Frailty: a haunting psychological page-turner

by Betsy Reavley

‘You leave Gracie alone. You hear me? You don’t touch a fucking hair on her head!’ My scream shakes the walls of my prison and dirt crumbles down all around me.

  ‘You’ll frighten the crows if you keep that up.’ He’s trying to sound relaxed but I can tell he no longer feels at ease.

  ‘You’re used to intimidating little girls. Not liking dealing with someone who can fight back, are you?’ I buck and pull against the chain that is bolted firmly to the wall. ‘Fucker!’ I scream spitting at him.

  He moves away and watches me for a moment, deciding what to do. This is not part of his plan. I’ve taken him unaware and now he is having to think on the go.

  ‘You just stay here for a while until you calm down. I’ll come back when you’ve learnt how to behave like a lady.’

  I stop dead, letting the chains go loose and fall to the floor. I don’t want to be left alone in this place.

  ‘See, that’s better.’ His smile repels me.

  ‘I’ll get you something to eat and a blanket and I’ll be back soon. Don’t want the boss wondering where I am,’ Mike calls over his shoulder as he trudges up the stairs. When the door to the cellar closes the room is thrown into darkness and I fall to my knees sobbing uncontrollably.

  I don’t know how long I’m left alone down there. I have no sense of time. The blackness drowns everything.

  When he finally opens the door at the top of the stairs and begins his decent I am ready. I have been waiting for this moment ever since Hope disappeared. I sit on the cold hard ground, with my knees tucked up, a barrier between him and my baby.

  Mike shines the flashlight over at me blinding me temporarily. ‘There you are.’

  ‘Where is Gracie?’ my bottom lip quivers with fear.

  ‘She’s fine. Watching cartoons at home with Eva. Told them I was just popping to the shop. I can’t stay long.’ He lowers a plastic bag to the floor and removes a packet of biscuits and a carton of milk. ‘You must be hungry.’ He hands the carton to me and I glug down as much of the milk as I can in one go.

  ‘Greedy guts.’ He brings his thumb up to my face and wipes the milk from my lips.

  It is then that I seize my opportunity. From behind my back I pull out a piece of splintered bone and plunge it into his chest. Mike falls back dropping the flashlight as a large red mark spreads across his jumper. The flashlight rolls around on the floor sending rays of light bouncing around the room before settling.

  He coughs and blood splatters out of his mouth. The shock makes his pupils dilate. His eyes are almost black now.

  Still holding onto the bloody splintered bone I bring it down into his calf. It cuts through his jeans and sinks into the skin and muscle beneath. Mike lets out a howl that sends blood from his mouth whirling around the darkened room like spray paint.

  ‘You should know, my daughter is going to be called Faith Bird. She is never going to know you existed.’ I look the monster in the eye.

  Half sitting up, he grins through the blood, holding his chest with one hand and his leg with the other. I turn the bone around and using the knobbly end, bring it crashing down into his head. On impact both bones shatter and a second later Mike’s lifeless body slumps onto the floor, a puddle of shimmering, crimson blood pooling beneath his smashed skull.

  Shaking I drop the remnant of Hope’s leg bone to the floor and watch as the puddle of Mike’s blood spread across the floor working its way closer to me. Tucking my legs up I try to escape it but the liquid meets my shoes and I feel it soak into the trousers I am wearing.

  The baby kicks and I collapse into a fit of tears.

  I’ve been here for hours now, trying to break free from the shackle around my ankle, but it’s useless. The thick metal bracelet around my leg will not budge and I am making no progress where I have tried to hack at the wall it is attached to.

  I had a scare a little while ago. Mike’s body started twitching. I thought maybe he was alive, but when I checked his eyes were wide and glazed over, the crater in his skull too deep for him to have survived. I don’t know why he was twitching, but he was. I turned away and buried my face against the wall until it stopped.

  Sitting here in this cave, surrounded by death I wonder if I, too, am going to die.

  All I can think about is Gracie, left alone with no one to love and take care of her and about the little life inside of me, snuffed out before it had a chance to begin. I cannot allow that to happen. I have to get out of here. I have to survive this.

  Lying on the damp ground I close my eyes and try to imagine Hope alive in this place. I will never know what he did to her and I don’t want to. For so long I thought that answers would bring me peace. Now I know that isn’t true. Stretching my hand out I let my fingers rest on her frail bones. She has come back to me at last.

  ‘I am so sorry, baby.’ I stroke the cold skull bone, remembering what her hair felt like. ‘No one can hurt you now. Daddy is with you. He will look after you.’ Just as I begin to doubt that I will ever be found I hear footsteps on the ceiling above my head.

  ‘Hello! Help! I’m down here. Please, someone, help!’ The footsteps stop and I wonder if I imagined them. ‘Please. I’m down here. Help me. I need help!’

  Then very slowly the door at the top of the stairs creaks open a bit more. Two small silhouettes stand there looking down into the basement.

  ‘Mummy?’ Gracie calls down, clinging to her doll.

  ‘Yes monkey, it’s me. I need some help.’

  ‘What happened?’ asks Eva, standing right next to Gracie, sounding just as terrified.

  ‘You mustn’t come down here, girls. Do you understand? You have to stay up there.’

  ‘Why, Mama?’ Gracie’s little voice is quivering.

  ‘Just be a good girl and do as I say. You need to go and get a grown-up to come and help. I’ve hurt my foot and I need help getting up the stairs. Can you do that, girls? Can you go and get a grown-up?’

  ‘We didn’t know where you were. We waited and waited but no one came.’ Eva sounds frightened.

  ‘It’s OK. I’m fine. But you need to go and get an adult. All right?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Go together and knock on some doors in the village. Do not separate. Stay together. Try Mrs Collins at the B and B or Robert at the vicarage. Tell them that I am in the basement and I cannot move. Tell them to call the police. Can you do that for me, girls?’

  Both silhouettes nod in tandem before disappearing.

  ‘Good. Good girls.’ I close my eyes and hugging Hope’s bones to my chest I allow myself to cry.

  Hope

  I don’t know what is happening but everything that was dark and scary is now turning bright white. I look down and can see myself again. My body isn’t hurt and the metal thing around my ankle has melted away.

  A bit like magic, Zoe appears. I can see her for the first time. She looks different to what I thought she would. She has ginger hair and dark eyes and lots of freckles on her nose. She is smiling and happy.

  ‘Where are we?’ I ask as she takes my hand.

  ‘It’s time to go home now.’

  ‘But my family aren’t here.’ I look around hoping to see them.

  ‘Your dad is waiting.’ There is a glow around Zoe and I think she looks like an angel.

  In the far distance, against the white fog all around me, I can make out the outline of my father.

  ‘Daddy!’ I’ve never been this happy. ‘See,’ I turn to Zoe smiling ‘I told you he’d come and get us.’

  THE END

  A Note from Bloodhound Books

  Thanks for reading Betsy Reavley’s Frailty, we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. Reviews are the life-blood of authors as they help other readers find the books too. So if you enjoyed this book, please do consider leaving a review on Amazon and Goodreads

  Also By This Author

  The Optician’s Wife

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  The Quiet Ones

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  Carrion

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  Acknowledgements

  Without a shadow of a doubt, this has been the hardest book I have written. I’ve always avoided a storyline involving children because bad things should not happen to them, in real life or fiction. But I wanted to write a book about what it meant to be a parent. This is the product of that.

  After the immense support I received for The Optician’s Wife I was terrified that this would be a disappointment. I hope that is not the case. Every book I write is very different and I like the fact that each book takes me on a new journey. I aim to learn and improve with every effort and I hope this approach is evident to you, my readers.

  There are so many lovely people in my life that I feel very lucky. All the bloggers who support indie authors and presses, you really help writers like me – Sarah Hardy, Noelle Holten, Maxine Groves, Emma Whelton, Joanne Robertson, Nicki Southwell, Joseph Calleja, Sarah Kenny, Helen Claire, Shell Baker, Amanda Oughton, Susan Hampson, Lorraine Rugman, Peter Best, Emma Mitchell and Alexina Golding to name a few.

  My fantastic stablemates at Bloodhound Books are a pleasure to work with. The people who have the difficult job of tidying up my work should be given medals. Crime Fiction Addict on Facebook and all the admins who work hard to make sure indie crime writers get the recognition they deserve: keep up the good work.

  A shout out also to TBC and its members for everything they do.

  As always, there is a list of people who I owe thanks to. In no particular order they are, Andrew Barrett for tips on forensics. Kerry-Ann Richardson for advice on police procedure. To Tom Walker for information about anaesthetic. To the Inspector who is too bashful to be named but has been my fountain of knowledge regarding police matters. To Anita Waller for her unwavering support and infinite wisdom. To my wonderful children who put up with me and remain my inspiration. To my husband – you are everything.