Behind Closed Doors(65)
Although his words chilled me, they also told me that I was on the right track, because he had never given in to any of my demands before, not even when I had asked for a larger towel to dry myself with. But I supposed that with his end goal in sight he couldn’t afford to let anything happen to me, which meant he was more likely to give in to any requests I made as long as they were reasonable. It was a major triumph and, although I had planned to hold out a little longer before eating, I reasoned that if I wanted Jack to bring me more whisky I would have to meet him halfway. But I wanted him to bring it to me as soon as he got in from work, I wanted him to get into the habit of pouring my whisky at the same time as he poured his.
‘I asked for whisky because I hoped it would give me an appetite,’ I said, my arm still outstretched. ‘So can I have it, please?’
I expected him to refuse, but after a small hesitation he handed it to me. I raised the cup to my lips with pretend eagerness. The smell made my stomach turn, but at least I knew it was whisky I was about to drink and not something else. Conscious of his eyes on me, I took a sip. I had never drunk whisky before in my life and the bitter taste was a shock.
‘Not to your liking?’ he mocked, and I knew he didn’t really believe that I liked whisky and had only given it to me to find out what my real motive was in asking for it in the first place.
‘Have you ever drunk whisky out of a plastic cup?’ I demanded, taking another sip. ‘Believe me, it doesn’t taste quite the same. Maybe you can bring it in a glass next time.’ I raised the cup again and knocked the whole lot back.
‘Now, eat something,’ he said, pushing the tray towards me.
My head spinning from the whisky, I put the tray on my lap. The food looked so good I would have been capable of clearing the plate in fifteen seconds. It was hard not to wolf it down, but I made myself eat slowly, as if I had no pleasure in what I was tasting. I only allowed myself to eat half of it and, when I put my knife and fork down, I’m not sure who was more disappointed, me or Jack.
‘Can’t you eat a little more?’ he frowned.
‘No, sorry,’ I said unenthusiastically. ‘Maybe tomorrow.’
He left, taking the tray with him and, although I was still hungry, the taste of victory was sweeter than anything I could have eaten.
Jack wasn’t stupid. The next day, when I didn’t eat anything again, he decided to hit me where he knew it would hurt me most.
‘I’m cancelling our visit to Millie tomorrow,’ he said, as he picked up the untouched tray. ‘There’s no point taking her out to lunch if you’re not going to eat.’
I’d known there was a risk he wouldn’t take me to see Millie, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.
‘All right,’ I shrugged. From the look of surprise he gave me, I knew he’d been expecting me to insist that I was well enough to go and I was glad I had wrong-footed him.
‘Millie is going to be so disappointed,’ he sighed.
‘Well, it won’t be the first time.’
He thought for a moment. ‘This wouldn’t be some little ploy to get me to cancel Millie’s birthday party, would it?’
It was a conclusion I hadn’t expected him to come to and one that was far from the truth, but I wondered if I could get it to work in my favour.
‘Why would I want you to do that?’ I asked, playing for time.
‘You tell me.’
‘Maybe you should try and put yourself in my position for once. If Millie comes here, she’s going to fall in love with this house. How do you think that’s going to make me feel, knowing what you have in store for her and knowing I can do nothing to prevent it from happening?’
‘Let me guess.’ He pretended to think for a moment. ‘Not good?’
I willed tears of self-pity into my eyes. ‘Yes, that’s right, Jack, not good. So bad, in fact, that I’d prefer to die.’
‘So this is some kind of hunger strike then.’
‘No, Jack, of course it isn’t. I know that Millie is going to need me, I know I have to keep my strength up. But I can’t help it if I’ve lost my appetite. I’m sure most people would, given the circumstances.’ I let my voice rise an octave. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like for me on a day-to-day basis, not being able to choose what I want to eat or when I want to eat? Have you any idea what it’s like to have to rely on you for absolutely everything, to sometimes have to wait two or three days for food because you decide I need punishing, or can’t be bothered to bring me anything? You’re not exactly the most generous of jailers, Jack!’
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have made so many attempts to escape,’ he snapped. ‘If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have needed to confine you to this room and you could have led a perfectly decent life with me.’
‘Decent! With you controlling my every move? You don’t even know the meaning of the word! Go on, Jack, punish me. Deprive me of food, see if I care. If I don’t eat again for a week, at least I’ll be too weak to attend Millie’s birthday party next Sunday.’
‘You’d better start eating again,’ he threatened, realising the truth of what I’d said.
‘Or what, Jack?’ I taunted. ‘You can’t force me to eat, you know.’ I paused. ‘But, as it isn’t in Millie’s interest that I die, or in yours, why don’t you do us both a favour and pour me a whisky in the evenings when you pour your own and my appetite might come back a little.’