Roxy's Baby

by Cathy MacPhail

  Pure evil.

  What could he mean? What could they be doing here that was worse than selling the babies?

  The girls had their babies and they disappeared. If they weren’t having them adopted, what could they be doing with them? What else would anyone want babies for?

  One thought kept trying to sneak into her brain but it was too horrifying to contemplate, too incredible to believe. Yet, as she ran, dismissing every other alternative, it seemed to be all she had left.

  They were killing the babies.

  But who would want dead babies?

  Her imagination came up with what seemed the only one answer to that question.

  Witches.

  Witches would need babies.

  Babies to sacrifice. Babies’ blood was pure.

  The Dyces were witches.

  That’s why they took the babies. Under the cover of looking after distressed girls in trouble, girls with no families to worry about them, girls with no homes, no country to care what happened to them. They took their babies.

  Took their babies’ blood.

  The Dyces were witches. Probably the leaders of a vast coven of witches. All of them needing babies.

  That would be pure evil.

  Roxy had to stop. The thought was too terrifying to face. Too unbelievable. But what other answer could there be? She was shaking again. She clutched at her belly. ‘Not you, my angel,’ she whispered. ‘No one will ever harm you. I’ll kill them first.’

  And she would. As if they were already there, coming at her, she lifted a stone, held it in her hand like a weapon. She looked all around her, as if she was expecting the Dyces to come leaping out of the tall grass, chanting, holding the cross upside down, dressed in black gowns. If anyone came near her … anyone.

  She would kill them before she would let them hurt her baby.

  Oh, she had to get away from them.

  Pure evil, every one of them.

  She began to cry at the thought of Anne Marie and her baby.

  I’ve let her down, Roxy thought bitterly. And Aidan too. I can’t save him now.

  She felt a stab of pain when she thought of little Aidan. Dead already. She couldn’t save him. It was too late for Aidan.

  Well, she wouldn’t let her own baby down. She was out of that place now, and she was never going back. She was going straight to the police.

  Could she trust Stevens? He was part of it, yet he was sick of it, he said. He was helping her, wasn’t he? She had to trust him. She didn’t even know where she was. Where was this Dragon House situated? If only she’d stayed awake that first day when the Dyces drove her here, watched for signposts, roadsigns, directions.

  Then it struck her. Of course, she didn’t stay awake. She couldn’t. The Dyces had drugged her. The heavy sleepiness that had overcome her hadn’t been natural.

  She remembered in the cafe Mrs Dyce had appeared to be so kind, insisting on fetching her tea from the counter. Perfect time to slip a couple of sleeping pills into her cup.

  Pure evil. She could see it all now. Planned from that very first day.

  Nurturing her, feeding her, ensuring she would have a healthy, plump baby so they could take it and …

  No! She stopped again, covered her ears with her palms to blot out the thought of what they would do, what they had done.

  She would never let them have her baby.

  ‘Do you hear me? You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me.’

  If only she could find a phone and talk to her mother. How she longed for the sound of her mother’s voice. Her mother would know what to do. She had always known what to do. When her father was ill, dying, it was her mother who had kept them all sane and calm. Always there for Roxy and for Jennifer.

  She leaned against a tree and cried. Great sobs she couldn’t control. Her mother had never let her down, or Jennifer, or her dad. She saw that now. Beside them all till the end. Holding his hand, clutching theirs.

  It was Roxy who had let her mother down, and, she realised this, the hardest thing of all to face, she had let her father down too. Using him as her excuse for all her bad behaviour.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you, Mum,’ she said silently. ‘If I ever get home. If I stay alive.’

  She stood up straight. She would stay alive. She had to. If she died, so would her baby. And he was going to live.

  At last she found the road. The horizon shimmered in the heat and she was feeling light-headed, desperately needing something to drink. She should have brought some water at least. Her throat was parched and her brow ran with perspiration. Where was this place? Once again she felt as if she was in some other dimension. Some other world. Some other country. She found some shade beside bushes and fanned herself with dock leaves.

  Witches. Could there really be witches in this day and age? She’d thought they only existed in books or in legend. But real-life witches?

  No.

  Yet it was the only answer.

  She’d read a book once, her mother had brought it home from the library. It was about witches. Witches in modern-day Manhattan. Rosemary’s Baby.

  Rosemary had thought they had wanted her baby as a sacrifice, but actually, if Roxy remembered correctly, Rosemary’s baby was the devil himself.

  Rosemary had tried to escape them, she had done everything to get away from them, but in the end it had been no use. Rosemary couldn’t escape.

  Roxy hadn’t liked the ending. She had wanted Rosemary to turn the tables on the witches, win out over them, go home to her family with her baby.

  She realised too that was the ending she wanted for herself.

  Her baby wasn’t the devil. They didn’t want her baby to worship. Her baby was expendable. All they wanted was his pure blood.

  His pure, innocent blood.

  Evil. They were evil.

  She was breathing so hard she began to feel faint again. She wanted to sit down, but there was nowhere to sit, except on the ground. No handy tree trunk, no grassy knoll. She began drawing in long breaths, patting her stomach, murmuring softly to her baby. ‘How are you doing, sweetheart? Your mum’s shattered, but she’s hanging in there, don’t you worry.’

  The sound of a car engine in the distance made her jump. She stood straight, almost on tiptoe and shielded her eyes with her hand to scan the horizon. The old jeep blurred into view, bumping and rolling over the rocky road.

  It was going to be OK, she thought. He’s coming for us. He kept his word.

  ‘We’re going to be all right,’ she whispered.

  She stayed in the long grass watching the jeep’s advance. It was only at the last moment she saw who was driving.

  Not Stevens.

  Mrs Dyce.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mrs Dyce.

  Roxy could see her eyes, narrowed as they searched the road for her. She looked around for somewhere to hide, to run. But the trees were too far, the road behind her too long. They would catch her. She couldn’t think straight, she just stood and stared at the oncoming vehicle, bumping and rattling its way towards her. She was like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

  At the last moment, she shook herself free. No! She would not be caught by them. She knew now what that meant for her, and for her baby. Mr Dyce was there too, sitting in the passenger seat. He held the door open, ready to leap out after her.

  They caught sight of her at that last moment. He shouted out of the window at her. ‘Roxy, my dear, we mean you no harm. We’re taking you home, to your family.’

  His voice was still full of kindness, so warm, she might almost have believed him.

  But kind, gentle Mr Dyce was evil. They had no intention of taking her home.

  ‘You can’t surely believe anything Stevens said?’

  Had Stevens betrayed her? Run to them as soon as he went back to Dragon House? Somehow, she didn’t think so. Stevens was strong enough to have forced her to come back with him, dragging her all the way. And even without any violence, he c
ould have come back for her in the jeep, and taken her back to them. She would have given him no trouble, trusting him until it was too late. She would only realise the road was leading her back to Dragon House when it went back through those ominous dragon gates.

  No, they had caught Stevens, and who knew what had happened to him?

  She had to save herself. Roxy began to run. Exhausted as she was, she put on a burst of speed that took her by surprise. She made for the trees, the only shelter she saw. She hoped she could lose herself in them. She hoped she could get to them in time.

  She pounded towards those trees, trying to block out the sound of Mr Dyce’s footsteps as they seemed to come closer and closer, crackling through the grass. Behind her too she heard the jeep screech to a halt. A door slammed. Mrs Dyce was after her now too.

  Roxy’s legs ached, but still she ran. If there had been any hope in screaming she would have screamed till her lungs burst. But that would only be a waste of what energy she had. There was no one to hear her. If she could make those trees, that shelter, she might be able to hide from them. Yet the trees seemed to be moving farther away. She felt as if she was running in a dream. Even the Dyces’ voices seemed distant and dreamlike. Surely, she prayed as she had never prayed, surely she wouldn’t be caught now. Not now, when she was so close to freedom.

  She could hear Mr Dyce’s laboured breathing behind her. She was running fast, even for him. He was too close, but he was tired and hot too.

  ‘Roxy,’ he was calling to her, ‘Stevens is a bad man, you can’t believe what he told you. We’d just fired him. He would have told you anything to harm us.’

  They didn’t know about the newspaper, didn’t know that she knew about Sula.

  Yes, she believed Stevens, now more than ever.

  Pure evil. Witches, every one.

  The thought of them chanting around her and her baby helped her to put on an extra spurt of energy. She would make the trees. Even lumbering and pregnant she would still beat Dyce.

  She wasted no breath answering him. Hardly had any breath anyway.

  ‘Roxy,’ he was shouting now, as he saw Roxy was almost there, almost away from him.

  She leapt towards the trees, and began to push through them, grateful for the cool shade and the darkness.

  It was only when she was hidden by the trees that she allowed herself to pause for a moment, backing against the trunk, daring to take a glance back at Dyce. She caught sight of him through the branches. He stood with his hands on his knees as he struggled to get his breath back. ‘Roxy!’ He looked all around, still calling her name, softly, gently, pretending concern.

  Roxy let out a long sigh, and sank back against the trunk. A moment, she needed only a moment to get her breath back. Then, she would run again.

  Suddenly, her arm was caught as in a vice. Powerful hands gripped her and held her tight.

  ‘What made you think you could ever get away from us?’

  There was no pretence of concern, no gentleness in this voice. It was Mrs Dyce.

  It was HIM who drove them back to Dragon House. She would never call him Mr Dyce again. When Mrs Dyce had grabbed her and dragged her back out into the open, Roxy had screamed and kicked and scratched. He was standing watching as she came struggling closer. For a second, she saw those kindly eyes, thought that perhaps he might help her, save her from the clutches of his wife. Instead, he had lifted his hand and slapped her hard across the face and told her to shut up.

  No. She would never call him Mr Dyce again. He was Dragon Man.

  A feeling of total hopelessness drowned her. They had won. They would kill her now, take her baby. Drink his precious blood.

  Unbelievable but true. Had to be. She had let her baby down and she couldn’t bear the thought of that. She would rather die. Dimly, she heard them discuss her fate as if she wasn’t there. As if she was a commodity that people bought and sold.

  ‘We’ll have to induce the baby.’

  ‘It’s too soon.’

  ‘We’ll have to take that chance. She knows too much.’

  This couldn’t be happening. Not in real life. Please, God, help me, she prayed. Help my baby. She prayed as she had never prayed before.

  As the jeep bumped its way back through those terrifying Dragon gates, her heart sank like stone. She was back in their lair. Trapped. They drove up the long winding gravel drive, past the main house, and she knew with a shiver where they were heading. They were taking her straight to the delivery room.

  Abandon hope all you who enter here.

  This was it. Her last chance. If she didn’t do anything now, she was done for. Her baby was done for. For his sake Roxy refused to let all hope be lost. Her mind began to race, searching out an escape. The jeep bumped to a halt. The evening sun shone red in the sky, still so hot and with no breath of a wind.

  Dragon Woman still had a tight hold of her. If she would let her grip slacken just for an instant, Roxy would run again, somewhere, anywhere. She would not walk calmly and quietly to her death.

  But where could she run to?

  As if in answer to her prayer, she heard her father’s voice. Her dad, who had so loved his mysteries and his spy thrillers. ‘Just as you think the hero is caught like a rat in a trap, he remembers he knows something that the villains don’t know he knows … that he’s left a message with the heroine, or he has a cigarette lighter that fires bullets … and that’s what saves him.’

  What did she know that the villains didn’t know she knew?

  The answer came to her like a blinding light in her brain.

  They didn’t know she had explored Dragon House, knew its dark corridors and its nooks and its crannies. They didn’t know she knew the world behind the hidden door.

  She could run there. Hide there. Even if it only gave her a few more precious minutes of life for her and her baby. While there was life, there was hope. Time to think.

  Dragon Man swung out of the driver’s seat and pulled open the door next to Roxy. How could she ever have thought his eyes were kind and gentle. Now they were icy cold like steel. The scariest eyes she had ever seen.

  She allowed him to almost lift her from her seat. She had to let them think the fight had gone out of her, that she was weak and submissive. What she needed now was a diversion, and she couldn’t rely on someone else to provide one for her. She would have to create her own.

  Once out of the jeep they would lead her towards the labour room. Once in there, all hope would be lost.

  She leaned against the jeep. ‘I feel as if I’m going to be sick.’

  ‘I’ll go open the door,’ Dragon Man said. ‘You keep a tight hold of her.’

  He hurried to the door of the delivery room, searching through his bunch of keys looking for the right one.

  Of course they would want her in there, locked away, before any of the other girls would see her, begin to wonder.

  ‘I feel sick,’ Roxy mumbled again. She didn’t have to pretend too much. Her legs felt so weak they were on the verge of folding under her. She was trembling all over.

  She doubled over, leaning against the jeep, her arm outstretched on the bonnet. ‘I think I’m going to pass out.’ Roxy knew she was pale under her suntanned face. She crumpled against the jeep and Dragon Woman let her sink to the ground.

  She called to her husband, ‘Alfred.’ His name. First time Roxy had ever heard it. Alfred, such an ordinary name. ‘We’re going to have to carry her. Come and help me.’

  She took a step away from Roxy, loosened her grip for a split second. It was all Roxy needed. She didn’t waste an instant. With every bit of strength she had she was on her feet, pushing Dragon Woman so hard she fell face forward on to the ground. Roxy ran. Dragon Woman was screaming. Dragon Man was yelling. They would be after her in a moment. But this time, Roxy knew where she was going … and they didn’t.

  She raced round the corner of the house, out of their sight. Two of the girls were sitting on benches, enjoying the setting sun. How she
wished she could alert them. Call to them. ‘Help me! Get out!’ and together all of them could escape, beat the Dyces. But the girls only turned as she headed towards them, looking puzzled. One of them stood up and Roxy slowed her pace. She realised that the Dyces wouldn’t want to alert the other girls, or alarm them. They wouldn’t want to risk their ‘investment’. They wouldn’t chase Roxy, not here. Not now. Roxy darted a glance behind her before she slipped into the house through the French windows. Still no sign of them after her. Good. She made a dash for the staircase, ran round the back to the secret door. Her legs, her whole body, were aching, but still she whispered, ‘Hang in there, baby. They haven’t got us yet.’

  She was breathing hard when she squeezed up to the upended table. Once behind here, she would be safe, for a while at least. She had to be. Roxy slid her hand behind the table and turned the handle of the door. She took one last quick look behind her, and slipped once more through the hidden door, just like Alice in Wonderland. She was moving into a different world. She had once thought it was like a theatre set – now she realised that was exactly what it was. A play was what they were living in. They were all actors playing a part, and the only ones who knew the script were the Dyces and whatever kind of organisation they were involved in. Her and the other girls were in a play, a theatre of horror, and witches were after their babies.

  She pulled the door tight shut behind her. As she crept along the dank passage to the servants’ staircase and she imagined shadows lurking in every hidden corner to scare her, she realised that for once she wasn’t scared. Not of shadows. Too many real things to be afraid of. Here she was safe. Comparatively safe. For the time being.

  The secret place.

  She was still trapped. She was still in danger. Deadly danger. But at least now she had time to think.

  ‘They’re not going to get us,’ she assured her baby softly. Inside she felt like a tigress, protecting her young. ‘They’re not going to get you. I’ll kill them all first.’