I moved to her side and watched frustration skew her features as she let me hold her up.
Syra was a fighter. She was an independent warrior, I was positive of it, and I needed her to see that. For so long she’d worn her armour and carried her weapons but never put them to use, and it was time now to get her ready for the battle of her life. I needed to teach her how to push harder and move faster so she didn’t have to hide herself behind destruction. She needed to be shown how to love herself again and let go of the guilt she wore like a badge.
I mirrored the nurse’s position at the other side of Syra, allowing her to use my forearm as leverage, and once she was on her feet, we walked, her with tentative, wobbly steps, towards the door of her room. We were only heading to the toilets, but it took us a while, and I began to worry about how I was going to even pull this off. Remaining alert and surveying the surroundings, I made a mental note of the different doors, the signs on them, and made speculations as to what was behind them. I didn't really have a choice, and so my stealth, ability to think fast and remain alert were going to have to carry us through.
Syra didn’t say much until we got back to the room. She was exhausted by the time we lowered her to the bed.
“When did the police say they were coming back?” I glanced at the nurse who was busy making Syra comfortable again. “Because she’s not up to it. Look at her. She’s barely able to keep her eyes open. Can we ask them to wait a little longer? I don’t want her traumatised when she’s not strong enough to deal with it all.”
“I’m fine.”
I stared at her as she winced, attempting to push herself into a sitting position.
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about me like I’m not here. I’m fine. I can talk to them.”
My knee bounced. I was going to have to act soon because whether she thought she could sit there and answer questions or not, there was no way in hell I could let her.
The nurse picked up her clipboard. “We’ll be moving you to a ward this afternoon and have requested that the police give you a couple more days to settle and recover.”
I almost sighed with relief at the words as everything began to slot into place. Patients wandered in and out of wards all day. I needed her to get her strength up and then I could act.
And that’s how twenty-seven hours later, I was encouraging her out of her new bed to go for a walk outside to get some fresh air. She was still weak, still needing support, but thankfully she agreed. I helped her put her boots on, encouraged her to put a jumper on, and then wrapped her in a blue, scratchy hospital blanket.
We still hadn’t talked—not at least about how she was feeling or what had happened that night. She still hadn’t given me any indication that she remembered everything, but I needed to bide my time before I broached the subject. Her physical recovery was the most important. We would deal with healing her from the inside once I knew she was safe.
I had considered asking her to discharge herself ‘against medical advice’, but feared this would alert the authorities faster. I needed to buy us some time, and this way, no one would come looking for her until we were long gone.
I left her bed unmade.
I left her belongings where they were: the bag of toiletries I’d brought for her, the uniform she’d worn the night of the party. Her mobile phone lay on top of the cupboard…
To anyone popping their head into the ward, it would look as if she was going to be returning as expected, and I smiled as we walked past the nurses station, ensuring they knew we were going outside.
With my arm wrapped around Syra’s shoulder, she leaned into me a little, the closeness of her body and the feeling it gave me causing my heart to splutter in my chest. I pushed the glass doors open, walking us both outside, past the smokers and the pregnant women needing to stretch their bodies. I guided her around the corner of the building towards a solitary and unoccupied bench. I needed a moment. I didn’t want to scare her, and now we were outside and away from other people, I felt it was time to tell her my plan—or part of it at least.
We sat quietly, side by side, and I glanced at her. She was pale, her face drawn and thin. There was a world of pain and sadness behind those blue eyes of hers that had always been there—that had always made my heart thump louder—but there had always been a tiny spark of something stronger shining past it. Something that made me hold out hope that she was bigger than the shit that dragged her down. But that morning, in the autumn sunlight, I couldn’t see it anymore. It was gone. It was as if it had been snuffed out of her, leaving a shell of the spunky, fiery girl who lit me up from the inside out. She seemed a little less guarded, a little more vulnerable and a little more broken, and I vowed right then that I would make it my life’s mission to reignite that spark and keep it burning forever. She’d always fought me, and I wanted that again. I wanted her to push me and challenge me, but I was worried that side of her was lost. I could almost taste her resignation. She was giving up altogether and that would not do. It would not do at all.
Leaning forwards, I clasped my hands between my knees and turned my head back to look at her. “You remember what I’ve told you about Doug.”
Her eyes drifted lazily to my face. “I don’t really want to talk about Doug, or anything about that night.”
I nodded. “Doug is extremely dangerous. He has a hold over me, and now he has a hold over you.”
Her eyes closed briefly, as if she were shutting me out.
“I know this is difficult for you, but I need you to understand that you’re now in danger. The police are involved in this because of drugs. Drugs is a big deal, Sy, and Doug is in the middle of it all. You are at risk and I need to make sure you’re safe.”
Her chest deflated on a noisy sigh. Usually there would be words, her walls would erect and we’d end up arguing, but she remained silent, her eyes taking in the comings and goings around us.
I swiveled to face her and picked her hand up from her lap, keeping my eyes trained on it as I divulged the next step. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“Out of where?” She refused to look at me and I cupped her cheek, gently guiding her face in my direction.
“Out of the hospital, out of harm’s way. If the police get to you, if you answer their questions, if…”
“Doug will kill me.”
“Pretty much, yes.” My voice was more agitated than I wanted it to be. “You could lie, but what would you say? Sorry officer, I brought my own drugs to the party.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Lying to the police is just as dangerous. It’s a crime, and if you got found out, the shit would hit the fan in a whole different way. I’d rather we eliminate the need to talk to them at all.”
“Running from the police is a crime, too.” She leaned her head back on the bench and squinted up at the sky. She was tired, weary, in all senses of the word. I could see her fading and I needed to start acting.
“You’re not running from the police. You’re running because you’re scared, you’re confused and need space to figure shit out.”
She looked at me with one eye shut. “Am I?”
“Yes. You are.”
Eyeing me suspiciously, she bit down on the corner of her lip. “Okay, Ronnie Biggs, how do you propose we do this?”
A soft chuckle escaped me. “If I tell you, I’ll—”
“Have to kill me. Yeah. I thought as much.”
She was still in there, and everything that was worrying me seemed to settle. I was doing the right thing for her, even if it wasn’t the right thing in anyone else’s eyes. Whether she liked it or not, I was going to spend as long as it took saving her, from Doug, from the past and from herself.
***
Escape from the hospital was easy. We sauntered around the building to the car park where my car waited. I ushered Syra inside, all the while keeping an eye out for anyone who might be watching.
She was scared.
She didn't say as much
, but it was all over her face, she shivered and her eyes were wild. She was compliant though and didn’t ask me any questions.
I glanced over at her as I turned right out of the car park, giving her what I hoped would be a reassuring smile. And she gave me one back. I was riddled with guilt for dragging her away from where she was being taken care of medically, but this would be better in the long run.
I stuck to the speed limit, keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of police cars, taking back streets where possible, and didn’t stop until we were parked up behind an old rundown house at the far end of town, and it was there that we switched cars.
I’d pre loaded the back of the pickup with everything we needed: warm clothes and food. I had a bag full of things to make a fire, torches, a camping stove and bottles of gas. There was a box with plastic plates, cutlery and beakers, towels and tea towels. I’d ditched my phone two hours previous, and since Syra’s was on the table at the hospital, we were completely uncontactable and undiscoverable, exactly how it needed to be.
I helped her up into the passenger seat. She was so very tired now, and I wondered how long she would last before she needed to sleep. It was mid afternoon and we needed to eat. I’d bought pre-packed sandwiches and bottles of water, and we sat looking out to sea from the front of the truck, eating them in silence.
She rested her head back against the seat and let it roll to the side so she was looking at me. “Where are we going?”
I continued to look out of the window. “Somewhere safe.” It seemed to be all she needed to hear, and so I left it at that. All that remained to do now was to wait until it fell dark, and then we could move.
It came around faster than I expected, the sun setting at around ten past four. Syra had slept, and she woke with a start when I switched the engine on.
“Hey.”
She blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Hey. How long was I out?”
“Couple of hours. You ready to go?”
Sitting a little straighter, she peered out of the window and nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”
I shifted the truck into reverse, laying my arm across the back of her seat whilst I turned to look out of the back windscreen. I needed to keep the noise down, and so rolled gently back onto the road. The police would have been alerted by now, and would be out looking for us—Syra’s disappearance creating a serious concern for life that they’d have to investigate—and every second counted.
Now was the danger zone, and for the first time since we’d fled the grounds of the hospital, my heart was in my mouth and I was genuinely nervous. It was an alien feeling. I didn’t usually worry or stress. Getting caught stealing cars wasn’t something I was scared of. I was good at my job. I was good at hiding, at remaining unseen. But that was because there was only me at risk. This time, I had Syra with me, and she meant everything to me. Every Goddamn thing. She was the only thing in my life worth saving, worth trying for, worth fighting for, and so the idea that this little mission would fail, had my throat dry and my nerves rattled.
We made it to the seafront without incident, taking the unlit streets instead of the main roads. I mounted the curb and parked the truck out of sight.
Syra shivered and I pulled the blanket around her shoulders, rubbing her arms. “You okay?”
She nodded. Her eyes were full of questions, and I knew she was desperate to ask them, but she also knew I had this in hand. As much as she’d protested in the past, she trusted me, and that meant everything to me. The shutters were still down, but she was starting to give up her need to do this alone, and at her acceptance of help, a warmth spread across my chest. She was trusting me to be that person for her.
Blowing all the air from my lungs, I opened my door, hopped down and ran around to help her out of the truck. I grabbed another couple of blankets and wrapped her in them then turned her to look at me.
“Do you remember the night you told me you wanted to live in that pink house along the front?”
Her face was upturned, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. She was so fucking beautiful, and I had the urge to tell her so right then. My gaze flitted across her face, to her lips, and back to her eyes and she swallowed down, nodding her head.
“Do you remember what I said to you about where I wanted to live?”
Another nod. She shivered again, and I pulled her to me, encasing her with my arms, resting my chin on top of her head as I spoke, my eyes squinting in the darkness that shrouded the sea. “This is the hard bit. Okay? We need to work together to get you there and it’s going to be physically difficult. I’m going to need you to listen and follow instructions so I can do it safely and without us being seen.” I sighed silently, not wanting her to sense my concern. This plan was all well and good on paper, but the practicalities, now that I was faced with them, seemed nigh on impossible. Was I making a big fucking mistake? Should we go back and let Syra take her chances with the police and risk the wrath of Doug?
No. I couldn’t risk the police being led to the club with more questions for Doug. Not yet. Not until she’d had time to recover, to decide what she wanted, and to come to terms with what had happened to her. It would no doubt begin the unravelling of the Patterson empire, one he kept hidden from view through careful planning, and careful cunning. He’d once described himself as The Untouchable. He was clever, very clever, and if the trail led back to me, if anything happened to me, if I got caught or sent down for my hand in his business, who would Syra have then? No one. For now Doug was merely a club owner and a car salesman, and that’s all the police needed to know.
He would get his comeuppance but only when the time was right.
Jack
Promised Land by John Lucas
Moonlight by Allman Brown
LOADING THE BOAT took longer than I’d hoped. Doing everything in the dark on my own and keeping Syra warm and hidden was a task in itself. I hauled and heaved the bags of provisions, taking care not to drag anything along the sand for any length of time.
Once everything was tucked safely inside, I went back for her, helping her to cover her footprints as we walked across the beach to where the boat was now bobbing on the water. Working for dodgy people meant I knew loads of dodgy people—people who would do and say anything to keep the law off their backs. People you could trust to do you a deal and keep their mouths shut about it.
It was a small wooden rowing boat with barely enough room for everything, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the inconspicuous appearance suited me to the ground.
Once I had Syra settled on the seat, I ran back along the beach, did one more sweep to remove any prints, and climbed in opposite her.
The waves were calmer than they had been of late, and I prayed they would stay that way. It was going to be a long journey, and the fewer obstacles, the better. I made sure Syra was warm enough, that there was space for her to stretch her legs, and I set off rowing, gritting my teeth and dragging the oars through the water like my life depended on it.
In some ways it did.
I was doing this to save her, and unless I remained in tact, she wouldn’t be safe at all.
It was an incredibly clear night, pitch black aside from the stars that were out in their thousands—pinpricks of light that seemed to dance in their clusters—and the illumination of the moon. It had always fascinated me that it could shine so much light on things when actually the light was not its own. How magnificent that a star so far away should have such strength, such power, that it could light a whole other astronomical body enough for it to cast light on us. I wondered if Earth shined like the moon when looking at it from outer space.
I kept rowing, anxious to cut the time down, anxious to get Syra out of harm’s way. She sat with her head tipped back, looking at the inky blackness above us, and despite everything, she seemed calm.
“Are you warm enough?”
Lifting her shoulders a little, she nodded. “I’m good. Tired, but okay.” Tucking her h
air behind her ears, she continued to speak. “I used to watch the stars with my dad. We’d sit out on the back porch and try to spot meteors.”
I smiled, not that she would have seen. She’d never really talked about her father with me, at least not about the good stuff, the personal stuff. All she’d ever told me was that he’d died of a lung disease, and for some reason, she harboured a whole load of guilt about that, which meant that grief was an ever-present emotion in her. I’d spent three years trying to get her to open up to me about why, but of course she’d kept me at arm’s length like she kept everyone.
That was going to change.
It had to because she couldn’t go on the way she had been.
“We used to wish on them and then tell each other our wishes by whispering them out to the sky.”
My arms were fucking killing me, so I stopped rowing, pulling the oars into the boat and reaching for a bottle of water and taking a swig, enjoying the moment we were sharing where everything else in the world didn’t seem to matter. I was almost reluctant to ask her in case it jolted her out of the peaceful moment she seemed to be wrapped in, but to engage with her in this was all I’d ever wanted. All I’d ever asked was that she let me in, and for a moment, that’s what she was doing. I screwed the lid back on the bottle and leaned forwards, resting my arms on my legs. “And what did you wish for?”
Her head dropped so that she was looking at me, the light from the moon shining directly in her face. “Lots of things, but mostly that everyone I loved would be happy forever.” A sad smile tugged at her mouth, and I swallowed down a lump of emotion as she cast her eyes skyward again.
I’d had my share of crap times over the years—an estranged mother and a deadbeat father—but Syra was dealing with some seriously fucked up shit. The fact she was sitting here, with me, was testament to her inner strength, regardless of how helpless and shattered she felt.
Too Good Girl Page 17