By Any Other Name

by Jarratt, Laura

  ‘After the kidnapping, we went home to London. I went back to school and pretended everything was normal. I didn’t tell anyone what had happened, not even Tasha, my best friend. I just couldn’t. The police didn’t have any idea who they were dealing with at that stage. Katya’s dad had gone into hiding and it wasn’t until he finally tried to get in touch with his family that he found out they weren’t safe in Cornwall where he thought they’d be. Then he was too scared the men after him would do even worse so he wouldn’t tell the police anything at all. I carried on as if nothing had happened and waited for them to catch the men who did it. But the police didn’t and then They found me instead.’

  I tell Joe about the night I walked home from my violin lesson, how the man dragged me into the car, and then what I heard them saying about shooting me. He’s tense against me and I can feel his anger through my body.

  ‘I pretended I’d passed out against the seat. They didn’t talk much as we drove out of London. I knew we were in the countryside when the amber glow in the car from the street lamps changed. You know?’

  I glance up and he looks a bit blank. I kiss his mouth.

  ‘Trust me, you do. Eventually we turned off down a bumpier lane. The driver slowed the car down to a crawl and I heard a click as he turned off the headlights. And I knew we’d not got far to go. And it was like when they came for Katya – headlights off. I knew I had to be totally focused on getting away, to be open to any chance I could take because I wouldn’t get a second.

  ‘I shut down and I was like a robot or something. I don’t remember feeling anything other than this determination to get out of there and it was . . . I dunno . . . kind of cool and logical. I guess I’m weird.’

  ‘Yeah, well, don’t knock it because if it hadn’t been for that you might not be here now and that would be . . . I don’t even want to think what that would be,’ Joe whispers.

  But I don’t want to stop and think about that either. I just want to get this story finished because this is the part that really haunts me at night.

  ‘When the driver pulled the car up, I knew this was it. The guy in the back jerked me upright as his boss in the front pulled a gun and leaned over the seats. “We’ll get her out here and you’re going to do the business. Time to prove yourself !” he said and then got out and came round to the rear door to drag me out of the car. There was my one chance. He began to open the door and I twisted my legs around and I kicked the door as hard as I could. He swore and something crashed to the ground and then I heard him scrabbling in the dark, swearing.’

  ‘Did he drop the gun?’

  ‘Yes, and I think he might have broken some fingers from the way he was cursing. The guy next to me went to grab me back so I slammed the heel of my hand up into the base of his nose – my uncle taught me how to do that.’

  ‘What does that do?’

  ‘Smashes the nose up completely. Ask Matt – I bet he knows about it. My granddad and uncles are in the forces. Dad was an army brat – he and his brothers grew up moving around bases. Uncle Nick thought I needed to know some self-defence to look after myself living in London so he taught me when I was about thirteen. And thank God, it worked. So then I ran for it before the driver had a chance to join in. I shot out of the car and I just ran and ran.’

  ‘But it was night. How did you see where you were going?’

  ‘I couldn’t, but they couldn’t see me either. I hid in the undergrowth at one point and they almost walked over me and I thought they were going to find me for sure, but they didn’t. And then they went off in another direction. I guess they gave up in the end and just got out of there. I was bumbling around in the dark when they’d gone and didn’t see I was coming to a steep bank. The leaves were slippy on the ground – it was November – and my feet slid from under me. I went crashing down the bank and hit my head on a tree root at the bottom. A dog walker found me in the morning.

  ‘When I came round, I was in hospital and my mum and dad had already agreed for us to go into witness protection. I had to wait until they discharged me to see them.’

  ‘You’re incredible, do you know that?’ And Joe looks like he really means it.

  But I don’t feel incredible when the nightmares come night after night. I feel useless, helpless, weak . . . I don’t tell him that though. I want him to keep thinking I am incredible. Nobody’s ever said that to me before and I want to keep that feeling for a little longer. Maybe if somebody does think you’re incredible then you are just a little bit.

  Summer. A long summer of freedom from exams and revision and work. OK, not free from stress due to the great big thing hanging over my head in August. The thought of the trial makes GCSE results seem pretty unimportant sometimes.

  I say as much to Mum when we’re in the garage sorting out the laundry.

  ‘But those results are still important to you, darling. They’re about the rest of your life, not what happened in the past.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘How are you feeling about the trial?’

  ‘Nervous. Stressed. But strong.’ Joe told me I sounded strong about it, and until he said that I hadn’t realised I am. He said it was because I was so sure that testifying was the right thing to do and I wasn’t going to let them get away with what they did to Katya. That made me strong because I have belief.

  ‘We’ll be there for you.’ Mum drops the washing and hugs me. ‘Don’t forget Dad and I will be with you the whole time.’

  Tim W-P told me that they’d given my family the option to send me into witness protection without them. They’d told him no straight away – I was not going alone. At times I forget how lucky I am to have them.

  Sometimes I lie in bed and think about how I would deal with this if I didn’t have my family. If I’d had some other set of parents who weren’t as good together, who weren’t as devoted to me and Katie, how would I have coped? I don’t think I would.

  The weather’s rubbish at first, which is typical. Joe and I hang out at our houses in between his farm jobs. Mum and I take a day together to go shopping and I spend all the pocket money I’ve been saving on a blitz of new clothes. Mum buys some new stuff for herself and decides to smarten Dad up too. She doesn’t get anything for Katie, who hasn’t grown out of her current clothes yet. New clothes are another of those changes Katie doesn’t like.

  I learn about strange farm stuff like milking machines and castrating bullocks and slurry pits while hanging out with Joe. I can’t say I ever wanted to know about these things, but he never fails to make me laugh when he shows or explains something farmy. It’s the little grin he gives, like he knows I have absolutely zero interest, but he’s making me suffer it anyway.

  The weather improves eventually and by late July my summer tan is coming along nicely. I’m lounging in the garden while Joe is off milking when Katie comes home from school one day and rushes straight over to tell me something.

  ‘There was a van outside school today.’

  I squint into the sun to look at her. ‘What kind of van?’

  ‘It was a white Transit van with letters on the side. They were pretty and red.’

  ‘What did the letters look like?’ I don’t really care. She does this all the time. It’s part of her obsession with all things moving vehicle.

  She traces the shapes on the grass.

  ‘Lindop Joiners Ltd,’ I tell her. ‘That means they make and fit things out of wood, like doors and windows.’

  ‘Oh. It was a very clean van.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘It was there yesterday too.’

  ‘They’re probably going to be doing some work in your school over the summer holidays. You break up in a few days – they’ll have people in painting and making it nice for September.’

  ‘Three days until we break up. We’re having a party on Friday.’

  ‘That’ll be fun. Now do you want to go and play on Joe’s swing?’

  ‘SWWWIINGGG!’

  ‘Th
at’s a yes then.’

  The following day, I’m lying on my bed reading, because the weather’s turned icky again, when Dad gets home from work. ‘Where’s your mother?’ he asks, poking his head round the bedroom door.

  ‘Gone to pick Katie up.’ I glance at my watch. Half four. ‘Oh! She should be back by now!’

  ‘Yes.’ He frowns and disappears downstairs.

  When I slip on my trainers and follow him, he’s reading through the messages on his phone and checking his missed calls.

  ‘Anything from her?’

  ‘No, I’m going to give her a call.’ He speed-dials and the phone rings . . . rings . . . rings before Mum finally picks up. I can’t make out her words exactly when she speaks, but I can hear the note of panic in them. ‘Clare, where are you? . . . Still at the school? . . . I’ll come down there now. Yes, call the police. I know she might turn up, but call them anyway.’

  He’s halfway down the hall before he says to me, ‘Your sister’s gone missing. I need to look for her. Stay here in case she’s already wandering home or someone finds her and brings her back.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘They don’t know. School said she was there one minute and gone the next. She’s probably got some crazy idea and wandered off on a mission by herself. Don’t worry, we’ll find her.’

  And then he runs out of the house.

  Where’s she gone? If another kid had disappeared with her, I’d be less worried because they’d probably have cooked up some adventure together. But Mum didn’t mention anyone else being gone, just Katie. Has someone upset her? I think of how stupid she can be near traffic sometimes and I start to get scared.

  I sit by the phone and stare at four walls for what seems like an hour, but when I check my watch it’s really only fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes where the tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall in the living room echoes through the house to the kitchen to torment me. Every tick marks a second where my sister is out there alone.

  When the phone goes it makes me jump. I grab it with trembling hands.

  ‘Dad?’

  The voice on the other end laughs. ‘Not quite.’

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘I have your sister here. Do you want her back?’

  ‘Yes, of course! Where is she? I’ll call my dad to come and get her.’

  ‘I told you. She’s with me. And if you want to see her alive again, you’ll have to come and get her yourself.’

  All the blood in my body freezes.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Now listen carefully and don’t do anything stupid. We’re watching your house. Take a walk outside – don’t rush, don’t look suspicious – and turn up the street through the bungalows. There’s a footpath that takes you across some fields to a lane. Do you know it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say dully.

  ‘There’s a white van parked on the lane. Get in the back.’

  The line goes dead.

  I can’t breathe. I drop the phone and catch the back of the chair for support.

  He’s not lying. He has her. She’d be home by now otherwise.

  This isn’t some random psycho snatching her. I wouldn’t have been called like this if it was. It’s Them. They’ve found us.

  I have no idea what to do. I don’t know how to make my legs work, to make me brave, to make me suddenly have a superplan to rescue Katie. Make me anything other than a quivering jelly standing here and gripping the chair with white knuckles.

  What do I do?

  I get up. It feels like my knees won’t hold me, but I get up.

  I put on a waterproof jacket.

  I walk to the door.

  I open it and go out into the street. It’s drizzling slightly and the sky is dark with cloud.

  I go up the street through the bungalows, forcing myself to take one step at a time. It feels like a long walk.

  Joe said I was brave. Tim W-P said I was brave. I’m not. I want to be anywhere but here. I don’t want to even think about what’s going to happen. I don’t want to be there for Katie. Some better, far braver person than me should be in charge of this.

  I’m not brave at all. I’m just too stupid to know how to do anything other than walk to the van like the man on the phone told me to.

  At the end of the houses, I take the path that leads across Joe’s fields, but this time where it splits into two, I take the upper fork to a lane up on the hill above the farmhouse.

  What’s Katie thinking? Have they hurt her? I feel sick and clammy all over at the thought of how terrified she must be now.

  My phone vibrates in the pocket of my jeans. I’d forgotten it was there. Are they watching me? Will they see if I look? I daren’t use it to make a call for help.

  I ease the phone out of my jeans under my sleeve and glance down at the screen. It’s a text from Joe.

  What’s going on?

  A lump forms in my throat.

  I wish I could tell him. I don’t know how he knows something’s wrong unless he’s heard somehow that Katie’s missing. I can’t answer – they could be watching. Will I get to see him again?

  I realise I don’t believe I will. My eyes are prickling with tears.

  But there’s no time for this self-pitying stuff. Katie’s with those men and they could be doing anything to her. She’ll be so frightened. Surely they can’t mean to kill her? She can’t testify against them. She’s nothing to them. Maybe they will let her go. It’s me they’re after.

  I have to keep walking.

  The sick feeling in my stomach makes my skin shiver. It’s like even my skin is retching at the thought of what I’ve got to do.

  What I’m doing.

  This is it. My luck’s run out.

  My knees are shaking so much that I don’t think I can stand up much longer.

  I finally get to the lane and climb over the stile. The van is waiting for me.

  I thought we were safe here. I thought they wouldn’t find us.

  How stupid.

  I open the back door of the white van as he told me to.

  Stupid, dense Holly. How am I going to get out of this?

  The short answer is – I can’t.

  ‘Get in,’ a voice says, and I obey.

  I wish Katie had a better rescuer than me. I wish there was someone who was up to this job who could be here for her.

  But there isn’t. Just her dumb-ass sister.

  The man sitting on the floor of the van closes the door behind me and we drive off. He hasn’t got his face covered. I know what that means.

  ‘Where’s my sister?’ I ask.

  He looks at me contemptuously and doesn’t answer.

  I could make a move for the door and try to dive out. I could still get away . . . but there’s Katie. I’m no closer to knowing where she is now. Or how she is.

  The van keeps moving. Maybe when they stop I’ll find out. Or maybe they’ll just shoot me before I do get to find out and they’ll leave my body here in this van, and I’ll never know if they let her go.

  But what choice did I have other than to be here? I know what they’re capable of.

  ‘Where’s my sister?’ I scream at the man opposite me.

  He just laughs and stretches his legs out.

  A minute later, the van pulls up and the man finally speaks. ‘Get out and don’t try anything. If you do, it’s your sister who’ll suffer.’

  When he opens the door, there’s another man waiting. A face I recognise and one I’ve seen in my nightmares over and over again. The man whose description I gave to the police. The man with so many aliases no one knows his real name. Whose photofit picture I helped the police artist construct. The one they’ve been looking for and never managed to find.

  As his hate-filled eyes stare down at me, I know this man will never let Katie go. I’ve walked into his trap for nothing.

  All I can possibly do is stall him for as long as possible and hope I can come up wi
th a plan. It’s a stupid, desperate hope, but no hope is worse.

  ‘Where’s my sister?’ I hope my voice isn’t shaking.

  He ignores my question like I’m beneath notice and high-fives his accomplice. ‘Nice work.’

  The other man nods back at him. ‘Do I go deal with the other one now?’

  Katie? They must mean Katie.

  ‘Where’s my sister?’ I scream as loud as I can.

  He backhands me across the face. ‘Shut up, bitch!’

  My ears are still ringing as rage boils up inside me. I launch at him to claw his eyes, shred the skin on his face, make him hurt like he’s made me hurt this past year.

  He punches me hard on the side of the head and I drop to the ground, limp.

  I think I’m unconscious for a moment because I don’t remember being hauled up, but someone is holding my head off the ground and checking me over. I play dead. I’m frisked briefly. They find the phone in my pocket and toss it away.

  ‘She’s out cold, Zach. Do you want to finish her now?’

  ‘Nah, this wasn’t part of the plan,’ Katya’s kidnapper replies. ‘Wait for the little bitch to come round. I want her to suffer. Tie her up and chuck her back in the van.’

  It’s an opportunity, I tell myself, so when they tie the bonds on my wrist and ankles, I don’t wince. And I don’t let them see how it hurts when they toss me in the back of the van.

  They slam the door and tramp away. There’s a barn on the other side of the track. Is Katie in there? Please don’t let them hurt her . . .

  I’m trussed so tight that the rope’s cutting into the bare skin of my wrists and ankles. How did I think this was an opportunity? I can’t move.

  I can’t tell how long I’m left lying here. It feels like ages and I can’t hear a thing outside, though I strain my ears for voices or the sound of a car. But we’re in the middle of acres of fields and all I saw before they tied me up was a black car, presumably theirs, parked beside the barn. Where are they? What are they doing out there? Oh, Katie, please be OK.