Leaving George

by Diane M Dickson

  “Oh dear.” He straightened and then bent from the waist and in a moment of exquisite agony she was dragged to her feet and pulled to the sofa where he threw her into a slouch and then knelt before her.

  “You will tell me. I can’t understand why you don’t see that. You have taken what was mine and I want it back. It’s simple and now you have made me very angry.” He snorted, great shoulders shrugging with the expiration of air.

  An incongruous blackbird threw a song to the new morning. As the answering bird call tinkled in the garden he walked through to the hallway and came back with her coat and bag.

  “Right, I have to go now.” A blessed relief swept her body. “But, I can’t leave you here can I? You do see that? I can’t have you talking to people and I need you to tell me where my property is. This is not over; I don’t want you to think this is over. I am not going to just walk away; I can’t. You think this is bad, Pauline? Well let me tell you that if my clients get their hands on you you’ll wish for me to come back.

  “Now, I have told them I have this all under control, and I do. I do because one way or the other you are going to tell me what I need to know. So, what am I going to do with you now while I go and take care of business?

  “Well I have a treat for you. You like to go and walk on the beach don’t you, Pauline? Yes you do, I’ve seen you. Well we’re going on the beach now. You and me are going down to the seaside before anyone else is up and about and we’re going to find a nice quiet place for you to spend the day. You’d like that wouldn’t you, a nice day on the beach? Well, I say on the beach! Ha.”

  Her panicked eyes flicked from side to side as he collected her coat and phone and bag and then dragged her upright. He bent and snipped open the cable ties on her toes and the pain as circulation flooded the numbed digits with blood took the strength from her knees. He held her upright with an arm around her waist and forced her forward and out of the room. Through the back door they shuffled in an obscene waltz and then he dragged her across the little lawn and out onto the meadow. Staggering painfully across the wet grass she prayed for oblivion as the gulls wheeled and screamed and the sunrise painted golden sequins across the water.

  Chapter 20

  Cool sand under her feet; a precious bead of relief in the pool of pain.

  He had dragged her beside him, scuttling and tripping over rough grass, down the grit of the dunes and now he marched in the damp hardness of the tide washed beach. Her hands were still fastened behind her and she leaned forward for balance, stumbling when he forced her onward too quickly.

  Breath burned in her throat and a stitch caught at her side. Her jaw was a persistent ache and as she tried to swallow, her damaged tongue caught on the hard gag. Everywhere was pain and it melded until all there was in the whole world was agony and evil. No nightmare had ever been so vile; no imagined scenario under the hammer of George’s control had come close to this and she couldn’t see how she would ever bear it.

  Now they reached the rocks. Surely he wouldn’t make her climb, not with her hands tied and her feet bare, but he did. He pushed her on before him and steadied her with two hands, one on each arm. Sometimes he missed his footing and dragged on her screaming limbs and she groaned into the early daylight as tears tracked across her wounded face.

  When they had climbed six feet or maybe a little more above the beach he dragged her to a halt and leaned to hiss into her ear. “I’m taking the tie off. Don’t even think of trying to run.” White heat seared her hands and as her arms dropped to her sides the fire in her shoulders caused her eyes to flood with fresh tears and stole her breath away. He forced her to her knees on the wet rocks.

  He stepped now to the front and dragged a piece of rope from his jacket. Ignoring her gasps and groans he pulled her wounded arms forward and tied them loosely by the wrists. Fisting his hands in her hair he dragged her back to her feet and drove her on and up. The cliff was steeper now. This was higher than she had been before, though she had clambered to the sheep field from the lower levels closer inland. As they climbed they headed southwards out onto the rocky promontory. Would he drown her then? Would she be dashed to a pulp on the Cornish coast and become another statistic in the annals of foolish walkers and irresponsible tourists? So be it; she would have peace at least. Her feet were soled with blood and grit where sharp stones had stabbed and torn. Stumbling and slithering they made their way until at the start of the descent he turned and pushed her to his left.

  There was a fissure in the rock. How had he found this place? Of course the stranger in the garden, at the fete and on the beach had been him, watching and exploring and planning and it had come to this. The floor sloped downwards inside the cliff where a small cave had been formed by centuries of rushing tides. So then, this was where she would die. He pushed her onto a narrow ledge and she curled forward and hid her face in bleeding hands and sobbed.

  “I didn’t want to do this Pauline. You have brought this on yourself. You do see that don’t you?” He dragged on a handful of hair forcing her to face him “I said, you do see don’t you that this is all your fault?”

  She couldn’t speak but just stared up at him in the mild light and was subsumed by hopelessness.

  “All you have to do is to tell me where you’ve put the stuff. That’s all.” In truth he seemed anguished and she realised then that fear had some part in what was driving his viciousness. If she could have given him anything at that moment, anything in the world to stop this, then she would. She could not though, for she had nothing he wanted.

  He leaned and untied the belt from around her face. The pain in her jaw was expected now, coming as it did after so much and so she gingerly closed her mouth and felt the roil of nausea and rode it and breathed through it.

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  She shook her head. It was hard to form the words but a whisper came and found its way through her swollen lips. “I can’t. I haven’t got them. Haven’t got anything. Never had anything.”

  He spun away from her with a curse and kicked at the ground. “Right, right. You’ll stay here now and, if the sea doesn’t get you perhaps you’ll see sense.” She gave a small shake of her head, she was done.

  He made her stand again and pushed her further into the darkness along the ledge, pressed against the rock wall. He grabbed her hands and tied them behind her and then ran the rope down and round her feet. He dragged the belt from his pocket but after peering at the wounds in the corners of her mouth he growled at her. “There will be no use shouting; nobody will hear you. Nobody comes here. I’ve watched and I’ve been down here and the waves are too loud so don’t even bother calling out.”

  He turned and with no further backward glance scrambled into the light and left her alone with the roar of the ocean and the drip of salt water and the enormity of fear.

  Chapter 21

  When she was sure he was gone Pauline screamed out. The effort tore at her throat and the sound was that of a desperate animal but she continued to yell until pain and exhaustion reduced the cries to a whimpering plea. “Oh please, please, someone. Please.”

  He had told her there was no point. He said the cave was too far from the quiet beach and the roar of waves would be too loud but she had needed to try.

  There were no more tears left for her to cry now and her nerves were numbed. How was it possible that she was tied with rope in a dark, damp cave? She was Pauline Green. An ordinary person; she was just Pauline. The hard wetness of her perch and the constant drip of moisture argued for truth and in the end all she was able to do was mourn and wonder how it had come to this.

  She shuffled and tried to ease the pain in her arms and shoulders, in her back and her neck. After a time she managed to swing her legs round and lay like a trussed chicken on the wet ledge. Shivers came in painful waves and with each one she whimpered through chattering teeth. There were no beach cries, no laughing children or barking dogs. The only sound was the sea, relentless, endless and timeless. I
t was hell, but then her body and her brain took her away from it. The oblivion that lulled her wasn’t sleep but it was better than reality.

  A variation in the noise brought her back to wakefulness, a rattle that wasn’t there before. There was a rolling clatter that swelled with each wave.

  The tide was coming in.

  She wanted to sit up and look down into the depths of the cavern but it was beyond her. Lying on the hard stone her limbs and muscles had stiffened and she simply didn’t have the strength in mind or body to fight the pain. She lay quietly, barely breathing.

  How high would the water rise?

  During the last hours death had seemed a tempting thought, but now it was inconceivable that she should simply lie and wait for it. No matter how bitter, life is sweet and the least she must do was to try to survive. She gritted her teeth and with a bark of pain managed to swing her legs around. After almost toppling from the ledge she desperately shuffled her behind backwards and dragged her feet up. Now that her knees were bent the pull on her arms was eased. Spots of sunshine shone through holes in the rocks above her and lit the wall in tiny smears of gold and she was able to peer down into the void.

  Swirls of light and dark rushed to and fro across the bottom of the cave. Small boulders and pebbles rolled and played in the waves and filled the air with another layer of sound. The echo of the sea amongst the cliffs was louder now and she realised that when it was no longer possible to hear the pebbles it would be because they were submerged beneath the water. There was no weed inside where she was and she didn’t know whether that was because of the lack of light or because the tide would fill the space, scouring it clean and snuffing out what was left of her. Terror rippled through her, she didn’t want to drown here in the dark. Tears tracked down her face and a great sob sounded out into the void.

  Near to her head was a tiny hollow in the dark wall and she shuffled closer. Leaning against the surface of the rock she slid her face towards the indentation and stuck out her tongue. She tasted sweet water. The relief was overwhelming. It was rainwater seepage from the rocks above. So, did this mean that she would not drown? If the water were not salt then surely it was because the tide didn’t reach this far. It must do, surely. With agonising slowness she leaned lower until her lips touched the cold puddle and she sucked the gritty nectar into her damaged mouth and though it was only enough to wet her lips and tongue it was bliss. She shuffled further along the ledge, yes, another dip, another small drink and then another. In her excitement she almost toppled into the depths and she stopped and took some deep breaths to calm herself. In the depths of despair and fear she was amazed to feel the stretch of a smile on her face. A small victory, a tiny triumph and as she licked the walls of her prison she found a new resolve to endure.

  No-one would search for her. He had taken her coat and bag and hidden them in the dunes and so when Dolly came for their morning coffee she would assume that she had gone for a walk. He had made no obvious mess in the house it didn’t seem and so there was nothing to raise the alarm. He would return though; when he had done whatever had taken him away today he would come back and berate her again and bully and try to make her confess. She must find a way to convince him that she had no diamonds and no computer memory stick. But then like a dark worm the thought uncoiled: what would he do when he realised that she was, in truth, of no use to him at all?

  Chapter 22

  To drive back the terror Pauline had to hold onto a belief in her future. If she accepted that death was inevitable then surely the best and quickest thing to do was to throw herself from the ledge to drown in the swirling water. But no; this wasn’t an option. She knew that she would relive this horrible event for the rest of her life always, supposing there was to be more life for her. If, when she thought of it, she saw herself as a snivelling coward, then it would torment her and so she resolved to endure and tried to think; to plan.

  The rainwater soothed her mouth and throat. The dripping soothed her nerves because while there was dripping she would be able to drink. Each little pool and hollow filled quickly and she blessed the inclement weather of the last few days.

  Her wrists were raw, the skin torn and enflamed with rope burns. She had pulled and twisted at the ties but it only brought more pain. She had coiled and stretched her aching limbs every way that she could in an attempt to loosen the rope around her ankles, but in her confined position on the ledge and with the insults already paid to her body she had to acknowledge finally that she couldn’t escape the bonds.

  In books and films there would be sharpness in the rocks. She would saw the ropes until the strands gave way and she would be free. But this place that she was in had been smoothed by eons of tides. The rocks were rounded. She had shuffled back and forth along the ridge but had found nothing rough enough. It was difficult to find a position where the rope was taught and she could still move. Nevertheless, endless minutes had been spent simply rubbing the rope along the edges of the rock, surely it would wear through. Rock, rope, hope; a desperate triumvirate. Yet rope held.

  The gold smudges of sunlight moved across the walls. Pauline watched with exhausted eyes as the day rolled around. No-one found her and though there would be families and couples on the beach they were a lifetime away.

  When he came, he came quietly and suddenly. An alteration in the atmosphere told her that she was no longer alone. For a breathless moment she hoped for salvation but in the event it was the return of horror.

  He had brought a torch this time and she was blind as the beam flashed onto her face.

  “Still here then?” He gave a short grunt of a laugh as he clambered up beside her.

  There was no answer for her to make and so she gave none. She had glanced at him once but now turned her face away.

  “Well, Pauline.” He sat in the damp with his legs swinging out into nothingness. Tiny scraps of rock and shutters of sand cascaded into the water of a slack tide. She stored the information away: he had come now and so even when the tide was high there was a way onto the promontory. He leaned towards her and murmured as to a friend in the cinema. A private tête à tête in the darkness.

  “I popped back to the house. I haven’t found my bag yet. You hid it well; I’ll give you that. Then I got to thinking. Ah yes, I thought, I know what she’s done, my friend Pauline. She’s stashed it away from here.”

  She shook her head once.

  “Anyway, no matter. I’ve been to see my clients again. Now to say that they are not happy doesn’t even begin to cover it. They are very, very cross. Uh-huh.” His head bounced up and down, a comedy routine, bizarre and terrifying. “Trouble is you see, they are cross with you. Well I’m cross with you as well, aren’t I? The bigger problem though Pauline is that they are not happy with me and that is not what we want. When these people are disturbed it can end badly and one thing I can tell you is that I’m not going to let that happen to me.

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  Her hopeless monologue murmured through the darkening cave. “I haven’t got anything. I truly haven’t. Don’t you think that if I did I would tell you by now? I don’t know what you are talking about. I found you by the side of the road, I tried to help you. I didn’t take anything. I lied about who I was because I didn’t want my husband to find me.”

  “Well now that really does give us a problem doesn’t it? Somebody has my stuff. Now who was there? Oh yes, there was you and… ah you see: there was just you.” He twisted towards her and grabbed her face and she yelped in surprise and pain. “I will give you one last chance. You tell me where the stuff is hidden or you will never get out of this cave. Do you understand?” She nodded mutely, tears streamed down her face.

  “Oh yes and in case you were hoping for your landlady to come and look for you I have sent a nice little text telling her how you have just met a friend and won’t be back tonight. So you don’t need to have any concerns about them worrying. Thoughtful sort of chap aren’t I?”

  S
he didn’t see his hand rise but as he swiped backhanded across her face the world turned red and she thought that now it was over. Yet in truth it was simply another beginning.

  Chapter 23

  He wasn’t beating her because he thought it would elicit information. He must know by now that it wouldn’t work. As he slapped at her face she knew he was beating her because, like George, it was his way to deal with frustration and fear.

  Then the words popped out of her mouth almost before she thought them. “I buried it.” Time held for a long moment. His head tipped to one side, his hand stilled in mid-air.

  “What? What did you say?”

  “I buried it. Your bag, I took it and buried it. I didn’t know how to get rid of the stuff so I buried it until I had worked it out.”

  He turned away from her, confusion creased his brow. “Why, would you do this? Why would you let me bring you here? What, are you stupid or what? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You better be telling me the truth. Are you lying to me?”

  She simply shook her head and casting her eyes downwards, she sighed.

  “Where did you bury them?”

  “Under a rock on the cliff walk.”

  “Where? Which rock?”

  “I… I don’t know how to describe it. It’s about half an hour in… there are some fallen rocks. It’s overlooking a bay. I picked a rock that I thought I’d remember and I dug a hole under it.”

  Her mind was racing now. She tamped down the thrill of hope that flickered in her gut. She must keep calm.

  “You’ll have to take me. You’d better not be lying.” He paced to the cavern entrance. It was too much to hope that he would take her onto the beach while people still played but it was early evening now. Maybe soon he would risk it. Take her while there was still light in the day. She had to bend this tiny straw of possibility her way.