shared his age) and assures Helen that he will look after her daughter. Helen says, Yeah, when you’re not drunk. Cherry says this is important to her; Mat is important to her. She’s done everything her mother wanted, but now, she wants this.

Helen turns to Mat and says, Oh, so you had your fun; I presume you got laid, which might be a new thing for you. But my daughter has basically screwed everything that has been interested in her for the last three years. She was sent from summer camp because of her “corrupting influence.” The week before they left on this trip she found Cherry with the dry cleaning delivery guy? You don’t have enough to keep her interested; the next time some guy starts panting after her, you’re done.

Mat listens to his whole diatribe; tried to get some words in, but Helen is tenacious. He stands up and offers his hand to Cherry, getting her to go for a walk. Helen yells that she’ll get a court order to stop them. Before they go outside, Mat tell Helen that she’s sick, and that’s a good enough reason in itself to take Cherry away. Mat and Cherry leave, and Helen turns on Waring now, asking why he didn’t do anything. Waring says that Helen did that to her; that she’d tear Cherry’s heart out rather than let her be happy.

She says again that he didn’t stop her. He says he couldn’t, nor could Mat. Helen says at least he tried; Waring could have hit her and stopped her from saying all of those things. And he didn’t, because he was glad she was saying them. She was doing it for the both of them.

He thinks once again about the question that is hanging over everything – was that future real, what was shown to him? Were they able to do that? He realizes, thinking about what he has already become, he can’t deny or escape that future.

The ambulance comes and takes Stefan away, and Hanni packs up all their things and goes with him. Bridget watches the ambulance drive away and then goes back inside. Mrs. Malone is washing lettuce at the sink, and she seems alright. Bridget remembers those screams, the anguish, the fear from last night, but Mrs Malone (and Mary) didn’t hear anything strange. Mrs. Malone claims she spent a peaceful night in her own bed, and doesn’t remember any dreams. Bridget knows she and Daniel checked Mrs. Malone’s bed and found it empty. But did they really?

Mary gathers the guests at Bridget’s request in the drawing room. Bridget informs them that lunch is a bit slim, whatever’s left in the larder. Afterwards, they’re free to go to a hotel nearby, which is very good and has rooms available. And of course, no one owes anything for their stay here.

Waring insists that they will pay. Mat asks if she’s closing the place up for good, and Bridget says yes. What about the little people? They can have possession of the place, if they want it. If any stories get out, she will deny them. She hopes the rest of them will do the same. It will still legally be her property, but no one is going to be invited to come – not even scientists, and she looks pointedly at Waring as she says this last bit. He agrees, which surprises Bridget, as she had thought he would argue in favor of some eminent researcher coming to study them. Knowing what they now knew about them, it did take some of the excitement out of studying something that could also experiment on you, but she didn’t think that would have been enough for Waring. Maybe his daughter’s impending nuptials were contributing. She knew no one else would say anything.

Mat asks what she is going to do for herself; she is going to stay and find places for Mrs. Malone and Mary, and then go to catering school. She admits that she enjoyed the hospitality business until these complications. She muses to herself that she has enough money to keep herself in Lausanne for a year or two, and certainly could find another place after that. She hadn’t really lost anything material, after all. Just the feeling that one could oneself to another human being, no matter what. But that’s fine, she could get along without that.

Cherry wonders what will happen to the little people, but both Bridget and Waring agree that they’ll be fine and will probably stick to the house, as that’s all they know, and it’s unlikely that they’ll come upon any other humans after all this.

Helen says they won’t be staying at the new hotel, but they can hire a car there, right? Bridget says she can arrange that. Then Helen says they will drive to Dublin, fly to France, then maybe drive down to Italy. Cherry says she’s not going that far; they’ll go to Dublin and then Mat can get a license there so they can be married. Helen says that she’s underage and can’t marry without consent, so Mat is a liar. Waring says Um, actually I gave them my consent; one parent should be enough. Helen says that he will regret this, but he doesn’t think so. They bicker a little more and then Bridget calls for some champagne; Daniel gets it for her and as he leaves the room, she realizes she doesn’t really feel much at all.

They drink to Mat and Cherry’s engagement, and Bridget thinks about the little people and the gifts they had brought. Madness and self-knowledge – or were those the same. No, there is sanity here, and a little unhappiness, but it won’t last.

[break]

This is a weird book. On the cover of the edition I read, there is a blurb from the New York Times that says, “Carefully laid-on horror.” Hmm. I am unable to find this quote anywhere, so did someone make this up to sell more books? What is reality? Is it the work of the Gestapochauns?

I’ve read quite a few reviews of recent vintage that found this book the same way I did – from Paperbacks from Hell, and most of them were disappointed, too. As we’ve seen, the book gets bogged down with a lot of ridiculous patter, inner monologuing, and setup, and then once the action finally begins, it doesn’t last very long. Once Daniel literally kicks them out of existence, they don’t appear again for the rest of the book. The ending is very anti-climactic.

Also, I feel there’s some misogyny here, which leads me to wonder what Samuel/John was really like. Are all of these male characters deliberately horrible, or are you telling on yourself a bit here, bub? Mat does not get a pass for “rescuing” Cherry from her slut-shaming mother. She is still a teenager and he’s nearly thirty. Gross. I know people didn’t talk much about age gaps back then, but that didn’t mean everyone accepted them.

So, the paperbacks from Hell book had a treasure trove of content – do you have any favorites you would like to see featured? Let me know and perhaps that will be a future episode. But for now, I need to cleanse my brain a bit.

Well, that’s the show. Please like, subscribe, all that good stuff. The Forgotten Library has a Facebook page and I’m also on BlueSky now at forgottenlibrary. Transcripts, as always, are on the website. And if you enjoy what I do and would like to show a little appreciation, you can Buy Me a Coffee. Think of it as a tip jar that takes Stripe.

Until next time, I’m Nikki Gee, your intrepid library haunter.

References

A History of Horror Novels in America: from the 1800s to the 2020s. Brandon Cornett. https://www.cornettfiction.com/brief-history-of-horror-novels/

Paperbacks from Hell: The Twisted History of 70s and 80s Horror Fiction. Grady Hendrix. 2017