Ralph’s Children

by Hilary Norman

  Kate breathed in, smelled body odour.

  Fear.

  She swallowed hard, tried to moisten her mouth.

  No one spoke.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

  ‘The game,’ Roger answered.

  Game.

  She had learned by now not to waste questions.

  ‘Who is she?’ She looked at the other young woman.

  Her fellow captive.

  The answer came from Jack.

  ‘She’s your punishment,’ he said.

  Ralph

  The waiting was becoming more agonizing as time went on, the lack of contact vital now. They could not afford any interruptions at this stage, time being of the essence.

  The longer it took, the more chance for something to go wrong.

  Ralph’s part played, after all, for the moment.

  She knew they’d need her again afterwards to take care of details.

  Details were her specialities. Like finding out about Caisleán’s excellent locks, presumably fitted because Rob Turner’s insurers would have been mindful of intruders or squatters at the mostly unoccupied property. Like learning that Kate Turner – unbeknown to the insurers, perhaps even her husband – kept her spare keys buried beneath the wild primrose patch twenty-three feet from the front door.

  Details, afterwards, would be crucial too.

  Like Laurie Moon’s car. Safe for now in the derelict cow byre Ralph had located well ahead of time, but as soon as possible that would need to be dealt with. Jack knew about things like that, but would probably want Ralph to arrange them; respraying the VW, changing its number plates and serial numbers.

  Miss Moon would not be needing it any more, that was one certainty.

  As for the rest, they’d all have to see how it played out.

  You never knew with the game.

  The Game

  ‘You should know,’ Roger said to Kate and Laurie, ‘why you were both nominated for this game.’

  Kate heard the word that ordinarily had desirable connotations – people were ‘nominated’ for awards, weren’t they, or for election – and thought how deadly a ring the calm-voiced terrorist had bestowed on it.

  The second prisoner had been coming to gradually, had been given coffee to drink, before Jack, growing impatient, had thrown a glass of cold water into her face, making her gasp, bringing tears of new shock and fear into her eyes, and Kate had wanted to comfort her; had wished she could have turned back time, delayed her awakening.

  Delayed this.

  ‘You’re doubly qualified, Turner,’ Simon addressed her, ‘because not many women get to be cruel to both their children and their mothers.’

  Kate bit down a retort, saw the other captive’s eyes dart suspiciously to her. No longer believing, perhaps, that they were in exactly the same boat, hoping therefore that maybe her own predicament might be less grim than the woman they’d taken prisoner before her.

  ‘Your qualifications –’ Pig informed Laurie – ‘are simpler.’

  ‘But your crime –’ Roger took over – ‘is every bit as bad.’

  ‘Worse,’ Pig said.

  Kate saw that shred of hope die in the younger woman’s eyes, felt pity for her.

  ‘You put your kid in a home,’ Jack said, ‘when you didn’t need to.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ he cut her off, took a step closer to Laurie, who cringed.

  ‘No breast feeding,’ Simon said.

  ‘No cuddles,’ Pig joined in.

  ‘No mum when he was ill,’ Roger said.

  ‘Probably better off without her,’ said Simon.

  Kate saw the young woman’s face, saw a different kind of torment in her eyes, hated them more than ever for this new cruelty.

  ‘No loss for Sam if he loses her now,’ Jack said. ‘That’s for sure.’

  The telephone – Caisleán’s landline – began to ring.

  Kate’s heart hurtled into double speed. It could be her father or Fireman – she’d told them both she was coming here, after all. Anyone else failing to reach her at home would surely be ringing her mobile, which was in her bag on the floor near the door.

  The landline went on ringing.

  ‘If I don’t answer,’ she said.

  ‘Shut up,’ Jack told her.

  There was no machine, no 1571 set up, so after a couple more rings, it stopped, and maybe it had been Rob trying to reach her, and maybe her mobile wasn’t working and maybe he really—

  ‘Pay attention, Turner,’ Roger snapped.

  Kate’s eyes shot daggers into the woman’s stocking-veiled eyes.

  ‘We’re keeping this nice and simple for you,’ Roger went on, ‘because we like our games to move snappily.’

  Speed, Kate thought, couldn’t be good news.

  ‘Ready?’ Jack looked from one captive to the other. ‘Good.’

  Not ready, Kate wanted to say, saw fresh wild fear in the other woman’s face.

  ‘The game is,’ Roger said, ‘usually—’

  ‘We pick a Beast and punish it,’ Jack said.

  ‘But this time,’ Pig said, ‘we’ve got two Beasts.’

  ‘Which is a first,’ Simon said.

  ‘So it took us a while,’ Roger said, ‘to decide how to deal with you.’

  ‘Simple, in the end,’ Pig said.

  ‘You’re going to punish each other,’ Jack said.

  * * *

  The silence in the room seemed to last for minutes, until finally Kate said:

  ‘No.’ Her voice was clear, firm. ‘We’re not.’

  ‘Shut it,’ Jack told her.

  ‘What do you mean by punish?’ Laurie asked.

  She had been beginning to wonder if she would ever find the strength or courage to speak again, and maybe it was because the stuff they’d knocked her out with was wearing off, or maybe she had just realized that if she didn’t fight back now, really fight for once in her wasted life, she might never see Sam again.

  Or anyone else for that matter.

  Those thoughts made her want to cry, but she was not going to give in to that, because the other woman wasn’t crying, and whatever these monsters had been saying about her, she had been so brave to stand up to them just now.

  ‘Who are you?’ Not knowing seemed almost the worst thing. ‘How do you know anything about me?’

  The other prisoner smiled at her, gave her strength.

  In the same boat, after all.

  ‘I’m Jack.’ He answered her first question. ‘All you need to know about me.’

  ‘Roger,’ said the woman on her right.

  ‘I’m Pig.’ The second masked man said it as if they were being introduced at a party.

  ‘Simon.’ The other woman.

  Kate was watching Laurie, saw she’d made nothing of the names.

  ‘Not their real names,’ she said quickly. ‘Picked from a book. And I’m Kate.’

  ‘I’m Laurie.’ Quick, too. ‘Laurie Moon.’

  Jack took three steps towards Kate and whacked her hard across the face.

  ‘Do not speak again unless you’re asked.’ He turned to Laurie. ‘You too, unless you want the same.’

  ‘Careful,’ Roger said to Jack.

  Through the burning, reverberating after-effects of the slap, Kate remembered Simon saying the same thing after Jack had slapped her the first time, and maybe they didn’t want her marked – though after that, Simon had hit her, and no one had told her to be careful; in fact Jack had seemed especially pleased.

  Laurie stared at the flare marks on Kate’s left cheek and wondered, with a curious mental departure, what time it was, if someone at Rudolf Mann House had phoned her parents, if—

  ‘My car,’ she said.

  ‘Tucked up, safe and sound,’ Jack said, ‘just like you.’

  Kate saw tears spring again into Laurie’s eyes.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘We’ll be OK.’

  ‘Depends what you mean b
y OK,’ Jack said ironically.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Terrified as she was, Laurie had to know. ‘You said I put Sam in a home when I didn’t need to, but it wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Were you too ill to take care of him?’ Simon was swift, sharp.

  ‘Were you in prison?’ Pig was harsh too.

  ‘Were you bound and gagged?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ Laurie protested, ‘but—’

  Jack pulled the roll of tape out of his pocket again, ripped off a length and smacked it over her mouth so hard that her head jerked back.

  ‘You are now,’ he said.

  Laurie began to cry, giving in.

  ‘Bastard.’ The word escaped before Kate had time to think better of it.

  ‘You want some more?’ Jack turned to her.

  ‘Let’s get on,’ Roger said.

  ‘Right,’ Simon said.

  The air hung still and silent for a long second.

  ‘Still want to know,’ Jack asked Laurie, ‘how you’re going to punish each other?’

  There was nothing now, in the whole world, that she wanted to know less.

  ‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘Like we said.’

  ‘You –’ Roger spoke to Laurie – ‘are going to punish her –’ she nodded towards Kate – ‘by being her victim.’

  ‘And you,’ Jack said to Kate, ‘are going to punish her—’

  ‘No,’ Kate interrupted, steeling herself for another slap. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘By executing her,’ Jack finished.

  Laurie gave a small moan, turned chalky white and passed out, Roger just catching her before she fell sideways.

  ‘Hold her steady,’ Jack said.

  Pig held her from the other side, her head slumped over her chest.

  ‘I’m not going to do anything to her,’ Kate said. ‘Whatever you do to me.’

  ‘What about,’ Jack asked, ‘if we do it to Emmie?’

  Kate felt as if a klaxon had gone off inside her head.

  Flashes danced across her mind’s eye of Rob’s sweet daughter.

  ‘You—’ She couldn’t speak.

  ‘That’s right,’ Roger said. ‘We have Emily.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Kate said, at last.

  Laurie was coming round again, her face ghostly white, but all Kate could think about now was Emmie and how much Rob loved her, and they couldn’t have her, it was impossible.

  No more impossible than this.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said again.

  Less conviction in her tone this time.

  ‘If we don’t make a call –’ Roger checked her watch – ‘in fifteen minutes, to say we’ve finished here—’

  ‘Then they’ll finish little Emmie,’ Jack said.

  Laurie was listening, trying to take things in, not really wanting to.

  Kate licked her lips. ‘Prove you have her.’

  ‘We don’t have to prove anything,’ Roger said. ‘You have to do what we tell you to do.’

  ‘Unless you don’t give a damn about Emily,’ said Jack.

  ‘She might not,’ said Simon, ‘with her track record.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Pig said.

  ‘Doesn’t make much difference,’ Jack said. ‘We can find other ways to make her do it anyway.’

  Laurie let out a whimper, her eyes terrified.

  ‘Even if you do have her . . .’ It was a struggle for Kate to keep her mind working. ‘If you’re so pro-life, you won’t hurt a child.’

  ‘Won’t be us making her be hurt though, will it?’ Pig said. ‘It’ll be you.’

  ‘Times-a-wasting,’ Roger said.

  ‘You’re right,’ Jack said. ‘Let’s do it.’

  Laurie made a choking sound behind the tape over her mouth.

  ‘She’s going to puke,’ Pig said, freaked.

  ‘Don’t,’ Jack told Laurie. ‘Pig doesn’t like puke, and it’s not in the game.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Kate said, disgusted. ‘Jesus.’

  Jack struck her hard with the back of his hand.

  ‘Careful,’ Roger cautioned again.

  Not her imagination then. They didn’t want her hurt, at least not so it showed.

  ‘Get up,’ Jack told Kate.

  She blinked away the involuntary tears of pain, didn’t move.

  ‘Come on, girls,’ Jack said. ‘Time to get up and play.’

  He bent down, took hold of Kate’s left arm, Simon taking her right, hauling her up off the sofa. Over by the table, Pig and Roger pulled Laurie to her feet, and she yelped with pain.

  ‘Move,’ Jack ordered Kate. ‘Move, bitch.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Kate told him. ‘My legs are numb. I need a moment.’

  ‘I think,’ Pig said, ‘we’re going to have to untie their ankles to get them upstairs.’

  Kate stared up at the gallery where she and Rob had made their bedroom.

  ‘No untying,’ said Roger.

  ‘Couldn’t we make her do it down here?’ asked Simon.

  ‘That’s not the game,’ said Jack.

  ‘OK.’ Roger changed her mind. ‘We’ll untie their ankles.’

  Laurie’s eyes were fixed on Kate now, beseeching.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Laurie,’ Kate said. ‘We’ll be all right.’

  ‘You think?’ Jack said.

  He ripped off another length of tape and covered her mouth again.

  ‘Let’s play,’ said Roger.

  Teamwork.

  Jack held Kate while Simon cut the bandages around her ankles, then gave the knife – which looked to Kate like one of their sharpest kitchen knives – to Jack, who tucked it into his belt; and Kate wanted to kick out, but her legs just weren’t working, and Pig gripped Laurie while Roger freed her feet, but she was too weak to stand, and they had to drag her towards the spiral staircase.

  ‘Move,’ Jack told Kate again, while Simon’s gloved fingers dug into her right forearm. ‘Move, or have another kid on your conscience.’

  Insanity, it was all too crazy to be real, but the other three were already halfway up the stairs, and Kate could feel the blood starting to flow again through her arms and legs, and oh, dear God, what if they did have Emmie? And they were frogmarching her now, Jack yanking her upward, Simon right behind her, and it was hopeless, there was nothing she could do.

  She saw the others reach the top of the stairs, turn right, saw Roger and Pig dragging Laurie to the bedroom alcove, saw them push her on to the bed, turn her on to her back.

  Laurie began to wail.

  That new sound, of pure mortal terror, seemed to blow apart Kate’s helplessness.

  They, too, were at the top, the gallery narrow for three people moving together.

  Now.

  She kicked out violently, struck Simon’s left leg with her right loafer, so hard that the other woman cried out, stumbled, let go of Kate’s arm, and Kate used the instant, used every ounce of her pent-up inner rage, shoved at her with her right hip—

  Saw it happen in slow motion.

  Simon losing her balance, her arms flailing, hands clutching air then falling forward, her momentum sending her crashing through the wooden rail—

  ‘Simon!’ Pig’s cry from the alcove was of purest horror.

  ‘Go!’ Roger took the initiative, swiftly knelt on Laurie’s thighs, pinned her down. ‘Pig, go!’

  ‘She’s OK!’ Jack’s harsh shout of laughter jarred them all, and he grabbed Kate’s hair with one hand, her arms with the other, yanked her right to the edge. ‘See what you didn’t do, bitch.’

  Kate stared down and saw that Simon’s fall had been halted by one of the thick old iron hooks, its sharp point snaring her overalls and saving her life.

  ‘Simon!’ Pig was already halfway down the staircase, trying to reach her. ‘She’s not moving!’

  ‘She’s fine, Pig.’ Jack began moving again, dragging Kate towards the alcove. ‘We have to finish this!’

  ‘Simon!’ Pig wa
s distraught. ‘Jack, she’s not answering!’

  ‘For God’s sake, Jack,’ Roger called, ‘let Pig see to her.’

  Kate saw that she still had Laurie pinned down, the young woman still and silent again, immured now in her personal nightmare.

  ‘Let’s go, Jack!’ Roger told him.

  ‘All right.’ Jack took the knife from his belt.

  ‘Jack, come on,’ Roger urged again.

  ‘I said all right.’

  He turned Kate around, his free arm tighter around her chest, and she let out a cry, waited for the blade in her back, then jumped as she felt first her right glove being pulled off her hand, then, swiftly and shockingly, the coldness of steel against her palm and fingers.

  Jack turned her back again, so that she faced the bed.

  Laurie’s eyes were closed, and Kate hoped to God she’d passed out, and why had she done that to Simon? She’d made things even worse, accelerated them . . .

  Jack was holding the knife out in front of himself, blade down.

  He was hesitating, Kate could feel it, he was wavering.

  ‘Jack?’ Roger felt it too.

  ‘This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.’ He sounded odd. ‘The game.’

  Suddenly, with more horror swelling in her chest, Kate understood how the game was meant to go.

  Her prints on the knife.

  Execution.

  ‘It’s not going right.’ Jack’s grip on her was still tight. ‘Not the Chief’s great fucking plan, is it?’

  ‘Careful, Jack,’ Roger said.

  In control now, yet she wasn’t certain either, Kate sensed.

  ‘I put the knife in her hands now and untie her, she’ll stick it in me, not her, stands to reason,’ Jack said. ‘So I got no choice, do I?’

  Kate kept her eyes on the surgical-gloved hand still holding out the knife.

  ‘But it’s a bit of a thing, right?’ He still sounded odd. ‘Doing it.’

  Something shifted between them.

  Something big changing in the atmosphere.

  Hope shot through Kate.

  ‘You don’t have to, Jack,’ Roger said. ‘We can change it.’

  ‘We can’t change the game,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’ Roger said. ‘The Chief isn’t here. If you don’t feel right . . .’

  She cared about him, Kate realized, could hear it in her voice, feel it. These four all cared for each other, they weren’t just some gang of cold-hearted villains, they—