by Claire Allan
Surely what I’d seen during our time together hadn’t been an act? It couldn’t have been. Not all the time, anyway. He’d been so tender. So caring. The long chats we’d shared over coffee. The flowers he’d sent. How tenderly we’d made love that first time. The beautiful words he’d written each week for class. I couldn’t think and my head still hurt.
The touch of his hand on the bare skin of my arm made me wince. It was still sore, more than likely bruised by his earlier violence. He didn’t respond to my yelp of pain, simply told me to get out of the car. I felt the sting of broken glass on the soles of my bare feet as I stood up. I tried to move, to hop away from the glass, but I couldn’t see the ground to see where was clear.
‘Move!’ Michael sneered.
‘There’s glass,’ I muttered, feeling the soles of my feet become wet with blood.
He didn’t speak but pushed me ahead of him, down the covered walkway to the door of what we’d always called the ‘Middle Building’. Though the doors were locked and boarded-up, I could see that someone had chipped away at the wooden boarding, smashed the glass within.
Michael slid his hand through the jagged hole in the door and pulled it open, pushing me in and onto the cold tiles of the floor. If it had been dark outside, inside it was darker. No hint of any light, no glow from the moon, all windows covered, electricity long since switched off. I could hear the constant drip of water, felt dust and grit on the floor, now mixing with my shredded foot. Suddenly a bright light, a torch, was shining directly into my eyes. It disorientated me further.
‘Up,’ Michael said, gesturing towards stairs on my right-hand side.
I remembered my form class, my old geography classroom. I remembered climbing these stairs with a schoolbag filled to bursting with textbooks. The scent of our damp coats in the air. The call of a prefect to stay on the left-hand side – ‘Single file, girls!’
We climbed until we reached the second, and top, floor. He seemed to know where he was going, know exactly what he was doing, and that frightened me. This had all been planned. For how long? And why? The why still made no sense to me.
‘Please,’ I begged again as he pushed me further down the corridor. ‘Why are you doing this? Just let me go, Michael. I won’t tell anyone it was you. I won’t say a word. I’ll do what you want. I’ll run away with you.’
He didn’t speak, just pushed me forwards.
Opening the door of a classroom on the left-hand side, he pushed me inside. With the gentle light of the torch I could see posters, classwork still pinned to some of the walls. The blackboard, with obscenities scrawled along it. A few chairs, lying on their sides. Discarded drinks cans and beer bottles. A mouldy and pervasive smell filled the air, only made worse by the lack of any ventilation.
He walked across the classroom to the door of the small storeroom before waving his torch in the same direction.
‘Get in!’ he said.
‘No!’ I shook my head.
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ he said as if he were talking to a child. As if he were asking me to try something fun and I was being stubborn. ‘Get in,’ he snarled.
I hesitated before he grabbed my arm and pushed me in, my ribs colliding with a wooden shelf as I hit the back of the storeroom. I barely had time to turn around to look at him, when he closed the door and I could hear him move furniture around.
‘I’ll be back later,’ he said through the door.
‘Michael, please!’ I begged, thumping on the door as hard as I could. ‘Don’t leave me here!’
He didn’t respond, but I heard the sound of his footsteps moving further and further away until there was silence again. Silence and utter blackness.
I slumped to the ground, pulled my knees up to my chest. My head ached, my arm, too. My foot felt as though it were on fire. But aside from the physical pain, my God! I was scared. So incredibly terrified. Terrified and angry for putting myself in this position.
I had no idea what time it was. Were the police looking for me? Surely they’d have traced my car, for what good it would do? I thought of Beth and Paul. How I’d betrayed them by going to meet Michael in the first place. How I’d been so stupid. So reckless.
I cried when I thought of Molly. I’d promised her I wouldn’t leave her. I’d promised her the bad man wouldn’t get me. That I’d be there for her. She was only three. A baby. She must be so confused and scared right now. I cried more when it hit me over and over again that there was no chance I was getting out of this alive.
I thought of all of Ronan’s words, how he’d gone to identify Clare. Who would have the grim task of identifying my body? What kind of state would Michael leave me in for them to identify, or would he leave me here to rot in this building? They might never find me. Or would my body end up like Clare’s, locked in a fridge in a coroner’s, miles from home? Would my family have to sit in front of the media and plead for my killer to come forward?
Just one week ago, Michael had shown Clare no mercy. If he’d been the man she was seeing, he’d wooed her, too. At the same time as he was wooing me. He’d allowed her to fall in love with him, at the same time as he was telling me he was falling in love with me. Made her think she had a future with him, only to betray her in the most brutal way.
How had I even considered for one second running away with this man? I’d been so very, very stupid. My baby girl was so young that in a few years she wouldn’t even remember who I was, how I’d loved her. Would she ever understand why any of this had happened? Would I? And if, by some miracle, I came out of this alive, would any of them ever forgive me?
The putrid smell, as if the very walls were sweating in this heat, filled my nostrils. I was sure I could hear the sound of something scurrying in this enclosed space with me. I was afraid to move. I could barely breathe; my chest was so tight I was sure I’d suffocate in this space. I covered my ears to try to drown out the sound of the scurrying, the dripping of water, but I couldn’t drown out the thumping of my heart.
Thursday, 14 June
Chapter Forty-Six
Rachel
I wasn’t sure what time it was. There was no way to tell. I thought maybe I could see some light under the crack in the door, but it could have simply been that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness just a little. I knew I’d slept, or dozed at some stage. I knew it because I dreamed that I’d been able to find my way out and run away. Dreamed that I’d been sitting beside Paul and telling him how scared I was but that at least now it was over.
Horror washed over me when I woke, still in this storeroom, my clothes now damp with sweat, blood and God knows whatever else that was lying on the floor. I desperately needed to use the toilet – was determined not to go where I was. I knew it was a silly logic, but it was the one way I felt I could keep control of the situation. But as the hours passed and there was no sign of Michael and the door remained steadfast no matter how many times I’d rammed my shoulder against it, or kicked it, I’d had no choice. I had to pee in the small space where I stood, barely four foot by four foot wide. That was when I truly started feeling all my hope ebbing away.
My heartbeat had settled, though. The adrenaline had stopped pumping in shocking surges through my veins. Exhaustion forced me to sit, to focus on breathing. I was hungry. I was so thirsty I could cry, but in these moments I wasn’t in any immediate threat.
The lull allowed me to gather my thoughts. If I could disarm him. If I could plead to his good nature. Surely it couldn’t all have been a lie? But then again, he’d lied to Clare. If I could talk to him, reason with him, find out why. Wasn’t that what they said to do, get someone who’s threatening to hurt you to talk to you, to start to see your humanity …? Then again, I’d already shown Michael all of me.
The sound of something rattling, then the heavy thud of footsteps on tiles, awoke both my senses and my fear. I could hear someone approach, someone who was walking purposefully, as if they knew where they were going and why. The creak of a door, followed by the so
und of the footsteps coming even closer, forced me to try to curl myself into as tight a ball as possible in the darkest corner of the storeroom. It was a foolish and futile attempt to hide, but it was all I had.
‘Morning, sunshine. It’s another beautiful day!’
I heard his voice through the door as he scraped the furniture back. The door opened and I didn’t turn my head to look at him. I couldn’t bear to see him.
‘Now that’s not much of a welcome, is it?’ he said.
I was aware of him around me, close to me. The smell of him, the heat from his body, the warmth of his breath on the bare skin of my shoulder.
‘I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to jump into my arms, but maybe a kiss?’
I recoiled further as I felt the brush of his lips on the top of my head.
‘Anyway, it’s time to rise and shine,’ he said, pulling at my arm, ignoring my yelp of pain, dragging me into the main classroom.
It was lighter, but only just. Thin slivers of light cut through the spaces between the wooden boards. The classroom looked no more appealing in the daylight than it had the night before. Clearly, we weren’t the first visitors to the abandoned building. There was evidence it had been used as a drinking den. I glanced around, trying to find my bearings. Trying to place exactly which classroom I was in, which way would be the easiest way out – if there was a way out.
‘I’ve brought you some water,’ he said, reaching into a rucksack he’d placed on the floor and taking out a bottle of still mineral water.
I looked at it, not wanting to take anything from him. But being so thirsty it was all I could do not to grab it out of his hands.
‘Take it,’ he said, holding it out towards me.
I hesitated.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘you can take it yourself, or I can force it down your throat. It’s really no odds to me; although a part of me would like to watch you choke.’
I took it. The seal was still intact, which offered me a little reassurance, so I opened it and put it to my lips. It was ice-cold and felt so good as it hit the back of my throat. I drank my way through the full bottle, only thinking afterwards that I shouldn’t have been so greedy with it. I didn’t know when I’d get more. Or if I would get more.
‘There are toilets across the corridor,’ he said. ‘The water’s been switched off and well, some of them are a bit smashed up, but if you need to go …’
I nodded. If anything, I’d be able to gauge exactly where I was if I got out of the classroom again.
He pushed me towards the toilet block. It was as grim as he’d said it would be, but at least it afforded some privacy. I thought of how I’d been forced to relieve myself in the storeroom and my face flushed red with embarrassment.
‘You’re not very talkative this morning,’ he said. ‘It’s not like you, Rachel. Normally, you chat away to me. Banter. This is quite disappointing.’
‘What are you going to do to me?’ I asked as I emerged from one of the cubicles and looked him directly in the eyes. Those green eyes I’d fallen for … How stupid I’d been!
‘Well, you see, we have a problem. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not yet, anyway. I wanted to play with you a bit more. And Julie, too. She’s not like you and Clare, is she? Not a slut like you two. It was harder to get under her skin. She’s no idea, of course, of who I really am. She thinks I’m just the friendly dad at the school gates. The one who helped to change her tyre when it was flat. She doesn’t know I was the one who let the air out, but still …’
He was speaking quickly – had an almost manic air about him. I noticed he was still wearing the same clothes as the night before and his eyes were red-ringed, as if he hadn’t slept much, if at all. He kept stepping from foot to foot, glancing around him, then back at me. Each time he looked at me he wore an expression as if he’d just seen me for the first time. It was unnerving.
‘Back into the classroom,’ he said.
I did as I was told and followed.
‘Anyway, Rachel, the thing is, I don’t quite know what to do with you. I mean, ultimately I do, but things have changed. They haven’t followed my plan. So I’m going to hang onto you a for a bit while I work it all out.’
‘How long?’ I asked. The thought of being here in this space with him was making me feel sick to my stomach.
‘I’ve not quite decided. But don’t worry; you’ll be safe here until I do decide. This site’s deserted. It’s the perfect place to keep you, to be honest, and you’ve got to admit, there’s a certain poetic justice to it.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said. ‘What am I supposed to have done – what are we all supposed to have done – to deserve this?’
He shook his head, pulled his fingers through his hair. Then, without warning, he turned and kicked at the door, growling as he did so. I startled and took a few steps back before he turned to look at me again.
‘The fact that you don’t know,’ he said, ‘just proves you deserve it. It meant nothing to you, did it? You didn’t even notice and you certainly didn’t care. So self-involved. Not caring what impact your actions had on others – as long as your life was perfect, that was all that mattered. You and Julie and Clare. All the same.’
‘What makes you think my life is perfect?’ I asked him. ‘If my life was perfect, would I have been falling for another man? You know, Michael, you know what I felt for you. You know it was real. I believed you.’
‘You were putting your own needs above those of your family. You plead and cry “My girls, Michael, think of my girls.”’ He mimicked my voice as he spoke, ‘But what thought did you give to your girls when you were fucking me? And then, like everyone else in your life, I became disposable, didn’t I? Pretend it was about them, all you want, but it was about you. You’d had your fun. Christ, Rachel, you begged me to fuck you just minutes before you broke it off.’
He was twisting my words, my actions and my motives. It wasn’t like that. Or was it? Had I been too blind, too selfish like he said, to see what I was doing? But even if I was, I didn’t deserve this. Any of it. I couldn’t hold back my tears as I thought of who I’d hurt because of this.
‘You’re crying now because I’ve called out your lies and your selfishness. It hurts to look in a mirror, Rachel, doesn’t it? To learn what kind of a person you really are.’
I put my hands over my ears. I didn’t want to listen to him. He didn’t understand.
He just stared at me, his eyes roaming over my body before he pulled a seat across the room and sat on it.
‘You can stand there all day,’ he said, ‘hands over your ears, but I’ll still be here. Nothing will have changed.’
I watched as he delved into the rucksack, pulled out two pre-packed sandwiches and threw one across the room to me.
‘Eat,’ he said. ‘And let’s not go through some stupid song and dance with you refusing to eat. You’ll be hungry. You’ll eat it anyway, no matter what you say, so just cut to the chase and eat it now.’
I lifted the chicken salad sandwich off the floor, fetched the other abandoned school chair and sat on it. I couldn’t deny I was hungry, but my stomach was tight with tension. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat. I took a small bite; it turned to sawdust in my mouth but I knew I needed to keep up my strength. I forced my way through one sandwich, leaving the other in the packet. I wouldn’t make the same mistake that I’d made with the water again.
He eyed me suspiciously before reaching again into his bag and rolling a can of Fanta across the floor to me.
I lifted it, popped it open and took a long drink before sitting it back on the ground.
‘What now?’ I asked him.
‘Now,’ he said, putting his own drink can down then standing up and brushing the crumbs from his jeans. ‘Now, Rachel, we have a little fun.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Elizabeth
Michael had called to see me that morning. Bringing supplies from home. I blushed at the thought of hi
s poking through my drawers, packing underwear and nighties for me. He’d brought with him a bag from Boots, too – containing toiletries, a toothbrush and hairbrush.
‘If you need anything else, just text me and I’ll bring it next time I come in,’ he’d said.
He’d looked awful. Tired. Stressed. I’d asked him if he was okay.
‘The kids are very upset,’ he’d told me. ‘They’re scared they’re not going to see you again. Ava slept beside me last night. She cried herself to sleep. I think you being sick has brought up a lot of memories for them of when Laura died. I think I’d fooled myself into thinking they were doing okay now, that they’d managed in that way children do, but then this happens …’
From the look on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, I’d wondered if the children weren’t the only ones dealing with the ongoing trauma of Laura’s death.
‘Bring them in,’ I’d said, cringing at the slurring of my voice. It had improved, but talking still required a mammoth effort.
He’d looked at me; I could see he was sizing me up. Wondering if it would be any reassurance at all to the children to see their grandmother in a hospital bed, one side of her face still drooping, her left side still weak. Needing to be helped by two staff and a walker to make it to the bathroom.
‘I don’t want to worry them,’ he’d said and I could tell he hated telling me that. That he knew it would hurt me, even if I knew he was doing the right thing.
‘In a day or so?’ I’d said.
He’d nodded. ‘Yes, I think that would be a good idea,’ he’d said, but I knew he would be playing it all by ear.
‘I’m sorry I can’t stay,’ he’d said. ‘But I’ve work to get to. I’ll try to get in later, but if you need me …’
‘I know, thank you,’ I’d said.
‘Your sister’ll be arriving later, so you might get a visit from her,’ he added.
