by Franklin, JJ
On the railway station, she had queued for hot chocolate and a doughnut. She wasn’t a seasoned traveller like the rest of the crowd and, as she struggled to find the right change, she could hear their sighs and impatient mutterings behind her. With the coins in her hand, she had glanced up to see the woman in the kiosk glaring at her, and in her hurry most of the money dropped from her hand to scatter across the marble floor.
The youth had stopped one of the coins from rolling away by putting his foot on it, and while she stooped to retrieve them all, he had stepped past her, placing a ten-pound note on the counter.
‘A coffee please and take it all out of that.’ He nodded towards Eppie.
The woman had favoured him with a smile of relief.
Eppie had managed to retrieve most of the coins and had stood to find the youth waiting, holding the drinks and her doughnut. She was embarrassed as he motioned to one of the brightly coloured steel seats, and as soon as they sat down, she tried to tip all her change into his hand. A couple of the coins rolled away under the seat.
‘You’re very good at this, aren’t you? I bet you come from some little village where coin rolling is the main sport.’
‘No,’ she laughed. Besides, he had a nice smile and was not much older than her brother Mike. Everyone else on the station was dressed in suits with briefcases, even the women, and all seemed in a dreadful hurry, as if they were going to be late for some important meeting.
‘On your way to somewhere nice?’ he asked.
Eppie hesitated, aware that she had to be careful and so chose a variation of the truth. ‘Meeting my dad.’
‘Good. Not a place to be hanging about.’ He finished his coffee and stood. ‘Must go and check on my Mum’s train. Take care.’
When he had gone, Eppie had felt lonely. She had a little time to wait for her train to Gatwick so she wandered into the bookshop, idly glancing through the magazines before going back to sit on the bench. There were few people about now. She couldn’t see the youth anywhere so guessed his mother must have arrived.
Putting her rucksack on the bench beside her, she tried to relax, thinking of what her dad would say when she turned up. Had Aunt Sarah missed her yet? She was supposed to be in school, so Natalie would know she was missing and take delight in telling everyone if only to get her into trouble. Well, she had made up her mind she wasn’t going back there.
A sudden wrench and her rucksack was whisked away. She hadn’t even realised that anyone had approached. She turned towards the pounding footsteps ready to give chase, but the hooded figure was already yards away. Then she heard someone shout, ‘Let me.’
The youth who had helped her in the coffee queue was racing after the thief. Eppie followed on after him until she caught up with him at the station entrance. He was bent over getting his breath back.
‘Sorry. He jumped on a bus over there.’
‘Oh, no. Should I tell the police?’
‘Probably a good idea. They won’t catch him now, though. It might be best to wait until your dad gets here.’
Eppie felt very alone at that moment. Everything she needed to get her to Hawaii and Dad was in that rucksack. With no passport or money she was lost, would have to ring Aunt Sarah and have the shame of going back to Natalie’s smirking. She was trying to hold back the tears.
The youth put a brotherly arm around her shoulders. ‘Hey. Cheer up. It can’t be that bad. What’s a few old clothes?’
Eppie felt the tears burst through.
The youth let her cry, even looked a little embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Look my Mum’s train is delayed. What don’t you come home to mine, have some lunch? Mum won’t mind. Sean by the way.’
‘Eppie.’
It sounded so normal and domestic and she needed a haven. Eppie nodded.
The house was different than she expected and in a run down terrace not far from the station. Some of the houses in the street were boarded up and one had tattered curtains that looked like they had been in place for fifty years. Eppie hesitated but the youth encouraged her forward.
‘Know it’s not much but better inside.’ He led the way to a house with a solid door and drawn curtains.
He opened the door for her to go in first. Inside, it was gloomy and Eppie hesitated only to feel a swift push on her back that caused her to stumble forward and fall to her knees. She heard him lock the door before pulling her roughly to her feet. His face now looked older and was set with a scowl as he manhandled her into the first room off the corridor.
The first thing she saw was her rucksack. The youth, she guessed the one who had stolen it, was tipping her belongings onto a rickety coffee table.
‘Very worthwhile,’ he grinned, holding up her passport and money.
Eppie moved forward to retrieve them from his grasp but felt herself pushed into a tattered chair, forced to watch as both the youths picked through her clothes. The first one lingered over her underpants, while looking at her and licking his lips.
‘Daddy’s little girl, ah?’
‘That’s what Mel pays us for, so you ain’t having any,’ Sean snapped.
‘How’s the sod gonna know then?’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid. The fresh ones, untouched by grubby hands like yours, fetch the best price and that’s what he is getting.’
Sean walked across to her and touched her hair. She wanted to scream, to wake up from this nightmare, but all she could do was cower farther back in the chair. There would be no way she could fight these two; they were both too strong. She used to play wrestle with Mike when she was much younger, and he sometimes let her win, but this wasn’t like that. Later, big brother like, he had told her what to do if a boy was too insistent. She must think back and remember everything he said.
The sulky youth was stuffing everything back into her rucksack. Sean moved towards the door.
‘I’ll fetch Mel. Don’t soil the goods.’
Eppie heard the front door bang behind him. She was being sold on like a cow at market. This might be her only opportunity to get away. Sizing up the remaining youth, she thought he looked lighter than Sean. He came towards her, kneeling in front of her, reaching forward to slide his hands up her thighs.
‘So. Are you really Miss Innocent? Never ever had it?’
She was too afraid to answer him.
‘Now I wouldn’t mind a little taste of that.’
Backing into the chair only made him come nearer. Now his hands had reached her small breasts and his mouth was leering towards hers. Remember what Mike said. Remember. She had never hurt anyone but she gathered her strength in her stomach and kicked out hard catching him in the crotch. He fell backwards with a surprised look on his face.
Eppie made for the door, flung it open and raced down the dark corridor to the front door. Fiddling with the lock was difficult as her fingers were trembling too much.
‘Little bitch.’
He was hobbling towards her holding himself. The look of hate on his face was something she would never forget. Forcing herself to concentrate she opened the lock, stumbling out into the street just as he caught up with her. She avoided his grasp and ran fast along the street hoping that her kick would continue to slow him down.
There was no one around and she raced on hoping to see someone, anyone but Sean. She could see traffic on the intersection ahead and headed towards it. Where there were cars, there would be people. She would stop a car if she had to. Turning around she could see him running awkwardly. She offered up silent thanks to Mike.
The road was a busy little shopping area full of shoppers. Everything seemed normal. And there was a chemist shop. Chemists could be trusted; they were almost like doctors and were there to help. She would be safe now.
So, yes, Matt, I have faced someone who wanted to harm me, she thought. And in the worst way. Not that she could tell him. She had never felt able to talk to anyone about what really happened that day. Not even the ki
ndly policeman who had put her on the train back to Aunt Sarah’s. She had just told him her rucksack had been stolen.
Meeting her from the train, Aunt Sarah was too busy berating her, while Natalie just looked down her nose. Eppie had locked the nightmare tightly away in her mind.
CHAPTER 23
Mother had already eased herself out of bed when Clive took up her breakfast tray. She seemed grumpier than usual and snapped as he went to put the tray on the bed.
‘Don’t put it there, Clive. You can clearly see that I have already risen.’
‘Sorry, Mother.’ He moved to put the tray on the little table by her chair, knowing he had some news that would shake her out of her grumpiness. ‘Mother, I’ve asked Mrs Sinclair if she could stay a bit later today.’
‘Oh, Clive. It is my favourite programme tonight and you know how she chatters on all the time. Where are you going anyway?’
‘Out with Anne.’
‘Good. I thought that young lady would bring you up to scratch. It’s about time someone did.’
‘I won’t be late.’
‘Just treat her right, Clive. You should be married by now. It would be so pleasant to have another woman around the house.’
‘I will treat her exactly as she deserves, Mother, don’t you worry.’ A laugh was building up inside at the thought of just how perfectly he was going to deal with Anne, so he left and gave vent to it in the kitchen, only forcing himself to calm down when Mrs Sinclair arrived.
She was early, which was good, because Clive wanted to leave nothing to chance and intended to drive over to Stratford to check out the route for the evening. He needed to find a place where he could be alone with Anne.
Clive decided that his visit to Stratford would be the perfect opportunity to post his message to DI Turrell. He looked at the padded envelope, sitting ready on the car seat beside him and went over the precautions he had taken, from gently lifting the model soldier from its fellows before placing it carefully inside the padded envelope. The stamp was in the required position, making sure it wasn’t too far to the right, or the left. He didn’t want to give the ardent professor any further clues to his personality. Before removing his gloves, he closed the self-sealing envelope, hesitating for a moment to wonder if he gave anything away by using a computer printed label, before reassuring himself that if the police were accessing his home computer they would be onto him, and he wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
He had bought the envelope for cash over the counter at an office supply chain store. He had checked that at least another chain also carried the brand, and it was a popular size. With luck, it would catch the last post and arrive first thing in the morning. He felt a glow inside at the panic it would cause. Not that DI Turrell was one to show panic, but Clive knew it would hit him in his most vulnerable spot.
Clive realised with mild surprise that not only had Mr Thompson’s history lessons sunk in, but also his father’s descriptions of military tactics must have taken root. That would make the old man happy he was sure.
Next, it would be DC Meadows’s turn. He had been surprised when he followed her home last night to find she lived in a big house overlooking St Nicholas Church in Kenilworth. He guessed it had been made into flats.
It was gone nine by the time he reached the office and most of the staff had already arrived. Gloria pulled a face at him as he came out of the lift.
‘Tut, tut.’
‘You’ve heard then?’
‘She couldn’t wait to tell me and everyone else by the look of it.’ Gloria nodded to the office behind her and Clive could see Anne talking animatedly with two colleagues.
‘This hardly fits in with ‘keeping her at bay’ does it? Or have you had a change of heart?’
‘No. No it’s not like that. I wanted to talk to her, away from this place. Let her down gently.’
‘Well good luck with it. But I think you’re making a big mistake. She’ll be telling me to collect for a wedding present by tomorrow.’
‘No way. Trust me.’
‘It’s your funeral, Clive.’
No, not his funeral but Anne’s, he thought. First, they would have to find her body and he was hoping that wouldn’t be for several weeks, if at all.
When he entered the main office, he guessed Ben had heard the news, as he was quiet, and simply raised his eyebrows in a question. Before Clive had a chance to say anything, Anne came towards him. He thought for one horrified moment she was going to kiss him on the cheek, but she just stationed herself between him and Ben.
‘Good morning, Clive. I’ll get your coffee.’
‘Thank you, Anne.’
Once she had moved away, he turned to Ben. Before Ben lowered his eyes, Clive thought he detected a hint of disappointment. Damn the woman, he would make her suffer for this. He took a step closer.
‘It’s not what you think, Ben. I just want to talk to her—away from here—get her to understand that I’m not interested.’
‘I don’t think she sees it like that.’ Ben turned back to concentrate on his computer screen.
‘She will after I have talked to her, I promise.’
‘We’ll see.’
Before Clive could answer, Anne had arrived with his coffee, and he followed her into his office.
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s no trouble, Clive. You know how I would do anything for you.’
‘There is something, Anne.’
‘Yes?’
‘I think it might be better if you kept the details of where we are meeting to yourself. I hate to admit it, but I think you might be right about Ben. I wouldn’t want him turning up and spoiling our evening together.’
‘Of course, Dear. I’m so glad you have seen for yourself how right I am.’
He told her where they were meeting then spent the rest of the day, trying to avoid her, Gloria, or Ben, reassuring himself that his planning was impeccable and he would soon be rid of Anne.
By the time Clive arrived at the Courtyard Theatre, he had the details fixed firmly in his mind. It was a quarter to seven, so the lobby was not yet crowded for the seven-fifteen start. This was an important time, as he had to make sure people would recognise him and remember that he was waiting for a friend. He would be playing a role, rather like when he was in the school play. But, then, he had been hiding behind a mask most his life.
He ordered two glasses of wine and then two more for the interval. Sipping out of the one glass, he went towards the main entrance and found a small shelf where he put Anne’s glass down so he could make a display of looking at his watch and of searching eagerly through the trickle of people arriving.
As the first of the coaches arrived to empty their excited punters into the lobby, he began to move through the crowd, both drinks in hand, starting to look a little anxious.
By five past seven, his drink finished, Clive put the other on the edge of the bar and got out his mobile. The tricky part had been deciding which number to call. He couldn’t call Anne, as that would give him away, even though he intended to make sure her mobile phone went to the same destination as her. Instead, he called his direct line at work. That way he could erase the messages first thing tomorrow morning.
‘Anne, are you nearly here. I’m wondering if I should pick up the tickets, since you won’t have much time.’ As he said ‘Anne,’ Clive stepped backwards, making sure he banged into a lady behind him. This was easy since the excited crowd hemmed him in on all sides.
‘Oh, I am so very sorry.’
‘That’s all right. No harm done.’
‘It’s Anne. Think she would be late for her own funeral.’
The couple dutifully laughed but moved away, no doubt not wanting to be trodden on again. Clive hoped that they would remember him and his friend Anne.
People had already begun to go into the auditorium. The barman began collecting glasses.
‘Have you finished with this, Sir?’
‘Oh, yes. My friend is runni
ng late, and she won’t have time to drink it now.’ He gave the man a worried half smile and hoped he had a good memory. It was time to approach the box office and explain the situation.
‘Excuse me.’
‘Yes, Sir, how can I help?’
‘My friend must be delayed, and since the tickets are in her name, I am wondering what I should do. Can I pick one up and go on in or will I have to wait for her?’
‘What name are they under Sir?’
‘Anne Clarke.’
‘Here they are. If I could have your name please.’
‘Clive Draper. We work together.’ He made sure he looked around a few times, as if hoping Anne might still arrive in time.
‘Right, Mr Draper, here is your ticket and I will hold onto the other and watch for your friend to arrive. We will do our best to get her seated, but she may have to stand at the back until an opportune moment. I would hurry if I were you, Sir. The performance is about to start.’
Clive took the ticket and moved towards the auditorium noting that one of the doors was already closed and the usher on the other was hurrying him forward.
As soon as he had settled into his seat, the lights dimmed. He didn’t even attempt to concentrate on the performance of Twelfth Night, although the people around him appeared engrossed. His mind was racing with excitement. Soon the obnoxious Anne would be gone forever.
The first half seemed to last for ages and he could feel himself getting restless. Finally, the interval came and Clive made sure he was one of the first out to enquire of the staff if there had been any sign of his friend. As the answer was negative, he collected the two glasses of interval wine and went out to the courtyard space in front of the theatre, heading for the small wall with its miniature box hedging near the road.
He had made a note of this spot earlier. Clive deposited the two glasses of wine on the small wall, close to the hedge, and took out his mobile to dial his work number, talking loudly whilst moving amongst the crowd.
‘Anne. Anne, where are you? I’m getting really worried now. Please let me know what’s happening. It’s the interval so I will leave my phone on for about twenty minutes.’ He clicked off the phone and spoke to the group of people nearest.