Bound by Ivy

by S. Quinn

  ‘I know. But there’s not much you can do, right now. Everyone understands.’ She hoists Sammy a little higher. ‘I’m going to take Sammy out for a quick walk before bed. He’s getting fidgety. Rodney’s here. And your dad’s here too. He’ll be happy to know you’re awake again.’

  I yawn. ‘Jen, what time is it?’

  ‘Six o’clock. Are you hungry? There’s loads of food downstairs.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll get it—’

  ‘No you won’t.’ Jen shakes her head. ‘I’ll have Rodney bring you something up.’

  67

  I spend the next few days in bed, watching spring appear through the bedroom window. It feels so strange, doing nothing but resting. I’m not sure I’ve ever done it before. But the doctors and everyone else are insisting, so I’m trying very hard to listen – even though sometimes I’m dying to go downstairs and play with Sammy or cook a meal.

  By the afternoon of day two, I come downstairs on wobbly legs and head to the kitchen.

  Jen’s out with Sammy and Dad is working, so it’s just Rodney and I in the cottage.

  ‘How’s the patient?’ Rodney asks.

  ‘Okay, I just … I wish I could speak to Marc. Tell him I’m getting better.’ I pad over the lino in bare feet.

  ‘How’s the separation going?’ Rodney asks.

  ‘Awful,’ I say with a smile, going to the kettle. ‘But not long to go now. Tea?’

  ‘You, Sophia Rose, will sit down while I make the tea.’

  ‘Okay.’ I sigh, and reluctantly take a seat at the kitchen table.

  ‘So,’ says Rodney, filling up the kettle. ‘What is it … a week now until you can see Marc again?’

  ‘About that,’ I say.

  ‘He misses you,’ says Rodney.

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘I’ve never seen Marc like this.’ Rodney gives me a kind smile. ‘You’ve changed him. For the better. But he’s suffering for it.’

  ‘I don’t want him to suffer.’ I watch Rodney pour hot water into mugs and add teabags.

  ‘No. Of course you don’t.’

  I smile. ‘I wish I could be with him.’

  ‘You will be soon,’ says Rodney. ‘This last few week will fly by.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  *****

  Time doesn’t fly by, but little by little it moves. Or rather, trudges its weary feet.

  After three days, the doctor says I’m well enough to get back to the show, and it feels good to be back on stage with Leo. I love performing again, and the show is as popular as ever. But these last few days are still passing slowly, especially at night.

  I think of Marc constantly, and stay awake until the early hours, thinking of him and wishing he was with me.

  During the daytime, I do everything I can to distract myself.

  Ebony and I go riding in newly spring green fields, and I also spend a lot of time with Annabel, viewing apartments and townhouses, and helping her think about her future.

  Annabel is really keen to work and pay her way, but she’s never had a job, so writing her CV is tough. A few museums and art galleries have offered her unpaid placements, though, and she decides to take one at the Tate Modern. It’s a start.

  Day by day, I see Annabel growing stronger and brighter. I know she’ll be a good mother. And Marc and I will support her every step of the way. And day by day, I get closer to being with Marc again.

  68

  For some reason, the weather goes crazy warm the night before the show finishes, and Leo wants me to check out the roof garden at his favourite Mexican restaurant.

  ‘You’ll love it, Sophia,’ he tells me. ‘The garden has straw donkeys and red chilli fairy lights all over the place. And the best view of the London sunset ever. Oh, and did I mention it serves awesome margaritas?’

  ‘Several times,’ I say.

  ‘Come on. You must have run out of excuses by now. Can’t a friend take another friend out to eat?’

  ‘After what happened … that kiss … I don’t want to be disrespectful to Marc,’ I say.

  ‘Marc and I had a good talk when you were ill. I told him what an idiot I was. And how much I value your friendship. And I think … maybe he’ll never be totally cool with me, but he doesn’t want you to lose a good friend, either. He can tell that I care about you. And he doesn’t want that gone from your life.’

  ‘He said that?’

  ‘Words to that effect. Anyway, I think when he saw how well I was getting on with your friend Jen, he stopped being worried about me moving in on his territory.’

  ‘Jen said the two of you talked.’

  ‘She did?’ Leo smiles. ‘I really like her. I might even stay in London a little longer, if she agrees to go out with me. She’s worth putting up with bad English food for. Speaking of food … are you coming to dinner or not?’

  ‘You really think Marc is okay with us being friends?’

  ‘Yes. I really do. I mean, he said so.’

  ‘Okay. I guess I have run out of excuses. And actually, it’ll be good to have a distraction today. Time is moving SO slowly. I just can’t wait for it to be tomorrow. One more show to do, and then I get to see Marc.’

  *****

  Within half an hour, I find myself on a higgledy piggledy roof terrace of Mexican hats and cactus plants, drinking a frozen margarita and watching the sunset with Leo Falkirk.

  It would be stupid not to admit how good looking Leo is. I mean, every woman in the restaurant is following him with his eyes.

  ‘Great margaritas, huh?’ says Leo, taking a swig from a bubbly tumbler of green slush.

  ‘Really good,’ I agree, taking a sip of my own.

  ‘Am I helping you pass the time?’

  ‘God, I’m terrible aren’t I?’ I say. ‘How do you put up with me?’

  ‘Well. The fact you’re super pretty helps.’

  I blush. ‘Oh. I’m sure you’ve known plenty of girls prettier than me.’

  ‘Nope. You’re pretty inside and out. You don’t get many girls like that around. Marc’s a lucky guy.’

  ‘I’ve been so mopey these last few months. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘You haven’t been so bad,’ says Leo, accepting a bowl of handmade nachos from a waitress. ‘But promise me after this show, you’ll stay in touch. Even if it’s only so I can see that cute friend of yours.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I stay in touch?’

  Leo grins. ‘Us actors go with the tides. You make the best, most amazing friendships, and then poof! The film wraps up, the show finishes, and you drift apart.’

  ‘I don’t want that to happen to us,’ I say. ‘And it won’t. You’re a good friend.’

  Leo puts his large elbow on the table and waggles his little finger. ‘Okay. Pinkie promise. We’ll stay in touch.’

  I laugh and hold out my little finger too, linking it with Leo’s. ‘Pinkie promise.’

  69

  That night after the last-but-one show, I don’t fall asleep until 5am. Thoughts of Marc are running so quickly through my mind that it’s impossible to shut down. But finally, finally, morning comes. And after three long months of waiting, the day arrives when I can see Marc again.

  When I go downstairs, I hear Jen in the garden.

  I head outside to find her at our little umbrella table, peeling open a red Baby Belle cheese for Sammy.

  ‘Morning Soph,’ she says. ‘So. Last day, huh?’

  ‘Fourteen more hours,’ I say, taking a seat and watching Sammy playing on the grass. It’s a warm spring day and the daffodils are still filling the beds with sunshine yellow petals. ‘And I’m going to feel every second of them today.’

  Jen smiles. ‘You put Romeo and Juliet to shame. How are you and Marc going to meet up tonight? Is he going to blast fireworks over the Thames at the stroke of midnight?’

  I laugh. ‘I don’t know. We’re not allowed to speak, remember? But I’m hoping Marc will come to the theatre and see me after the show.’

&nbs
p; ‘Does that bother you? Not knowing how and when you’re going to see him?’

  ‘No. That part doesn’t bother me at all. It’s just getting through these last hours – that’s the problem.’

  ‘You were singing to yourself when you came out,’ says Jen. ‘Just like you used to. Am I getting my old, happy Sophia back?’

  ‘Hope so.’

  Rodney pokes his head out of the back door. ‘Sophia. Can I get you breakfast?’

  *****

  I spend the rest of the day riding Ebony and hanging out with Jen and Sammy. And the day passes.

  After dinner that night, I’m having my usual fight with Rodney over who will do the clearing up, when there’s a knock at the door.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ I say, drying my hands on a tea towel and heading out of the kitchen. ‘Dad will have forgotten his wallet or something.’

  Dad is taking Denise out tonight. Again. The two of them are really getting along. It’s good for Dad to have someone kind and caring in his life. I thoroughly approve. Although I do feel sad for him about Genoveva and how things ended.

  The village rumour mill says that Genoveva and her doctor boyfriend are having problems, and that she’s staying in a hotel right now. But since she hasn’t been in touch, and doesn’t take any of Dad’s calls, there’s no way of knowing.

  I have to admit, I’m glad Genoveva hasn’t come back. She’s shown her true colours, and if she doesn’t care enough about Sammy to come visit, then good riddance. I’ll always be here for him, and so will Jen, Dad and Denise.

  Jen is upstairs giving Sammy his bath, so I shout up, ‘I’ve got it Jen!’ as I pull open the front door.

  On the doorstep is Leo, wearing a tight white t-shirt and ripped jeans.

  ‘Hey leading lady,’ says Leo. ‘Since it’s our last show together, I thought I’d pick you up one last time.’ He looks over my shoulder. ‘Is Jen here?’

  I smile. ‘Yes. She is. You weren’t expecting dinner, where you? We just finished.’

  Leo shakes his head. ‘Nope. Just the pleasure of your company. And maybe Jen’s company.’

  My smile turns into a grin. ‘Come on in. Keith will be here in half an hour. So you and Jen will have all that time to enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company. I think I might have some things to do in the garden …’

  70

  By the time Keith arrives, I have to practically drag Leo away from Jen. But not before he gets her number and she agrees to go out with him.

  When I finally get Leo into the limo, all he talks about is Jen, from the cottage to the theatre, and I have the pleasure of agreeing that she really is the most wonderful girl.

  Our last performance together goes really well. I have to keep reminding myself how special it is that this is the end of my very first West End Show run. But I don’t forget for one moment that in a few hours time, I’ll be seeing Marc again.

  When the curtain falls to thunderous applause, I head backstage and find Jen and Dad waiting.

  ‘Soph!’ says Jen. ‘We have a surprise for you.’

  ‘How come you two are back stage?’ I ask. ‘And what are you both smiling about?’

  ‘We have a note,’ says Jen. ‘From Marc.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jen reaches in her handbag and pulls out an envelope. It’s plain brown, with the words, ‘For Sophia, to be opened immediately after your last show’ written on it.

  I frown. Mmm. That doesn’t sound like something Marc would write, but … I guess he likes surprising me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the envelope and ripping it open, tugging out the white paper inside. The note has been typed on a computer in a heavy, blocky font.

  When I read the words, my stomach drops and my mouth falls open.

  Time for revenge, Sophia Rose.

  Tonight, we snatched your brother, Samuel.

  We will hurt him unless you do as we say.

  DO NOT TALK TO ANYONE.

  Go straight to Marc Blackwell’s house in Richmond.

  We will meet you there.

  PAIN.

  ‘Where did you get this note?’ I ask Jen, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

  ‘It arrived at the cottage just after you left,’ says Jen. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, fine,’ I say, trying to hold my voice steady. ‘Absolutely fine. Marc just wants me to meet him, that’s all.’

  ‘He’s not coming here?’ says Jen. ‘It’ll be midnight soon.’

  ‘He’s … I’m going to meet him somewhere else, okay?’ I wave the note. ‘Back soon.’

  71

  My huge Belle dress buffets around my legs as I head out of the theatre.

  I run out into the street crowd, heading towards Tottenham Court Road tube station.

  Everyone stares at me as I rattle along on the tube train to Richmond. But I don’t care. I have to get to Marc’s townhouse. I have to get to Sammy.

  *****

  When I arrive in West London, the night feels very still and there are clouds overhead. I can’t see the stars or the moon.

  I reach the gates, unsure of my next plan. Should I ring the buzzer? Or shout over the gates? But before I can make any decisions, I see something that makes my stomach pull tight.

  There are objects tied onto the black railings.

  As I get closer, I see one of the objects is a baby doll – the kind that closes its eyes when you lie it down. It’s been stripped of all its clothing, so its body is nothing more than white cotton with little plastic legs and arms attached. It’s been tied to the railing by the ankle, so it hangs upside down.

  Next to the baby is what used to be a rose, except there’s only a thorny stem left now – all the petals have been plucked off. There’s also a pair of handcuffs chained to the gate and a toy knife.

  I look over the dark townhouse and see no lights on. No one is home. Maybe this is all a hoax. A horrible joke from PAIN to frighten me, but nothing more.

  I’m about to try the buzzer, when I feel something hard bash my hand.

  I turn around, but before I know what’s going on, something grabs my hair and throws me to the ground. A clawed hand comes at my face, slapping and scratching, and as I shield myself with my arm, I see Cecile kneeling over me, her face scrunched up in anger.

  ‘You bitch,’ she screeches. ‘It’s time you paid for what you did.’

  I fend off her blows as best I can, but I’m not going to try and hurt a pregnant woman. I just can’t do it.

  ‘Cecile,’ I say, as I slap at her hands and try to push her back. ‘This is crazy. You need help.’

  ‘I don’t need help,’ Cecile screams. ‘Why does everyone keep saying that?’

  I manage to push her back a little, and now I’ve gotten over the shock of being knocked down, I begin to notice things about Cecile – the slimness of her face and body, and the tight-fitting black cashmere jumper she wears.

  If she’s pregnant, where is the baby? Because there’s certainly no bump on that flat stomach of hers.

  I scrabble to my feet. ‘You’re not pregnant.’

  Cecile gets up too. ‘I got rid of it. When they started asking me for all those tests.’

  ‘Did you write that note? Where’s Sammy?’

  ‘PAIN have him. If you want to see him again, you’d better come with me.’

  My stomach pushes up into my throat and I feel myself heave. I put a hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ I say through my fingers.

  ‘I’m serious.’

  It’s too much. Before I can stop myself, I turn and vomit onto the pavement.

  I feel like someone has put my chest in a big metal vice and squeezed all the air out of it.

  ‘Please don’t hurt him. I’ll go anywhere you want.’

  ‘The car’s over here.’

  72

  Cecile pulls me towards a black car, waiting under a bright yellow streetlight. It looks pretty battered and bruised, and when she opens the back door I let out a littl
e scream.

  Waiting on the back seat is the creepiest looking man I’ve ever seen. He’s completely bald, with a huge beefy body and big broad shoulders. He’s wearing little round glasses that make his eyes seem tiny and insect-like, and one of those leather jackets that looks like a blazer.

  He reaches out a hand to me. ‘Warren. Head of PAIN. Good to meet you at last.’

  I shrink back from his hand.

  In the front seat I see the back of a woman’s head. She has platinum blonde hair, and when I catch a glimpse of her eyes in the rear-view mirror, they’re black like coal. She has spidery eyelashes and blood red lips.

  ‘And Yasmina you’ve probably heard of,’ says Warren, nodding to the front seat. ‘My co-leader. And a good friend of Marc Blackwell’s.’

  The car smells like ... I don’t know. Unwashed bodies and something chemical. I put a finger to my nose and take a step back.

  ‘Nice of you to dress up for us,’ Warren continues, nodding at my dress. ‘Very pretty.’

  ‘Where’s Sammy?’ I ask.

  ‘Come with us and we’ll show you.’

  ‘Please. You haven’t hurt him, have you? Is he okay?’

  ‘He will be,’ says Warren. ‘As long as you get in the car right now.’

  I nod and climb into the car, leaning as far away from Warren as I can. In response, he leans closer to me.

  ‘I don’t bite,’ he breathes, and I realise he’s like Getty – he gets excited when women are scared. ‘At least, not yet.’

  I sit up straight and stop leaning away from him. Instead, I try to look as relaxed as possible. Which is hard, considering my heart is beating so fast in my chest that I feel like it’s going to break out and fly away.

  Cecile walks around the car and jumps into the front seat.

  ‘Well done Cecile,’ says Yasmina. Her voice is low and throaty. ‘Good work.’

  ‘Thank you Yasmina,’ says Cecile, all sickly and sucky up. ‘I told you it would be me who got her.’

  The car starts.

  I feel sick and lonely as we pull away from Marc’s house.

  The platinum blonde woman turns to me as we wait at a junction.