by C. L. Taylor
she invite you in for a cup of tea and you climbed over the
fence?’
Another loud sob escapes the young girl’s folded arms.
‘Did she show you her memory box? Did you see the postcards
from my dad?’
There’s a further sob, then an anguished cry that sounds like,
‘I was only trying to help.’
Gareth doesn’t speak. He continues to crouch, his thigh
muscles burning as he waits for her to say more. If he pushes
her too hard she’ll clam up. If he gives her space she might talk.
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She’s the missing piece in the puzzle of his mum’s disappearance.
He can’t believe it took him so long to figure it out.
‘She was so kind to me.’ Georgia’s voice is a whisper; any
louder and it would break. ‘I wanted to do something nice.’
‘You sent her a postcard. You copied my dad’s handwriting.’
‘She missed him. I thought it would make her happy.’
‘And you talked about going on holiday?’
‘She wanted to go to the seaside. I knew she couldn’t, not in
real life, and she’d forget all about it the next time I saw her, but she was so excited. She called me Ruth and I didn’t know who
that was. I thought . . . I thought . . . it was just make-believe.’
‘It’s okay, Georgia,’ Kath says softly. ‘It’s all right, love.’
‘Do you know where she’s gone?’ Gareth asks.
The question hangs in the air. He’s holding himself so still he can’t breathe.
The silence is punctuated by a sob, then seven words that
make his heart sink: ‘I wish I did but I don’t.’
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Chapter 49
Ursula
It’s so strange, staring into the face of a man she first saw printed on a tiny scrap of newspaper, but it’s definitely him, the man standing next to her. Simon Hamilton is the man plastered all
over Edward’s bedroom wall.
‘A shrine?’ Simon says, his grey eyes searching hers.
‘Well.’ Ursula shrugs uncomfortably. ‘That’s one word for it.’
She’s not sure how to describe what she saw when she walked
into Edward’s room but ‘shrine’ is too innocuous. One wall was plastered with photos of Simon – newspaper clippings, computer printouts. There were other things too, handwritten notes saying
‘smug bastard,’ ‘pride comes before a fall’ and ‘he who laughs last laughs longest’, maps, red wool, coloured tacks, photos of BBC Radio Bristol and a couple of printouts of houses and
streets. There were printouts from Facebook too, with faces
circled.
After Paul made his escape, Ursula moved to the window and
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watched as he jumped into his car and pulled away. She needed
to call the police, warn them that Paul Wilson was a domestic
abuser who was hunting for his wife and child, but he’d taken
her mobile with him and there was no landline in the house.
She’d have to find a payphone. She looked back at Edward’s
wall. It was like something from a serial killer film with all the photos and the threats and maps and the wool. Who was this
man that he was so obsessed with? She cast a glance back
towards the hallway, torn between leaving to call the police and staying to find out more. An email, pinned to the wall, caught her eye. Several sentences were picked out in neon yellow high-lighter pen:
Please stop contacting me.
Some people have better things to do with their time.
Don’t be a troll all your life.
The email was signed Simon Hamilton, Presenter, BBC Radio
Bristol, but it was written to someone called Ann Friend. Edward hadn’t told her not to change the channel on the kitchen radio because he was trying to mask the sound of his pets; he was
waiting for Simon Hamilton to start broadcasting again.
It wasn’t until Ursula turned to leave that she spotted another set of photos. Pinned up on the right hand of the door were
printouts of a woman. In one she was sitting at a table in a cafe with Simon. In another she was walking down a road alone.
Then there was one, quite close up, of the same woman in an
outfit that Ursula recognised: it was the bright pink blouse the staff wore at Mirage Fashions with ‘Alice’ picked out in black on a white badge. She was gazing above the line of the camera, at the person who’d secretly taken her photo, her brow creased into a frown. Underneath, Ed had written: Who’s laughing now?
‘Shit,’ Simon says, his hands shaking as Ursula hands him the
photo of Alice. He glances towards the back of the shop where
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the sound of crying and raised voices has dropped to a low
murmur. ‘Does she know?’
Ursula shakes her head. ‘I drove here to warn her but I couldn’t see her anywhere. I heard one of the other women telling a
customer she was out the back so I thought I’d wait.’
‘Why didn’t you just call the police?’
‘I did. I called them from a phone box and told them after . . .
after I spoke to them about something else. They said they’d
send someone round but I couldn’t stay there, not in that house.
What if Ed had turned up?’
Simon exhales noisily through his nose. ‘This has gone on
long enough. We need to go to the police station – you, me and Alice. We need to show them all this . . . all this stuff . . . and tell them everything.’
‘Tell the police what?’ Alice asks as she walks towards them.
Simon shoves the printout into his pocket. ‘Ursula here has
discovered who my stalker is.’
Alice gawps at him, then at Ursula.
‘Who is it?’ she asks.
‘My housemate,’ Ursula says. ‘It’s a long story but basically—’
‘Is it a woman? Is she called Flora?’
Ursula shakes her head. ‘No. His name’s Edward.’
‘Edward who?’
‘Bennett,’ Ursula says, remembering the name she saw on the
tenancy agreement.
Alice looks at her blankly. The name’s not ringing any bells.
‘Who is he?’ she asks Simon.
He shakes his head. ‘I’ve got absolutely no idea.’
‘And you trust her?’ She gestures towards Ursula. ‘You know
she’s a shoplifter? I wouldn’t trust a word she says.’
‘Can we just go?’ Simon looks pained. ‘Please? She’s got evidence.
We need to take it to the police.’ He points at the shutters. They’re all the way down. ‘How do we get those things open again?’
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‘We don’t,’ Alice says. ‘We leave through the back. Come on,
I’ll show you.’
‘Right,’ Alice says as they reach the back door to the shop. ‘I’ll let you two out but I’m going to need another five to ten minutes to tell Lynne she can go, get rid of the three people in the
changing rooms and explain to my area manager that I need to
leave urgently.’ She takes a breath
. Her brain is whirling at a hundred miles an hour. It’s torture, having to wait to find out more about the man who’s been making her life a misery for
the last week, but she can’t just abandon the shop. She needs
to do her job. ‘Wait for me in the car park, by my car.’ She
looks at Simon. ‘White VW Golf?’
He nods.
‘Great.’ She pulls on the handle to the back door, then swears under her breath. ‘Sorry. It’s locked. The keys are in the office.
Wait here for a sec.’
Ursula waits with Simon for all of two or three seconds, then
hurries after Alice. She obviously doesn’t like or trust her and she wants to talk to Alice before they go to the police station, to apologise for stealing from her shop.
‘Alice! Alice!’ she calls softly as she jogs round the corner, sweating under the weight of her winter coat, one hand clutching her ribs. But Alice is way ahead of her. She’s already at the other end of what looks like a staff changing room and approaching
a small office with a closed door and Venetian blinds at the
window.
‘Alice!’ she says again but her shout is lost in Alice’s scream.
It all happens so quickly. One minute Ursula is watching Alice step into the room and the next she’s gone, yanked inside by
an arm that appears from behind the door and hooks itself
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brain can process what she just saw, a man steps into the doorway with Alice in his grip.
Ursula blinks, then blinks again. The man standing about four
metres from her is holding a knife in his right hand. He’s small and slight with little round specs that make his eyes seem bigger than they are.
Ed.
His eyebrows flash upwards in surprise as he meets her gaze,
but then his face is a blank again. The muscles in Ursula’s thighs twitch and her heart pounds in her chest. She needs to get out, to get help, to—
‘Stay where you are.’ Edward casually moves the knife to the
base of Alice’s neck. ‘Or I’ll cut her throat. You can come out now!’ he shouts to someone standing out of sight.
A woman with a dark bob wearing a pink Mirage blouse
stumbles out of the office on shaking legs. Ursula’s seen her
before. It’s Lynne, the woman who chucked her out of the
changing room the other day.
‘Sit!’ Ed orders, gesturing at the ground at his feet.
A sob catches in Lynne’s throat as she does as she’s told.
‘Alice, I’m sorry. He locked me in the office when I went in with a coffee. He wouldn’t let me leave.’
‘Enough.’ Ed’s gaze flicks towards Ursula. ‘You need to sit
down too.’
He smiles as she walks towards him on unsteady legs and
lowers herself onto the cold lino and gathers her knees to her chest. ‘Right then, Alice. I think it’s time your boyfriend joined us. Don’t you?’
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Chapter 50
Alice
When Ed tells Alice to shout Simon’s name she doesn’t say a
word. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because she phys-
ically can’t speak. The crook of his elbow is pulled so tightly around her throat she’s struggling to breathe. Her fingers are gripping his arm but she’s given up trying to yank it away
because it makes him tighten his grip and tip the point of the knife into her cheek. He’s a short man but taller than her and she can hear his breath in her ear and feel his body pressed up against her back.
‘Shout Simon’s name,’ Ed says again.
‘She can’t,’ Ursula says from the floor. She and Lynne are
sitting cross-legged in front of Alice. Lynne’s head is bowed and she’s weeping quietly. But Ursula’s not afraid to look Ed in the eye, even though he’s told them both that if they speak they die.
‘You’re holding her too tightly.’
‘When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it,’ Ed snaps, but he
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releases his grip on Alice’s neck the tiniest amount. ‘Don’t try anything,’ he hisses. ‘Don’t shout anything apart from “Simon!
I need a word.” If you say anything else I will slash your throat and then your friends’. Do we understand each other?’
She nods, or as much as she can.
‘Go on then,’ he urges. ‘Shout for your boyfriend.’
Alice’s first shout is little more than a shrill squeak. Fear has closed her voicebox and she feels light-headed and hot.
‘Again,’ Ed says, releasing his grip a little more. ‘Louder this time.’
‘Simon!’ Alice shouts, her voice breaking as she says his name.
‘I need a word.’
A hush falls over the small room as they listen for a response.
Even Lynne stops weeping. Alice feels sick with fear as she stares at the doorway, waiting for Simon to appear. What’s Ed going
to do when he does show up? Slit her throat then turn the knife on him? She thinks of Emily, sitting in Helen’s front bedroom, sipping wine as she watches the street. She imagines her checking her watch, wondering where her mum has got to. She’s probably
already texted to check that the plan is still in place. But Alice’s phone has been turned off. Ed made her do it while he watched, the knife tip pressing into her cheek. She had to turn Lynne’s phone off too.
Who will tell Emily that she’s dead? A police officer? Peter?
Or will social media break the news first? She can’t die. She
can’t leave Emily. She doesn’t want her daughter to deal with
that kind of pain alone. A tear rolls down her cheek and she
closes her eyes.
The sound of trainers squeaking on lino makes her open them
again and she gasps as Simon appears in the doorway. His eyes
flit from her to Ed and he stumbles backwards, his hands held
away from his body, as though he’s trying to push away what
he’s seeing.
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‘You run and she dies,’ Ed says and Lynne lets out a terrified sob.
Simon freezes, his hands still outstretched.
‘Call the police and she dies,’ Ed says. ‘Do anything other
than what I tell you and she dies.’
Simon swallows, then nods mutely.
‘Come into the room and sit down on the floor.’
As Simon steps forward on shaky legs, his arms now raised
in surrender, Edward pulls Alice closer, his arm pressing against the cartilage of her windpipe, causing a wave of panic to flood her body. She claws desperately at his arm.
‘Is there anyone else in the shop?’ Ed asks her.
He releases his grip, just enough to let her talk and she gulps down air.
He increases the pressure again. ‘I said, is there anyone else in the shop?’
This time, when he loosens his hold she releases all the air in her lungs to say, ‘No.’
As the word leaves her mouth she believes it. She genuinely
believes there isn’t anyone else in the building, but then she remembers Gareth the security guard, the beautician, and the
teenager that she left in the customer changing cubicle and her fingers tremble against Edward’s arm. What if they walk into the room next? Will Ed kill her for lying? Please, she prays a
s Simon sits on the floor beside Lynne, please stay wherever you are.
‘You.’ Edward kicks out at Lynne, making her screech with
fear. ‘There’s tape and nail scissors in my bag. Use them to bind the hands of the other two.’
‘Whatever this is about,’ Simon says, ‘I’m sure we can—’
The words are knocked out of his mouth as Edward’s boot
connects with the side of his head. The kick makes the arm
around Alice’s throat tense and for two or three terrifying
seconds, she can’t breathe.
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‘I will tell you when you can speak,’ Ed barks at Simon as
Alice lifts her chin, gulping for air. ‘You!’ He points the knife at Lynne, who’s holding a roll of black duct tape and some
rounded nail scissors. ‘Do his hands first.’
Fresh tears roll down Alice’s cheeks as Lynne binds Simon’s
hands, then Ursula’s. When Simon first appeared in the doorway she felt a flurry of hope. He was bigger than the man with the knife to her cheek. He could overpower him. He could make it
all stop. But he didn’t. He walked into the room like a lamb
and sat down on the floor. And now his wrists are bound and
there’s nothing he can do to help her.
‘Alice’s next,’ Ed orders and Alice holds out her hands for her friend to bind.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lynne whispers. As their eyes meet, Alice sees the terror she feels reflected back at her.
‘You will be if you keep talking,’ Ed snaps as Lynne finishes
hacking at the tape with the nail scissors. ‘Right. Your turn.’
He shoves Alice roughly to the ground. With her hands bound,
she hits the floor elbow first, but she doesn’t groan or scream.
She swallows the pain and twists into a sitting position. Simon, beside her, nudges her gently but she doesn’t turn to look at
him. All her attention is focused on the knife Edward has just put on the table to her right so he can bind Lynne’s hands.
Although Alice’s wrists are taped together, her hands are still free. If she could just get hold of that knife then Ed will be defenceless. Four against one. They should be able to overpower him.
As Ed winds the black tape around Lynne’s wrists, Alice looks
to her left. She makes eye contact with Ursula first, swivels her eyes towards the knife, then looks back and raises her eyebrows.