by Lake, Alex
‘Stop!’ he said. ‘I don’t want to do this!’
He felt the waistband of his jeans loosen, and then they were being pulled down. He felt a hand on the outside of his boxer shorts, rubbing his penis.
‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Please. Leave me alone!’
He looked up at Sammy, about to tell him one more time to put a stop to this, and froze.
Sammy had a video camera in his hand.
He was recording this? Was he insane? The last thing you did was document something like this. If Annabelle ever saw it – and Matt would spend his marriage terrified that she would, somehow – she’d have nothing to do with him. He didn’t want this in the first place, and now it was going to be on video.
‘Sammy!’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’
He looked at Guy, who was watching, arms folded, his face expressionless. Next to him Jason was frowning.
‘Guy!’ Matt said. He shook his head. ‘No!’
Guy shook his head. He stepped forward, and put his hand on Lexi’s shoulder.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘That’ll do.’
She stood up. ‘I thought he wanted the full works?’
‘No. That’s enough.’
The guests laughed; some booed good-naturedly.
Candy shrugged. ‘No refunds.’
‘That’s fine,’ Guy said. ‘Thanks for coming.’
Tony and Scott untied the ropes and Matt stood up. He turned to Sammy. He was staring at them, the video camera by his side.
‘What’s the problem?’ he said.
‘What’s the problem?’ Matt said. ‘What the fuck were you thinking? I mean, strippers, maybe. But getting them to do whatever you had planned – and what was that, by the way? Were they going to give me a blowjob? Or fuck me? With you filming it? Are you totally crazy?’
Sammy snorted. ‘I thought it’d be funny. And you’d like a memento.’
‘Well, it wasn’t. And I don’t.’ He held his hand out. ‘Give me the camera. I want to delete that.’
‘Scared the wife will see it?’ Sammy said. ‘Whatever you want, mate. Seems marriage does change a man, after all.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt said. ‘Seems it does.’
Late Summer 2012: Wedding Day
Annabelle entered the church, her left arm in the crook of her dad’s elbow, her right in her brother’s. When she had first told them she and Matt were getting married, she had suggested that both of them walk her down the aisle. Her brother had coughed and looked a little nervous.
It’s normally the father who gives the bride away, he said.
That’s another thing, Annabelle said. I don’t want to be given away. I just want to be accompanied on my wedding day by the two most important people in my life. I don’t belong to anyone now and I won’t after the wedding. So if this means I’m not being given away, then all the more reason to do it this way.
Well, her dad said. It’s tradition, petal, but if you’d prefer to do something else, that’s fine by us. It’s your wedding day, not ours.
She looked down the aisle. Matt had turned to watch her, a smile on his face. She smiled back and began to walk down the aisle.
The church, St Wilfrid’s in Grappenhall, was over nine hundred years old. She thought of how much had happened in those centuries, how many weddings and christenings and funerals had taken place in these stone walls. Hundreds of thousands – maybe millions – of people had sat in the aisles and witnessed the most important events in the lives of the people they loved.
For a moment she felt dizzy, and she leaned on her dad. He paused and held her by the elbow.
‘OK?’ he muttered.
She nodded and took a deep breath, and they continued down the aisle.
‘So,’ the vicar said. ‘Before we move to the vows, there is a question I must put to those here today. I expect the answer to be no, but I have to ask.’ She looked up at the congregation. ‘Should any person here know of any lawful impediment why Annabelle and Matt may not be joined in holy matrimony, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.’
She paused, and Annabelle had a sudden conviction that someone was going to stand up and say, Don’t do it, I told you, you don’t have to. Come with me and I’ll rescue you. Then she would see who it was who had sent the emails, because part of her was sure they had not gone away. Yes, there had been no more emails, and after a while she’d stopped thinking about who had sent them, and whether they would try anything else to sabotage her wedding, but she hadn’t forgotten.
Because it felt like sabotage – not a joke, or a test, but an attempt at sabotage.
And why would they stop?
She glanced over her shoulder and scanned the faces. No one was moving. She looked at the door, expecting it to burst open, and then the vicar spoke.
‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘Annabelle and Matt, you will now make solemn vows of your love for each other in front of your friends and family. We’ll start with you, Matt.’
He repeated her words; they were so familiar – to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse – and yet, now they applied to her and Matt, so strange. She had heard them so many times they had lost their meaning, but as she heard him say them, the meaning became clear.
And then it was her turn. It went in a blur, and suddenly she was saying I do and realized she was smiling and Matt was smiling back at her, and then the vicar asked Guy, their best man, if he had the rings, and he stood up and handed them to her, and the vicar told her to hold out her hand, and Matt was saying With this ring I thee wed, and then she did the same.
‘I now declare you,’ the vicar said, ‘husband and wife.’ She leaned forward and placed a hand on each of their forearms. ‘Congratulations. You may kiss.’
They did, a sort of awkward halfway house between a peck on the lips and a full-on, passionate, open-mouthed kiss, then looked up to see everyone clapping and cheering.
Annabelle glanced at the doors. Still closed. Still no one there to sabotage her wedding.
And now it was too late.
Sunday, 8 March 2020, 5.31 p.m.
Matt
Matt looked at his wife, the dressing gown pulled tight around her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No.’
It was more a statement of disbelief than a rejection of what they had planned. Now they were here he could not believe this was actually happening. He had thought – somehow – it would be resolved before it came to this.
But now they were here, and it was real.
‘We have to,’ Annabelle said. ‘The kids.’
He squeezed his eyes shut, tears filling them, then reached out to her for one last time. They hugged, and he felt the warmth of her body beneath the dressing gown.
‘No,’ he said. ‘No.’
She pulled away. ‘I love you,’ she said.
‘I love you too.’ He opened the car door, stepped out and unlatched the gate. The rusty hinges creaked as it opened.
She put the car in gear and drove slowly past him. He pressed his hands to the glass, feeling the car slip away from him.
He watched as she drove along a track. When she was about a hundred yards away the brake lights went on and the car stopped.
A figure had stepped into the road. It was tall and wore dark jeans and a dark hoodie.
It raised a finger to its lips, then held out its left hand. It was holding something.
Matt squinted to see what it was.
It was holding handcuffs.
Annabelle
She drove slowly along the road. Once she glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Matt staring, his face blank, his hands slightly raised.
It was too painful, and she did not look again.
She was just starting to wonder if they had done something wrong – come to the wrong location, or at the wrong time, perhaps – when a figure stepped out of the trees on the left.
There he was.
If it was a he. The figure was tall for a woman, but it was also slender
and thin-hipped.
The kidnapper wore dark jeans and a hoodie, which hid their face. Slowly, they raised their right index finger to their lips, then held out their left.
A set of handcuffs dangled from their hand.
The kidnapper gestured for her to get out of the car, then mimed taking off her dressing gown.
She opened the door and swung her bare feet onto the ground. It was cold and stony.
‘You want me to take this off?’ she said.
A nod. She was about to unbelt it and shrug it off, but she paused. She didn’t want to be naked. If her kids were watching, that was not what she wanted them to have as their last sight of her.
‘Are my children here?’ she said.
Another nod.
‘Where?’
A shake of the head this time, and a repeat of the mime of removing the dressing gown.
‘OK,’ she said, and took it off.
The kidnapper examined her, then picked up the dressing gown and tossed it to her. She put it back on; she was glad of the warmth. The kidnapper held out the handcuffs and she put her hands out. The handcuffs snapped as they went around her wrists. The metal was cold, and bit into her skin. She had never worn handcuffs before.
The kidnapper straightened up then and took a piece of black cloth from a pocket. It took her a few seconds to realize what it was.
A hood.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Please. Let me see my children first.’
A pause, then a nod. The kidnapper pointed to the trees on the other side of the road. There was a narrow, rutted track, and a few yards along it she saw Matt’s Land Rover.
‘They’re safe?’ she whispered. ‘I’m here!’ she shouted. ‘I love you!’
The kidnapper held an index finger up to their lips to shush her.
She ignored the signal.
‘Norman! Keith! Molly!’ she shouted. ‘I love you!’
The kidnapper ran around the car and grabbed her by the throat. The hand squeezed hard and the words died in her mouth.
With the other free hand they reached into their pocket and pulled out a metal ball with leather straps either side. It was pressed to her lips, but she kept them closed.
The pressure grew. Her lips were pushed against her teeth; she worried they might split, but she did not want the ball gag in her mouth.
The grip around her throat tightened. She felt like she was going to pass out, her vision blackening from lack of oxygen.
She nodded, and the pressure on her throat lessened.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK.’
She opened her mouth, and the ball gag was pushed in, then the hood was jammed over her eyes.
She heard her car door opening, and then there was a shove in her back and she fell into the rear seat. The door slammed shut.
2013 Christening
Having a baby – a son, he was a father to a son – was everything he had thought it would be and nothing like he had expected. The love, the wonder, the overwhelming desire to keep Norman from harm were all things he had expected.
What he had not expected was how intense they were. He had no idea before he picked up his son for the first time and lay on the hospital bed with Norman on his chest, just how immediate and complete the feeling of absolute devotion would be.
He’d known this person only minutes, and yet he was already the most important thing in his life.
He and Annabelle. Matt had looked at her, lying next to him in that hospital bed, and he had seen a different person. She had metamorphosed. He had thought he had loved her as much as he could but in the instant he met his son a new world had opened up to him. She was his wife and lover, his life partner, his best friend, and now she was the mother of his child. She had borne this child, given him this most precious thing. Without her there would be no Norman.
Without her, there would be nothing.
Without them both, his life would be meaningless.
Which he wished he could say. They were in the church – St Wilfrid’s, the same one they had been married in – getting Norman christened, and he wanted to turn to his friends and family and tell them what the baby he was holding at the front of the church and the woman by his side meant to him.
He wouldn’t, though.
He would think it, and hope Annabelle guessed it somehow, but he wouldn’t say it. He wondered why not. Was it because he thought it was a sign of weakness? That it made him look vulnerable? He was vulnerable, and showing that would not be a sign of weakness, but of strength, strength he did not yet have.
Maybe next time.
‘OK,’ the vicar said. ‘Could you hand Norman to me?’
She held out her hands and Matt placed Norman in them. He was asleep, and he twitched at the moment of transfer, then settled again.
‘A beautiful child,’ the vicar said. ‘Congratulations. And sleeping too. Although that may not last.’
She held him close to the font and scooped up water from a pewter bowl. She poured it over his head.
‘I baptize you in the name of the Father …’
Norman woke, and screwed up his face. She poured more water on him.
‘… and of the Son …’
He started to cry, a plaintive noise that grew quickly into a wail. The vicar scooped up more water, and tipped it over his forehead. The crying got louder. Matt stepped forward, but Guy – Norman’s godfather – put his hand on his forearm.
‘It’s OK,’ Guy muttered. ‘Nearly done.’
‘… and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’ She smiled. ‘There,’ she said. ‘He’s awake. I’ll pass him back to you.’
Matt took his son, and held him close to his chest. He kissed his head.
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘It’s OK.’
Norman’s cries stopped. Annabelle put her arm around him and kissed him on the cheek.
‘You’re the best dad ever,’ she said. ‘And one day Norman’s going to get you a mug with it on to prove it.’
Sunday, 8 March 2020, 5.35 p.m.
Matt
He heard Annabelle shouting. He couldn’t make out the words but there was no doubt it was her voice.
She was naked, and handcuffed. He stared at her naked back; he knew that body so well. He watched as she put her gown back on and the hooded figure handcuffed her. He started to run towards the car, but he stopped himself.
The kidnapper had made it very clear what would happen if he didn’t stay put, and, as far as he could see there was no sign of the kids.
But Jesus Christ, it was hard to ignore her.
And what if it was all a lie? What if the kids weren’t there? What if this was all a ploy to get Annabelle and the kids?
That fear had been at the back of his mind all along, and it suddenly lurched front and centre, bringing with it a racing heart and a sickening dread.
He groaned and sank to his knees. The ground was soft and cold. How had they been so stupid? It was obvious now that this had been the plan all along: take the kids, and use the promise of returning them to get hold of Annabelle as well.
There was still no sign of the kids. Annabelle shouted again, and the kidnapper jumped forward. He put his hands around her throat, and the shouting stopped.
That was enough. He was going to go and get his family back. He stood up and looked around for a weapon. A stick, a rock. Anything. Nothing, if necessary. He had nothing to lose.
And then the kidnapper opened the rear door of the blue Golf and shoved Annabelle into the car. Seconds later, the car was driving away.
Matt sprinted after them. It was pointless; the car was gone, but he kept running anyway. When he reached the point where the car had been, he stood and looked wildly around.
To the right he saw his Land Rover. He ran towards it; the keys were on the back bumper. He snatched them up and unlocked the door, then yanked it open.
They were there. All three of them.
Molly in the middle. Keith on the far side. Norman right in front of him.
> ‘Daddy,’ Norman said. ‘You came.’
‘Of course I did. Of course I did.’ He leaned into the car, grabbed Norman in a hug, then reached over the seat to Molly and Keith. ‘My God. You’re safe.’
‘Where’s Mum?’ Norman said. ‘We heard her shouting. Where is she?’
‘She’s—’ Matt said. ‘I’ll tell you everything later. But for now we have to go.’
‘I want Mum!’ Keith said. ‘Where did she go? She was here a second ago.’
‘Can you get her?’ Norman said. ‘We want to see her.’
‘I will. I promise. It’s complicated—’
His phone rang. It was Rob.
‘We’re tracking them,’ Rob said. ‘Perfect visual. They’re heading for the A49. We can cut through where you are and pick you up. Do you have the kids?’
‘Yes.’
‘They OK?’
‘Seem so.’
‘Good. Is your car there?’ Rob said.
‘Yes.’
‘Leave it, there’ll be forensics in it. We’ll be there in minutes. Hang tight.’
The phone went dead.
‘Dad?’
He turned. Norman was standing by the rear door.
‘Where is she?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. But we’ll find her. I promise.’ He held out his arms and hugged Norman. It felt wonderful to be with him again. ‘I promise we’ll find her.’
He hoped it was not a promise he was going to end up breaking, for his sake as much as the kids’.
2013: Christening Party
1
After the ceremony they went to the London Bridge Pub. Most of the guests from the christening were there, happy to have a Sunday afternoon drink with family and friends. These were the only times people saw each other these days – between kids and jobs and moves to new places there was not much room for nights in the pub.
Matt sipped a glass of red wine. Norman was asleep again, strapped to his chest in a baby carrier. He loved wearing his son; on week nights he strapped him on when he got back from work and walked around the house, and on weekends he took him for long hikes while Annabelle napped or went out with her friends. He walked along the canals and through little-used paths and snickets that led to remote churchyards and dense copses and abandoned barns. There was a Neolithic stone circle not too far from their house, which he had read about online and taken Norman to see. As they walked, he explained to his son what they were passing and why it mattered. At six months old it wasn’t likely he would understand, but Matt was sure some of it was going in, one way or another.
