Tara

by Lesley Pearse

  Opening the door of the room was a moment of pure terror. But no hand came down on her, no crow-bar on her neck or cobweb on her face as she walked out into the landing. It was light and airy here, some of the light coming from a long window over the staircase to her left, more from the room opposite.

  This room was being camped in. Three brown sleeping bags lay on the floor, next to a box full of magazines, a primus stove and a plastic washing-up bowl with some clean plates in it.

  Tara moved quickly. She was certain they were out, they had to be, and she must get away before they returned. A bathroom had shaving stuff on the sink, the lavatory was filthy and a bottle of aspirin sat on the windowsill. She felt more confident going downstairs as she knew they weren't in any of the front rooms. The kitchen was the only room in use here, and even that was tidy.

  'Very military,' Tara murmured, seeing a box of food carefully packed, presumably ready to be lifted up at a moment's notice.

  She smelled the cellar before she even saw the steps leading down to it, an earthy, musty smell, and as she moved nearer she felt the chill.

  Her courage left her as she looked down into the darkness. Her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow. Her heartbeat seemed to be in her ears, and her legs were so tense she wasn't sure she could even make it down there. The steps were almost slimy, the rail under her hand rusting and cold to the touch. She longed to turn back and run, but slowly she took one step after another. But at the bottom she could see a chink of light, the clear line of a door and a small grille in the middle.

  As she crept closer she heard a groan. Not the loud sound of someone trying to make themself heard, just an involuntary gasp of pain. Instinct told her it was Harry. She ran forward, exultation banishing her fear. Her hands scrabbled to find a handle on the door, but it was locked.

  'Harry!' she called out, not caring if anyone heard now. 'Harry, is it you?'

  Straining her ears she put her face right up to the small grille, and called again. There was just enough light to make out a second door, with an identical grille. The lamp was in this inner room and presumably Harry, too.

  'Tara!' His voice was faint, but it was him. 'Tara, are you really here?'

  'I'm here at this door, but it's locked,' she called. 'I'll have to go out and get the police.'

  Suddenly she saw his head illuminated in the grille.

  'Get out now!' he called out, his voice intensely fierce. 'If they catch you they'll kill you, that's what they intend to do with me. Run for it! NOW!'

  Chapter 35

  'How are you feeling, darling?' Josh called as he approached the bedroom door, kicking it open with his foot because his hands were full of roses, chocolates, and a Josh carrier bag with a selection of trousers and tops. His smile faded when he saw the carefully made bed.

  'Shit!' he exploded. 'Where the hell's she gone now?' Dumping the parcels on the bed he went quickly into the lounge. A note was propped up on the coffee table; he read it quickly, then threw it down in anger.

  It was half-past one. He'd spent the morning in frantic haste just so he could get back quickly. He'd even picked up some travel brochures he was so confident she would soon be his. Tonight he'd planned to cook her a good meal, then tempt her into selecting a holiday with him for after her mother's wedding. But now she'd run off, leaving that irritating fawning note.

  A phone call to her flat confirmed she'd already left there, too. Odd that someone so distraught and exhausted should so suddenly pull herself together. Unless, of course, she'd tumbled he was involved?

  The thought of it made him tremble. Retracing his steps mentally he tried to recall everything that had happened from the moment he picked her up this morning at the club.

  'She wouldn't have told me all that if she knew I was in on it,' he said aloud. Of course she couldn't know. She would have phoned someone else to pick her up, or even the police. 'Was it because I didn't want to go to the police?' He frowned.

  But she was all right about everything then, she seemed resigned. The only time she seemed a bit odd was when she came out of the garage. What was out there? Josh jumped up and ran down to the stairs to look. A stringent search revealed nothing. He couldn't think of one item he had ever had that would lead her to suspect him. Besides, why would she leave him such a warm letter?

  Half appeased Josh went back upstairs and read the letter again, then picked up the phone.

  'Hullo, Mrs Manning,' he said as Amy answered. 'It's me, Josh. How are you?' He made small talk for some time, asking her if she needed anything for the wedding and what she and Greg would like for a present.

  'Oh, I don't know.' Amy giggled as if embarrassed. 'People said we should have a list, but that seems awful to me.'

  He agreed he would give her a surprise, then brought the subject round to Tara.

  'She's been a bit fraught lately,' he said. 'That's part of the reason I suggested she came home to you for a short break. Did she tell you about the new shop?'

  'In passing, she said she'd tell me everything when she got here. I'm not sure when that will be, she's stopping off at a friend's in Reading,' Amy replied.

  'Do you know this friend's name or address?' Josh asked. 'It's just there's something urgent I need to ask Tara about.'

  'No, I don't.' Amy sounded thoughtful. 'I don't remember her speaking of anyone in Reading before. I was going to ask her who it was but she was a bit touchy with me and I didn't like to. Is that how you found her?'

  'It's this Harry business, I think.' Josh lowered his voice in a confidential manner. 'I think she suspects everything and everyone of intrigue.'

  'I don't understand.' Amy bristled a little and Josh smiled to himself.

  'Oh, dear, I wish I hadn't said anything now.' Josh made himself sound reticent at revealing anything more, but he gave her the bare bones of Harry's disappearance and the fact he hadn't contacted Tara. 'I shouldn't really be telling you this, she wouldn't like it. I expect she'll tell you anyway when she gets there.'

  'It doesn't sound like Harry's way, though,' Amy said. 'I tend to agree with Tara that it's a bit odd.'

  'Talking of odd things,' Josh was getting bored with this conversation and needed to bring it to a close, 'did Tara speak of anything else? I mean, if I'm to track down this friend in Reading I need the old brain cells jogged.'

  'Not really, she wasn't on the line long,' Amy replied. 'She asked me about a place her dad and I went to once, that was all.'

  'What place was that?' Josh said casually. 'Somewhere en route to home?'

  'Oh, no, it's in Kent,' Amy said. 'A little place called Lympne.'

  Josh sat staring into space for some minutes after he'd put the phone down. Sheer panic was tearing at his insides and he didn't know what to do. How had Tara discovered the name of the village? In fact, how on earth did Amy, who'd hardly been out of Somerset in umpteen years, know that particular village in Kent? A pound to a penny that was where Tara was heading. But why? What sparked her off?

  It had been bad enough telling Duke this morning about her getting in the club and searching round, but to admit she was hot on Harry's trail – that was something else!

  'Never let sentiment cloud your judgment,' Josh muttered. That was his father's motto and it covered hiring and firing, lending and borrowing money.

  Well, he'd misjudged Tara in this. He thought she was well on the way to forgetting Harry bloody Collins for good. He'd always seen her as a materialistic girl who would plump in the end for the guy who could give her the most. It seemed he was wrong!

  'Duke, there's a fly in the ointment,' Josh said softly into the receiver.

  He bitterly regretted the day he hired Joe Spikes to mind Ginger. Without him he would never have met Duke, never been tempted to take this path. The man was more reptile than human, he sucked people into his plans, and once in there was no escape.

  'The girl's found out about Lympne and I suspect she's on her way there now. What can we do?'

  The momentary s
ilence frightened Josh more than anything. He knew Duke was capable of killing anyone who got in his way.

  'You're an arsehole, Josh.' Duke let out his breath in one fierce stream. 'You said you could distract her from Collins.'

  'I underestimated her.'

  'Well, I hope you don't underestimate me, Josh. When I tell you I don't allow people to get in my way, you do understand what I mean?'

  Josh's bowels turned to water.

  'You can't have it both ways.' Duke's voice had a steely edge. 'You brought this on yourself and I'm not kissing goodbye to two million for some little tart.'

  Josh sat in his lounge, head in hands. However he looked at it, he was in deep trouble.

  Tara wasn't the only person to tell him he needed to look more closely at his business; his accountant had been telling him the same thing for over a year. Now he had to choose between the girl who was the linchpin of his company, or enough money to re-float himself. But whichever one he chose, he would lose.

  If he let Duke go ahead and deal with Tara in his way, he'd have the money he needed. He could pay off his debts, keep his house, his car, his warehouse. Maybe he could find another designer as good as her.

  But at what price?

  'Run now,' Harry urged Tara through the grille. 'I overheard them a while ago, they were talking about doing a recce to look for someone. They must know you're here. Go up through the woods at the back of the house, but watch out when you come to the road.'

  'Just tell me, Harry, were you in on this?' Tara asked.

  'Of course I wasn't,' he called back. 'Need you ask? All I wanted was to sell the club and leave London with you. But go now, before they catch you!'

  'I'll call the police,' she reassured him. 'You won't be here long.'

  'Tell them the drug pick-up is at first light tomorrow,' Harry said faintly. 'And tell them I'll need an ambulance. I've been shot in the leg.'

  'Does it hurt?'

  'Tara, go!' he exploded. 'I love you, babe, but you don't understand how mean they are. Run for it!'

  His voice impressed upon her the seriousness of her situation. Without another word she turned and fled, up the cellar stairs, up to the first floor and out of the window to the fire escape. There was no time to listen for car engines, for voices or even feet on the gravel. Instead she jumped down the stairs two at a time and at the bottom threw herself into the bushes, then fought her way through the brambles and undergrowth.

  It was hard going. Branches snapped back in her face, brambles snatched at her clothes and she tripped a dozen times, but finally she saw snippets of sky between the trees and knew she was close to the road.

  Such a relief! The worst was over now. Soon the police would arrive, Harry would be taken to hospital and she could sleep at last. As she came up to the wire fence she almost shouted with glee. She had been right all along, Harry wasn't a villain and he did love her.

  No-one was coming as she climbed over the fence. Running along to the airport on her right was the obvious choice; it meant people, phones and safety.

  The dark green Morris Oxford was parked just a few yards before the airport entrance. Two men sat inside, heads close together as if consulting a map.

  'Excuse me, can you tell me if this road leads to Ashford?' one of the men called out just as she'd passed them.

  Tara stopped and turned. The man was out of his car, just one step behind her.

  'I'm sorry, I don't – ' She didn't even get the last word out. She saw him lift his arm, and as she tried to run she felt a blow on the back of her neck.

  The sensation was a bit like coming round from gas at the dentist's. A tunnel of darkness was all around her, but a chink of light shone in the centre and she was moving towards it. There was a roaring sound in her ears, a terrible pain which prevented her from opening her eyes, and she felt sick.

  'There isn't anywhere else to put her,' a man was saying. 'Besides, they might as well spend the last few hours together.'

  It was enough to jolt her memory. She could tell by the distinctive smell of wood that she was back in Port Lympne, but she had no recollection of how she got there.

  'How did she find out about this place?' The man's voice was very deep and strangely familiar. It sounded as if he might be leaning over her, studying her. She could smell tobacco and engine oil.

  'Dunno. Duke didn't say, just said she was a looker with golden hair and to nab her. We was only just in time. If she'd gone the other way...!'

  Her wrists were bound, so were her feet, but the pain in her neck dominated everything.

  'I don't like this, not women.' This was a younger, anxious voice.

  'Neither do I, Micky. But just remind yourself what prison's like and all the dough we've got coming. You'll find you can live with it.'

  Hands grabbed her shoulders and ankles and Tara bucked and screamed, her eyes flying open. The man holding her ankles had shoulder-length curly brown hair and a smooth, almost pretty face. He smiled apologetically and caught hold of her legs more firmly.

  'Calm down,' he said. 'We're only taking you down to Harry.'

  She bucked again, this time to see the other man holding her shoulders. He was older, with a hideous scar on his right cheek which puckered his lips into a sneer, and he was completely bald.

  'Don't do this,' she gabbled. 'I left messages all round town about where I've gone. It's only a matter of time before the police get here.'

  The bald man laughed, and she felt again that strange déjà vu.

  'Think we came in on the last banana boat?' he jeered. 'You never got to the phone, remember?'

  The two men moved quickly then, out of the hall where she'd been lying, along a passage and down the stone stairs to the cellar. She wriggled and screamed abuse at them, but they ignored her.

  'You bastards,' she shouted. 'You won't get away with this. I've told people what's going on. You'll be sorry.' Yet as crazy as it was, she was glad she was going in with Harry. If they both had to die, at least they'd have the comfort of one another.

  'You can scream all you like down here, Goldilocks, no-one will hear you,' the bald man sneered.

  The young man dropped her feet as he opened the first door, but the bald man held her back tight to his chest, then shuffled her forward while the man he called Micky locked it behind them. Then the second door opened, light flooded out into the dark chamber and she saw Harry hobbling towards her.

  'There you go, a playmate for you.' The bald man pushed her forward into Harry's arms. 'See you later!'

  The door clanked shut behind them, the key turned in the lock, but Tara was only aware of Harry's face.

  He was thinner, his skin looked sallow, his eyes burned too brightly. One leg of his jeans had been slashed to the knee; she could see a blood-stained bandage beneath.

  'Your leg!' she gasped. 'How bad is it?'

  'A whole lot better now you're here.' He smiled, but his eyes told her he would give his life for her to be safe a hundred miles away.

  'I let you down,' she cried. 'I couldn't get to the phone quick enough. They were waiting for me in a car.'

  'You were so brave.' He held her face, kissing her eyes, her nose, her cheeks and finally her mouth.

  'Foolish.' She moved her head from his. 'I should have followed my instincts and got the police in the first place. I don't understand how they knew I'd be here. What are we going to do?'

  'I'm going to untie you.' Harry's voice was gentle, his fingers running down her face and neck in a soothing gesture. 'We can't fight anything in here, Tara, but if we can stay calm, and compare the information we have, we may be able to figure out something.' His composure was comforting, and she found herself smiling down at him as he bent to untie her.

  'There's a Stanley knife in my pocket,' she said when she saw he was finding it hard to untie the rope. 'Will that help?'

  The look of joy that flashed across his face made her forget the seriousness of their situation for a moment. 'You've got a Stanley knife?'
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  She wriggled her hips. 'In the side pocket. That is, unless they found it.'

  Harry's hands felt her side and he looked up at her, his bright blue eyes almost worshipping her.

  'I can fight them with this,' he whispered. 'It gives us a chance, even if only a slim one.'

  He thought he'd died and gone to heaven when Tara called through that grille. He counted every second after she left, imagining her fighting her way through the bushes and finally coming to the road. His faith in her was so strong he almost heard police sirens and the pain in his leg vanished. But then he heard the screaming out on the stairs and once again he was plunged back into despair. Now it was far worse, not just his own life at risk, but hers too.

  The rope came off and she watched while he cut a short length from it.

  'Another weapon.' He grinned, flexing it between his fists. 'We're getting an arsenal together!'

  'Could you strangle someone?'

  'Once I'd have said no.' Harry smiled. 'But it's dog eat dog now.'

  He put the knife and rope down and took her wrists, rubbing them between his fingers.

  'Poor Tara.' His eyes were full of sorrow. 'You must have been through hell.'

  Her face was covered in tiny scratches, still more on her hands, her jeans were wet right up to her knees and her coat was torn. She winced as he put his hand on her shoulder; he gently lifted her hair and saw the angry red mark on the nape of her neck.

  'Not as bad as you. How serious is that wound?'

  'Fairly.' He grinned but she could see pain in his eyes. 'The bullet's still in there. But I reckon I could still thrash that Joe Spikes if I got the opportunity.'

  He helped her off with the coat. 'You'd better take off those wet jeans, too.' He ran his hand down her cheek tenderly. 'We don't want you catching pneumonia on top of everything else.'

  Tara took off her shoes and jeans, and Harry hung them on the back of the chair. Her checked shirt barely covered her white knickers and she sat down on the bed, tucking her legs up under her. There was so much she wanted to know that she hardly knew where to start.