by Mel Sherratt
‘I just worry about her.’ Laura looked up at Nicola. ‘She’s not like Sarah, all meek and mild. She’s got an attitude that will get her into trouble.’ Laura tried to reach Jess again, but once more it went to voicemail. She replied to the message her sister had sent asking if Sunday lunch was still on. Of course it was, she replied. She loved spending time with Eden and her niece, Casey. Then she put her phone on her desk. She’d try Jess again later.
‘Well, that’s me done for the night,’ said Nicola, glancing at the clock to see it said 7.55 p.m. ‘I can definitely hear a glass of red calling my name.’
‘Yes, off you go and leave me here to while away the hours alone,’ Laura complained.
‘You’ll be fine. There’ll be a call in soon, you mark my words.’
‘You’d expect with the stormy weather that they’d all be indoors. It is rather quiet tonight.’
Nicola clasped her hand across her mouth. ‘You said the quiet word! You know all hell will let loose the minute I leave, don’t you?’
‘I don’t care. I’d rather be busy than bored.’
But once she was on her own, Laura soon regretted her words. Worrying about Jess always made her miss Neil. Sixteen years of marriage had been over in a shot after a drunk driver had mown him down on a Christmas night out in 2007. Neil had never known anything about it as he had been thrown up into the air, his head connecting with the kerb on his descent. After being kept in a medically induced coma for a week, further tests had shown no signs of life, and she’d had to make the heartbreaking decision to switch off his life support.
At thirty-three years old, her life support had gone too. Their marriage had been solid, and she still missed him now. She and Neil had worked hard since they’d met, starting out in a small two-bedroom terraced house, then moving to a large semi-detached where the girls had their own rooms, and eventually to the property on The Cavendales. They had moved there as soon as the houses were built. Putting a deposit down for a four-bedroom home had been a thrill for both of them – living in it even more so. Luckily, insurance had paid the mortgage when Neil was killed, but the bills had still come in thick and fast. It had been impossible to keep the house going, and she’d made another agonising choice to downsize.
Even though she had been determined to give her daughters what she and Neil had wanted for them – a beautiful home with a large garden to play in, rooms of their own, in a safe neighbourhood, and something they could all be proud of – it just hadn’t been possible on one wage. The girls had been amazing about moving. Their current home was across the high street, only a stone’s throw away from The Cavendales and part of a small cluster of semi-detached houses. It had been only a few minutes extra for them both to walk to school, and around the corner from Eden and Casey. And they’d all settled in there really quickly. It had been a blessing in disguise in more ways than one.
The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She quickly switched to work mode.
‘Good evening, CrisisChat.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Home for Eden and Casey was a detached house on a quiet street in the east of the city. It was an area of Stockleigh that people aspired to move to, in a friendly neighbourhood, with a retail park nearby and within easy reach of the city centre and train station. Eden and Danny had bought the property back in 1995 when they had married, but there were several years left on the mortgage before she could call it her own.
It was all Eden had ever wanted: a sweeping corner plot at the head of a cul-de-sac with a large driveway leading to a double garage, a kitchen overlooking the garden and room for Casey to bring home friends. It backed on to primary school playing fields and was pleasantly quiet at most times.
Since they had moved in, the house had been completely modernised throughout, and they’d added a large conservatory onto the kitchen, which had made the whole downstairs feel much lighter and airier. The decor was contemporary, sleek chromes and beech, pale walls and lighting. Yet often it didn’t feel like home since Danny had gone.
Still, since Laura had moved from The Cavendales, there were no more than a few minutes between them. Eden and her sister had always been close, and although losing both of their parents to cancer in 2010 had been a blow, it had brought them even closer together.
When Neil was killed, Eden had been there for Laura as much as she could. When Danny had walked out, Laura had understood her loss and the feeling of emptiness that she still felt. Often they didn’t see eye to eye, especially where Casey and Jess were concerned, but Eden knew that her sister always had her back and vice versa.
After a quick shower, Eden sat on the settee with a glass of wine. The television was on, but she wasn’t watching it. Joe was on his way over and Casey was going out, so she was looking forward to some time to chill. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about Stacey Goodwin. Who on earth would pour a tin of paint over someone’s head? And why? The girl was only sixteen and surely hadn’t made that many enemies yet. And from what she saw, Stacey wasn’t too much of a troublemaker – yet someone was out to get her. She made a mental note to visit her again in the morning and see if she had remembered anything else.
Minutes later, Casey popped her head around the door. Eden almost gasped as she spotted her daughter looking like she was in her mid-twenties already. She was made up a little too much for her liking, but she had to admit she’d done the same when she was Casey’s age, to give off the look of a mature woman rather than a gangly teenager. Casey’s long blonde hair was straightened to a sheen that made it look like it had been dipped in oil. She wore skinny jeans and a white shirt, square-heel ankle boots and was throwing a coat over her shoulders as she spoke.
‘Mum, can I have a fiver to spend tonight please?’
‘You’re a bit dressed up for a youth club,’ Eden replied. ‘Maybe you might want to tone down the black eyeliner around your eyes a little too.’
Casey did a dramatic eye roll. ‘This is fashion,’ she sighed.
‘I gave you five pounds last night. What have you done with that?’
‘We went out.’
‘We being you and. . .’
Casey shrugged. ‘Just friends.’
‘And are you going out with just friends this evening?’ Eden raised her eyebrows. She knew that Casey was seeing someone new, a boy from school, but she hadn’t told her much about him yet. Said they’d had a few dates but it was nothing special. Although she tried not to interfere too much, it worried Eden because of the people she mixed with on a daily basis. It would be hard enough for Casey to be a copper’s daughter anyway.
‘Yes,’ Casey replied.
It was Eden’s turn to sigh. She wasn’t made of money, but that wasn’t Casey’s fault. ‘What time does it close? It’s eight o’clock now.’ She beckoned her into the room as she reached inside her bag for her purse.
‘Well, it’s nearly finished. But I’d like to grab a coffee with the gang.’
‘Where?’
‘At Caffè Nero, on the high street.’
Casey wouldn’t look her in the eye. Eden opened her purse and checked her notes. Luckily she had a five pound note or else she wouldn’t see the change from a ten. She handed it to Casey.
‘Thanks.’ Casey stood in front of her, reluctant to go.
‘What is it?’ Eden knew full well it wouldn’t be a mother–daughter loving chat, full of advice.
‘Can I stay out late tonight? Everyone is meeting at the café and it is Friday night.’
‘That’s not an excuse to stay out past ten o’clock, though, is it? It’s miserable outside.’ Eden paused. ‘But you can stay out until ten thirty.’
‘That only gives me two and a half hours!’ Casey protested.
‘Well, you should have gone out earlier.’ Eden looked at her meaningfully. ‘In my day, youth clubs started at six and were over by eight. So I’m not sure who you’re going to Caffè Nero with and why you’re so secretive, but I still want you home by ten thirty.’
Eden thought Casey was about to stamp her feet, but she wouldn’t give in. ‘It is what it is.’ She leaned back into the settee again.
‘Only because you want to make it awkward for me. I’m surprised you care enough to want me home early anyway, when Joe is coming over. I’d think you’d rather spend your precious time with him.’
‘You’re wasting your precious time arguing with me.’ Eden looked up at her pointedly. ‘I’m not going to change my mind. And if you’re not home on time, I’ll come and fetch you.’
‘You’ve had a drink!’
‘I can walk that far.’
Casey stood glaring at her. Moments later, there was a knock on the door.
‘Hiya.’ Joe pushed it open and smiled. ‘I let myself in,’ he said without need of an explanation.
‘Hey.’ Eden smiled back. With short, dark hair, blue eyes and a boyish look about him, Joe Atkinson was a sight for sore eyes at the end of a long day. Always neat and tidy, he had a style of dress that most men in their mid-forties wouldn’t be able to carry off. He wore a pale blue shirt, and she knew he had a cracking pair of legs underneath his straight-cut jeans, the result of several spinning classes a week. Eden loved to run a hand up his leg, feeling the contours of his muscles, and up. . .
Casey groaned. ‘You’ve given him a key!’
‘You know very well that he’s had one for a while.’ Eden glared back at her. ‘And don’t question what I do.’
‘It’s okay for you to do what you want, whereas I have to do as I’m told? That hardly seems fair to me.’
‘It’s called being a parent and a child. Guess which one you are!’
‘I’m sixteen. I’m not a child!’
‘Well, stop acting like one then.’
Joe sat down. ‘I’ll just sit here until the two of you are done,’ he said, picking up the TV remote.
‘Oh we’re finished.’ Eden waited for Casey to drop her eyes.
Finally, she did and, after another groan, she stormed out of the front room with a bang of the door.
‘And you want to move in with us?’ Eden’s laugh was sarcastic but to the point.
Last week, after six months of being together, Joe had asked if they could make things more permanent. He wanted to rent out his house and move in with her and Casey.
But Eden wasn’t ready for that. More to the point, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. As well as her feelings for Danny, Joe had a sixteen-year-old daughter too – Emma – and there were often fireworks when the two girls got together. It wasn’t a case of them getting on, as their parents had hoped, more that each wanted to outdo the other, leading to temper tantrums and tears. It was all so childish, but then again they were juveniles, trying to be adults.
Eden and Joe had met at a parents’ evening, their daughters sharing some of the classes at Stockleigh High School. He had sat next to her while he waited to see Mrs Forbes, the maths teacher, and had started to guess what all the teachers were like when they went home. He’d had her in stitches within minutes after suggesting that Mrs Forbes, who was near to retirement, would be hosting Ann Summers’ parties for the rest of the teachers.
After she had seen Mrs Forbes, trying desperately not to imagine her doing what Joe had suggested, they had swapped phone numbers. Although a bit shy about going on a date with someone other than Danny, she had enjoyed herself immensely. After several dates, she’d stopped comparing Joe to her ex. They were nothing alike at all.
Maybe that’s what had attracted her to him in the first place. And maybe, now that the initial passion had worn off, that was what was holding her back from settling down again. She missed the excitement of being with Danny, despite the ups and downs.
Joe came and sat next to her, slung his arm around her shoulder and kissed her hair.
‘Hi, again.’ He smiled.
Eden snuggled into his chest, felt herself relaxing.
Despite her home being a battlefield at times, Joe was her light in an almost dark day. Not like Danny, who, even though he still had her heart, had done the unthinkable to her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
For the past three hours, Jess had listened to every noise that the house made, as well as concentrating on any sounds from him. She couldn’t stop shaking, her nose was hurting where he had punched her and her throat felt sore, dehydration setting in.
What did he want with her? Why had he brought her here? What was he going to do to her?
She tried to shut out the thought that he was going to assault her. Why else would he lock her in a room and leave her there? He was going to keep her as his playmate, use her and abuse her. Maybe he would kill her when he’d had enough. She recalled a film she’d seen with Halle Berry in it, called Operator or something. Maybe he would pick up another young girl when he thought she had fulfilled her use. And then she wouldn’t be worth bothering about, so he would dispose of her. How long would that take?
All of a sudden everything she had watched that freaked her out came flooding into her mind. Scream – don’t answer the phone. The Ring – don’t watch the tape. The Hole – don’t look into it. All the old films she loved to watch. Nightmare on Elm Street, Poltergeist, Psycho, The Shining. She enjoyed anything that would make her jump, the scarier the better.
When her mum was at work she watched Luther – he’s under the bed, he’s in the loft, he’s behind you in the car – and The Fall. Yet she would always have nightmares after seeing something creepy.
Now it seemed her nightmare had come true – and real life was far scarier.
She heard a door open downstairs. She held her breath as she listened more. Was he coming upstairs to her? She listened carefully. She heard the sound of a kettle boiling, a few tiny bangs as he moved around the kitchen below her. What was he doing? She could smell toast.
She wondered if anyone had missed her yet. Surely Cayden had alerted everyone that she hadn’t turned up? The police would already be on to him. Eden would find her.
Footsteps. On the stairs.
She took short breaths. In frustration, she pulled at the tape wound tightly around her wrists again, desperate for them to move enough to be freed so that she could jump at the bastard who held her captive when he came in the room. Take him by surprise, scratch at his face – that always hurt. She remembered how sore her cheek had been when Bethany Swift did it to her. And it scarred for a while too – noticeably.
She froze when she heard a bolt on the door being slid across, a key turning. Why was there a lock? The door opened slowly until it was wide and she could see him. She scrambled to the back of the bed, as close to the wall as she could get, trying not to show him how scared she was. Her eyes would give her away, so she wouldn’t look at him. But she needed to.
He stepped inside the room. ‘I’ve brought you something to eat.’ He held out a small tray.
Jess could see a mug with steam coming from it and two slices of buttered toast on a plate by its side. How the hell was she going to eat or drink anything with a scarf around her mouth? Her heart began to beat wildly at the thought that he would have to remove it.
‘Yes, I know,’ he said, as if he was reading her mind. ‘I’ll take it off, but no one will hear you scream from here. And if you do scream, I’ll put it back again. Understood?’
Jess nodded fervently.
‘I won’t untie your hands though.’ He put the tray down on the carpet and stepped towards her.
Every atom in her body screamed at her to move back from him, but she let him undo the scarf, gasped for air for a while and then clamped her mouth shut.
‘Eat and drink,’ he told her. ‘I won’t be coming back in here until the morning.’
She tried to speak, but her voice was too hoarse.
‘I need the toilet,’ she finally managed.
He pointed to the bucket. ‘You’ll figure it out.’
‘No, wait!’ she cried as he turned towards t
he door.
But he didn’t look back. Once the door was shut, the lock turned again and the bolt slid across. She held her breath as she waited for him to go down the stairs and then she let it out. Tears poured down her face and her breathing began to escalate again. Why was there a lock on the door? Oh God. She had to get out of that room.
Yet, for some reason, even though the scarf had been removed from her mouth, Jess’s first instinct hadn’t been to scream as loud and as long as she could. For one, she didn’t want to antagonise the man any more than necessary, and if he was telling the truth then no one would hear her anyway. For another, the storm raging outside would carry her cries with it. It would waste her energy, and she needed to conserve that for when the time came for her to make a move.
Nausea washed over her. She didn’t want to eat anything, but she needed to keep her strength up. This could be a trick. It might be the last time that she ate in a while.
She ripped the toast into smaller pieces so that she could pick one up in her fingers and reach it to her mouth. It seemed tasteless, and she chewed for a long time before it would go down. The tea was disgusting, weak and too milky for her liking, but she sipped at it anyway. Cupping her hands around the mug, she brought the liquid to her mouth, imagining it was vodka and coke rather than a weak excuse for a cuppa. Jess loved vodka. She and Katie used to drink it whenever they could and would always be buying bottles from the off-licence at the end of the road. It was easy to use her sister’s ID. Sarah was nineteen and Jess looked like her on the photo.
It was then that her frustration made her clamp her teeth around the duct tape and pull. The tape was strong, having been wound around several times to make it more secure. She bit it again, wondering if it would weaken any if she wet it with her saliva. She sat back on the bed, back against the wall, and continued to bite.
In a few minutes she had got nowhere, and she sunk her arms down to one side. It was useless. She couldn’t get free – and what would she do if she could?