by Jodi Taylor
We were in trouble from the off. A member of staff approached us. ‘Mr Jones – a jacket, please.’
‘I’ve lost it,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But I am wearing a tie. See.’ He flourished his tie.
I was stricken with guilt. I’d left his jacket behind in the burning hospital. And his torch, now I came to think of it.
‘Sir, the rules state …’
‘I know,’ he said, pulling out a chair for me. ‘I’ll pop into town tomorrow and get another. In fact, I’ll go now, if you like.’
‘That won’t be necessary, sir. But tomorrow …’
‘Tell Sorensen not to get his knickers in a twist – I’ll sort something out,’ he said, seating himself and picking up the menu. ‘Oh good, you’ve got the sea bass tonight. Mrs Cage, I do recommend the sea bass here. It’s excellent.’
It was. In fact, it was a pleasant dinner all round. The food was excellent. And the service. ‘In fact,’ he said to the server who stopped at our table to enquire if everything was all right, ‘if we weren’t being held in a secret government establishment, against our will, and for unknown but almost certainly sinister reasons, we’d be having a lovely time, wouldn’t we?’
The waiter, obviously accustomed to comments like this from him, sighed heavily and moved on to the next table.
I had wondered what on earth we would say to each other that didn’t involve mysteriously vanishing medical staff, WWII bombing raids and nearly burning to death seventy-something years ago, but Jones chatted easily throughout the meal. I smiled and nodded as appropriate and tried not to notice the stares from everyone around us.
At the end of the meal, he stood up and pulled out my chair again. ‘May I offer you coffee in the library, Mrs Cage?’
I smiled and politely declined. ‘I’m very tired today, but thank you for a lovely meal.’
‘My pleasure. May I escort you to your room?’
‘That won’t be necessary, but thank you.’
He did walk with me to the staircase, however. ‘I have enjoyed your company, Mrs Cage. I do hope you will join me again one evening.’
‘Thank you,’ I said gravely, even though I could see he was laughing at me. ‘That would be very pleasant. Good night, Mr Jones.’
Half of me was convinced that this wild talk about breaking us both out of the clinic was just that. Wild talk. I was wrong.
Two days later, he appeared alongside me as I was pouring myself a coffee after lunch. ‘Please allow me, Mrs Cage.’
‘Thank you.’
Under cover of handing me the cup, he said, ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow what?’
He sighed. ‘I wonder why I bother sometimes, I really do. Tomorrow, Cage. Don’t pack. Don’t do anything to alert them. Wear something warm. It’s going to rain. Which is good.’
‘Why is it good?’
‘Tell you later. Do you want this coffee or not?’
Irritatingly, he was right. I awoke the next morning to the sound of rain lashing against the windows. It made me feel cold just to look at it, but it was an excellent excuse to wear jeans, a thick sweater and a jacket over the top. And trainers.
I caught Jones’s eye as I entered the dining room and he nodded slightly in approval. Just to be on the safe side, however, I had stuffed my toothbrush into an inside pocket. I still couldn’t quite believe he could get me out, but just in case …
His plate was piled high, and given my own uncertain plans for the day, I did the same. The staff commented on my improved appetite and I smiled, channelling Michael Jones, and asked if they could bring me some more hot water, please.
He joined me, bringing his newspaper folded back to the crossword page.
‘Good morning, Mrs Cage. What’s a six-letter word for a fruity relative?’
‘Damson,’ I said, without thinking, and had the satisfaction of seeing him startled. Just for once.
‘Ah. Which makes that one ‘deed,’ and that one ‘munificent.’ Thank you very much. Meet me in the library in five minutes.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to finish this first.’ And was gone before I could tell him that wasn’t what I had meant.
I sat and watched the clock, finishing my last piece of toast. Five minutes passed very slowly, and then, without knowing why, I topped up my tea and made him wait another two minutes. Just a small and very inadequate bid for independence, but I felt better for it.
He was leafing through a magazine as I entered. ‘Go down to the end.’
I walked straight past him and he joined me a moment later. I could see the door through which Ted and I had smuggled him back to his room at the Christmas party.
‘Quick. It’s unlocked. We need to hurry. I’m not sure how vigilantly they’ll be watching the CCTV at this hour of the morning, but we can’t take any chances. Along to the end and wait for me there.’
I hastened down the dusty corridor and stopped at yet another locked door. With a keypad and I didn’t know the code.
I turned in a panic, but he was already there, reaching over my shoulder and tapping it in. The door opened silently and we were looking out over the rain-lashed car park. The car nearest us was big and black. I don’t know what he did, but I heard the double chirp of the alarm system being disabled. Lights flashed briefly.
‘Come on,’ he said, propelling me across the car park. ‘Into the back. Lie down.’
‘But – what’s happening?’
‘We’re tunnelling to freedom, Cage. Pull the blanket over you and keep quiet.’
I heard the door slam with that gentle clunk that denotes a very expensive car indeed.
‘Whose car is this?’
‘Oh, I think we both know the answer to that one, don’t we?’
‘What?’
‘Shush.’ The engine purred into life. ‘Quiet now.’
It’s hard to shriek in a whisper. ‘This is Dr Sorensen’s car.’
‘Correct.’
‘Why?’
‘What better car to get us past the gate unchallenged?’
‘But …’
‘That’s why I had to wait for a rainy day.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Because the scanner will read his security clearance and the barrier will rise automatically.’
‘But the guards?’
‘Are not going to be standing about in the rain when they can see it’s only the boss’s car. That’s why I waited for a rainy day.’
‘Oh. That’s quite clever.’
‘Could you sound a little more impressed and a little less surprised?’
* * *
Rather to my surprise, everything went exactly according to plan. We slowed for the barrier, which rose automatically. I heard him give a cheery toot to the guards. I heard the indicator blink on – we turned left and increased speed. And that was it. We were out.
‘Stay where you are,’ he said softly. ‘There’s tinted windows in the back but staff use this road a lot. It’s not for long. We’ll be there in ten minutes.’
He was right. I heard the engine slow, felt a sharp turn to the right, and then the car stopped. I heard an up-and-over garage door open. He drove in and switched off the engine. ‘You can sit up now.’
We were in someone’s garage. An old workbench piled high with what looked to me like junk ran along one wall. Bits of cars lay everywhere. I had long since given up being surprised by anything that was happening today. I folded up the blanket and laid it neatly on the back seat and climbed out.
‘Why are we here?’
‘I’m changing the number plates.’
I didn’t know you could actually do that, although I wasn’t about to say so. It was beginning to dawn on me that I was very much out of my depth.
He disappeared around the back of the car, whistling to himself.
I stared around the garage. ‘Don’t just stand about,’ he called. ‘Grab those two suitcases and put them in the boot.’
Two smart black suitcas
es stood in the corner. I wheeled them to the back of the car and struggled to lift them in.
He laughed at me and lifted them, one handed, into the boot and slammed the lid. ‘Clothes,’ he said. ‘You didn’t think I was going to make you live for ever in what you’re wearing at the moment, did you? Clothes, toiletries, everything we’ll need.’
I didn’t know where to begin with questions. We? Everything we would need? Where had it all come from? Where were we going? No. Enough was enough. I stepped back and folded my arms.
‘No.’
He was fishing for the car keys. ‘What?’
‘No. I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you. I don’t know why you’re doing this. I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m fed up with being shunted around like luggage while various men lie to me. So … no.’
I thought he would be angry, but he laughed. ‘Well thank God, Cage, you’re finally developing some sort of instinct for self-preservation. And not before time. I was seriously concerned about the rapidity with which you jumped into a strange car and allowed me to kidnap you. Yes, I will explain everything, but we need to be on our way. Sooner or later Sorensen’s going to look out of his window and see his car’s missing. And me. And you. And then the shit will really hit the fan so we need to be as far away as possible.’
He set off for the driver’s door.
I stayed still.
He stopped. ‘I understand,’ he said quietly, resting his arm on the car roof. ‘Believe me, I really do. All I ask is you put aside your concerns for half an hour or so. Just give me the time to get us out of here.’
I still didn’t move.
‘Do you really think I’d do anything to hurt Ted’s wife?’
No, he wouldn’t. I could see it. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt Ted’s wife.
He held open the door. I waited a moment, just so he wouldn’t think I was too easy, and then climbed in. I didn’t really have a lot of choice.
We backed out of the garage and he pulled the door down behind us.
‘Off we go,’ he said cheerfully.
Thirty minutes later we’d left Rushford and were heading north.
‘Well, isn’t this nice?’ he said, settling himself more comfortably in his seat and slowly increasing speed. ‘We’ve been a bit busy these last few days – me organising our successful gaolbreak and you saving the universe or whatever it is you do.’
‘I don’t save anything. Or anyone,’ I added, remembering Evelyn Cross dying on the grass.
‘So what do you do, Cage? And before you deny everything, remember I’m asking with all the curiosity of a bloke who suddenly finds himself in the middle of a burning hospital during an air raid seventy-something years ago, and still hasn’t quite recovered. And I should add that attempts to tell me I was drunk, drugged or imagining things will not go down well. I have proof.’ He flexed a bandaged hand at me.
There was a long pause. The car purred along. He didn’t speak.
Eventually I said, ‘I’m sorry, this is quite hard for me. My father warned me to keep quiet and never mention it to anyone. And that was just minor stuff. I’ve never done anything like … like … you know, what we did the other night.’
‘Start with the minor stuff then. What did your dad tell you not to tell anyone?’
I said with great reluctance, ‘I see things.’
‘Oh, go on. Say it. I see dead people.’
I couldn’t help a reluctant smile. ‘And living people. And the sort of people they are. And what they know. Whether they’re lying. Or happy. Or ill. Or hiding something. I see connections. I see a web of light around people and how that reacts to other people or events. I see things and I just … know.’
‘Are you kidding me? No wonder Sorensen wants you in his collection. My God, Cage, we could sit you down in a room full of world leaders and you could tell us who’s lying, who’s bluffing, who’s afraid, who’s deadly serious, how they’re reacting to each other. It would be amazing. And it wouldn’t stop there. Politicians, bankers and other major criminals would be an open book to you.’
He became aware of my silence. ‘Sorry. Sorry, but you have to admit – for someone hearing all this for the first time …’
‘I’ve lived with it all my life,’ I said. ‘Believe me, it’s no fun. Do you really want to know what people think of you? The boss who’s spinning you a tale about there being no better positions available because you’ve been groomed for a crap, dead-end job that you’ll never leave. Or your girlfriend whom you adore and she’s only with you until someone better comes along. Or your best mate who actually can’t stand you and is only …’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, ‘but you must be aware of the value of …’
I shrugged. ‘I’m only aware of the cost, And I don’t want to pay it. I married Ted and tried to forget it.’
We drove for a while in silence. I waited for the inevitable question. ‘So what do you know about me?’
Well, he did ask.
‘You’ve lost her,’ I said. ‘Or rather, she was taken from you. She was ripped away without warning. You feel responsible. It’s ruining your life. Pervading your every moment. It’s becoming an obsession and you lack the will or the strength to break free. You alleviate feelings of guilt and failure with too much alcohol. Recently you have become interested in me. Whether professionally or personally I’m not yet able to tell. Your usual colour is a golden peach, shading towards red, and it should stream behind you like a comet’s tail, but at the moment it’s a poor, sad, frail thing, enveloped in guilt and regret from which I would have to say, if asked, it looks unlikely you will ever recover.’
There was a very long silence after that little lot.
‘Way to kill a conversation,’ he said eventually, negotiating a ring road.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘did I tell you anything you didn’t actually know?’
‘No, but you told me a lot of things I didn’t want to face.’
I waited again.
‘So what’s your colour, Cage?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t see it.’
‘What, not at all? Why not?’
I shrugged.
‘But if you looked in a mirror …’
‘I can’t see anyone’s in a mirror.’
‘So you’re saying …’
‘I’m saying I know everything about everyone I meet and nothing about myself.’
‘Your parents …?’
‘Adopted.’
‘And that thing that happened the other night …?’
‘No idea. I’ve never had that happen before.’
‘But you saw her?’
‘And she saw me. I was lucky. She was benign. Suppose she hadn’t been. Suppose she really did turn up to take a life. How long do you think I would have lasted in that place? I couldn’t get out and I couldn’t keep moving for ever. Sooner or later she’d have got me. I’d have been dragging my death around behind me just like poor Mr Johnson, only I’d have known I was doing it. There’s some nasty stuff out there,’ I said, remembering the beige spiky woman I’d seen all those years ago, ‘and I don’t want it coming after me.’
‘No,’ he said. And then again, ‘No.’
I waited for his next question.
‘What colour is Sorensen?’
‘Pin-striped,’ I said shortly.
He gave a crack of laughter and put his foot down.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Northumberland.’
Three hours later, we were still going to Northumberland. It’s a very long way away. Especially if you’re not travelling on motorways because of all the CCTV cameras. I slept a lot of the way. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Jones I was very tired.
When I awoke, the landscape had completely changed and I was looking at sweeping moors with steep, tree-filled valleys. White waterfalls tumbled everywhere. There were even patches of snow on the very high ground.
&
nbsp; ‘Where are we?’ I said, struggling to sit up and surreptitiously checking my chin for drool.
‘Nearly there,’ he said. ‘Wipes in the dash. We’re going somewhere quite smart so try and tidy yourself up a bit.’
I did what I could, which wasn’t much. I didn’t even have a handbag with me.
We were climbing now. The occasional grey cottage flashed past. A fast stream tumbled over a rocky bed and was gone. We entered a village, grey and neat, with a large, triangular village green.
‘Two pubs,’ said Jones, slowing down to let a tractor past. ‘Promising.’
I wondered again about his drinking.
He nodded ahead. ‘And here we are.’
‘It’s a castle,’ I said in delight. And it was: a genuine, bona fide castle. With towers and battlements and two huge wooden gates, grey with age and studded with nails. They stood open, but Jones swept around the side of the tower, following the sign which said, ‘Car Park’. There were two other cars there. An ancient Land Rover and a smart SUV. He pulled into a space and turned off the engine. There was that sudden strange silence you get after a long journey. When you’re about to leave the safety and security of the car and step out into the unknown. Personally, I liked the car. It was warm and comfortable. I would stay here and Jones could bring me food.
‘Come on,’ he said, climbing out. ‘I haven’t driven for hours to have you refuse to walk the last twenty feet.’
The air was biting. Even though a weak sun was shining, the air had an edge like a knife. I pulled my jacket around me. The view was fantastic. The castle stood, four-square, at the head of the valley. Nothing got past this place unless they wanted it to.
‘Brilliant, eh?’ said Jones, modestly. ‘Where better to defend yourself than a genuine castle? Shame they don’t have a moat and a drawbridge, but they close the gates every night, so you’ll be quite safe. Unless Sorensen turns up with a tank regiment and a squad of attack helicopters, of course, in which case we will be in trouble, but we’ll deal with that when it happens.’
Strangely, I felt quite cheered. Nothing ever seemed to bother Michael Jones and I rather thought some of that was beginning to rub off on me.
He was pulling the suitcases from the car.