Behind Closed Doors(36)
When, on the fourth evening, Jack didn’t come back until midnight, I knew I’d been right in my theory that he was gradually building up the amount of time he left me by myself, counting on the fact that I wouldn’t try to run. I had no idea where he went on these evenings, but, as he was always in a good mood when he came back, I guessed he visited some kind of brothel. I had decided, during my long hours on the balcony where I had nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, that because of what he had said about making love to me, he must be homosexual, and I concluded that he came to Thailand to indulge in what he didn’t dare indulge in at home for fear of being blackmailed. I knew there was something missing in my theory, because being found to be gay was hardly the end of the world but I didn’t yet know what.
On the fifth night, when he didn’t come back until two in the morning, I seriously began to weigh up my options. There were another five days until we were due to fly back to England and, as well as it seeming an interminably long time to wait, there was also the added fear that we wouldn’t leave when we were meant to. That morning, increasingly upset that I still hadn’t phoned Millie, I’d asked Jack if we could go and see her as soon as we got back. His reply—that he was enjoying our honeymoon so much he was thinking of extending it—had made silent tears of anguish fall from my eyes. I told myself that it was another of his games, that he was trying to destabilise me, but I’d felt so helpless I spent most of the day crying.
By the time evening came, I was determined to get away from him. Maybe if I hadn’t been sure that the couple next door were Spanish rather than Portuguese I would have stayed where I was, but, because I had picked up enough of the language during my travels to Argentina, I was confident I could make them understand that I was seriously in need of help. The fact that they were a couple—that there would be a woman I could talk to—also decided me. Anyway, I was certain they already knew I was in trouble because that afternoon, when the man had come onto the balcony to smoke, he had called worriedly to the woman, telling her that he could hear someone crying. Scared that Jack might see them trying to look over the balcony from wherever he was watching from, I’d stifled my sobs and remained as still as possible so that they would think I had gone back into the room. But I hoped the fact that they had heard me crying would stand me in good stead.
I waited until Jack had been gone for three hours before making my move. It was gone eleven, but I knew the couple were still up because I could hear them moving around in their room. Mindful of what had happened the time before, I checked my bag, my case and the room to make sure my passport and purse weren’t there. When I couldn’t find them, I went over to the door and opened it slowly, praying I wouldn’t find Jack coming down the corridor, on his way back. I didn’t, but the thought that he might suddenly appear had me pounding on the Spanish couple’s door more loudly than I intended. I could hear the man muttering something, annoyed perhaps at being disturbed so late at night.
‘?Quién es?’ he called through the closed door.
‘I’m your neighbour, could you help me, please!’
‘?Qué pasa?’
‘Can you open the door, please?’ The unmistakable sound of the lift coming to a stop further down the corridor had me pounding on the door again. ‘Hurry!’ I cried, my heart in my mouth. ‘Please hurry!’ As the bolt was shot back, the noise of the lift doors opening propelled me into the room. ‘Thank you, thank you!’ I gabbled. ‘I …’ The words died on my lips and I found myself staring in horror at Jack.
‘I actually expected you before tonight,’ he said, laughing at the shock on my face. ‘I was beginning to think I’d got you wrong, I had almost begun to believe that you had heeded my warning after all and wouldn’t attempt to escape. Of course, it would have been better for you if you had, but much less fun for me. I must admit I would have been disappointed if all my hard work had gone to waste.’
My body went limp and, as I sank to the floor, shivering with shock, he crouched down next to me. ‘Let me guess,’ he said softly. ‘You thought a Spanish couple had moved into this room, didn’t you? Yet there was only me. If you think about it, you never heard the woman reply because the voice came from a radio. You never saw her on the balcony either, yet you still believed that she existed. Of course, you didn’t know that I smoked—I don’t usually make a habit of it—nor did you know that I spoke Spanish.’
He paused a moment. ‘I also told you it would be very foolish to try and escape again before we left Thailand,’ he went on, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘So now that you have, what do you think I’m going to do?’
‘Do whatever you like,’ I sobbed. ‘I don’t care any more.’
‘Brave words, but I’m sure you don’t mean them. For example, I’m sure you would be distraught if I decided to kill you, because it would mean you’d never see Millie again.’
‘You’re not going to kill me,’ I said, with more assurance than I felt.
‘You’re right, I’m not, not yet, anyway. First and foremost, I need you to do for Millie what she can’t do for herself.’ He stood up and looked down at me dispassionately. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t punish you here, because there is nothing I can really deprive you of. But because you have now tried to escape twice, we won’t be going to see Millie either the first weekend or the second weekend after we get back to England.’