Seven Days(89)

He stepped into the cabin and stood opposite the man.

‘My name is PC Oliver Reid. I—’

The man let go of her and lunged forward, slashing at the policeman with the knife. The PC dodged out of the way, then grabbed the man’s hand and bent it backwards at the wrist. There was a loud snap like a branch breaking and the man screamed.

Maggie backed away, holding Max, and watched as the policeman forced the man face down on the yellowing carpet.

‘Listen, mate,’ the policeman said. ‘I’m trained in this and you’re an old fella, so let’s be sensible, OK?’ He looked at Maggie. ‘Are you Maggie Cooper?’

She nodded. The policeman beckoned her towards him. He untied the gag, and, with the knife the man had held at her throat, cut through the rope binding her wrists and ankles.

‘And who’s this?’ he said.

‘My son. Max.’ It was the first time she had spoken to anyone other that Max, Seb, Leo or the man in over a decade. She could barely believe it was happening.

The policeman glanced at the man. ‘I see,’ he said. He nodded at a coil of green rope hanging on a hook by the sink. ‘Could you pass that to me?’

Maggie put Max down and got to her feet. As she did, the man twisted. There was another loud crack – something else breaking – and he screamed, but he managed to get on his back. He kicked the policeman hard in the stomach and, for a second, he was free.

It was enough. The man scrambled to his feet and grabbed Max, then clambered through the hatch and on to the deck of the boat.





Maggie


‘Max!’ Maggie shouted. ‘Max!’

The policeman jumped to his feet and followed the man outside. Maggie climbed out after him. She saw the man running down the towpath. She frowned. The policeman wasn’t chasing him. He was looking at the canal.

‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Fuck it.’

And then he jumped into the muddy brown water.

Maggie looked over the side of the boat and saw why. Max was in the canal, coughing and spluttering. The man had thrown him overboard. She watched as the policeman picked him up.

She turned. The man was about fifty yards away, running as fast as he could.

Which wasn’t very fast. He was limping badly. She looked at the policeman. Max was clinging to his neck, coughing.

‘Here,’ the policeman said, holding Max out. ‘Take him. I need to get after that bastard.’

‘No,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll get him. I want him to know that after all these years, I still beat him.’

She made up the ground quickly. The man looked over his shoulder and tried to speed up, but it was pointless. She was much faster.

And then, without warning, he slowed to a walk.

A man and woman were walking towards him. They were in their late sixties, the man wearing a green tweed hat, white hair poking out from under it, the woman a quilted gilet. Each one of them was holding the hand of a small, blond-haired boy.

The man pointed at Maggie.

‘Help,’ he said. ‘She’s a thug. She’s tormenting me. Can you stop her?’

The man in the hat frowned. He stepped in front of the two small boys. ‘Stay back, Harry and George,’ he said. He looked at Maggie. ‘What’s going on here? What are you up to?’

Maggie thought for a moment about explaining, but she was suddenly too tired. This had to stop. And what the man had done to Max had given her an idea.

She lunged at the man and shoved him as hard as she could. He stumbled, and fell into the canal.

The woman gasped. ‘What on earth—’

A voice interrupted. ‘Everybody stay calm.’ Maggie turned. The policeman was walking up to them, Max in his arms. He handed him to Maggie. He was dripping wet. ‘Everything’s fine. I’m a police officer.’

The woman folded her arms. ‘What on earth is happening here?’

Maggie squeezed Max tight.

‘I’m Maggie Cooper,’ she said. ‘And this is Max.’ The black-and-white spaniel sniffed her knee. ‘Is this your dog?’ she said.

‘Yes. He’s called Benjy.’

Maggie put out a hand and the dog licked it. It felt wonderful.

‘Max,’ she said. ‘This is a dog.’





Maggie


She could see that Max was happier when they were alone in a room again. It was a room in the police station, and it had windows and a door that she could walk out of any time she liked, but it was at least a setting familiar to Max, and once they were in there he started to calm down.

He had found the activity – and it had been a whirl of police officers swarming over the boat and asking her questions then leading them to a police car – overwhelming. When the car started to move he began shaking, his eyes wide with fear. Maggie held him tight and whispered in his ear that everything would be OK.

And it would.

They were free.

They were out of the room.

The man – Best, she had heard them calling him – was gone from her life.

There was a knock on the door and a woman came in. She had short hair and bags under her eyes and was wearing a dark suit.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Can I sit down?’

Maggie nodded. She and Max were sitting on a couch and the woman took an armchair facing it. Next to Maggie was a table with two glasses of orange juice on it; she took one and for the first time since the man had taken her, she drank from a glass.