Seven Days(40)

She watched Max try to balance the tinfoil ball. In three days, that was the fate that awaited him.

She blinked back tears.

Max placed the tinfoil on the top of the tower. It wobbled, then settled on top of the tower.

Max whipped around, his eyes wide in delight.

‘Mummy,’ he said. ‘Look!’

As he spoke, he pointed at the Duplo and the movement unbalanced the ball. It tumbled to the mattress.

Max giggled. ‘It fell, Mummy! It fell down!’

She grabbed him in a hug to hide her tears. She didn’t want to fill his final days with worry about his mum.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It did. Let’s build it again and see if we can make it stay on, OK?’





2


Max concentrated on the Duplo tower. She noticed he was holding his tongue between his teeth; that was new. It reminded her of Leo. He had done that.

Probably around this age, too, right at the end of his life. She had known what the man would do, and so when he had come for Leo she had refused to hand him over, holding him on the bed and shaking her head when the man gestured for her to hand him over.

He asked again; she refused again. He clenched his jaw and said, in a tone of forced reasonableness that she recognized, Give him to me.

She did not. And for the briefest of moments she thought he might leave, but then, with surprising speed, he marched to her and hit her hard on the head with the base of his hand. She was dizzy and faint, but some instinct made her hold on to Leo.

Then he pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his free hand. Her chest tightened and she started to panic.

The panic grew until she felt her chest was about to explode, and then her vision darkened.

When she came back to consciousness, he was gone.

And so was Leo.

It would be the same this time. She had wasted her chance. She was powerless; he was too strong and now he would be suspicious of her. The only way she could do anything was if she had a weapon, and there was nothing she could use as one. He had designed it that way. All she had were their clothes, two toothbrushes, and her calendar. In terms of furniture there was the mattress, the toilet bucket, the plastic basin and the bath. Next to her bed were a handful of paperback books and the needle and thread she used to mend clothes.

Other than that there was only Max’s paltry collection of Duplo bricks.

Oh, and a rolled-up ball of tinfoil. Don’t forget that. It was hardly a deadly arsenal she could use to deal a mortal blow to the man.

She heard the scrape. Waited for the knock. Max got up from his Duplo tower and climbed into her lap. The door opened.

The man put a tray down. There were two paper plates and, unusually, four paper cups.

‘Breakfast,’ he said. ‘Toast and jam and water.’ He indicated the other cups. ‘And orange juice.’

Max laughed. ‘Orange juice!’ he said. ‘It’s orange juice!’ He slid off her lap and looked at the man. ‘Can I try it?’

The man stepped back. ‘If your mother says so.’

Maggie paused. Was there some trick? Was it drugged? It was unlikely. If the man wanted to drug them he could put it in their food. He didn’t need to waste orange juice. So why deny Max a treat? ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You can have it.’

Max laughed again and walked over to the tray. He picked up the paper cup and peered into it. He glanced at Maggie, then took a sip. After a pause, he began to drink greedily, until the orange juice was gone.

‘Yum,’ he said. ‘That’s good.’

The man smiled at him.

‘I’m glad you liked it,’ he said.

Max looked at Maggie. He pointed at the other paper cup. ‘Can I have this one?’

‘I don’t know,’ Maggie said. ‘That’s a lot of orange juice. A lot of sugar.’

‘I think it’s fine,’ the man said. ‘A special treat.’ He grinned. ‘After all, it’s nearly his birthday.’





3


Maggie flinched at the word.

He had never made a reference to Seb or Leo’s birthdays. He had just come and taken them.

This was different. He had given Max orange juice. He had said it was a birthday treat, after a fashion.

She felt dry-mouthed and on edge. Something had changed. Maybe he didn’t mind her having her son this time; maybe the day would come and go and nothing would happen.

Maybe he would fall in love with his son and want more for him than this room.

‘Do you have anything else in mind? For his birthday?’ she asked.

The man shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not really.’

‘It would be good for him to have some new toys,’ she said. ‘And some books. He can read, almost. He knows his letters. He’s a very bright boy.’

The man did not reply.

‘Like his dad,’ Maggie said. ‘I don’t think he gets it from me!’

She happened to think he did get it from her; she had been a straight A student in school, but that wasn’t the point. She sensed that the man was softening and she wanted to make him feel some connection with Max.

The man took a step towards the door.

‘He won’t be getting any toys,’ he said. ‘There’s no point.’

Maggie tensed. ‘What do you mean, “there’s no point”? It’s his birthday.’