by Pryke, Helen
‘What, wait. He’s going to put us in the cellar?’ Jane asked, fear coursing through her body. She didn’t want to go down there again – she’d been in the other cellars, each one worse than the one before, but this cellar filled her with dread. She’d seen the boxes he’d taken down there, and had prayed she would never find out what was in them.
‘I think it could be worse than that,’ Charlie said, twisting her hair around her finger. ‘He kept talking about the cleansing power of fire, how he’s used it before and how he’ll use it again. I know you always defend him, but I’m terrified, Jane.’
Jane looked down at the floor and repressed the urge to scream. If she started, she might not stop. ‘I’m sorry for all the crap I put you through over the years. I won’t stick up for him anymore, Charlie, I promise you that,’ she said grimly.
‘What’s happened? Is this to do with your punishment the other day?’ Charlie spoke quietly, as if afraid he could hear them from wherever he was.
‘That, and the fact he lied to me,’ she replied. ‘I don’t want to talk about it right now, though.’
Charlie nodded. ‘Why do you think he did it? He said he loved them.’
Jane shrugged. ‘He’s crazy, Charlie. Crazy people do crazy things. He says he loves us too.’
They both went quiet, contemplating the awful truth of their situation. Jane felt as if she were drowning in the silence, its icy tendrils wrapping around her throat, choking the breath out of her body.
‘He killed his sisters,’ Charlie whispered. ‘I think he wants to kill us, like he killed them.’
The hairs stood up on the back of Jane’s neck and her throat constricted as the icy chill enveloped her. ‘Are we next?’
‘We have to get out of here,’ Charlie said, her voice urgent. ‘If only we could get outside into the garden, we’d stand a chance.’
‘Why, what’s out there?’ Jane said sharply.
Charlie glanced at the kitchen door. ‘There’s a kids’ den in the field at the bottom of the garden, hidden in the trees. I heard them one day when I was out picking flowers, and found the den. I wanted to contact them somehow, ask them to get help for us, but he came when I was down there and made me go back indoors. We haven’t been allowed out since. I’ve been trying to think of another way, but it’s impossible. We can’t open the windows to shout, and I don’t want to risk smashing the glass and making a run for it, in case he comes home before we can get out. Got any bright ideas?’
‘Would you have left without me?’ Tears pricked at Jane’s eyes at the thought of Charlie leaving her behind.
‘No, never.’ Charlie reached over and squeezed her hand, holding her gaze. ‘It was both of us or nothing, I was just waiting for the right time.’
A flood of relief rushed through her, she hadn’t realised how much she’d come to depend on Charlie’s company. ‘Thank you, I appreciate that. I know what a bitch I’ve been. And yes, I do have an idea.’
* * *
They stood in Charlie’s room, and looked out the window.
Jane tapped on the glass. ‘You said we can’t open a window and shout, right?’ Charlie nodded, looking puzzled. ‘Well, we’re going to use this to shout.’ Jane waved the shaving mirror she was holding. ‘Your room gets the afternoon sun. All we need to do is catch the sun’s rays in the mirror and reflect them towards the kids. It should get their attention and make them look up here.’
Understanding flooded Charlie’s face. ‘And then we jump about and wave our arms to let them know something’s wrong?’
‘Or we could write HELP on a large piece of paper and hope they can read it,’ Jane replied. ‘They’ll be curious, maybe they’ll go and get their parents.’
‘What if they try to come to the house?’ Charlie asked, anxiety creeping into her voice. ‘What if he comes back?’
Jane glanced at the clock. ‘It’s two o’clock now. The kids should finish school about half three, and hopefully they’ll go straight to their den. He’s never home before five, so we should have plenty of time–’
‘Almost never,’ Charlie interrupted. ‘That day he caught me picking flowers, he came home early.’
‘We’ll just have to pray that today isn’t one of those days,’ Jane said. She squeezed Charlie’s hand. ‘We’ll do this, we have to.’
* * *
They sat on Charlie’s bed, staring at the four pieces of A4 paper on the floor that spelled out the word HELP.
‘What do you think?’ Charlie asked.
‘I think this is going to work,’ Jane replied, gritting her teeth. ‘It has to.’
‘I just hope he doesn’t count the sheets of paper in the printer, otherwise he’ll know.’
‘He’s not that anal, Charlie.’ Jane crossed her fingers, hoping she was right. They didn’t have much choice; they had to take the risk, the threat to their lives was too great. ‘I told you, I’ll tear them into little pieces and flush them down the toilet, he won’t find out. And if he is that anal, we’ll deny all knowledge. That’ll freak him out.’
Charlie giggled nervously. ‘I never told you, but I left a note at the first house he kept us in.’
‘What?’
She nodded. ‘I found a pen on the floor and tore some paper off some paint tins in the cellar. I wrote our names, the word HELP, and the address he was taking us to. I overheard him on the phone and wrote it down so they could find us.’ She blinked back tears. ‘It didn’t work, though, did it? It’s been four years and no one’s ever come to save us. I bet they never found it. Which means they don’t know he took us, if they never found the house, right? I wanted to do it at every house, but I never got the chance again… I never found out where he was taking us. There was only that one chance, and I mucked it up.’ She shuddered, her voice trembling as she spoke.
Jane put her arm around her shoulders, feeling Charlie’s grief. ‘Don’t give up hope,’ she murmured. ‘We’ve got this plan, and it’s going to work, it has to. And I bet your parents – our parents – have never given up looking for us.’
Charlie sniffed loudly. ‘You always said your parents hated you and would be glad you were gone.’
Jane looked down at her feet. ‘Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong about that. I said a lot of crap that probably wasn’t true.’ Guilt washed over her as she realised how horrible she’d been to Charlie over the years. ‘I’m sorry for, you know. That other time, when I messed up our escape plan. And all those times I was nasty to you.’
‘Don’t.’ Charlie flapped her hand. ‘Now’s not the time. Let’s concentrate on getting out of here.’
‘Okay.’ Jane had one more thing to get off her mind, though. She plastered a wide smile on her face that stretched her skin so much it hurt. ‘Promise me you’ll look after the baby.’
‘The baby?’ Charlie frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’
Jane patted her stomach. ‘If…’ She hesitated. ‘If we get caught, if he finds out what we’re doing, if we don’t get out of here, make sure my baby is safe. Please.’
‘No.’ Charlie looked at her firmly. ‘We’ll get out.’
Jane sighed. ‘Charlie, the baby is my priority. I’ll do anything I can to keep it safe. We need to cover all possibilities. Understood?’
‘Okay.’ She was taken aback when Charlie put her hand over hers. ‘Understood.’
Jane jerked away and went over to the window. She leaned on the sill, confused by the emotions running through her. She’d never had a friend before, and didn’t know how to react. She blinked back sudden tears and became practical once more.
‘School’s finished for the day, they should come soon.’ She shielded her eyes with her hand. ‘Sun’s in the right position too. Shall we try?’ She picked up the mirror, her mouth suddenly dry. What if she was wrong? What if she’d got their hopes up for nothing? She saw Charlie’s expression, full of optimism, and clenched her teeth in grim determination. It had to work.
37
Maggie listened as
her sister chattered about their holiday and tried to appear interested. She’d wanted to cancel tonight, but she’d promised her sister they’d catch up when she and Richard got back, and there’d been no getting out of it. Her mind was miles away, whirring with thoughts of the article, wondering which of their suspects it was about, and what he could do to the girls.
They’d spent the last two days trying to locate the two men, but without any luck. She was demoralised; the girls were in danger, but she didn’t know what to do next. If nothing came of the article she’d written for the newspaper, she would have to phone Sally and tell her everything they’d discovered so far, and she wanted to avoid that if she could. She’d told the others to get round to hers early the next morning so they could continue their search.
‘And now we’re back to the typical British summer, grey skies and drizzle most days,’ Nicola finished, gesturing with suntanned arms. ‘It’s a bit depressing, but I guess we’ll get used to it.’
Maggie smiled. ‘It’s all right for some, gallivanting off to hotter climes. Welcome back to the real world, sis.’
‘What’ve you been up to? You’ve been pretty quiet all night,’ Nicola remarked. ‘Aren’t you feeling too good?’
‘I’m bearing up.’ It was true; she hadn’t collapsed in an exhausted heap as she thought she might, but it was a matter of time before her body had had enough. She just hoped it wouldn’t happen at the worst moment.
‘What is it then? Something’s going on.’ Her sister had a sixth sense whenever she was working on a big story, as if she could see the nervous energy surrounding Maggie like an aura.
‘You should work for MI5,’ Maggie grumbled. ‘Okay, if you must know, I’m investigating a couple of girls who disappeared four years ago.’
‘Four years ago?’ Nicola’s face blanched.
‘It was just after Thomas’s death,’ Maggie said softly, not wanting to upset either of them. ‘I didn’t work on the story at the time, obviously, but the girls’ brother and sister came to me a couple of weeks ago and asked for my help.’
‘And can you, after all this time?’ Richard asked.
‘We’ve found a couple of suspects but we’ve no idea where they are. Whoever it is, we know he’s crazy, and we believe the girls are in trouble.’
‘Now, after four years?’ Nicola looked incredulous. ‘Why now?’
‘It’s a long story, and I don’t really want to go into it tonight. But it’s serious, we’ve no idea what this person could do.’
‘Have you got a name? Maybe I can help.’ Richard leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on his clasped hands.
Maggie hesitated. Richard was a big name in finance and had many contacts, it was possible he could give them a hand. ‘One’s called Kevin Bourne, the other’s James Sorensen. Anything you can do would be great.’
Richard’s knuckles turned white as he remained deep in thought for a moment. ‘I-I’ll speak to someone in the office tomorrow.’
Maggie frowned. Was that a hint of panic in his voice? She peered at him, but he seemed normal now. ‘Okay, thanks. Anything you can find out would help.’
Just then the phone started ringing. Nobody moved.
‘I’ll go.’ Nicola glared at Richard then hoisted herself off the sofa and made her way down the hall. Maggie heard her answer, then turned to Richard.
‘Do you want to tell me what that was all about?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean?’ His eyes shifted, looking anywhere but straight at her.
‘When I told you their names, you went white as a sheet.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Like you’d heard them before.’
He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, then tucked it back into his pocket. ‘Don’t, Maggie.’
‘Come on, Richard. We haven’t got long, Nicola could be back any moment. You’re sweating like a pig, something’s wrong.’
He clasped his hands around his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor. ‘One of them was familiar. That surname… it’s not one you can easily forget.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘I – knew – a woman with the same surname.’
‘Which one?’
‘Sorensen. We met when I was younger.’
‘What?’ Maggie stared at him, stunned.
‘It’s not something I’m proud of, I’ve never talked about it. It was a long time ago. But that name…’ Richard got up and walked over to the living room door and closed it, Nicola’s voice suddenly cutting off. He turned to Maggie, looking so shamefaced she was shocked. ‘This goes no further. Promise.’
‘I promise.’ Maggie wondered what the hell he was going to tell her.
He remained standing, his arms folded across his chest. ‘I was nineteen. Me and my mates were out drinking, you know how it is, group of lads out to raise hell. We did a tour of all the local pubs of the town. I lost count of how many pints we had. There was this street, where we knew we’d find…’ He paused, turning red. ‘Ladies of the night.’
‘Prostitutes.’ Maggie shook her head.
‘It was their idea,’ he protested, holding up his hands. ‘I was drunk, I just went along with it. There was a group of girls standing around, chatting, and we went over and started pushing our weight around. My mates grabbed the arm of the youngest one and shoved her towards me, telling me to take her down the alley nearby.’ He started pacing around the room. ‘I kept saying no, I didn’t want to, but the others kept egging me on. The girls too – they just told me to get on with it and not to forget to pay her after. So we went down the alley and did… you know.’ He avoided looking at her when he spoke again, his voice low. ‘But I-I didn’t use any protection, I didn’t have anything with me.’
‘My God.’ Maggie felt sick. Her head spun as the enormity of what he’d said hit her. ‘She was a prostitute. Didn’t you learn anything at school? Does Nicola know?’ She could hear the blood pounding in her head as the anger built up.
‘Don’t, Maggie. I feel bad enough as it is. But it gets worse.’ He held his head down in shame, then took a deep breath, his body trembling. ‘I bumped into her a couple of months later. I was coming out of the pub, and she must have been waiting for me. After I said goodbye to my mates, she grabbed my arm and asked if I remembered her. I didn’t at first, I thought she was just some crazy girl, but then she reminded me how we met.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘She also told me she was pregnant.’
‘What?’
‘I pushed her away from me and laughed at her.’
Maggie gasped.
‘I was nineteen years old, and a prostitute was telling me she was pregnant with my kid. What was I supposed to do? I had my whole life ahead of me, uni and a career, and my parents would’ve killed me.’
‘It was your fault she was pregnant, Richard,’ Maggie muttered.
A sly look came over his face. ‘How can you be sure? She was a damn whore, she could have been knocked up by anyone. Maybe she was looking for a meal ticket, someone she could keep running to for money. I told her to get the hell away from me, and walked off. She followed me and said, “Don’t you at least want to know my name?” I shook my head and ignored her, but she shouted, “It’s Emma Sorensen, you remember that, you fucking bastard”, then threw herself at me, clawing and scratching. I shoved her so hard she fell down in the gutter, and I ran off and left her there, like the coward I am. I spent the next weeks living in fear, terrified she’d find out where I lived and tell my parents. But she never came. A year later we moved down south and I haven’t been back since. But I’ve never forgotten her name. God knows I’ve tried.’ He wiped a tear away from his eye.
Maggie had never hated anyone as much as she hated her brother-in-law right then. ‘You have another child, and you didn’t tell Nicola,’ she whispered, aware that her sister could come back in the room at any moment.
‘I’m not proud of myself,’ he retorted.
Her brain started trying to connect the dots, but her head was a whirlwind of thought
s. Was James the kidnapper? Or was it just a coincidence? Where did Kevin come in all this? She massaged her forehead with her fingers, and wished she wasn’t so tired. She was so close to an answer, she knew it, but it hovered before her, just out of reach.
38
I know about Jane. She thinks she can hide it under those jumpers, but I know. It’s just like before, the two of them whispering in corners, sniggering behind my back, plotting against me. But this time I can see through their lies, this time it will be different. Mother’s back too, her voice wriggling through my mind like a worm burrowing deep down into my brain, telling me not to trust them, to get rid of them. Again.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was meant to get Jane and Charlotte back, and Mother would leave me in peace, forevermore. When I carried out a practice run on the boy, she approved. Told me I was going to succeed, be the son she’d always wanted. She was so proud of me. Until he tried to escape, and I had to stop him. I told him everything would be okay, that he’d go home when I was ready, but he didn’t believe me. The little bastard got out, made it as far as the front gate before I realised. I dragged him back indoors, my hands around his neck, but I must have squeezed too hard. I’ll never forget his face, deathly white, his lips blue, the life gone from his eyes. I wept for him, but Mother sneered at me and told me off. She was right – I couldn’t afford to waste time crying over him. What happened, happened; it was time to move on.
My hand throbs where I slammed it against the wall. I can see the cracked plaster from here, spidery veins spreading out from the point of impact. I imagine the girls’ blood running through those veins, across the walls, pulsing gently as they become one with the house. It’ll all be over soon. Just one more day, and then the fire will make us whole again.
39
Maggie sat on her sofa, trying to make sense of everything Richard had told her. She’d left her sister’s house as soon as she could the night before, blaming a headache and an early start, afraid Nicola would sense the tension between her and Richard. She’d spent a restless night waking constantly from nightmares, until she could bear it no longer. Two coffees later, and her thoughts were still a jumbled mess.