Scream for Sarah
Page 9
I reflected, between sobs, that I hadn’t cried so much in my whole life as I had done in that one day. I told myself that I fully deserved everything that had happened to me. My vanity had led me to encourage Toby, and my selfishness had alienated Hob.
When I woke, it was early morning, grey and chilly. The room was filled with the dispiriting light of dawn. Hob was restless in his sleep, with one of his arms thrown over my body, and the other flung above my head.
A cockerel crowed in the yard beneath. Trust him to wake me early on my last day on earth! Soon the hens, discovering that they had not been shut in last night, would bow and peck their finicking way out of the henhouse and into the yard, scratching and squawking, wanting their food.
I grabbed at the blanket just as it started to slide to the floor, and Hob started awake. His eyes blinked up at me, bemused with sleep, and then cleared to watchful intelligence.
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ I said, speaking softly. ‘I was stupid and rude and all the rest of it. And selfish. I’m glad you’ve woken early, because I wanted to apologise.’
His eyelids relaxed. He picked up my hand, held the palm to his mouth and kissed it. I was to be reinstated in his good books.
‘The stupid part of it is,’ I went on in a rush, ‘That, as Toby said, I do like you, very much. And if we’d had time to get to know each other, maybe it would have been even more than “like”.’ His eyes were very bright.
‘Am I blushing?’ I asked, trying to pretend I didn’t mind if I was.
He treated me to one of his beautiful smiles, and settled the blanket back over my shoulders. I tried to relax, but couldn’t. The light around the unlined curtains at the window was growing stronger every minute and every minute that passed took us closer to the time when Toby and Sid would make an end of me.
‘How old are you, Hob?’
His hands flickered, twice, three, four times with one thumb tucked in. Thirty-six.
‘Have you been a tramp for long?’
An amused negative.
‘What did you do, before?’
He made a digging motion, and then inspected something small on the palm of his hand. I didn’t understand. He tried again building a house with his hands, knocking it flat, and then digging. I still didn’t get it. He checked my face for comprehension, shrugged, and wrote in the air, at full-length.
‘You teach?’ Doubtfully.
A qualified assent.
‘What went wrong, then?’
He pointed to the other bedroom.
‘Toby and Rose? You mean when Toby knocked you down? Well, I know that. What I don’t understand is why you became a tramp.’
A violent negative. He wasn’t a tramp.
I gave up. ‘You are married?’ I was hoping he’d indicate he wasn’t.
A nod. A flicker of three fingers. A sweeping motion of both hands.
‘You have been, but no longer?’ A nod. ‘It finished three years ago?’ Another nod. He put both hands under his head and closed his eyes.
‘Ah—she died?’ Another nod. His eyes were sad, but clear of pain. He gestured to a bloodied scab on his hand, and to the white-washed wall.
I got that. ‘Her blood was white … leukaemia.’ I knew I shouldn’t ask the next question, but I had to know. ‘Did she take long to die?’
‘Yes.’
He turned his head away from me, intimating that he didn’t want any more questions on that subject.
I have never been the jealous type. Correction, I had never known what jealousy was until Hob told me he’d been married. I was so miserable, and so angry that I wanted to hurt him, and knew that I’d only hurt myself if I did. At least my jealousy showed me what I really wanted.
I put my hand on his shoulder, at the base of his neck.
What now? his eyes asked me.
‘I know what I want to say, but I’m not sure how to say it. The men I’ve come across till now are as selfish as I am; they’re all out for what they can get and the Lord help any girl if she’s unlucky enough to get herself pregnant. I can’t remember any of them doing anything for anybody else, unless they saw a profit in it. I suppose my attitude was the same as theirs, so perhaps it’s not surprising that I only came across that kind of man. I accepted their philosophy, because it was the philosophy of all my friends, and of the people I worked with. At least, I accepted it up to a point, because I never could bring myself actually to go to bed with any of them. I suppose I’d got into the way of thinking that any other kind of man was too dull to think about. I wonder what would have happened if I’d met you under normal circumstances?’ He smiled a little, as if to say I’d probably not have noticed him.
‘You frightened me so much at first,’ I said. ‘I had a bad scare from a tramp when I was a child, and tramps have been bogeymen to me ever since.’ We exchanged smiles. ‘It’s quite true, what Toby said, about my liking big men. Usually, that is. I liked to look up to them. It made me feel secure, and looked after … like the way you make me feel. I’m glad we met. I want to say “thank-you” for helping me yesterday. And for last night. I put it very badly, then, but I’d like you to know how I feel about you.’
He laid one of his hands over mine, and rested his head against it. I thought, it’s now or never. He’ll not risk another rebuff. I wasn’t too sure that I liked kissing a bearded man, but it was something I had to do. I kissed him once, and he didn’t respond. Not at all. He just lay there watching me. His eyes closed as I kissed him the second time, though, and the third time I felt him stir beneath me. I still wasn’t sure about the beard; it was springy, unexpected. He began to kiss me back. I giggled nervously, but my arms went round his neck as he reversed our positions. His tongue was forceful, his teeth slightly uneven, and his breath sweet. No smoker, obviously.
We were both breathing heavily when we came out of that clinch. By that time my overalls had become unzipped, I don’t know how or when. He unfastened my bra. I was frantic to get it off and to release my arms from the overalls. He ran his finger round my nipples, though they hardly needed touching to become erect. I got the zip of his overalls down and tried pushing my fingers through the curly mat on his chest. He bent over my breasts, and I shivered, remembering Toby’s attack. He put my hands aside, holding my eye with his. He looked determined, even a little grim. I closed my eyes, and told myself that I knew Hob wouldn’t hurt me. He didn’t. He kept his hands moving, he kissed me in more places than I’ve ever been kissed before, but he never once hurt me.
He pushed down on my overalls, and I eased them from under my hips. I wanted him to take me, for all sorts of reasons, some good and some bad. He pulled the blanket straight under my thighs, and I stiffened, in spite of myself. He was stroking my legs at the time. He looked up, still stroking, as if to ask whether I really meant him to take me all the way. I stared back, leaving the decision to him. He waited for me to make up my mind.
‘Is there something I ought to say, or do?’ I asked.
He shook his head, smiling as one might smile at a child.
‘Please!’ I said, but he had decided against it. He lay down, close to me, and held me in his arms. We were to kiss and cuddle, but not to take matters any further. I could feel he was ready for it, and I tried to convince him that I was, too, but apparently he’d made up his mind not to take me, and that was that. The bed springs protested; they’d probably been doing so for some time, only I hadn’t noticed.
‘What’s that?’ mumbled a male voice from next door. Toby.
Rose muttered something about ‘damned cocks’ and ‘far too early’.
I started to giggle. Hob put his mouth over mine to keep me quiet. I could feel him shake with laughter, as well. The more I laughed, the more he shook. We struggled for composure, holding each other tightly, warm body against warm body, and the inevitable happened. As Hob slid into me, I gave a muffled shriek. He gripped the back of my neck and held me even more closely while I panted, absorbing pain. He kept rigidly sti
ll, not moving. I breathed deeply, and with each breath felt him enter me further. The pain was unendurable at first … then bearable … and then it was merely uncomfortable to have him there. We were true Siamese twins now, I thought.
Instead of thrusting him away, I tightened my arms round him. We lay entwined, warm and damp. My face was clammy; he kissed me gently, reassuringly. And did not withdraw.
The bed next door creaked, and I wondered what I would do if Toby chose to come in to us at that moment. I gasped, and involuntarily let Hob deeper in. I found I was crying, but whether I cried from joy or pain, I couldn’t have said. He seemed to understand. His fingers soothed me, kept me still. I began to feel very excited. I wanted … something more, but I didn’t know how to get it. Hob wouldn’t allow me to go on any longer, but carefully withdrew from me, doing his best not to hurt me anymore. He mopped up between my legs and lifted the stained blanket to show me, before throwing it under the bed. I didn’t particularly want to bother resuming my overalls again, because I felt so lazy, but he seemed to think I should, so I did so. I’m not sure I even said ‘thank-you’ to him before I fell asleep again.
*
‘Delightful!’ said a sneering voice above me. ‘Babes in the Wood, eh? May you sleep as soundly tonight.’
It was Toby, of course. I blinked myself awake, to find that Hob and I had managed to become almost as closely entwined in sleep as we had done when we had made love. Hob was awake, smiling foolishly into the sunlight. Of course, he always pretended to be mentally deficient when Toby was around. I don’t know what time it was, but it was later than I usually woke, for the sun was streaming into the room, and I seemed to remember that it usually only did that about nine o’clock. My watch had stopped. Toby stood at the window and gazed out; he must have drawn the curtain back when he first came in. He was fully dressed.
Toby let Hob go to the bathroom, and then clipped his ankle to the bed once more, saying that Hob was less trouble that way; he could be set free after I’d got rid of Mr. Brent’s men. I tried to catch Hob’s eye, but he wasn’t playing.
‘I must wear my own clothes when they come,’ I protested. ‘They mustn’t see me like this when they come to fetch the hens, or they’ll suspect something.’ It seemed to me that I’d had the germ of an idea about escaping when I woke up, but I needed time to winkle it out and work on it.
Toby was unexpectedly genial. He said I might change, and then come down to cook breakfast for them all. He said Sid could come and sit in the little room with Hob, armed with the truncheon. One squeak or wrong move out of Hob, and Sid would knock him for six. I didn’t think that was very funny.
My own clothes were in the big bedroom. Rose was still there, making herself up in leisurely fashion. I washed and dressed, thinking hard. My plan wasn’t perfect, but it might work, and it was the only one I had. It seemed to me that Rose was the weak link in Toby’s chain, not only because he felt it best to keep her in ignorance of the murders he had committed, but also because she thought a lot of her creature comforts. She was bleary-eyed this morning, and slow. I hoped she was awake enough to understand what I said.
‘You got away without any trouble yesterday?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘Lots of cops. One of them had bright red hair. I quite liked the look of him.’
‘They won’t look back through their records and point the finger at you later? That bearded fellow who was organising things at the office—he wouldn’t be able to give them your address?’
‘Who, Pete? He hasn’t got it. Or rather, he’s got an address I gave the Agency ages ago, but I’ve moved from there since. I was only there a week, you know. Just to give me an address in a good part of London. Anyway, I didn’t have much to do with him … saw more of his wife … she did the letters and he did the talking. Nice girl. She’s expecting, you know. I used to tell her she’d give herself a miscarriage, tripping over her skirts.’ A shadow passed over her face. ‘I did give her my telephone number once …’ She brightened. ‘But she’ll never have kept it. She’s got dozens of scraps of paper in her pockets with important messages on them, and she’s always losing them. And I’m not going back to my digs so what does it matter, anyway?’
So she still didn’t know that Pete and his wife were dead. I feared Toby might have told her last night in bed, but he hadn’t. So far so good.
‘About tonight,’ I said. ‘Toby said you are going to spend the night sitting up in an Airport Lounge. It sounds as if it might be uncomfortable.’ She grimaced; she agreed, but didn’t see any help for it. ‘I could help you there,’ I suggested. ‘I share a flat with another girl in South Kensington. I could put you all up for the night, if I can get rid of my flatmate. It would be a lot safer for you, and more comfortable.’
‘But Toby said you weren’t co-operating, and we’d have to leave you here when we went. He said I’m to ring through to Mr. Brent when we’re ready to go into the departure lounge tomorrow.’
‘I’ve changed my mind about not co-operating. After all, I did drive the van yesterday, so I’m in with you whether I like it or not. Also Toby said I could have five hundred pounds out of this, so I might as well pull my weight and see that you get away safely. If you got caught, you’d split on me, wouldn’t you? I think you’re taking an unnecessary risk hanging around in the open at the airport all night. Much better if you stay with me quietly until it is time to go. You could go direct to the air terminal from my flat, because it’s only a couple of hundred yards away. I suppose I could even drive you there, to save you carrying the luggage.’
She applied lipstick with a brush. ‘It’s an idea,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll speak to Toby about it. I’ll look a wreck if I have to stay up all night.’
So far, so good.
I went downstairs and cooked breakfast. Sid refused to eat his upstairs on a tray. He said it was ridiculous to stand guard on Hob when he was manacled to the bed. Toby shrugged, and agreed, so I took a laden tray upstairs for myself and Hob. He lay with one leg stretched out in front of him, and swung the other. He had been trying to do something about the bandages on his feet, so I fetched a bowl of water and tore the pillowcase into strips to make him more comfortable. I found I didn’t particularly wish to look him in the eye, so I talked and ate with my head down, bringing him up to date on my plan. I felt full of energy, but uneasy. I had pushed my feet into a pair of bedroom slippers; my feet weren’t too bad, considering. Nothing like as bad as Hob’s were.
Beneath us we could hear the rumble of men’s voices, with Rose’s sharp, high tones overriding them now and then. I kept my own voice low. There were plenty of weak places in my plan, but it might buy us time, and get us out of the house and back to London; once within screaming reach of other people, we would have more opportunities to escape.
I stationed myself at the window and looked over the courtyard and along the lane which led to the outside world. The hens clacked and strutted over the pile of debris from the house. I studied the sky; it was misty and promised another hot day. I studied the dark, lush green of the trees behind the shed. I studied the yard, cobble by cobble. I didn’t want to look at Hob. I knew him and yet did not know him.
I felt I’d been over-emotional about him, and now I wondered whether I’d gone too far. I didn’t exactly regret what had happened between us, but I would have felt happier if we hadn’t had to meet again. I felt confused. It was possible that I’d been romanticising about him … we’d been thrown together under unusual circumstances … he’d been kind … maybe I’d been making a fool of myself over him too.
I kept my back to him for a long time, and then risked a peep over my shoulder. His eyes were on the wall beside me, but he didn’t see it. He was thinking, one hand combing through his curls, the other relaxed across the rail at the top of the bed. I tried to view him dispassionately, and found I was going back to my old argument that I couldn’t get involved with him because he was a tramp; whereas I knew perfectly well that he wasn’t.
I decided I was indulging in yet more wishful thinking, and returned my eyes to the yard.
‘Sarah!’ That was Toby yelling for me to do the washing up. I didn’t look at Hob as I picked up our tray and yelled back that I was coming. Passing through the big bedroom, I saw that Rose had left the slacks she had worn the day before, in a heap on the floor. I remembered how she had torn a strip of newspaper off, and thrust it into her pocket. Of course, that little incident had nothing to do with us … had it?
I put the tray down, and examined her slacks. The scrap of newspaper wasn’t there.
Downstairs, the atmosphere was tense. Sid was scowling. Rose was fiddling with a cigarette, a bright spot of natural colour on either cheek upsetting the balance of her makeup. Toby was excitedly striding about, hands in pockets.
‘Up!’ he said to Sid, when he saw me ‘Sit with Hob, and if he tries to signal for help, let him have it with the truncheon. And don’t come down until I yell that it’s all clear.’
I cleared the table, trying to look innocent.
‘Tell him about your flat, Sarah!’ said Rose. ‘I’ve been trying to tell him about it, but he …’
‘I don’t want to hear any more about her flat!’
Rose slapped a couple of plates together and put them on my tray. She was furious. I could see Toby’s dilemma; he didn’t want to tell Rose why he couldn’t trust me to house them up in London, and yet he could see the advantage of spending his last night in England so close to the air terminal. He couldn’t be sure that I’d overheard him planning to kill me, and yet he thought I probably knew I was doomed. He didn’t want Rose to be angry with him, and yet he couldn’t disillusion her.