by Serena Lyons
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come over here, and I’m going to wrap you up all nice and cosy.” He pats the unfurled carpet.
“What?” I don’t move.
“It’s just to get you in the building without you kicking up a fuss. Don’t worry, I’ll untie you as soon as we’re inside. I can’t exactly carry you up to the top of the tower.”
“Fine.” I shuffle back over and lie down on the carpet. I close my eyes, I can’t bear to look at him so close to me, but his smell invades my senses anyway; bitter lemon aftershave not strong enough to cover his acrid sweat. Bile rises deep in my throat.
“See, cooperating isn’t that hard, is it?” He lifts the corner of the carpet and starts rolling be up in it, like I’m a sausage in the middle of a bed of pastry.
Something tight pinches the middle of me. He must be tying the carpet roll up. I’m even more trapped.
Stay calm. Panicking isn’t going to do anything.
“You know it would be so easy just to throw you on a bonfire right now.” Phillip taps my hip through the carpet and laughs.
Dread makes me wriggle crazily inside the tightly bound carpet. Have I just signed my own death warrant by getting in here so meekly? I completely forgot that it was bonfire night. No one would bat an eyelid at a skanky old carpet getting thrown on to a pile of flaming. They’d probably cheer. Suddenly being pushed off a tall building doesn’t seem so horrific. At least it would be over quickly.
“No one would believe your plan then, they’d—”
“Relax, I’m only joking,” Phillip’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “That’d bring the police sniffing around and I don’t want that. Right, on to our final stop.” There’s glee in his voice and I try to think of other things, to push all thoughts of Phillip Charrington out of my head.
The van door bangs and moments later the engine restarts. It turns out that being,wrapped in a carpet provides some crucial cushioning as he breaks and swerves too quickly. I try to track where we are in my head—luckily my regular jogs mean I can navigate the city well. We circle a roundabout and I’m ninety percent sure we’re passing over Magdalen Bridge into the city centre.
The van stops moving and sounds of the city fill my ears as the back doors open again. Flickers of light edge into my line of vision, through the end of the carpet roll, but I’m at the wrong angle to see anything, and I can’t move my head.
Phillip drags me to the edge of the van, then he rolls me into his arms and starts moving somewhere.
Panic rises in my throat, I don’t feel secure in his arms. Although actually, him dropping me would probably be a good outcome. More time to get someone’s attention.
It’s loud here, we must be somewhere in the centre of town. I want to scream blue murder, but it’s so noisy. Crowds of people are laughing and chattering, fireworks exploding overhead. Still, it’s worth a shot.
“Help!” I try to yell through my gag. “I’m in the carpet.”
I hold my breath, but nothing happens. Phillip is still moving slowly, panting and staggering under my weight. I’m surprised he can even lift me, he looks so puny.
The sound of people talking quietens and suddenly I’m half falling to the ground. I twist inside the carpet, but it’s too tightly bound for me to be able to escape. Something creaks above me, and then I’m getting rolled forward, my stomach churning with the mix of motion, adrenalin and fear. If I was sick in here, maybe I’d choke on my own vomit. Then my death would be hard for Phillip to explain.
The thought doesn’t comfort me. I want to live, I have to live. I want Cal to hold me in his arms again. I want to see Gran turn into a happy old woman and play with her great grandkids. I want to play stupid board games with Nina and laugh until our bellies hurt. I want the world to know that Millie wasn’t crazy, but her brother was.
The tie around my waist loosens, and then Phillip unfurls me from the carpet on to a black and white chequered floor so icy it makes me shiver.
We’re in an old, cavernous building with huge windows and stone walls. For a second I’m sure he’s brought me to a college dining hall, but then my eyes focus on stained glass in the windows and the wooden pews. We’re in a church. Aren’t they usually locked after hours?
That’s not what matters, I twist and look for the door, my escape route. It’s right behind me, wooden and ornately carved, it must be centuries old. I think we’re in the church near the Radcliffe Camera Library, but I’m not certain. Regardless I’m sure there’ll be crowds of people in the street of I can just get out.
“Ha, I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” He smiles at me, then stands up and walks over to the door, picking up a large key and turning it shut. “There’s no point trying to run.”
Fuck.
“Now I’m going to untie your legs, so you can walk up the stairs, but your arms and mouth are going to stay like they are.”
I nod. Maybe I can kick him and knock him out as soon as my legs are undone. If my some miracle I knocked him unconscious, that could give me time to escape.
Almost as if he can read my mind he crouches as far away from me as he can and leans forward to untie my ankles. Like when he untied my wrists back at the dining room, my legs seize up with painful pins and needles as soon as I move them. I curl into the foetal position and try to plan my next move.
“Come on then, on your feet.” He snaps.
I could easily jump up to standing, years of cheerleading and gymnastics means I don’t need to use my arms to lever myself up, but I’m not going to follow his instructions bouncily, I’m going to drag out every second. Buy myself time.
Delaying for what, I don’t know. It must be nine-ish, there’s no way I can keep us here until the vicar or priest arrives in the morning. Unless I hurt him somehow. And as soon as Phillip gets me up to the tower, I’m screwed.
“Can’t get up,” I mumble through my gag.
“What?”
I repeat what I said, trying to walk the fine line between being too quiet for him to hear me through the gag, but not being so quiet that it’s obvious I’m doing this on purpose.
“Oh for Christ’s sake.” He drops down to a crouch and unties the knot behind my head. I spit out the filthy rag he’d stuffed inside my mouth and take a moment to enjoy breathing in clean, sweet air without feeling like I’m continually at risk of choking. “Get up.”
“I can’t without my arms to lever myself.” I make a half-hearted attempt at rocking up to standing in the hope that it will prove I’m not lying.
His eyes narrow as he watches me try. Then he yanks my arm and pulls me up. “There, wasn’t so hard was it?” He asks sneering, like he knows I was trying to trick him into untying my arms as well. “See that door over there?” He points to a small door hidden in a corner. “Go over there.”
I do as he says, but as slowly as humanly possible. It must be the stairs to the tower, there’s a counter next to the door with signs about ticket prices—I’ve heard it’s a big tourist attraction, you get some of the best views of the dreaming spires up there. I’ve never actually been up, so I have no clue what is lying in store for me up there.
When I get close to the door, Phillip startles me by reaching past me to push it open, then nudges me into a dark, curving staircase. Damn, if I’d been less in my head I could have at least tried to kick him in the balls. I pause, using my elbow to brace myself from the door hitting my face.
“What are you waiting for? Climb.” Phillip snaps behind me.
“It’s pitch black and my hands are tied.” I try to keep my voice even. “These stones are slippery from centuries of feet passing over them. Do you want me to fall down and break my neck with my hands bound? It’s not going to fit with your nice little story.”
“Fine,” Phillip half speaks, half sighs the word. “I’ll turn the lights on.”
A switch clicks and slowly some lights flicker, fade then come on again. They cast long shadows over the narrow spiral staircase, mak
ing this whole thing even more eerie. We could have gone back six hundred years and I’m a traitor being led to my death.
“It’s still slippy.” I stand still on the threshold to the staircase. “Can’t you just untie my hands so I can hold on to the walls?”
“Nice try, but I know you’re a cheerleader. I think you’ll manage the staircase fine.”
“I’m not shaking with dear when I do my routines.” I snap.
“You’ll cope. Chop chop now.”
I can start walking, then slip on purpose. The spiral staircase is so narrow, Phillip will go down like a bowling pin if I fall. I might get hurt, but so will he. It could give me the chance to run.
Eventually the light changes, and then I see the night sky at the end of the next turn. I slowly climb the final steps, my limbs leaden and unwilling.
At the top of the stairs I pause, I don’t want to go an inch further. Then Phillip pushes me. For a horrible second my stomach drops, and I think this is it, I’m falling, dying, but feet find solid ground in front of them and I realise he’s actually only pushed me on to a narrow walkway that skirts the edge of the tower. It’s about a person wide and has a chest-high wooden bannister protecting visitors from the long drop to the side.
Freezing wind sends my hair flying in front of my eyes. I shake it away and take in the view; the Radcliffe Camera shining like an architectural wedding cake in front of me, ornate colleges flanking it on every side. Oxford has never looked so beautiful, glittering in the warm street-lamps, brightened by beautiful fireworks going off overhead. I have never been so terrified.
Phillip slams a door shut; we’re trapped up here. I stop thinking of the view and look for something, anything to help me. At each edge of the walkway is a dark arch that leads through the carved outer pillar of the tower through to the next walkway. There must be four of them, one for each side of the tower. And the only way down is the staircase that Phillip has locked and is standing in front of.
Fuck, the panic in my chest threatens to drown me, I can barely breathe.
A firework explodes somewhere close by and I scream.
Phillip laughs, his eyes glinting manically in the half-dark. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be over very soon.”
I ignore him and look up instead, there’s another ten metres of building above us, but it’s all steep church spire, nothing for me to scramble up. An elaborately carved figure just to the
“Jump already, this is it Faith, the end.”
Then it hits me. I will jump. Just not to where he expected.
I take a deep breath, I’ve done this sort of move hundreds of times in cheerleading. I can do it. Then the cold wind ruffles my hair, its icy chill reminding me I’m not in a padded sports hall. If I mess this up, I’m dead, splattered on the pavement below, exactly how Phillip wants me to be.
“Hurry up, or I’ll fucking push you!” He’s close behind me. I can’t delay any longer.
I climb up, one foot on the sloping waist-high wall that separates me from death, one on the edge of the tower. It’s less than a metre jump to the ledge with the statue, but the ledge is tiny and there’s a xxx drop below it. If I mis-judge this, I am well and truly screwed.
But at least Phillip won’t have pushed me.
“Just go over already, you don’t need to…” His voice disappears into the background as I bend my knees, my muscles firing.
This is the easiest jump of your life. There’s no way you’ll miss.
Yeah, right. No matter what I tell myself, a two-hundred foot drop is fucking distracting.
I jump and for a split-second time stops, just like it does in the movies. I’m totally aware of the fact nothing is beneath me expect a two-hundred foot fall to the graveyard below. And then in a shocking, sweet victory, my left foot strikes one edge of the platform, my right foot the other. I made the jump.
I quickly grasp on to the statue like he’s the love of my life. Please let this be secured properly. My heart thuds.
“You fucking bitch!” Phillip screams behind me, running to the side of the walkway closest to me.
Shit he’s going to try to pull me from my perch. He’s incandescent with rage, his eyes black lasers
I quickly move my left foot over to the other side of the statue as well to get out of the reach of his clawing hands., even though I felt much more secure hugging the priest or cardinal with my weight balanced, Phillip would be able to reach me and pull me down.
“You’re not going to be able to stay there all night. You’re slowly going to get tired and cold and then,” he pauses and giggles. “Bye bye Faith. Why I couldn’t have thought of such a delicious punishment myself.”
He’s fucking right.
51: Callum
Nina speeds down High Street and parks badly on the curb outside the church. “St Michael’s next, google the fastest route.” I tell her as Axel and I jump from the car again.
It’s busy around here, lots of bundled students walking towards fireworks displays and people tut as I knock them out of the way. I don’t give a damn.
I sprint across the graveyard and get to the door. It’s locked too, but not with such an ostentatious padlock as the previous door. It’s just a normal lock with a key.
“Damn, not here, either.” I resist the urge to kick the door on account of it being a church. I’m not that heathen.
“We’ll find her.” Axel gently rests a hand on my shoulder. I want to believe him, but time is running out.
“Let’s go to St Michael’s.” I turn and run back to the car. At the gate to the graveyard, I realise that Axel isn’t right behind me. Idiot, doesn’t he realise every second might be the difference between life and death for Faith? “Hurry the fuck up!” I turn and yell. He’s not moving looking up at the church. “Axel!”
“Something’s not right here.” He shouts back at me.
“What are you talking about?” I move closer to him, every step feeling like a step further from rescuing Faith.
“The lights are on in the staircase, look you can see it glowing out through the slits in the tower. I don’t—”
“Callum!” He’s cut off by a blood-curdling scream from Nina. Ice clenches my guts and I spin around, half expecting to see a figure in black pulling her off, trying to kidnap her again.
Instead, she’s running towards the pedestrian passageway to the back of the church, with her finger pointed high in the air. “This way, something just fell from the tower.”
Something just fell from the tower. My stomach drops away. Without speaking Callum and I follow Nina to the back of the church, right by the Rad Camera. People stand dead still on the path, their heads craned up to the roof.
“Look at the tower!” Nina yells.
Oh God, at the top of the square section on the tower, just before the long, sloping spire starts is what looks like platinum blonde hair flapping crazily in the wind. Flapping from behind a carved statue that’s in a nook above a xxx foot drop. I squint, and then a firework explodes close by, clearly illuminating the fact there’s a person cowering next to the statue, and I’d bet my father’s fortune it’s Faith.
“Fucking hell.” Axel mutters. “He must have taken her up to the viewing platform.”
“We need to get up there. Now.” I force myself to stop looking up, that’s not going to save her. The back entrance to the church is on this side, the tourist entrance that allows direct access to the stairs to the top. I rush to the door and jump kick it. It rattles, but the lock stays firm. I kick it again.
And again.
And again.
And—
“Sir, this is a church. You cannot break down the door.” A posh, prim voice floats towards me. “Sir, I am calling the police.”
“Call the fucking police, maybe they can do it quicker.” I pause winded from the kicking. Behind me Axel instinctively takes over. I lift my head to look at the nosy passer-by. “Why do you think everyone’s looking up at the sky like lemmings? There’s a girl stu
ck on the ledge up there. I think the church would approve of us kicking down the door to save her life.”
The woman gasps and tilts her head, but I move away. I shouldn’t have even wasted two seconds interacting with her. Someone’s already called 999.
“Together this time.” I tell Axel. He nods and we brace ourselves a metre from the wooden door. “Three, two one!”
We both jump forward in a burst of energy, our legs in front of us like a xx joust. The door seems to push back for a second and then we’re falling through on to the black-and-white tiles of the church floor as the lock breaks.
“This way.” Nina steps past us and points towards the far corner of the church. “The staircase is over here.”
I jump up and easily overtake her. I race up the spiral staircase, taking two steps at a time, thanking my rugby coach for all the endless aerobic drills he makes us do.
If Phillip’s still on the roof, I’m sure he can hear us coming. Behind me Axel and Nina’s footsteps thud thunderously. I don’t care though, let him be the one who’s afraid for once. He might be happy to torture unprepared women, but something tells me he won’t be as brave when the odds aren’t in his favour.
“You fucking bastard!” I scream as I run on to the platform, praying Faith is still up here.
52: Faith
Time has such unique properties, if anyone were to ask me how long I’ve been cowering on that tiny ledge for, I’d have no clue whatsoever. It could be a minute, an hour or nearly the whole, long autumn night.
Every time my legs ache from the odd angle, I have to steel myself against the potential downside of me moving to
Phillip disappeared a few minutes ago, the dark of the stairway entrance swallowing him up. I’ve tried to yell at the people passing in the street below, but no matter how loud I yell, no one seems to notice me. I daren’t lean and wave down, clutching tight on to this statue is the only thing separating me from the paving stones below.