by Jules Wake
At last Emily appeared. Her eyes widened as she let out a stunned gasp when she saw me trussed up. If I hadn’t been watching her so carefully, I’d have missed the quick dart of her eyes away down the corridor to the kitchen. My heart rose for a second. Was the cavalry on its way?
Peter smiled as he picked up the second glass of wine and went over to Emily as if this was entirely normal.
‘Emily, my darling. Thought you’d never get here.’
‘You!’ she said theatrically, swallowing nervously.
‘Yes. Waiting for you. I knew you’d be here eventually.’ He shot me a look of distaste before smiling at her. He looked like a lovesick puppy. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time. Come, sit down. I’ve got you a glass of wine.’
‘Er,’ stuttered Emily. ‘Look Peter, I …’ Her voice was loud again. She looked wildly at me. I gave my shoulders a fatalistic shrug. There was no point looking at me.
‘You haven’t been very nice to me, Emily.’ He waved the Stanley knife at her. ‘Those emails. Not kind. I thought you were different.’
Emily’s eyes caught mine again and frowned in thought for a second. There was a perceptible lift to her spine.
‘Do you know Peter? You’re right. I wasn’t very nice, was I? But Olivia had nothing to do with that. Do you think you could undo her?’
Peter gave me a dismissive look. ‘No, she’s not been very nice to me.’
That was rich but I thought that giving him the evil eye at this point might not help my cause.
‘I’m sure if you let her go we could sort everything out.’
She went over to him, stomping over making a lot of noise, staunchly ignoring the knife and took the glass of wine and sat down at the other end of the sofa. She smiled at him.
‘Those emails. I was having a really bad week and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. Email isn’t good.’
It was an amazing performance. Emily was trying hard and from Peter’s body language, I thought he might just be buying it. He put the knife down on the table.
The whole time I’d been listening carefully. There had to be some reason for Emily’s noisy entrance and subsequent shouting and reference to Barney. So when I saw Barney’s head peep around the stairs, my whole body slumped back against the chair. Thank God. How I managed not to beam at his reassuring wink, I’ll never know.
So who was in the kitchen? While Emily had been making all that noise downstairs, I’d definitely heard someone in there.
However, as long as Peter had that knife so close at hand, there on the table, no amount of knights in shining armour was going to save us.
‘Peter, why don’t we start again? We got off on the wrong foot,’ said Emily silkily. I had to admit she was bloody good at the femme fatale bit, even with a man who was clearly not sane.
I watched as Peter sidled along the sofa to sit closer to her, leaving the knife just that bit out of reach. Any minute now as he got nearer, he would have to turn his head. My opinion of her rose several notches, when she didn’t even flinch but sat there, smiling at him.
The minute he turned his back on me, I lunged forward, ignoring my tingling feet, and launched myself on top of the coffee table, even though I was still attached to the chair.
Thank God! The knife stayed sandwiched between the table and my layers of tape as Peter whirled round, spraying wine everywhere. He stood up and from my position, I saw him lift a foot, inches from my head. My eyes squeezed tight and my teeth locked in anticipation of the kick.
At that moment I heard Barney leap up from the stairs and a roar of rage from the kitchen. Lying prone, still glued to the chair like a small beetle, I opened my eyes to see Daniel appear from the kitchen like an avenging god. His face was thunderous as he grabbed Peter from behind, his arm hooking round his throat in a bruising neck lock.
‘Don’t you dare touch her again, you bastard,’ he ground out angrily, his arm jerking with fury. From this angle I could see Peter’s chin ratcheted up notch by notch as Daniel’s grip tightened.
Barney was beside me, ripping at the tape securing me to the chair. I think I passed out because the next thing I heard was the clumping of feet on the stairs. Suddenly the lounge was full of black soled shoes which was pretty much all I could see from my position. Two pairs of feet came to flank Daniel’s brogues, relieving him of his burden and rescuing Peter from imminent strangulation.
Then Daniel’s denim clad knees dropped in front of me as he elbowed Barney out of the way. ‘Olivia! My God.’
I mmm mphed through the tape. Daniel hesitated before picking at the edges. I screwed up my eyes as he ripped it off, tearing a good strip of skin off my cheek. Being able to breathe through my mouth again was such a welcome relief though that I forgave him the brutal exfoliation.
Having been brave for so long, I should have been able to have hung on a bit longer but as the tape was ripped off, my bravado collapsed like a tent in a force nine gale. Tears poured down my face mingling with the snot from my liberated nose.
Totally ignoring the slime trail of salty tears and unmentionables coursing down my face, Daniel scooped me up, chair and all, and laid his cheek against mine as he righted me. His eyes were drawn with horrified fascination to my throbbing cheekbone, which I could feel had swollen to Elephant Man proportions. Vaguely I was aware of helping hands ripping at the tape binding my arms to the wooden chair back.
Released at last, my shoulders were screaming having been pinned back in such an unnatural position for so long and I slumped forward in relief. Daniel grabbed my hands rubbing them between his. I looked up completely defeated, whispered, ‘Thank you,’ and laid my forehead on his shoulder. ‘How did you know?’
‘Tell you later,’ he muttered into my hair.
Around us I could hear the tinny sound of police radios, deep voices all talking at once. Daniel and I were in a private oasis, two alone in the midst of all the activity. My fingers, the pins and needles flooding them, wiggled their way to intertwine with his. My eyes were closed and I stayed there shutting everything out, absorbing the strength and warmth of Daniel’s presence, his steady breath in my ear, the firm grip of his fingers and the warm flesh under my forehead. I didn’t need anything else.
PC Cartwright materialised. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ she growled in her smoke laden voice.
I tried to lick my lips and winced, they were so dry despite the excess of saliva that had revoltingly collected in my mouth.
Daniel flicked her a distinct, ‘Leave her alone,’ look before piping up, ‘She needs water.’ At a slight nod from Cartwright, another WPC darted away and was back in seconds with a glass.
I sipped gratefully. Across the way, Emily was sitting on the sofa, her head in her hands. Peter was being held forcibly by two constables who wouldn’t have seemed out of place on the back row of a rugby pitch. He looked unperturbed gazing choirboy like at the ceiling.
I thought police procedure would take forever but they were amazingly quick and incredibly sympathetic. I heard Peter being read his rights and arrested before he was escorted down the stairs.
‘We’ll need you to make a full statement,’ Cartwright said to me, her face softening to granite. ‘But we’ll wait for the paramedic to get here.’
‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’ asked Daniel, indicating my bruised face.
Cartwright pursed her lips. ‘Sorry, we need witness statements from all of you.’
Emily stood. ‘Why don’t I give you mine now? Olivia needs to …’
The words go home were left unsaid. I was already at home, after all, but there was no way I wanted to stay.
I smiled weakly at Emily. ‘Thanks.’
Cartwright turned to me. ‘A uniformed officer will stay with you and accompany you to hospital. I really think you should go.’
She raked my face with an experienced eye. ‘That cheek looks a bit of a mess, although believe it or not you got off lightly.’
Got off lightly, who was she kidding? I dreaded to think what someone who hadn’t looked like. My face felt as if it was on fire and my head hurt if I so much as blinked. On top of that I felt so limp and defeated. All I wanted was simply to sign on the dotted line and say, ‘I hereby hand over my body – somebody please take charge of me’.
The paramedic, a vision in bilious green, arrived looking more like a kindly leprechaun than a hero of the emergency services. His twinkly avuncular manner belied a core of steel and before long I had agreed to go to the hospital with him. By this time, statements had been taken from Emily, Barney and Daniel and they were all free to go.
Before I left Emily came over. ‘Clothes and now men. You always did like my cast offs.’ She smiled wryly to show that she was joking. Daniel melted away disappearing into my bedroom. ‘Sorry, Olivia. I always knew you liked him.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I should have given him back earlier.’ That was as close to an apology as I was ever going to get. ‘Take care of yourself. I won’t come back here.’ She laughed tonelessly.
She directed a quick look at Daniel, who’d emerged from my room with a bag in his hands into which he was stuffing a pair of my jeans. ‘Bye then. Are you coming, Barney?’ She gave him a flirty smile. Typical, he was so her type.
He grinned back. ‘Well done. Bloody brave of you to brave the lion’s den. Back to my place?’
‘Please, that would be nice.’
She turned to Daniel. ‘Bye, Daniel.’
‘See you, Emily,’ he said calmly, looking totally unconcerned.
‘I doubt it,’ she replied, airily tossing her hair so that he would remember exactly what he was missing. I watched him from under my lashes, as he eyed her thoughtfully as she and Barney disappeared from view in the wake of WPC Cartwright.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Daniel and I left the flat in the hands of the crime scene guys. The twilit sky was awash with blue flashes; the unsynchronised lights illuminating the faces of curiosity seekers crowding around the scattered police cars.
‘This way.’ The attractive brunette WPC who had been assigned to accompany me to hospital ushered me into a waiting car. Daniel, sliding into the back with me, perked up momentarily. His first time too. He was leaning over the seat avidly looking at the different gizmos. I managed a wonky smile. He gave my hand a squeeze.
‘Which one do you think is the siren?’ he said in a loud stage whisper. WPC Jennings gave us both a ‘and-no-one’s-ever-said-that-one-before’ patient smile.
Once again she went through the procedure at the hospital. We’d be met there by a specially trained SOCO who would ‘harvest’ any evidence – her description – and she would be taking my statement as soon as I felt up to it.
The journey to the hospital, despite the novelty of the transport, went by in a haze, as was my time there. I remember clearly Daniel being a constant, at my side the whole time. Everything else had a dream like feel; the low gentle tones of my police lady as she took copious notes, the crime scene photographer taking hundreds of pictures of me, gently angling my head this way and that to get close ups of every bump and bruise and the low hum of the hospital beyond the cubicle curtains.
The only one bonus to the evening was that I was seen very quickly. The doctor wanted to admit me, but when I questioned her closely about my injuries, she said in patronising tones that if I wanted to, I could go home but she wouldn’t advise it. ‘You’ll need someone with you,’ she said acidly, when I said that I really would rather.
‘She’s coming home with me,’ interjected Daniel, giving the doctor a tight smile. He hadn’t said much in the last few hours, his face had been grim for much of the time. A little light bulb lit up within me – only a fairy light admittedly, given the way I was feeling. I looked at him gratefully, although he didn’t see, he was busy looking at his shoes. I craned my neck to see what was so interesting but couldn’t spot anything.
Never in his life had he needed to hold on so tightly to his temper. Escorting Olivia for the second time out of the automatic doors of the hospital, he shook with the control he needed to stop himself giving into the desire to lash out at something. If he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop a descent into a frenzy of violence. Every knuckle on both hands hurt where they’d been clenched so hard as if physically clutching onto his self-control. He found talking difficult, in case he upset Olivia.
Guiding her outside, he saw passers-by glance quickly at her poor face. Wide-eyed, almost punch drunk, no wonder they looked, she looked so fragile and bruised.
He consoled himself with glaring at them, the only outlet for the violence he held in check, he worried if he let it show it would push her over the edge.
He took Olivia’s hand into his. It was the only part of her he dared touch. It also kept her at arm’s length. The swelling on her face, the streaks of blood on her clothes were a constant reminder of what she’d suffered and he knew if he didn’t keep a distance, he would breakdown, hug her too him and never let her go. She needed him to be strong.
Getting her home was the priority. Once they were there and safe, he could let go of the terrible anxiety spiralling through him. Seeing her so vulnerable, at the mercy of Peter had tugged at a frail thread inside. He’d never felt so helpless or useless. Just thinking about it made his breathing shallow. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate on ushering her towards the taxi rank.
It never occurred to him to ask her where she might want to go, he was taking her home with him and keeping her by his side for the rest of the night. If not the rest of his life.
As the taxi dropped them at his car, still parked haphazardly outside Olivia’s flat, he unlocked the door with the remote. Glancing around, he settled Olivia in the passenger seat and then checked there was no one nearby, resisting the urge to lock the doors as he moved around the back of the car to get to the driver’s seat.
It was funny how everything suddenly dimmed into insignificance. All the wasted time, Emily’s lies, the near misses. As he started the engine, immediately soothed by the revs under his foot, he turned to Olivia. Her eyes were closed and her lips pressed tightly shut. He let out a breath, slipped the car into gear and glanced at the clock. In another hour they’d be home.
Daniel couldn’t have driven all the way home in second gear, but I don’t remember him ever relinquishing my punishing grasp on his hand. My lap was full of first aid remedies pressed upon me by the sulky doctor, antiseptic salve for my face and industrial sized boxes of paracetamol and ibruprofen. The latter were just starting to work, so the journey was a blur of cat’s eyes on the road. There was silence apart from the purr of the car and low music that I was aware of but unable to hear. I felt strangely disconnected. The warm hand in my lap was the only thing linking me to the world. I wanted to speak but couldn’t form the words. They were stuck at the back of a tunnel that my brain couldn’t dig its way through.
As I stepped out of the car, the shadows and rustles of the country night immediately soothed me. Emily had said she found the country night alien but I felt comforted by the dark. It felt safer here. The urban jungle was far scarier, concealing the feral under a civilised veneer. The only predators out here were the four-legged variety – I could cope with those.
Daniel unlocked the big, solid wooden door, ushering me in. He put my bag down at the foot of the stairs. In the dim light of the hall, he looked the worst I’d ever seen him. Tufts of hair stood ranged across his head, his face grey and eyes shadowed.
He caught me staring at him. ‘This way.’ He nodded towards the kitchen. It was hard to believe that it was only two days ago that I’d been here, all a flutter, with the promise of things to come. I smiled wanly.
‘Daniel, I’m sor
ry. You must be absolutely bushed,’ I said in a low voice. He ran a hand through his hair. No wonder it looked as bad as it did, he’d been doing that all evening.
‘It’s been quite a night,’ he said looking at me.
Now that we were inside there was a physical distance between us. I was shy and he seemed to be avoiding touching me all of a sudden.
Had he changed his mind? Had I been too needy in the last 24 hours? Perhaps all this knight in shining armour stuff had got a bit tedious. It was ironic. When he had seemed unattainable I’d managed to bury my feelings for most of the time. Pretending that they weren’t there and getting on with my life. Now, since yesterday morning, I’d been unable to resist examining them like a shiny new penny, polishing them in private. What if that was taken away again? I felt hollow.
‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’ he said finally, moving away. I watched him open the fridge, his head disappearing inside like an eager Labrador on the hunt for food. He emerged clutching a white carton. ‘Would you like some soup?’
Ugh. My stomach quivered. I wasn’t sure if it was rebellion or hunger. Horribly conscious of all the trouble he’d already been through, I ignored my natural reaction and said politely, ‘That would be nice, thank you.’
He busied himself, getting out a pan, opening the carton of fresh soup. ‘Aubergine and red pepper all right?’ he asked blandly. ‘Miriam’s been to Waitrose again. I get all the things Dad refuses to try. Red pepper gives him indigestion.’
‘Sounds lovely.’ I tried to sound bright but my voice came out strained.
He looked sharply at me. ‘I can find something else if you want.’
‘No, that’s fine, honestly.’ I pulled out one of the chairs and sat down sideways on. I was still huddled in my coat. The painkillers had done their job but I felt washed out. I didn’t even have the energy to offer to set the table.