‘For me?’ Martine said. ‘Pass. My mum died years back and my gran died not long ago too. My neighbours might be wondering.’
‘It’s lovely to have good neighbours,’ said Ivy. ‘My stair’s not the sort of place people take an interest any more. When I was young, when my dad was alive, we would all first foot, up and down the whole street, and we’d run in and out with plates of cake and extra scones if we’d made too much. Mother was a great scone hand.’ Laura really did try to find something to say to that, but she was still casting about for it when Ivy went on. ‘My cousins in Glasgow might be wondering. I usually write to them both on their birthdays and I’ve missed the dates. Then there’s all the people who saw me at the NLL meeting. With Kate. Everyone who saw us in the pub. No end of people when I think about it.’
Laura could feel her eyes start to swim and she turned her head away in case the other two could see the tears shining as they fell.
When Kate brought the airbed and warm clothes and had her little blurt and it finally shook the magic word out of Martine’s memory, Laura felt better than she had for days. Her head was swimming and her eyes were gritty, but she danced around in her underwear while she was getting changed and made them both laugh. She wasn’t cold either, even in her knickers and socks. She was toasty warm. She was hot, actually. Her cheeks were hot and her breath felt hot when she exhaled. She hadn’t managed to pee away the infection after all; she’d just wasted two water rations and ended up thirsty in the night. It wasn’t so sore any more though, or not in the same way. The nipping and burning had stopped, but there was an ache deep inside her, at the bottom of her back, she was trying not to think about. And she couldn’t imagine helping Ivy jump on Kate and subdue her. She would have to let them do it without her. How long would Gail leave it before she came in, anyway? Ten minutes? Or would she go back upstairs? How long before she came down again? A day? Half a day? Then how long would it take with them both down here before— There it was!
Laura sat up, making the chair squeal against the stone floor, making Martine go into her usual routine of shuddering and rubbing her arms as if she’d heard nails on a blackboard.
‘What is it?’ Ivy said.
‘Tell me if I’m going mad,’ Laura said. ‘Or if this makes sense.’
‘Go on,’ said Martine.
‘We overpower Kate,’ Laura said. ‘And Gail comes in – then or later – to see if she’s OK. Right?’
‘And we overpower Gail and then we wait until the neighbour that watches them notices they’ve disappear—’ Martine said.
‘No,’ Laura said. ‘Because when Creepy Caspar comes in to see what happened to the minion she’ll either have to leave the doors open or she’ll have the key with her.’
There was a moment of complete silence.
‘No,’ said Martine, ‘You’re not going mad. As soon as we get Gail inside both doors, we get out! We get out!’
They sat stunned. Laura was still scared to look too closely at it in case it dried up and blew away.
Ivy spoke first. ‘It can’t be that easy. There must be something we haven’t thought of.’
‘Like what?’ Martine said. Laura felt a surge inside her to hear Martine so fierce on her behalf.
‘They wouldn’t – Gail wouldn’t – have left such an obvious way out,’ Ivy said. ‘After all the planning.’
‘Yeah but Ivy,’ Laura said, ‘her planning was all about getting us here. Getting to know us, lurking on cat sites and genealogy sites and dating apps, setting us up to get here. Sending Igor out to fetch us. She didn’t have any plans for after. Like we said.’
‘Cats,’ Ivy said. ‘You’re right. Kate was so sloppy when I got here. I said I was surprised she didn’t have a cat and it was like she forgot she should have. Like her auntie in Aberdeen too.’
‘And her brother-in-law,’ said Martine.
‘And don’t forget Myra!’ Ivy said. They had had enough time now to pore over everything, even the name of Ivy’s friend who never turned up, the employee of Fairytale Endings, and the frequent contributor to RoyalBlood who pushed Martine to go to the Lockerbie meetings.
‘And then there was the way she asked me to bring my laptop,’ Ivy went on, ‘but forgot to ask you two.’
Laura shook her head. She wished Ivy would stop gabbling. It was going through her head like a drill.
Martine laughing was even worse. ‘She knew she didn’t have to!’ she said. ‘She knew we’d never leave home without them. And if we had, Gail would just have gone back in and wiped them remotely.’
Ivy was silent a while. ‘You know Kate sat there in the pub with me that first night and told me I shouldn’t have let someone take over my keyboard? Did I tell you?’
Martine nodded. ‘Same here,’ she said. ‘Asked me if I didn’t worry that the tech support person would lurk in there forever. And all the time Gail was doing just that to both of us.’ She glanced over at Laura. ‘All of us.’
‘Look,’ Laura said, ‘we all took the bait; we all ended up here. Let it go. What matters now is getting out again.’
Ivy’s face was etched with pain. ‘It really is that simple to escape?’ she said. ‘Keep Kate till Gail comes then walk out the door?’ She sobbed, a huge belch of misery. ‘I could have done that the first day I got here. What a moron. What a pathetic waste of space I am, sitting here for months in my own filth. Mother was right about me.’
‘Shoosh-shoosh,’ Martine said. ‘Come on. We never thought of it when it was you and me either, did we? And I never thought of it even today. That was you, Laura.’
Laura stirred herself. ‘No, it wasn’t. It took all three of us to get there. Martine worked out what Gail’s doing, Ivy’s the one who’s tough enough to take Kate down, and I just worked out the last bit. The three of us did it together.’
‘And I’m really glad you did work that bit out,’ Ivy said. ‘Because you were wrong about the neighbour. There’s no one to send a sign to.’
‘What about the inflatable chairs?’
‘Same as the airbed. She’s been careful not to give us anything we could use as a weapon. That’s why they didn’t carry kitchen chairs down for us. That’s why we were on cardboard instead of camp beds.’
‘When did you work all this out?’ Martine said.
‘While you two were sleeping,’ Ivy said. ‘I was thinking of how I would “tie her up” and how there wasn’t much to use.’
‘Is there anything at all?’ said Martine.
‘Yep,’ Ivy said. ‘I’m going to “tie her up” with the drain cover. I’d fight you both for the privilege. I want to hurt her. I’m glad it’s an essential bit of the plan. I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone before.’
‘And when will we do it?’ said Martine. ‘If we’re not stockpiling food we don’t need to wait. We could do it tomorrow.’
‘We could,’ said Laura. ‘But I don’t think I can do it tomorrow. I’m not … I didn’t want to worry you, but I’m actually not feeling all that fantastic.’
Ivy looked over, then she stretched out her hand and laid it on Laura’s head, gasping for some reason.
‘Oh, that feels good,’ Laura said. ‘Your skin’s so cool. Don’t take your hand away.’
Ivy swapped hands once Laura’s hot skin had warmed the first one. Then Martine took over. By the time the cloth dipped in water was placed, she was unconscious. She only felt it in her dreams.
TWENTY
‘Ehhhhh, Nettie, it’s grand to hear your voice. We didn’t know where you’d gone, taking off like that.’ Siobhan sounded tired and I could tell from the rumble in her throat that she was lying down, but she hadn’t had to grope for the memory of who Nettie Dunn was. Thankfully.
‘It’s complicated,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Are you in trouble?’ Siobhan’s stomach might be slowly killing her but there was nothing wrong with her intuition.
‘Not me,’ I said. ‘I’m helping someone els
e. How are you?’
‘Kenneth’s not been so clever. It’s his knees. He’s putting off having the first one done till … well, till it’s more convenient, but it’s getting tricky.’
I could see my reflection in the back window and I shook my head at it. I was bugging someone whose poor old husband was hoping not to have his knee replaced till his wife was dead and didn’t need him anymore.
‘But never mind that. I’m glad you’re OK. You were the best driver we ever had, you know. Never minded stopping off at the shops. This new one’s a right stickler and he can’t park for shit.’
I gasp-laughed, choking myself.
‘Sorry,’ said Siobhan. ‘It’s the pain. You wouldn’t believe the pain and if I take any stronger pills I’ll be off my pins, talking to the wallpaper. So my language has gone right downhill.’
‘Oh, Siobhan,’ I said. ‘God, I’d forgotten what you were like.’
‘Come back and tell them all at the church when I’m gone. Them that sees me every day think I’m a bit of a misery guts lately.’
‘Speaking of people you see every day,’ I said, ‘this is why I’m phoning actually.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s about your neighbour, Laura Wade,’ I began.
Siobhan took it and ran before I could even get the question out. ‘You’ve never found her, have you? Is that who you’re helping? Oh my God, wait till I tell Kenneth. He’s popped out for a swiftie but he’ll not be long. He was very fond of the girl, you know. She used to be out most days by the time the bin men came round so Kenneth always took in her wheelie. And she was very grateful. Always rang the bell and said thanks and then gave him a nice bottle of something at the year’s end. She was a bit stand-offish with me. A man’s woman, I reckon: the way she dolled herself up any time she went over the door. I always thought she was hoping to meet Mr Right.’
‘I haven’t found her, no,’ I said, taking the chance while Siobhan drew breath.
‘But you’re looking?’
I hesitated. I wasn’t looking. I wouldn’t know where to start. I was just getting through this endless week thinking about Laura Wade instead of about me, trying to convince myself a woman couldn’t just vanish and Big Garry knew that, and so he wouldn’t. Would he?
‘I’m just interested,’ I said to Siobhan. ‘I think we saw her, you know.’
‘Oh I know all right!’ Siobhan said. ‘The police were here time and again asking me. I’m surprised they never came after you to ask. I couldn’t tell them much, only what time it was and what she was wearing. You’ll have seen the photos in the paper, have you? See what I mean? All dolled up to the nines.’
‘But they didn’t pursue it,’ I said. ‘Not for long anyway.’
‘Budgets,’ said Siobhan. ‘Bloody politicians. I told them there was no way she would take off. She was young but she was steady. You can tell from the shoes.’
‘Shoes?’
‘And bags. No cheap finery for Laura. She had one or two good bags and she always wore driving shoes to save her high heels, serviced her car, packed away her winter clothes, shampooed her own carpets.’
‘How do you know what she did with her winter clothes?’ I said. ‘Were you that close?’
‘She used to borrow our cylinder Hoover to do her vacuum-packs. She had an upright.’
I nodded. I was watching the little woman from the fairytale cottage again. It was a major clear-out today. She had been down to the cellar twice already with bulging black sacks. I couldn’t imagine what was in them. They didn’t weigh much, evidently, from the way she hefted them.
‘Are you listening?’ Siobhan said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘No. Sorry. What?’
‘I think she’s been taken. Laura. I reckon whoever she was off to see in her pretty dress that day has got her locked up in an attic somewhere, like that madwoman in that thing. Or those kids. You know how it is.’
I knew more than I’d ever wanted to by now. The numbers of missing, found dead, found alive and never found. America got in the way when you googled it, of course. And America was huge. There were prairies and deserts and thousands of miles of forests. If someone made a decent effort to hide a body in America the chances were it would never be found. Scotland was different: too many people and not enough wilderness. And where there was wilderness, there were hardly any roads crossing it. I laid all this out to Siobhan now.
‘Plus the roads cross sporting estates,’ I said. ‘Which means – I didn’t know this but I’ve been reading up – the gamekeepers take a note of all the number plates of cars they don’t recognize. For poachers, you know.’ I was lying about reading up on it. My dad had told me when he was trying to put me off going to a rave in Deeside one time. I hadn’t questioned how he knew. He was my dad; he knew things. But now I wondered if he’d had cause to learn which Scottish roads the gamekeepers watched and which ones were unguarded. ‘And the soil’s about an inch thick over solid rock most places. So if the worst has happened, she’ll turn up. Probably. Poor thing.’
‘She might be in the sea,’ Siobhan said. ‘Picked clean and her bones halfway to Finland. I tell you what though, Nettie: it’s a relief to get to talk to someone but Kenneth about it. He gets on at me for being morbid. I think it’s him can’t cope with talk of death. Which to be fair, I’ll be gone, won’t I? I’m not going to be looking into a coffin and trying not to toss my Shreddies.’
‘Right enough,’ I said. ‘Poor Kenneth.’
‘And anyway,’ Siobhan went on, ‘being put in a shallow grave isn’t the worst at all.’
‘Are you sure?’ I said.
‘You need to read the papers. It’s all over.’
I knew what she was going to say before she started and maybe all the talk of graves and coffins had rattled me. I could feel my stomach start to churn.
‘Sex slaves.’ I wondered what paper Siobhan read. ‘I’ve been hearing that if we go back to a proper border, there won’t be all these lorries coming through with forty girls hidden in the back.’
I felt my blood drain. ‘That was only once,’ I said. ‘And they got caught. Forty folk in a lorry is usually people who want to come. They’re coming to skin fish, or gut chicken or pick cabbages, but willingly. The girls come on planes, Siobhan. One at a time. They think their pimps are their boyfriends.’
‘Rotten sods,’ Siobhan said. ‘But they can’t come through a hard border is my point. So who’s next to get nabbed? Stands to reason – Laura Wade.’
‘At least she can speak English,’ I said. ‘If she gets away and finds a passer-by at least she’ll be able to say what’s happened to her.’
‘S’pose. Mind you, you’d have to be as thick as two planks not to know what’s what just because some girl’s jabbering away in Double Dutch, eh no?’
I said nothing. I couldn’t speak about it. I could hardly bear to think about it. I’d read the stats on the end-users. In my world, the world of BG, with drivers doing long-distance runs away from home, I had to know dozens of them. I must have sat on their knees when I was a kid and joked around with them as a teenager. I had probably signed their leaving cards and given money when they were in hospital. I tried to hope they all went to world-weary single mums working out of their own council flats and socking away enough for Disneyland, but I wasn’t a fool.
‘Nettie?’ Siobhan said.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I know. You can’t wrap your head round it, can you?’
‘Not if you’re half-normal. And they say it’s everywhere. Right under our noses.’
‘Hiding in plain sight,’ I agreed.
‘I’ve told Kenneth, for after I’m gone. He’s to get himself back to the choir and the whist club and snag himself a nice widow. There’s no point in pretending he isn’t what he is – they all are – but there’s ways and ways of dealing with it.’
I was watching the little woman let herself back out of the cellar door again, without her bulging bags of stuff. Maybe she was collecting jum
ble for a sale at the church. She looked churchy. Maybe I could go round with a bag of my own and strike up a passing friendship with another neighbour, someone else to talk to the cops. A woman of that age, living alone or even with a funny friend in a net curtain, was usually the sort to keep a close eye and take a keen interest. Mind you, if I set the stereotypes aside, I had to admit that this little woman kept her head down and scurried around like a wee mouse, more like someone who didn’t want to be seen than someone who wanted to do the seeing.
I was still thinking about that long after the end of the phone call, when I left the flat and went down to do a sweep of the gang who – even though they didn’t know it – were building an expectation of my steadiness, ready to swear blind I’d never leave. For afterwards, if the worst happened. If he would.
‘Wednesday already?’ Aisling said. She was dusting the basket of reduced-price nail polish on the counter, lining up the little bottles by shade once she’d wiped them.
‘I’ve got a question,’ I said.
‘We can do it with your knickers on if you insist, but we might miss some,’ Renny said. ‘Am I right?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘And neverinamillionyears, by the way. No … what it was was I wondered if you know the people in the first house up the side street.’
‘The fairytale cottage?’ Aisling said. ‘Nope. Bunch of weirdos.’
‘Yeah,’ said Renny. ‘Definitely Billy Goats Gruff or Little Pigs. Not Snow White or Cinderella.’
‘I don’t know about Cinderella though,’ Aisling said. ‘Them at the post office reckon the parents always kept the girls on a right short rope. It’s a shame when you think about it.’
‘Yeah but the parents are passed away now,’ said Renny. ‘Or in a home. For sure you don’t see them. And “the girls” haven’t exactly burst out and started pole-dancing for fun and fitness. Why, anyway?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, when I realized she was asking me. I was thinking weirdos weren’t the ones to watch. It was normal that was dangerous. Under our noses. Everywhere. ‘Can I ask something else?’ They waited. ‘Speaking of short ropes. You ever had girls come in …?’ I paused, not sure how to word it. ‘Groups of them together.’
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