Occupied

by Janet Preece

  ‘Julie, wait! You can’t leave me in here!’

  Another scream.

  ‘There’s a fucking rat in here! What’s that? There’s something on the floor! Julie! Julie? Where are you? Open the fucking door!’

  ‘Just giving you a little taste of your own medicine,’ Julie whispered back, then, a little louder asked, ‘So you can breathe in there?

  Slut responded with renewed vigour. ‘Yeah, yeah, very funny. You win, now let me out.’

  Julie stared at the closed door, wondering whether to open it. No point getting Rachel all worked up before she even knew what she’d done wrong. She didn’t want to miss out on the fun of the torture. Her thoughts were interrupted by more screams.

  ‘Let me out! Rats! Rats! They’re in here! They’re scratching me! Help, Julie, open the door! Now! Please, Julie, open the door!’

  Looking around outside, the cloudless sky promised a clear night ahead. Nobody was coming. If the area was monitored someone would have been there by now. They were isolated and nobody could hear her pleading.

  ‘Julie, please, stop this! Please open the door! Please!’ Whimpering, begging for release. ‘Help! Somebody, help! Julie, where are you? Are you there? Come back! Where are you?’

  As Julie walked away, she didn’t look back. Perhaps this is better. She’d underestimated the fear of being locked in that room. Maybe she wouldn’t have to bother with all the messy stuff, all those tools, the cleaning up. She rolled her eyes wondering how much effort it would take to cut through bone. Looking down at her nails she tried to prise one off but it held tight, pushing it back caused a reasonable amount of pain, maybe that was an alternative option or pushing things up the nail beds? That would mean less cleaning up at least.

  Give her time, torture her with her own thoughts.

  How long would it take Slut to realise that Julie knew?

  Maybe some quiet time would focus her mind. A couple of days? She would be starving, scared to death. The total darkness, the rats, the mental anguish of not knowing how long she would be there.

  Perfect.

  Maybe it would be enough. Julie wouldn’t need to kill her, necessarily.

  Living on after the mental torture might prove worse punishment than death. The dreams, the nightmares that would haunt her forever. Julie smirked at the thought of perfect, spoiled Rachel sleeping in her own shit and piss for days. Bliss.

  And, if she didn’t repent…?

  This would be a wonderful start to the torture party she deserved. Weaken her, then offer food and drink, bring her back to reality before deciding on stage two: threaten her, release her, or start chopping off limbs. It would depend on how much she was enjoying herself and how loudly Rachel pleaded, how repentant she was for her actions. Julie pictured her sobbing in the dark and smiled at how easily everything had worked out, far better than she could have hoped.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Julie could smell the remnants of Rachel’s perfume in the car. It was such a distinct scent – the Coco Chanel of yesteryear that made her feel the mature sophisticate. Julie had never liked it. When Dan bought her a bottle for her birthday, she’d wondered why he hadn’t gone for the light floral scent of Givenchy Code she’d favoured and hinted at repeatedly. Dan had pleaded ignorance, and she’d made the right noises to voice her gratitude while feeling quietly disappointed. She’d tried to wear it, but the scent clung to her clothes and was so strong it reminded her of her grandma, who always seemed to have doused herself in half a bottle.

  Now, she realised with a sharp intake of breath, it was all part of his plan. His deceit and subterfuge; not wanting to get caught smelling of another woman after he’d been with her. This time, Rachel wouldn’t come up smelling of roses. She wondered how long the scent would last with her locked in the storage unit.

  Was she being overly harsh? Yes, Damn it, but why the hell not? Why should Rachel’s life be more important, held in higher regard than her own? Julie had wanted to die when she realised the extent of Dan’s affair – how he hadn’t cared for her or the kids or what they’d built their life to be. She could have forgiven a one-off, maybe, but years of deceit and with her friend? How could he?

  She turned the radio on in the car.

  Ooh, I like this song. George Michael’s ‘Freedom’ started to play on the radio – now, he was one taken too soon. Julie sang every word, nobody there to hear her let loose. I forgive you, she thought when Dan popped into her head. I will not give you up. I will go back home and put on a brand-new face. The way we play the game will definitely have to change though, Dan.

  She was overcome with the urge to eat, suddenly ravenous. First, return the car to work, eat some fruit in the fields. It was one of the perks of the job and would give her time to think before returning to the crazy world that was family life – no doubt to the bombardment of questions waiting for her back home. Then, back to Rachel.

  Julie smiled as she thought of the sweet, ripe strawberries waiting in the field, picturing her co-workers with pots of cream dipping and picking. They were on a basic wage for their back-breaking labour, she didn’t begrudge them.

  That night, she couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning on the hard floor of the barn as she bedded down with the other workers who had no other accommodation. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel, about what she had done and the fear her friend would be feeling in there, alone, overnight. How could she go back and free her, knowing she’d likely report her to the police for locking her in? But when she knew the reason, that Julie knew about the affair, maybe she would understand. Maybe they would forgive each other and move on. Never be friends again, but at least know each other – really know each other, a new level of mutual respect.

  As the sun began to rise, Julie flitted in and out of sleep, waking to the noise of scratching and imagining herself locked in the storage unit, with Rachel and Dan laughing outside, walking off into the sunset. She was relieved when the alarm finally rang, waking her from a night of terror. Julie was soaked with sweat, the reality of what she had done and the potential consequences for her own life gradually dawning. She wasn’t a killer, not really. No matter how much she wanted to believe she could torture or end Rachel’s life, she just couldn’t go through with it. A calm realisation came over her as she finally had clarity – she didn’t love Dan any more. Didn’t care. Didn’t need to punish Rachel or separate them. She didn’t want him. Life would be better if they continued their affair – that would provide the freedom she craved.

  Julie prayed the workday would go quickly so she could make an anonymous call, she’d do it on the way down to London, arrange for Rachel’s release. No doubt, she’ll be straight over to Dan, knocking down the door, telling him everything. I have to get there first, explain everything.

  Julie hoped Rachel would be okay, wondered how the hell she’d imagined herself able to torture another human being, no matter how angry she was. Horror movies made it look so easy. But the killers don’t have a moral compass, they act on impulse – and they’re just acting. It’s not reality!

  After Amrita’s death, Julie had managed to persuade herself she’d done a positive thing, that she’d acted in self-defence, a moment of madness that had worked out for the best. If she had reported the incident immediately, that might have been the case, but looking back now she felt sick, thinking over her gruesome fascination which followed. Had she been in shock all this time? Was she of sound mind, planning her retaliation on Rachel? Was it all too late to take back what she’d done?

  ‘Thanks so much, Anna, you really have been a Godsend,’ her boss Peter said interrupting her thoughts as he brandished an envelope in front of Julie’s glazed eyes. ‘Earth to Anna – hello?’

  ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

  ‘Well, don’t be a stranger. If you ever want to come back, my door is always open for you.’ He held onto the envelope, grippin
g a bit too tightly.

  Julie looked up into his eyes and suspected he wanted her for more than just fruit-picking. ‘Thanks.’ She smiled back, snatching it firmly. She owed him her gratitude, his overzealous drinking had kept him from noticing her absence the previous day along with his car’s little outing. He didn’t realise what a pivotal role he had played in providing her with the means and alibi for Rachel’s kidnap. She knew Peter would swear ‘Anna’ had been on the farm the whole time, if questioned.

  She wondered how Dan would react on her return. Would he be relieved, happy, excited even? Most likely, he would be angry, blame her for being selfish. I know I have been, she thought, But he doesn’t understand anything, he never did. Would three months be enough to have changed him, she wondered, taking calming breaths as she walked down the dirt track and started the three-mile walk, through the countryside and towards the station. The trees were swaying in the breeze, talking to her, no human sounds interrupting the peace of nature. If only life could stay this way. Perhaps her reunion with the family would be a fleeting visit, an explanation to break ties for good. Nature was her friend and she longed for them to stay together far more than she longed to be reunited with the draining force of her family.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  The train journey down to London went quickly as Julie dozed, again dreaming of Rachel. Her hair was matted, stuck to her face, chunks missing as she’d pulled them out. Her nails were chipped and jagged, blood stained and inflamed from scraping at the unmovable walls, pounding on the unrelenting steel door, attempts at prizing up the cement slab flooring. There was no way out. The days had turned into weeks and she lay crumpled on the floor a bony mess of starvation. Her eyes were wild, bulging prominently from her skull-like face, drained of colour and flesh.

  “The train is approaching King’s Cross, please disembark. All change here, all change.”

  Her eyes snapped open as the announcement pierced her fitful slumber. She looked around feeling vulnerable and exposed, self-consciously wondering if other people had been watching her sleep, if she’d mumbled anything damning.

  Had any of them locked someone up and left them there? Was there a serial killer amongst them? That’s what I will be, if I kill Rachel too.

  Julie hadn’t made the anonymous call during her journey, and now she was back in London, it would be too incriminating if she did it now.

  But Rachel knows you did it!

  The thought screamed through her head. She couldn’t just release her or she’d never hear the end of it, Rachel would be straight onto the police – friend or not, unless she understood why. No, no, it wasn’t worth it. She needed more time to think. Maybe leave Rachel an extra day – prolong the hunger, humiliation, the fear – then go personally to release her. Explain everything, decide then if it was necessary to end Rachel’s life to save her own.

  She wondered what Rachel was up to now, regretted the fact there was no camera set up inside the room to enjoy her trial. How long would she shout, cry, claw at the door, she wondered. Was it really that bad anyway? It was dry shelter after all, warm weather so not likely to be freezing inside, so she might have a stomach ache and a dry mouth. So what! Would one more day make a significant difference?

  Only two days mind, don’t spoil her for the inquisition. That would be no fun. She didn’t want to traumatise Rachel so much that she wouldn’t even remember the reason she was imprisoned in the first place.

  Julie rose from her seat, pleased the train had cleared and she wouldn’t have to grapple with the other passengers. Grabbing her jacket and small holdall, she made her way out of the station and into the fresh air. Just a quick breather before the onward journey.

  She hadn’t planned to hire a car, but as she passed a garage offering just that she couldn’t resist the opportunities it would provide. She could go snooping back at her house, a quick trip to watch the kids on their way to school and perhaps follow Dan to work, then go to the house. She still had her house keys, so assuming the locks hadn’t been changed (and she couldn’t think of a reason why they would have been), she’d let herself into the house and see if she’d been missed; if anything had changed since her disappearance. She could be in and out before anyone knew about it. Following that, she would be ready to open the storage unit door – release the caged rats and tackle her rival.

  ‘A small car will be fine. Yes, please, that Astra looks perfect.’ She handed over a wad of cash and marvelled at the lack of identification or safety measures required for hire. Simon should get a job here, he’d fit right in. The place looked shifty and Julie hoped the car was roadworthy; that she wouldn’t get pulled over by the police for that or something stupid like having stolen number plates. That’s all I need, she thought, unwilling to identify herself yet; not ready to announce her return and face an interrogation, not until everything was in order.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Julie was on an adrenaline-fuelled high as she neared her home town, but driving around the old neighbourhood made her feel sombre. That’s the park where William first sat in a swing, his giggles filled her memory; and that’s where we went to Paint and Play for Jake’s fifth birthday party, and that playground, where Tommy took his first steps. Everything felt sharp and raw, impossible, like a fairy tale that had gone horribly wrong. The last little piggy hadn’t built his house out of bricks because he was selfishly taking a roll in the mud down the road, taking time out for himself, so his friends had nowhere to run to when the sly wolf came calling. Delicious pork steaks.

  Could Julie get away with this? Should she? It was more fantasy than reality. She wondered what Kate would make of it, what she could pull out of Julie’s psyche if she was allowed to probe. Could Dan really be held accountable for all that had happened or was her revenge plot that of a psychopath? Was she culpable or entitled?

  If somebody deserves what’s coming to them, who are we to decide on the punishment? Courts around the country would have you believe they held the power, that people, bystanders, those who had been wronged should not be allowed to retaliate, but surely the victim has the most right to cast judgement, decide the fairest punishment?

  As she approached her road, Julie felt conspicuous. Thinking back three months felt like years as she tried to remember if Dan would have left for work by now. Perhaps things were different. She parked up behind two other cars, just a few metres from her front door, and reached into her bag for her trusty summer hat that protected her on her fruit-picking days in the hot summer sun. She waited patiently, fingering the floral-patterned swirls, tracing each slowly with her weather worn hands.

  That’s my front door, my house. Julie felt like she was seeing it for the first time, the boundary that stood between freedom and servitude. She still had a choice. I could leave, vanish and nobody would know. Her heart was pounding, reminding her of the lifestyle that was waiting for her behind that door. As she watched, it opened and Jack and William tumbled out, smiling and babbling, walking together in their school uniform. Beautifully pressed. Their hair was longer, floppy on top, both styled similarly with the back shaved up through the grades – not a style their traditional barber would have carried out. It wasn’t right. Something so trivial yet it made her want to scream and rush out to them, take them under her maternal control once more. Force them to go back to the baby-cut-style, the simple, innocent childhood that had been left behind.

  She opened the window and preened towards it, hoping to catch their voices on the wind, their words. Were they happy? Had they missed her? She slouched down into her seat, undecided as she watched them approach… then they walked on by. They were talking about their teachers from what she could fathom, ‘If you get her chatting, she forgets all about classwork and doesn’t shut-up! Just ask her about what she had for dinner last night, she loves talking about food…’

  They were so tall, so confident, so…together.

  Julie waited in a bubble
of sadness, hoping a glimpse of Tommy would show him distraught, neglected, missing her. She wondered what the nanny would look like, whether Rachel had allowed him to hire a pretty young thing or whether she had sat in on the interviews and employed someone of no competition.

  Note to self, Julie: Next time you make friends, make sure they’re ugly.

  The door opened again, and Tommy appeared, holding hands with Dan. They were early. So he’s not working, she thought as she watched, entranced. They ambled slowly along the road away from her. She would give them a little head start before following in the rental. Dan was animated, talking with enthusiasm – about what, she had no idea, but Tommy was enraptured. He wasn’t pulling away his hand. Instead, he seemed to have a skip in his step and was comfortable, content.

  Had she made a mistake imagining her presence in the house had been important, that her role as mother, wife, slave wasn’t really necessary? She was angry as she started the car and moved among the slow traffic. What’s the point of any of it? They don’t need me. What’s the point in just existing for no reward? She thought back to Rachel, hardly the sacrificial lamb. Everything’s messed up because of her. There’s nothing to lose. I’m coming to get you.

  As she neared the corner, Julie looked to the left to see how far up the road they had walked and saw Dan talking to a young woman she didn’t recognise. Did Rachel have competition? Who is that? They were way too friendly. How dare she put her arm around Tommy!

  She pulled forward to get a closer look, following them up the main road, eyes on the girl – and then, an almighty crash. Slow-motion. Tommy and Dan turning around to face her, the woman’s mouth open, shocked.

  A grating, scraping noise entered Julie’s consciousness as she felt herself being thrust forward, realising a car had shunted her from the rear side as she turned into the road. The force made her car carousel out of control, and as she struggled to try to regain the steering, she locked eyes with Dan. Again, time seemed to stop as they both took each other in. He mouthed her name as the lamppost appeared and crushed into the front of her bonnet with enough power to release the airbags – if there had been any.