‘OK. OK.’
‘Well, all right then,’ Cherie said.
* * *
She was working my left shoulder, lifting it from the bench and manipulating the joint. If Cherie’s shoulders were powerful her fingers were even more so, pushing their way between my muscles, bringing heat out from within them. At first I thought I’d made a mistake agreeing to go with her. I was bruised from yesterday, but Cherie was careful enough for her actions really to help the soreness I felt. Soon I found the insistent motion hard to resist, waves of stress pulsing out from within me. My mind began to spread out, like a horizon, unbidden thoughts drifting across it. It was what I had wanted to happen. Jared Denton came but moved straight through. No connection presented itself. I saw images from the CCTV, tried to let something click, a posture perhaps. All the time Cherie chatted away, asking me what I did, how long I’d been going to the gym. I gave distracted, noncommittal answers, and when Cherie started chattering on about those horrible murders in the paper I didn’t say anything at all.
‘You don’t have to talk. It’s OK. I’m just trying to get you to relax. You are so tense. I can tell I’m going to have to try extra hard on you.’
I was lying under a short white towel on her massage bench, in the small, bare bedsit Cherie rented. It was only five minutes from the George, up towards Camden, a cheerless place with smoke-stained walls, the only warmth coming from a small, rusting radiator, stupidly positioned beneath the one window. I could smell a cheap aftershave, one I’d noticed in the gym a few times. Once again I thought it odd that Cherie invited men up to her flat, alone. She had all the right massage equipment, a new-looking bench, the oils and the towels, but I felt she was a little naive; it still might have given people the wrong idea. Or maybe it was the right idea. Maybe she had other services in mind, ones that she would want paying for. I began to get this impression after five to ten minutes. Cherie’s hands were moving in long pushes down my lower back but soon they weren’t stopping there. Instead they moved beneath the towel, onto my buttocks. I couldn’t help but tense, and Cherie stopped.
‘Sorry,’ I said.
‘It’s OK. I don’t have to do your gluts. It’s just muscle, though, and it needs work by the feel of it.’
‘I know. I didn’t mean to. It’s just, well, you know. But go ahead.’
‘With pleasure. Just say if it’s too hard, though.’
‘I will.’
Cherie worked on my gluteus maximus for a few minutes. Her use of the correct phrase made me relax but I was relieved when she moved down to my calves. She asked me to turn over and she lifted each of my feet in turn, moving them round in slow circles in the joint. She did the same with my arms and then my head and all my concerns melted beneath her touch, as my head got slowly heavier. My mind seemed to float free, leaving my body where it was, until I was barely aware of the bench I was lying on.
By the time Cherie set my head down I was no longer in King’s Cross, no longer trying to find a serial killer. Images of palm-fringed beaches had come to me and I was lying on one, a warm, turquoise sea washing up over my calves. I was dissolving into the sand. Cherie’s hands were on my ribcage now, though I could barely feel them. They pushed down to my stomach, moving in broad circles around my navel. The tips of her fingers found the muscles at the tops of my legs, her touch lighter, less insistent. I couldn’t help it. I found myself responding. The part of me that was in the Caribbean just wanted to let it happen but part of me had surfaced, and that part was embarrassed. I was pulled between two worlds, not knowing which way to turn. Cherie didn’t stop what she was doing.
‘Don’t worry. You men can’t help having one of those. My father, he couldn’t control his either.’
The comment was so unexpected and so wrong that it didn’t register for a second, it didn’t quite penetrate the spun-out world I was inhabiting. Had she really said that? Just as I was telling myself she couldn’t have, something broke the ambient quiet I was encased in. My phone. I’d left it on a small table next to the bench, where I could reach it. Its ring was high-pitched, impossible to ignore. I came back into the room, feeling foolish at the notions I’d succumbed to and I tensed my muscles, preparing to sit up.
‘Leave it,’ Cherie told me. ‘Don’t answer it.’
I ignored Cherie and sat up. The tone of her voice was oddly harsh. I decided that after the call I’d thank her politely and leave. I’d had enough. I picked up the phone and saw the caller’s ID displayed. Sharon. The word was like a dam, bursting. I’d wanted the massage to release my mind, but it hadn’t helped any answers come to me. Instead it had released the need I felt for Sharon, the one I’d bottled out of fear for her. But now I just wanted to lie with her, to look at her stomach, the beginning of her bump. Only in my pants, she’d said. But that wouldn’t be for long. I lassooed the feeling and tried to rope it back. I’d be careful, really careful. Maybe we could get a hotel even. Then I’d give her the gun, once Sally got it for me. I’d make her take it. I’d tell her about the child I’d found. Ally’s child. If anything could convince her, that could.
Sharon’s voice was brittle. She’d got it wrong, thought I didn’t want her. I told her again that I knew I should have called her yesterday. She said well, OK, but she was still annoyed.
‘Are you coming today, though?’ she asked.
‘I am,’ I said. ‘I promise. Yesterday I was scared. Please understand. I don’t want you to think…’
‘What, Billy?’
‘Oh, nothing. Listen.’ I glanced to my side where Cherie was standing. Too close to me. ‘I can’t talk to you now.’
‘Why not? Where are you?’
Sitting naked in a towel being massaged by a talented but seemingly mixed-up young woman.
‘Listen, is there somewhere we could meet, a cafe on Broadway Market or somewhere? That might be better than…hey. Hey!’
‘I said, don’t answer it!
Cherie had taken the phone right out of my hand. I was amazed. All I could do was watch as she hit ‘end’, before letting it fall with a clatter to the floor beside her. I could hardly believe it. After a second of simply looking at her I made to slide off the bench to get it. I was thinking right, that’s it, but before I could move more than an inch Cherie put a hand on my stomach. Her other hand pushed against my collarbone and she tried to move me back. I resisted, but she pushed harder. I could hardly process what was happening. I would have laughed but it wasn’t funny. And I didn’t get the chance. Cherie brought her knee up onto the bench. Using all of her weight to press me down.
‘Hey, what the hell?’
‘I was telling you about my father,’ Cherie hissed.
‘Your father? What the hell?’
‘What you have in common. Oh, not any more I see, how sad. Daddy’s would do that too but not so quickly. He’d use it a few times first.’
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I have to go. I’m sorry if I offended you in some way…’
‘You were keen enough before,’ Cherie said. ‘Let’s see if we can reawaken your interest.’
‘Please.’ I shook my head. ‘I have to go. Thanks for this, but…’
‘Shut the fuck up, Billy Rucker. Just shut the fuck up.’
An ice-cold pain speared me. Cherie’s right hand had moved down to my thigh. In a flash she’d found a place on the inside of my right leg, some kind of pressure point or something. She’d gripped it between her index finger and thumb. How tightly she was holding me I didn’t know because the exact spot beneath her fingers went completely numb. In contrast, the area around it seemed to burst into flame. The pain was so intense that the rest of my body had shorted, the power was cut. I couldn’t move.
‘Daddy liked the rough stuff too,’ I heard Cherie say. ‘I was too young to do anything about it then but I know what to do now. You want to try and hit me again?’
I thought: oh shit. Just what I need in my life right now. Some psycho girl with father problems. I told myself to pl
ay along.
‘I wasn’t trying to hit you. I…I’m sorry, only that call was important.’
‘Important?’
Cherie released her grip and I thought I’d calmed her. But it was only for a second. Her hand flashed to my testicles this time. Before I could even move she had hold of them and the pain, localized and spiked before, was different. It was total, pain like a sickness inside. It was bigger even than the shock.
‘You men,’ Cherie said, her voice strangely light. ‘This thing, you use it to cause so much pain, and yet it makes you so vulnerable too. Strange that. I first got hurt by one when I was ten. That’s when he started doing it to me. He was very, very big, bigger than you.’
‘Please,’ I managed to say. ‘I’m sorry, but…’
‘This hurting you? I bet it is. I should have done this to Daddy but I was too young then wasn’t I? If only I’d known.’
Cherie’s other hand had taken hold of my penis. As she began to force her thumbnail into the end of it the pain rose to such a level that the effect was similar to her earlier massage. I was sent into a different world. I couldn’t move my hands, not even my mouth now, to plead with her. All I could do was wonder what was happening. Cherie was speaking, talking to me, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I forced myself to focus through the agony and the sounds did form into words. She was still speaking.
‘…my mother never stopped him and then she died anyway,’ Cherie was saying. ‘After that it was every night. Every night without fail. I never got used to it, ever, but you know what was almost worse? He never gave me anything. Ever. I never had any toys. Dolls. Anything. I just had an empty room, where he’d lock me. Until he wanted me. Can you, even for a second, imagine that?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No…
‘But then, one morning, I realized that I did have something.’ Cherie let out an amazed laugh. ‘I had something of my own. It was unbelievable. I was fourteen. When I realized, when I was sure, it was like magic. My own thing, given by him but mine, mine. And he hadn’t meant to give it to me, I knew that. It made me laugh. I was so happy. I’d never been happy and didn’t know what it felt like but I knew it was happiness. It couldn’t have been anything else. It was like a piece of the sun, glowing inside me. I knew I had to keep it, that it was my chance of something warm, something good. A real blessing. So you know what I did?’
‘No. No I don’t. Please.’
‘Don’t you? Don’t you, Billy? Come on. Catch up. I ran away, didn’t I? I ran away to London.’
Without any break in her story Cherie lifted me up again, towards a shivering whiteness, the borders of unconsciousness. Her eyes were burning but they weren’t looking at me. Her free hand moved casually to my ribcage, where the bruises from the night before had begun to flower. I don’t know what she did but I heard a scream. It took me a second to realize the sound was coming from me.
‘When I got here, I thought I was free,’ Cherie said. Her voice was a whisper. ‘I hadn’t only escaped to a place where no one knew me. I’d found something to love. To love me. The joy, it made up for everything. And all I had to do was wait. It was simple. Wait. Patiently. And hide. I was happy, happy for the only time ever, and I just kept getting happier. You see, every day brought me closer. I had names ready for it and everything. I’d bought it things, from Oxfam, you know. I imagined the things I’d say to it. I got off the street and I found somewhere, not nice, far from that, but safe. At least I thought it was safe. But it wasn’t, was it? Because he found me.’
‘Please.’
‘Because you found me. You!’ Cherie was laughing but there were tears forming in her eyes. I still could not move. I couldn’t speak either. I heard every word Cherie said but I couldn’t connect it to the present. She was moving her head from side to side. Her voice getting harder with every word.
‘You didn’t recognize me. As soon as I saw you in the gym, I knew. Because I’m strong now. Changed. Then I was weak. When you brought him to me I was a stick. Do you remember? I was a terrified little girl with greasy hair who pissed herself. I wet his car seat. I knew what I’d get for that later, when he got me home, but I didn’t know the worst. That he knew. Somehow, he knew. I’d never told him but he did, like he could just look inside me and see it there. When I realized, I was sick. I didn’t know what he was doing at first, tying me up, an old sheet underneath me on the hall floor. It was as soon as we got home. He hadn’t spoken to me all the way and now he didn’t say a word. He just got on with it. First my feet, then my hands till I couldn’t move. It was like he was doing DIY. It was then that I realized. He knew. And I knew what he was going to do. I tried to get away but how could I? He was kneeling on my chest. He started punching me. In my stomach. Just like he was hammering nails in. He just carried on punching me and punching me. I woke up in hospital and they said I was lucky, lucky the muggers hadn’t killed me. They said I should be thankful, and not to worry that I’d never have babies. Ever. When I closed my eyes, they thought I was crying. But do you know what I was really doing?’
She was crying now, the drops falling down onto my chest and stomach. I was stuck. The pain was total, so all-consuming that when she released me I didn’t know it at first. It carried on. When I did realize I was free I tried to stand, but I couldn’t. All I could do was roll off the bench, onto the cold lino. My body was still closed. Cherie was standing over me. I saw her hands reach behind her and then her hair fall in front of her face, like a curtain. Like it had been before. She bent down to me, her fingers in front of her.
‘I was thinking what to do to you. I knew what I’d do to Daddy. He’d be first. But you? I thought I’d just kill you, it’s what I planned. I waited a long time, got myself in shape. Didn’t realize it would be this easy. But then I saw you outside your building. With that woman. That’s when I knew what to do. It just came to me, just arrived in my mind, and it felt so right. Got the first one wrong but not the second. We had a lovely chat in her cafe. She told me she was stock-taking later, so I knew to come back.’
‘No.’
‘Oh yes. It was a pity because she was nice – but just killing you? You would never have known then what it was like. For me. You have to know what it’s like. It’s bad, isn’t it?’
I nodded.
‘But you haven’t got there yet. I’m going to make it worse, I’m afraid.’
‘You can’t make it worse.’
‘I think I can. I’ve got an appointment to keep. With another one of your girls. I didn’t think there were any more but, hey presto, there she was.’
I shook my head. ‘What are you talking about? There are no more.’
‘Oh, Billy. Good effort. But it won’t work. You showed her to me! Anyway, can I give her a message? One last message from you?’
I managed to push myself up onto my knees. With everything I had I tried to tackle her, bring her down. She laughed as she kicked my arms aside. Then she bent down to me.
Pain rose like wind from the mountains.
It was too strong.
It snuffed me out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I don’t know how long I was gone. It could have been hours or just a few minutes. My watch was on the table, across the other side of the room, and I couldn’t reach it. I wasn’t by the massage table any more, though I was still on the floor. I was lying on my side beneath the window. My hands were bound behind my back with what felt like washing-line cord. I couldn’t move them. I thought of my wish, the day before, to have the answer massaged out from inside me.
It had happened.
Deep, booming detonations crumped inside my head. The pain there played tag with the pain in my ribs, where her thumbs had gouged into me. My groin hurt constantly, a sickly sweet nausea rising every time I tried to move. Unconsciousness rose too, calling me back, but I managed to squeeze my eyes against it and stay in the room. I could see my jacket on the back of a chair near the massage bench.
Pulling at my ha
nds, I realized that the line my hands were tied with had been attached to something behind me. The foot of the radiator. I was bound tight. I scrabbled madly at the knots at my wrists, trying to get free, swearing at myself for not seeing this. I tried some more before realizing that I wouldn’t have a chance, not without seeing what I was doing. Instead I called out. I screamed for help. I could hear a stereo somewhere, giving out drum and bass. When I screamed again the music just got louder.
The pain in my head was matched only by the panic inside me. I thrashed again and called out again but neither was any use. Nor was trying to untangle the tightened twists of cord behind me. Instead I shuffled and pushed until I’d managed to get myself into a squatting position. Then I moved myself up, like a weightlifter. There was a little give in the radiator but it was nowhere near enough. My hands felt like they were being sliced off at the wrists. I had to try again. The radiator creaked once more and it might have worked, but slow pressure like that would take ages. Instead I closed my eyes. In a frenzy I piled myself forward and upward, rocking hard, screaming against the pain, until I could feel the radiator beginning to rise out of the floor, out of the pipes leading into it. I didn’t stop until I found myself careening forwards into the massage table, my head connecting with one of its corners, sending it sideways. I was on the floor, my hands still tied to the radiator that I’d pulled from the wall. A flood of brackish, stinking hot water gushed out of the pipes behind me.
I managed to get my hands free of the radiator and I stood. Too quickly. I had to kneel again to stop myself blacking out, swallow to keep back the rise of vomit from my guts.
I still didn’t know how long I’d been lying there. I had to wait for my eyes to clear and then I crawled over to my phone, lying on the floor near my jacket. Without waiting to get my hands free I found Sharon’s number in the phone book and hit ‘call’. Holding both hands up to my face I listened to the ring tone. As weakened as I was physically, the fear I felt made the phone in my hands practically impossible to hold. How long did the phone ring? Longer than anything, longer than the rest of my life had taken to live up to that moment.
It Was You Page 19