by Daniel Hurst
With that in mind, I decide to take matters into my own hands. I click the rows of numbers below Sally’s email signature on the last message that she sent to me, which automatically puts me through to her office. Why wait for her to reply to me when I can just call her now? At least that way I don’t have to worry about my phone dying in twenty minutes.
I hear the tone ringing over and over again, but Sally doesn’t pick up. This number is supposed to be a direct line to her desk. Maybe she is away from her workstation at the moment, in a meeting, in the kitchen, or maybe just on the loo. I’m just about to hang up when I hear another voice at the other end.
“Hello, Red Royal Recruiters. Sally’s phone, Claire speaking.”
“Oh hi,” I begin, surprised to get somebody other than Sally. “I was just calling Sally regarding a job application I put in recently with her. Is she around?”
“I’m afraid she isn’t in the office right now,” Claire tells me, against the backdrop of a noisy room behind her. Sally might not be in, but it sounds like there are plenty of other people who are.
“Oh, okay. Not to worry, I’m sure she’ll get back to me when she is free. It’s just I don’t have much phone battery, and we’ve had a power cut here so my mobile will probably be dead by the time she does. But that’s okay.”
“It will probably be tomorrow before you hear from her,” Claire says, and it is a struggle to hear over the din at her end of the line. I thought she worked at a recruitment agency, not a petting zoo. It sounds like chaos there, although I remember something Sally said last night about how her colleagues are young and boisterous. She wasn’t lying.
“Oh okay, is she out all day?” I ask.
“She didn’t come in this morning. I’m not sure where she is,” Claire tells me, and I can detect a tone of irritation in her voice. Sally not showing up has probably meant more work for this poor woman. But it’s not her that I’m most concerned about right now.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, slightly worried that Sally didn’t show. “Is she sick?”
“Look, I’m sorry, but that’s all I know. If and when she does actually turn up, then I’m sure she will get back to you. Okay?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say just before the phone line goes dead. Claire is obviously a busy woman, no doubt made even busier by the absence of her colleague today. But what is the reason for that absence?
Why hasn’t Sally turned up to work?
I don’t recall her saying anything about having a day off today when we chatted last night. In fact, she was definitely supposed to be at work today because she said she was going to send me the offer of employment from Papier Projects, even though I hadn’t formally accepted the position yet. That must mean that she is sick, or more realistically, hungover.
We had plenty to drink between ourselves last night if my headache is anything to go by, so I imagine she is feeling just as tired, if not more. She had mentioned going on to meet another friend after I left, so god only knows how much more she had to drink before she made it home. Her hangover must be so bad that she had no choice but to call in sick.
I guess I won’t be hearing from Sally today then.
Maybe it’s for the best. Without any power, and with my phone soon to lose its last bit of battery, I wouldn’t be able to respond to her quickly anyway. I will just have to wait for tomorrow, when the power is hopefully back on and when Sally is hopefully feeling well enough to make it back to her desk.
Another positive is that this gives me a chance to tell Craig about the job offer before I have to make a final decision. I still haven’t told him about the fact that I could be starting a new job in a couple of weeks if I say yes but I need to tell him today. I think I will wait until we are at the café, tucking into our breakfast before springing the news on him. At least he won’t be able to be as annoyed at me if we are in a busy public setting. But I hope he will be happy for me, or if not happy, then at least understanding. I’d hate for us to argue or disagree over this. I really do think me getting back into work is the best thing for both of us, not just me.
Take today, for example. My poor husband has decided not to go into the office because he doesn’t want to leave me alone during this power cut. But that wouldn’t be a problem if I had a workplace of my own to go to.
I will make him see that me being out of the house all day isn’t just for my own benefit but his as well.
Walking downstairs, I smile because I feel good about my chances of making Craig see things from my point of view. More so, I feel good about the fact that Papier Projects liked me enough to offer me the job. Add in the fact that I have already made a potential new friend in Sally and suddenly things are looking up for me. It won’t be long now until I am running around London, a busy and needed employee as well as a popular colleague and friend who people just can’t wait to go for a drink with after hours. I’ll have my own money to spend, not just Craig’s, as well as actual dates to put in my social calendar, instead of just sitting on the sofa all day wondering what series to watch next.
Things are really starting to look up for me and, as I walk into the kitchen to tell Craig that I am ready to go, I feel the happiest that I have felt in a long time.
37
CRAIG
“In here!” I call out to Megan when I hear her trying to find me in the kitchen.
Two seconds later and the door opens, and I turn to look at my wife from my position by the fuse box on the wall.
“Are you ready to go?” she asks me, and I can see that she is fully clothed, although it’s hardly the outfit I would have picked out for her if I had been choosing it myself. She is wearing a plain t-shirt and an old pair of jogging bottoms that I thought she had thrown out a long time ago. They aren’t exactly flattering, but at least she looks comfortable, which is good for her because she is going to be wearing those clothes for a long time now.
“Almost,” I reply, before turning my attention back to the array of electric switches in front of me and pretending to be busy looking at them.
“What are you doing?” she asks me, still not stepping inside the garage, which is annoying because this is where I need her to be if I am going to lock her in. “I thought I told you not to mess with that.”
“I just wanted to check something,” I reply, putting my hand up to one of the switches but not actually doing anything, not that Megan can see that from where she is standing.
“Be careful. And hurry up. Breakfast is waiting,” she says to me with a smile, before turning to walk back into the house.
But I don’t want that. I need her to come closer to me, not get further away.
“Can I borrow you a second?” I enquire.
“What for?” she asks, turning back around and then finally coming towards me.
“I think I might have found out what’s wrong with the power,” I say, playing dumb because of course I already know what is wrong with the power.
I have already flicked back on the switch that I had turned off earlier, meaning that there is electricity now flowing around this house should we decide to try and charge something. But that is a benefit that only I will get to enjoy.
Megan won’t have much use for electricity in here, although at least she can use the treadmill again.
“Really?” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice. “So it’s not a problem in the area?”
She walks over until she is standing beside me and I tell myself to keep calm because this whole little charade that I am playing will be over in a moment.
“I think something had tripped out. I’m not sure how I could have missed it, but I think I might have fixed it now. But I need to check.”
She leans in closer to get a better look inside the panel on the wall, not that she will be able to understand what any of these switches do inside here.
“I need to check. Could you wait here, and I’ll go and see?”
“I can check if you want?” she offers, turning back to the do
or.
But that’s not what I want at all.
“No, I’ll go. It will only take a moment.”
I head for the door, leaving Megan standing alone by the switches, which is exactly where I want her.
“I’ll go and plug something in and see if it works. I just need you to tell me if anything trips out, okay?”
“Okay,” my compliant wife replies.
But just before I leave the room, I ask for the final thing that will ensure she is completely alone in here once I lock this door.
“Sorry, do you have your phone on you? Just so that I can test it out with a charger?”
“Er, yeah, sure,” Megan replies, taking her mobile out of her pocket.
I walk back over to her and take it, but she has one question just before I can leave again.
“Where’s yours?” she asks me, which is a perfectly valid question.
“I’ve left it in the house somewhere, but I’m not sure where. I can look for it after. I just want to check this out quickly then we can get going.”
“Okay,” Megan replies, buying my lies because she has no reason not to. As far as she knows, I have never told her a lie in the whole time we have been together. But that is one thing that she is not going to be believing after today.
“Back in a min,” I say as I walk through the doorway and into the kitchen.
I take one last look at my wife standing in the garage as I close the door.
Then I lock it.
38
MEGAN
I gave up hammering on the door five minutes ago when it became clear that Craig wasn’t going to unlock it no matter how much noise I made. Now I’m sitting on the edge of the exercise bench, looking around at the few things in this room and wondering how long I am going to be stuck in here.
Craig has locked me in. But I have no idea why.
At first, I assumed it was a mistake, even when I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock just a couple of seconds after he walked out and closed the door behind himself. I hadn’t even bothered trying to get out at that moment, instead waiting by the fuse box to check if anything tripped out when he went to test the electricity. But then I had realised that nothing was happening, nor was my husband making any attempt to return to me in the garage, and that’s when I went and tried the door, even though I already knew it had been locked.
Having called out to him several times, I had expected to hear my husband either make a joke about what he had done or call back to let me know that there was a problem with the door and he couldn’t get it open.
Instead, I heard nothing.
He ignored every single one of my attempts to get through to him.
Why has he done this? Why has he locked me inside the garage when we should have been on our way into town for a nice breakfast right now?
And more importantly, when is he going to let me out?
I’ve already noticed the camp bed set up across the garage, with the sheet wrapped around the mattress and the pillow and blanket lying on top. It shouldn’t be set up unless we have a guest coming, which we never do, which means that Craig must have set it up this morning. Is that where I am supposed to sleep now?
Is this my new room?
Besides the bed and a bunch of exercise equipment, there isn’t anything else in here besides an old box and a bucket which I presume I am expected to use to relieve myself now.
How charming.
All the walls are bare, and there’s only one door in and out because Craig decided to remove the large garage door in a bid to get better insulation in here. At least that was what he had told me at the time. Now I’m thinking that he had another reason for wanting to make this room as sealed off as possible.
He had always been planning on locking me in here.
Other than shouting through the door at my husband to let me out, I haven’t made any attempt to call for help. Why would I? There is nobody else around. No neighbours. No one pottering around in their back garden who might be able to hear my desperate cries.
No one who can make Craig open this door again.
Is this why Craig was so keen on this house in the middle of nowhere? Has everything he has done in our marriage so far been leading up to this moment right here?
It’s a terrifying thought if so, which means that I push it from my mind for the time being. I can’t afford to break down now. I still have to believe that there is a rational explanation for this, just like I have to believe that my husband is going to let me out of here very soon.
Getting up from the exercise bench, I walk back over to the fuse box, as if the answer to my current predicament lies with that. As I stare at the array of switches on the panel, I wonder if there ever was something wrong with the power in the house or if that was just the start of Craig’s plan today.
Electricity is just about the only thing keeping this place connected to the outside world. Of course, he would know that, which makes me think that he has done this on purpose. Is the power back on now? Is he sitting inside the house with the television on and his personal devices charging? Is he currently snooping through my mobile phone, the one he asked me to give him just before he closed the door and locked me in here?
A wave of dread rushes over me as I suddenly realise what all of this is about. My job application. My trip to London. My meeting with Sally. Craig must know about everything.
Why else would he do this now?
He was off with me the second I told him that I was planning on applying for a job, which is why I hadn’t even got around to telling him that I had been offered one of them. But somehow, he must know what I have been doing. He must know that I went into London without telling him and he must know that I attended that interview.
Has he been looking at my emails on my phone when I was sleeping? Or did he follow me?
Has he always been keeping an eye on me, even when I’ve just been sitting at home?
My head is full of questions, but I feel like there is no way for me to get answers to any of them while I am stuck inside this room alone. But I feel like there has to be something in here that will help me understand this situation better. Craig has clearly thought this through, running through a whole charade about a power cut to get me in here without my phone. That means he has been careful to plan, which means that he must have been just as careful with the things he left me in here with.
Looking around at the bed, the treadmill, the heavy dumbbells and the exercise bench, I find no answers. But then my eyes land on the box on the floor and I wonder if I am going to find any clues in there.
There is only one way to find out.
I drag the box over to the bench then take a seat, opening it up and rummaging through the contents. But it doesn’t take me long to see something that might explain why I am in here after all.
When I see the photo, my heart almost leaps out of my chest.
39
CRAIG
So far, so good. Megan is locked in the garage, and she has stopped banging on the door, which shows she is making progress. The sooner she realises that she won’t be getting out of there for a while, the sooner she will start paying attention to the things that I have left her with. I don’t know how long it will take her to look inside the box, but one thing is for sure.
This whole situation will become much clearer to her as soon as she does.
As for me, I’m currently sitting on the sofa in the front room with my feet up and the laptop on my knees. I’m able to work from home now that the power has been restored to the house. It only took a simple flick of a switch to get the electricity running and drag this house back into the twenty-first century.
After sending a couple of emails to my work colleagues, telling them that I feel a little under the weather but should be back in the office tomorrow, I turn my attention back to the mobile phone sitting beside me. It’s the one Megan gave me just before I locked her away.
She really should be more careful with
who she gives her possessions to.
I have already looked through it, not that there is anything to learn that I didn’t already know. I am aware that she sent an email to Sally this morning, as well as made a phone call to her office a short time after when she didn’t get a reply. But Sally won’t be getting back to her.
Ever.
The only surprise I had when I went through Megan’s phone was when I saw that she had managed to get some extra charge into it despite me cutting off the power to the house. I had wondered how she had done that considering I had made sure her phone had been down to 1% battery when she woke up this morning, but a quick check in the bedroom gave me the answer. I had forgotten about the silver portable charger that she keeps in her bedside table. But that’s okay. While it would have been a problem for me if she had managed to sneak it into the garage while keeping her phone with her, it isn’t an obstacle now.
This phone in my hand could be fully charged for all I care, but it’s not much good to Megan when she can’t get to it.
Dropping the mobile back onto the sofa, I return my attention to the laptop and the work emails that I have been able to access remotely. Ever the professional, I am impressed with my ability to switch my focus from my troubled home life to my duties in the office. It isn’t long until I am working away again and forgetting about the woman that I have locked away in my garage.
But I can’t ignore the sound that comes from that room a couple of minutes later.
It’s a deep, guttural cry of pain, and it comes from Megan.
She must have finally looked inside the box.