by Jodi Taylor
‘Whatever is the ... matter, Mrs Balasana? Are you...?’
I was struggling for the word ‘ill’ which wouldn’t come out, but just for once, she didn’t leap in ahead of me.
Mrs Crisp had the tea things ready on the kitchen table, including the biscuit tin. She surreptitiously whipped off the lid and Marilyn herself could not have subjected the contents to closer inspection than she did, but apparently all was well because she set it down again.
‘Actually Jenny, I don’t think she’s come for a biscuit,’ said Thomas.
He was right. I never thought I would use the word dishevelled to describe Mrs Balasana but her cheeks were flushed and she had a selection of small leaves and twigs in her hair.
‘Please,’ she said, grasping my hand across the table. ‘You must help me.’
‘Of course, we will,’ I said. ‘What’s the ... matter?’
‘Bundle’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere. She never goes out by herself and she won’t know how to find her way back home. What shall I do?’
She didn’t bother waiting for my answer. ‘I must find her. I must. Please can you help me. I don’t have anyone else. She’s so small and she’ll be carried off by a fox, or caught in a trap, or run over, or taken by vivisectionists...’
I caught her flying hands. ‘Mrs Balasana. Ananda, please ... please try to calm down.’
I looked over to Mrs Crisp who was already pouring the tea. She nodded.
I turned back to Mrs Balasana. ‘Of course we’ll help. We’ll be happy to. Just give us some details. Is she wearing one of her little coats?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘She doesn’t wear them in the house.’
That was a shame. A dog wearing a bright red Royal Stewart tartan would be easy to spot. A thought struck me.
‘How did she get out?’
‘I don’t know. All the doors were closed. But the windows were open. Perhaps she climbed out.’
I was dubious. On the other hand, she might, for some reason, have jumped onto a chair, from there to a windowsill and from there to freedom.
‘Is she tagged?’
‘Yes. Yes, she is.’
‘Is Andrew your vet?’
‘Mr Checkland? Yes. Yes, he’s very good isn’t he? Bundle loves him. Oh, where could she be?’ And off she went again.
Mrs Crisp put a cup of tea in front of her and I handed her a piece of kitchen roll. She gulped and blew her nose, her hands shaking in distress.
‘Well, Mrs Balasana, I ... think you should drink your tea and when you ... feel better, I think you should go home and...’
She jumped to her feet, chair scraping on the tiles. ‘Oh no, I must look for her. She’s never been out alone before. She’ll be so frightened.’
‘...because as you say, she’s not used to ... being outside and she’s ... probably had a quick ... sniff around, decided it’s not for her, and is sitting on the ... doorstep, waiting for you to let her back in again.’
Her face lit up with hope. ‘Oh, do you think so?’
‘I do, yes. And I’m going to ... telephone Andrew and see if he knows anything and he’ll ... put the word out. And then I’ll ... go and have a good look around all our ... buildings, to see if she’s managed to get herself shut in somewhere. That does happen, you know. And I’ll telephone the ... Braithwaites and they’ll do the same.’
She reached out a hand. ‘Thank you. Thank you, Mrs Checkland. You’re so kind.’
‘Not at all. I’m happy to help. I’ll call Russell too – he can keep his eyes open on his way home. Please, drink your tea ... before you go.’
She drained her cup in one unladylike gulp and set it back in the saucer. ‘Thank you, Mrs Crisp. That was very welcome.’
Mrs Crisp blinked in surprise, and then smiled. ‘You’re very welcome. Mrs Checkland will be on the telephone for a while – would you like me to walk you up the lane?’
‘No. Oh, no. I shall be perfectly all right. I’m sure Mrs Che – Jenny is right, and she’ll be sitting by the gate waiting for me. I just ... I can’t ... I can’t lose her, you know.’ She looked at Mrs Crisp. ‘We lose everyone in the end, don’t we?’
Mrs Crisp nodded. ‘But sometimes, others find us.’
Mrs Balasana sat very still for a moment and then, with a flurry of Hermès scarf and Chanel No 5, she was gone.
Mrs Crisp picked up her cup and I picked up the telephone.
*
I wasn’t going to sit quietly and wait for Russell to come back. ‘I’ll go and look around the stables and barn,’ I said. ‘In case she’s shut in somewhere.’
Mrs Crisp nodded.
‘Russell will be on his way back. He should be here in about thirty minutes. I’ll be finished by then and we can search the fields together.’
She was loading the dishwasher. ‘Don’t go too far, Mrs Checkland. Not without Russell.’
I promised I wouldn’t and slipped out into the yard where Thomas was waiting. The afternoon sun was still strong. Sometimes it seemed as if this summer would never end. I led Marilyn into her field. Jack followed quietly behind as he always did. She bustled off to be reunited with Boxer. Jack remained by the gate, head low. I stroked his ears. He stood patiently, showing no signs of enjoyment. Nor of regret when I stopped. Nothing we did made any difference to him in any way. Marilyn and Boxer stood together under the trees and their quiet friendship only served to emphasise poor Jack’s loneliness. Was there nothing that could reach him?
‘Nothing seems to get through to him, Thomas.’
‘Give him time,’ said Thomas. ‘You never know. Anyway, at the moment, we have yet another animal to worry about.’
That was true. This afternoon we were searching for a small dog, out on her own for the first time. I genuinely believed she had already found her way home. At any moment I expected to hear Mrs Crisp call that Mrs Balasana had found her, sitting on the step, hungry and tired. But while I was out here I should have a good look. I don’t know why I started in the barn. The door was open so she could have got out at any time. I looked behind odd bits of machinery and under old tarpaulins covering heaven knows what. I called her name. From there, I looked in the stables. I even went up the rickety stair to Kevin’s old bedroom. She wasn’t there, but I never thought she would be. I rummaged around in all our sheds and outbuildings. We had a ton of old rubbish in there, none of which could be disposed of because, said Russell, it might come in handy one day.
I even searched the hen house.
‘Seriously, Jenny? It’s not as if six by now quite buxom but still eggless chickens would be holding her against her will. Can you imagine them?’ He assumed a gangster’s voice. ‘Give us more mealworms or the little dog gets it.’
‘I like to be thorough.’
I searched the area behind the barn where we have our bonfires and Russell parks his Land Rover, and she wasn’t there, either. I hadn’t really thought she would be. I knew she wasn’t anywhere near Boxer’s field, because Marilyn was calmly grazing. Something she would never do if there was a dog anywhere near her. Even a tiny dog like Bundle would have her climbing the nearest tree.
That just left the garden. I hadn’t been in there since Christopher peed in the pool.
‘Yes,’ said Thomas. ‘We ought to check whether the goldfish have survived their urinary encounter.’
As always, it was several degrees warmer in the walled garden. I walked quietly down the path, calling Bundle’s name, and stopping occasionally to listen for barks or whimpers. The hot, heavy afternoon silence was complete.
The fish seemed fine. Christopher’s urine was obviously as ineffective as the rest of him. I made a mental note to ask Kevin to help change the water. The fish didn’t seem that bothered, but I wasn’t putting my hand in there until then.
I let myself back into the yard, looking around. There wasn’t anywhere left to search.
Further up the lane, I heard a car start up. That was a thought. I should check out the he
dgerows in the lane, just in case she’d got her collar caught on a low twig. I climbed over the gate as Mrs Balasana had done, and set off downhill. I’d go to the end, checking out the right-hand hedge, and then turn and walk up the lane, checking out the other side.
I wouldn’t have found her if it hadn’t been for the car coming down the lane. I stepped up onto the verge to get out of the way – our lane is only one car wide and barely that at this time of year when the hedges have grown. Fortunately for Russell, he’s not bothered about the paintwork on his Land Rover.
As I squeezed into the hedge, I thought I saw something. Not at ground level, which was where I had been looking, but about two feet in the air. Something ... swayed. Curious, I crouched down to look.
‘Jenny, be careful.’
It was Bundle. Swinging gently. Someone had tied a piece of rag around her neck and hanged her. She was dead.
I couldn’t believe it. This was no accident. Someone had deliberately done this. Why would anyone do such a thing?
I had my answer immediately. I was vaguely aware of the car approaching and then equally vaguely aware it had stopped. I think I thought someone had stopped to help. I was about to turn around when someone grabbed my arms. I tried to struggle, saying, ‘What ...?’ and then someone dropped something over my head and everything became very dark and very hot.
Chapter Sixteen
I don’t know why I can’t have relatives like everyone else. Kind, loving relatives who nag at you for your own good, or criticise your clothes and hair, or throw you surprise birthday parties, or open a bottle of wine when your boyfriend ditches you and tell you he was never good enough. You know, normal relatives. Great aunts who get drunk on sherry at family events. Uncles who tell dreadful jokes. Younger brothers who vie for the title ‘Most Irritating Person on the Planet’. Sisters who borrow your clothes and look better in them than you do. The sort of relatives everyone has.
Except me.
I have the sort of relatives who robbed me blind for years, made me live in the attic – well, all right, quite a luxurious attic, but that’s not the point – and told everyone I wasn’t quite right in the head. Most importantly, I had the sort of relatives who would smother you with an evil-smelling blanket and throw you in the back of a car after having hanged your neighbour’s dog just to get your attention. Rather late in the day, it dawned on me that Christopher might be out of control.
I don’t know why he’d bothered with the blanket. I knew who he was. I tried to struggle but he’d thrown me on the floor between the front and back seats and there wasn’t a lot of room. I was well and truly wedged and a heavy weight on my back didn’t help at all.
I panicked. I’d fallen on my arms which were now trapped underneath me. The blanket had wrapped itself tightly around my face and I could barely breathe. My whole world had contracted to this tiny space – this tiny dark space. In which I couldn’t breathe. I tried turning my head and only managed to make things worse. I tried to cry out but as I took a deep breath my nose and mouth filled with fluff and dust and made me sneeze. I panicked some more, shaking my head from side to side, trying to gain some purchase with my feet, desperately trying to loosen the blanket and make myself a little breathing space. The weight on my back increased. He had his feet on my back. I tried to push myself up on my elbows and the weight increased further. The oily fumes from the blanket were making me feel sick and if I vomited now I really would choke.
I struggled again and again only succeeded in making things worse.
‘Lie still. Try to breathe slowly. Find which one of your arms moves most easily and try to pull the blanket away from your face.’
‘Thomas? Thomas, I...’
‘Yes, I know, Jenny, but first things first. Do as I say, now.’
I found that if I flexed my fingers then I could pull on a fold of blanket which in turn eased the tightness across my face. Not by much, but enough. I could breathe a little more easily.
‘That’s very good. Well done. Now concentrate on my voice. Try to remain as calm as you can.’
‘I’m being kidnapped!’
‘Yes, but it could be worse.’
‘How? How could it possibly be worse?’
‘You could be dead. Like Bundle.’
‘He’d have hanged me?’
‘No, of course not. That would be ridiculous. He would have needed a full-sized tree for that.’
‘Thank you, Thomas.’
‘I mean, it would have been a lot easier to have shot you, or run you over, or stabbed you, or...’
‘Yes, thank you, Thomas.’
The journey seemed endless. If it hadn’t been for Thomas, talking to me, soothing me, keeping me calm, I might not have made it. I very nearly didn’t. I was as calm as I could keep myself, but I couldn’t do anything about the smell of oil and petrol which was making me feel very ill indeed. The car braked sharply, turned hard, and began to crunch across an uneven surface. Only for a few minutes, but those minutes seemed endless, and they weren’t good news, either. A bad surface meant we were away from civilisation. And travelling along a bad surface for some minutes meant we were a long way away from civilisation. Where no one could hear me scream.
‘That’s space,’ said Thomas, not very comfortingly. ‘Don’t you remember? “In space, no one can hear you scream.”’
Before I could frame any sort of response to that, the car stopped. I wasn’t sure whether this was a good or a bad thing.
I heard a door open and then someone grabbed my ankles and I was pulled out. It was surprisingly painful. I did my best to free my arms, but he was too strong for me. I was practically lifted off the ground and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. It’s difficult to struggle when you can’t get a purchase. A door opened. I heard the sound of feet on bare boards. We stumbled up some stairs. He was grunting with the effort by now, and there must have been a bend or something, because he staggered, and for a moment I thought we were going to fall backwards. He recovered however. Another door opened and I was flung forwards.
I hit a hard floor. Hard. If I hadn’t had my arms in front of me anyway, it wouldn’t have done my face any good at all.
Without waiting to find out whether I was alone or not, I rolled over, and scrabbled at the blanket, pulling it away to suck in some welcome fresh air. Not that the stale air in this little room was very fresh.
I twisted around just in time to see the door close. A key turned in the lock and footsteps clattered off down the stairs. I lay on my back, staring up at a sagging, stained ceiling, and waited for my heartbeat to slow. Gradually, my breathing steadied. The sweat dried on my face and the feeling of nausea receded. Everything was very, very quiet. I was alone.
No, I wasn’t. Of course I wasn’t.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Thomas. ‘Everything all right?’
I opened my eyes. ‘Well, as you pointed out – I’m not dead.’
‘You could sound more grateful.’
I sat up slowly. I was bruised but mostly undamaged. ‘I’m too busy trying to work out what’s going on.’
‘Me too. Let’s recap.’
‘Let’s escape.’
‘We can do both.’
I heaved myself up and began to prowl around the tiny room. The only piece of furniture was a very fragile-looking kitchen chair. If it was for me to sit on, then I was probably safer on the floor. I peered out of the grimy window. All I could see was a stand of trees in the near distance and a number of crows flapping about.
‘What does he want?’
‘I don’t know. Can we just concentrate on...?’
‘Yes, you do know what he wants. If you just stop and think for a moment.’
I stopped and thought for a moment. What could I possibly have that Christopher would want? And then I had it. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before.
‘The bookshop. He wants his bookshop back. We’ll be signing the contract to sell it any day now and once that’s done i
t’s too late. That’s why he’s here. That’s why I’m here. He wants his bookshop back so he’s the one who gets the cash when they develop the new pedestrianised area.’
‘Very good, Jenny. You see, it only took a few minutes.’
‘But why? Surely, all I have to do is say I signed under duress and the contract is null and void.’
Silence.
I said to Thomas, ‘Go on, say it.’
‘Jenny...’
‘Say it.’
‘You won’t be able to say you signed under duress.’
‘Because?’
‘You...’ He didn’t seem able to go on so I finished it for him.
‘I won’t be able to say I signed under duress. I won’t be able to say anything at all. He’s going to kill me.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said, hastily
‘I do.’
‘I mean, I don’t think Christopher himself would have the...’ he tailed off again.
‘Of course. How could I be so stupid? There’s someone else here isn’t there. There must be. Someone had to drive the car. He’ll get them to do it.’
We were both silent, because we both knew that person was Uncle Richard.
I was about to have yet another silent rant about not having normal relatives, and then it occurred to me that I did. I had wonderful relatives. Kind, supportive, loving relatives. I had Russell – all right, he’s impatient, noisy and erratic, but infinitely kind. And gentle Mrs Crisp, with her tea towel. And Andrew, quiet and confident. And Tanya, ferocious in her loyalty. And Kevin and Sharon. And Marilyn and Boxer and Thomas, the real horse. Even the cat. They were my family now – a little eccentric perhaps, but definitely a big improvement on the last lot. Sadly, none of them was here at this moment. I would have given a lot to see them galloping to my rescue but that wasn’t going to happen. If I wanted to get out of here, then I was going to have to rescue myself.
Thomas was saying nothing, watching me work all this out for myself.
‘But it’s so stupid, Thomas. Even for Christopher it’s a stupid idea. Does he think no one will be suspicious? I disappear and then he suddenly turns up claiming I signed the property back to him. It’s ridiculous. And that’s without Russell punching his lights out as soon as he claps eyes on him. And how will it look when I turn up shot to death. Or poisoned. Or stabbed. Or whatever.’ I was gabbling because my legs had suddenly gone very weak and I was again feeling very sick.