The Sister(68)

‘I’m just going to have a shower, get changed. You’ll be okay out here, all on your own.’

There was a slant to the way he said it that made her think, surely, he doesn’t think I want to join him in there!

He filled the kettle and put it on. ‘I’ll only be a minute; we’ll have some tea then get going, yeah?’

‘Yeah, you take your time; I’ll get the tea going. Where are the makings?’

He showed her. ‘Won’t be a minute,’ he said as he left the kitchen.

She heard the shower turn on, the rattle of the curtain rings along the rail as he swished it across.

He started to croon wordlessly. ‘Bah – bah – bah – bah – bob…’

At the sound of his singing, she was up, quietly and systematically rummaging through the drawers in the sideboard. She opened a Cuban cigar box. She probably would have used it as a hiding place herself, but still couldn’t believe her luck. There was a polythene self-sealing sandwich bag, with two smaller bags inside it. One was half-full of fine brown powder; the other contained a dozen or so wraps.

She fished one out, held it to her nose and smelled it. It made her mouth water. It was heroin. The guy is a dealer!

If she’d had the time, she would probably have found his cash as well, but she decided she’d go with what she already had. She stowed the dope bags in her pocket and grabbed her bags from the floor, twisting the necks so she could hold them in one hand.

Down the stairs and into the hall, the front door seemed miles away. Taking long, exaggerated silent steps towards it, her heart pounded in her ears. Mouth dry, and suddenly aware she hadn’t breathed for a while; she sucked air deep into her lungs and held it, before continuing past the cupboard halfway along the passageway until she reached the door. With trembling hands, she unlatched it top and bottom.

She didn’t hear the cupboard door as it swung noiselessly open behind her.





Chapter 53



Eilise was halfway out of the door when a heavy hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her back in. Naked, and still dripping from the shower, he turned her almost effortlessly, putting himself between her and the door. He used his heel to push the front door shut.

She almost wet herself with fear.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he rasped, his foul breath drew a gasp from her. ‘Did you honestly think I was that stupid? I had you booked for a junkie as soon as I saw you! Yeah, that’s right; it takes one to know one. You can’t kid a kidder. I know exactly who you are – runaway girl.’

She tried to snatch her arm away; he tightened his grip, his fingertips squeezing in through her bicep, right down onto the bone.

‘Ouch, you’re hurting me!’

She stopped struggling. He relaxed the grip.

‘You thought you could rob me, eh?’ He wiped the spittle from his lips with the back of his free hand. ‘Hand it all over!’

She reached in her jacket pocket and retrieved the drugs.

He snatched them from her.

She struggled to understand how he’d reached her so quickly. ‘But how did you?’ she said.

He didn’t answer, instead spinning her round, so her neck was in the crook of his elbow, his other hand pushing her wrist up between her shoulder blades, forcing her back past the cupboard door. Inside she caught sight of a crash mat on the floor at the base of a gleaming fireman’s pole. A long, dark red velvet curtain came down to within six inches of the floor and behind it; she couldn’t be certain if her eyes had deceived her in that briefest glimpse, but she thought she saw the bars of a cage and a pair of bare feet. The fog in her head had fully cleared. Propelled forwards, she thought fast. Could that really have been a cage with someone sitting quietly barefoot in there? Well, you wouldn’t think so, but then, what sort of man has a fireman’s pole installed in his house? For one insane moment, she thought of Batman and laughed nervously. He squeezed on her windpipe, choking it off.

‘Are you laughing at me?’

He had her so tight; she couldn’t deny it. A tear rolled down her face. She knew she was about to die.

‘I said, are you laughing at me!’ he shouted so loudly, her ear exploded with pain.

Her feet were almost off the floor; only her toes remained in contact. Suddenly, a woman spoke calmly. ‘Martin – no, it’s enough. Let her go.’ The voice came from inside the cupboard.

Still he crushed her.

‘Martin!’ The woman’s voice sounded close to panic.

He released her. She fell to the floor, sucking in air. She knew if she were to survive, she’d have to be clever.

‘Q-quiet. I’ve let her go.’

Eilise’s bruised larynx kept her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. ‘Who’s that you have in the cage, William? And why is she calling you Martin?’

He shut the cupboard door. The woman’s muffled voice now barely audible, said something about a middle name.

Eilise asked him softly, ‘What do you want me to call you?’

Turning and squatting down on his haunches, he was holding a knife. He pressed its edge against her mouth.

‘Sssshhh,’ The coldness of the blade against her lips terrified her, sparking an uncontrollable trembling; the control she held onto precariously at the door when he first caught her was lost. She spasmed and a warm trickle of urine ran down her legs. Struggling to regain composure, she forced herself to make eye contact with him, knowing she might have a better chance of getting out alive if she could connect with him.