Woman Last Seen(92)

41


Mark


The moment Fiona leaves the house Mark bounces up the stairs and charges into Oli’s room.

“You knew?” he demands.

“Don’t you ever knock?” Oli is trying to sound bolshie, confident, but Mark can see in his eyes he is scared. Scared of Mark? The thought is like a punch. Another one. His son gets up off the bed, draws himself up to his full height. Chest out, man to man, eye to eye. He glowers a challenge. He’s taller than Mark now. Maybe two or three inches. When did that happen?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark demands.

“Because you’d have gone off it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You’d have gone all hulk-man and started tearing our lives apart. It was better I just dealt with it my own way.”

“And how was that exactly?” Mark’s spittle hits Oli in the face.

He doesn’t acknowledge it. He doesn’t wipe it away. Slowly, he replies, “I decided to do nothing. You know the teachers are always calling me lazy. I decided to do nothing.”

Mark wants to believe him.

But he doesn’t.



42


Kylie


Someone is shaking me roughly. “Kylie, Kylie. Kylie, wake up.” It’s just another dream and I don’t want to wake up. But the voice is desperate, frightened and insistent. They won’t let me go. “Kylie, open your eyes.” I feel a water bottle being pushed to my mouth, water dribbles down my chin and it feels real. The wetness on my top is true. I flicker open my eyes.

“Fiona?” I try to say her name, but I can hear it comes out as little more than a moan. Still she looks relieved. She gently puts the bottle to my lips again and this time I manage to sip. She kisses my forehead. Fiona, who for a long time I loved more than anyone else in the world. Until I had a husband and kids. Then another husband. A thought skitters through my mind. I am still the person Fiona loves most in the world. She will save me.

“Oh God, Kylie, what the fuck have they done to you?”

She’s calling me by my old name. The name I was when we met. The name it took months of training to get her to kick, but I don’t chastise her for using it as I did when I first applied for the deed poll, instead I’m glad. I am grateful. Kylie is the woman I was before. Whole, complete. Singular. I cling to Fiona, even though doing so causes spikes of pain to throb through my injured hand. I start to sob, inelegant, hiccuping, hysterical sobs erupt from my eyes, mouth, nose. The feel of her flesh, after nothing but space and brutality, makes me feel dizzy, untethered. I thought I was going to die. I thought I wanted to die but I know now I don’t. I want to live. I want Fiona to rescue me. She gently prizes her way out of my grasp. Stares at me for a moment, probably taking in my wounds. “Kylie, love, we haven’t got much time. They know what you did. Both of them do.”

“I am in Daan’s building, aren’t I?” I mumble.

She looks at me carefully, presumably weighing up what I’m capable of dealing with. “Yes, you are in Daan’s building,” she confirms gently.

“Daan did this to me,” I assert. I’ve surmised as much but still, hearing it confirmed hurts, wounds.

“No, well, maybe. I don’t know. I thought it was him. He’s—well, let’s just say he’s not what you think.” She looks embarrassed, awkward. “But I’m not so sure now who did this. I think maybe Mark put you here. You know, if he found out what you’d done and who with then—”

“You think he is setting up Daan?” I croak.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” She sounds desperate. “Or maybe they planned it between them. Maybe they are in it together.”

“Both of them?” I’m stunned, although should I be? They have shared so much unbeknown to them, is it such a leap to think they might share this, unbeknown to me?

“We haven’t got time to think about this now,” she says hurriedly. “We need to get you out. I’ve brought pliers, they are in here somewhere.”

In fact, she has a whole bag of helpful stuff; she tips it onto the floor and rummages. I lie back against the wall, too weak to be of much help. She hands me the small bottle of still water and a chocolate bar. It is all I can do to slurp back the water. My fingers are shaking too badly to manage to tear open the wrapping on the chocolate. She notices, stops rummaging and opens it for me. She snaps off a small piece and puts it in my mouth. “Here you go, baby bird,” she says with a sad smile. Her eyes are wet. It’s a thing we used to say to each other, way back when we lived with one another. If one of us was sick and needed pampering, or maybe just hungover and too idle to move, we would hand-feed each other Haribo jelly worms and make jokes about baby birds. The tender words feel like hugs. Fiona returns to rattling around with the contents of her bag. She has clean clothes and first aid equipment. I look at her wide-eyed in astonishment.

“I didn’t know what you’d need, how I’d find you. You know, what sort of state you’d be in, once I worked it out.” She grimaces. “You are going to be okay, Kylie. I know this has been shit, but you are safe now. I’m going to get you out of here.” She picks up the pliers and cuts the zip ties that hold me to the chain. My hand flops to my side. I look at it almost surprised. Momentarily unsure what to do with this freedom. “I am going to take you to my beach cottage first. I think you need to hide out until the police come and sort it all out.”