by Daniel Hurst
As we retake our seats and the train pulls away from the platform, we are back on track, literally.
‘Do you feel better for getting that out of your system?’ I ask Amanda as I check my watch for the time. That little charade only wasted a couple of minutes, but I’m growing impatient now, and I imagine James is too.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Amanda asks, sulking in her seat.
‘It’s not personal. Just bad luck, I guess.’
‘You don’t have to do it.’
‘I’m afraid we do. You see, we need the money.’
‘I need that money!’
‘But you need your daughter more.’
Amanda can’t really argue with that.
‘Look, if it’s any consolation, I’m very impressed that you were able to save up such a good sum of cash,’ I say. ‘And if you can do it once, I’m sure you can do it again.’
‘How? I don’t have a job after this week!’
‘Keep your voice down,’ I remind her as a couple of passengers look in our direction again.
I wonder if they think we are having some kind of lovers’ tiff. If only they really knew what was happening. It would certainly give them something to talk about in the office tomorrow.
I look back at Amanda to see her staring despondently out of the window, and it is a little difficult not to feel some sympathy for her. But sympathy never got anybody paid.
‘Look, let me make this as clear as I can for you,’ I say as I lean forward in my seat and rest my arms on the table between us. ‘You will give me that code to your safe, or your daughter will die. And we’re not messing about. Either you pay or your daughter will. It’s as simple as that.’
I sit back in my seat when I’ve made my point, and I expect that to be the end of it. But Amanda still seems reluctant.
‘How did you do all this?’
‘All of what?’
‘This. How did you know where I’d be? Which train I get? Which table I would sit at?’
I smile because that’s easy to answer.
‘Like most people, Amanda, you are a creature of habit. As soon as James told me about the money in your flat, I began to follow you. You wouldn’t have noticed me, but I have been watching you for several days. I watched you leave your flat in Brighton and catch the 07:40 service into London every weekday morning. I watched you walk to your office. I’ve watched you take your lunch break. And I’ve watched you go home again on the 17:35.’
Amanda stares at me in disbelief.
‘I followed you everywhere you went. The more I followed you, the more I noticed that you didn’t deviate from your routine once. Same trains. Same walk to the office. Even the same pricey salad bar for your lunch, which I was surprised about because I thought you were trying to save money, but I guess you have to allow yourself little luxuries somewhere.’
‘I don’t believe this.’
‘You’d better believe it,’ I say, nodding my head. ‘The sad thing is that you made this so easy. By being so predictable, you removed all risk for me. Take this table, for example. I’ve watched you sit here every night on your way home. Not the table behind. Not the table in front. This table. You enter the carriage by the same doors, and you sit in the same seat. So much routine. No wonder you are desperate to escape this life. I’d go crazy too if this were my existence.’
From the look on her face, I’m not sure whether Amanda wants to scream in frustration or burst into tears, but now she knows. That daily grind she hates so much has ended up being one of the things that has led to her downfall.
‘And Louise?’ she asks me.
‘We know she is at home all day, so all my partner needed to do was to call around and get inside this afternoon. Now he’s there, I’m here, and we’ve got everything we need. Everything except that code. So what do you say, Amanda? Are you going to give it to me, or are we going to have to hurt your daughter?’?’
Amanda doesn’t say a word as her eyes burn into me, and I wonder what she is thinking.
‘I’m not sure what you have to think about, but don’t take too long,’ I say as I sit back in my seat. ‘You’ve got until the end of the line to give me that code, Amanda. The end of the line or you never see your daughter again.’
13
LOUISE
I’m on edge now. I have been ever since my mum phoned me out of the blue and asked me if I was on my own. I have no idea why she would have done that unless she knew I was lying to her. But I’ve been so careful. James only comes around when she is at work, and he has always left long before she returns.
So how could she suspect that I’m not alone?
I try to tell myself that I’m just being paranoid, but it’s no good. The chances of her calling me while James is here and asking if I am on my own are too small to be random. She must know about him somehow. But how?
Maybe one of the neighbours in the other flats have seen him coming in during the day and told her. But surely she would have had a go at me there and then. Why ask me the question? Why give me a chance to lie about it if she already knows the truth?
Unless she doesn’t know. Maybe she just has a suspicion. Maybe she has no evidence. Maybe I’m not in as much trouble as I think I am. But one thing is for sure.
I need to get James out of this flat now before she gets back.
I leave my phone on the kitchen counter and hurry back into my bedroom, where I’m frustrated to see my boyfriend still lying underneath the duvet. I’ve been telling him to get up and leave for the last half an hour, but he keeps ignoring me. Okay, I didn’t exactly persuade him to leave when I climbed back under the duvet with him earlier, but now I am up again, and I need him to be too. Mum is on her way, and she seems to suspect that I’ve been lying to her.
‘Get up now! I’m not messing about this time!’ I say to James as I pull the duvet from the bed and reveal his semi-naked body on the bedsheet.
‘Hey! It’s freezing!’ he cries, but I ignore him.
‘Please, James. It’s not funny. My mum is coming back!’
I’ve no idea why he is being like this because he’s never done this before. Usually, he is quite keen to leave after he’s got what he wanted, but for some reason today he is refusing to put his clothes back on and get out of the flat. It’s almost as if he is doing it on purpose to wind me up even more.
‘Okay, keep your hair on,’ he tells me, but that only gets me even more annoyed.
‘I’m being serious! You have no idea how much trouble I’ll be in if she finds you here. Get out!’
‘Hey, calm down!’ James replies, and while he doesn’t start putting his clothes back on as I wish, he does at least get out of bed. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks me, clearly having realised that I’m more tightly wound right now than usual.
I think about not telling him about what my mum said on the phone, but then I figure it’s the only way to make him understand why I’m so anxious.
‘Mum just called me and asked me if I was on my own.’
‘She asked you that?’ James replies, looking puzzled.
‘Yeah. I don’t know why she would do that unless she suspected me of having somebody here, so she must have found out about you.’
‘How could she know?’
‘I’ve no idea, but why else would she ask me? You need to get out now. Come on, get dressed!’
I pick up James’s jeans from the floor and throw them at him before scooping up his T-shirt and jacket from the other side of the room. I wish he were in as much of a rush to put his clothes on as he was to take them off when he arrived here.
‘Okay, okay, I’m going,’ he says as he pulls his jeans up and fastens the top button.
‘I’m sorry. Maybe you can come around again in a couple of days. I just need to figure out what Mum knows before you do.’
‘No problem,’ James replies. ‘Can I use the bathroom quickly?’
‘Be quick!’ I tell him, and I push him out of my bedroom as he pulls
his T-shirt over his head.
He stumbles into the side of the doorframe as he goes, and I feel bad for rushing him, but not as bad as I would do if my mum walked in and caught sight of a guy coming out of my room.
As I hear the bathroom door close, I check my mobile to see if there are any more calls or messages from Mum for me to worry about. But there are none, which is a mild relief although my paranoia is still in overdrive.
A check on the time tells me that her train is due in thirty minutes, which doesn’t leave me long to get James out and tidy up around here, but it should be enough. Maybe I’ll do a bit of extra tidying in the kitchen too. That might put Mum in a better mood when she walks through the door, and that might stop her asking me any more questions about what I have been up to all day.
As I wait for James to emerge from the bathroom, I begin the tidying up of my bedroom, throwing the duvet back over the bed and making a quick check on the carpet for any items of clothing that my boyfriend might have left behind. But I think he’s got everything besides his trainers, which he left by the front door. There’s no T-shirt, trousers, or socks in here belonging to a male that could be discovered and lead to a massive argument. A quick spray of my perfume bottle around the flat should also be enough to mask any masculine scent that she could detect when she walks in. The first time James visited me here, I was so paranoid that I used almost a full bottle of scented spray around the flat after he left, and I know I overdid it because me and Mum could barely breathe for the rest of the night. But at least she couldn’t pick up the scent of his aftershave.
Everything looks good.
The only thing that I need to do now is get James out of here.
I wish he’d hurry up in that bathroom.
14
JAMES
Where the hell is this code?
I’m pacing around the bathroom with my mobile phone in my hand, waiting to see the text message come through with the numbers on that I will be able to use to access the safe in this flat. But as of yet, there has been no message since the last one half an hour ago in which my partner told me the new time of arrival for that train. But thirty minutes is a long time. He must have been able to get the code from her by now.
So why hasn’t he sent it to me?
Feeling frustrated, I type out a quick message on my phone.
“What is taking so long?’’
I hit Send and shake my head. I’d hoped to have been out of this flat already, but I’m still stuck here, and I can’t go anywhere until I get that code.
‘James! Hurry up!’
I almost jump at the sound of Louise’s call from the other side of the bathroom door.
‘I’m coming!’ I call back, and I decide to flush the toilet just to make it sound as if I am actually doing something in here.
It’s getting increasingly difficult to keep delaying my exit, and while I am prepared to be more forceful with Louise if necessary, it would be much easier if I didn’t have to be. But that will only be possible if I get the message I need. With that in mind, I write another text, and this one is more forceful.
“Louise wants me out. Hurry up!”
I press Send and hope that will be enough to get things moving on that train. I’m annoyed at my partner because he hasn’t fulfilled his end of the agreement. All he had to do was tell Amanda that her daughter is in trouble and then ask for the code. A mother can hardly say no to that. But the longer it goes without any sign of it, the more I am worrying that something has gone wrong.
The only real risk to this plan not working is if Amanda doesn’t give us the information we need. That would be unexpected because, after all, isn’t it the job of every parent to protect their child at any cost? I know Louise and her mum don’t have the best relationship, but still, it’s not that bad that Amanda will sacrifice her daughter to keep her hands on a few quid.
Is it?
The prospect of the money in the safe only a few yards away from where I stand right now is a delicious one, and it’s also the reason why I’m growing more impatient by the minute. In my mind, that £20,000 is already mine. It should be in my rucksack now, and I should be long gone from here. But another minute ticks by and there is still no word from that train.
‘James!’
Louise calls out to me again, but this time she also tries the handle to the bathroom. Of course, I locked the door behind me just after I entered, but that isn’t going to be enough to keep me in here until I get that code, especially if Louise keeps hammering on the door like she is now. I can’t have her making too much noise in case it draws the attention of the neighbours in these flats. The last thing I need is them poking their heads out of their doors or, worse, knocking on this front door to see what is going on. I need to keep Louise quiet, but that is easier said than done.
‘What are you doing in there?’ Louise asks me, and the sound of her raised voice is grating on me more and more.
She is really starting to get on my nerves. I understand that she wants me gone before her mum comes back, but I can’t listen to her making that racket any longer, so I rush to the door and unlock it. It flies open immediately, almost hitting me in the face.
‘For god’s sake. What took so long?’ she asks.
‘Can’t a guy get a little privacy,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders and heading back to the bedroom.
‘Where are you going? Your trainers are here.’
‘I’m just checking I haven’t left anything in the bedroom,’ I say, stalling as best I can.
But then I feel my phone vibrate, and maybe I won’t have to stall any longer. I check the notification on the screen and see it is a message from my partner.
“She made a run for it, but she’s back on the train. Code any second now.”
Well, that explains the delay. Amanda tried to get away. I guess he has his hands full there just as much as I do here. But both mother and daughter are going to have to be kept in line, and while I can’t do anything about Amanda from here, I can certainly do something about her daughter.
“I’m going to have to get physical with her in a minute,” I type back. That threat of violence will hopefully speed things up a little because he can just show my message to Amanda, and she’ll see that I’m getting irritated with her stalling tactics.
‘Who are you texting?’ Louise’s voice sounds close, and I turn around to see her standing right behind me.
‘No one,’ I say, shoving my phone back into my pocket before she can try to grab it.
‘Another girl?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Show me.’
Louise holds out her hand for me to give her my phone. But I’m not going to do that. Then she’ll see the messages about her and her mum, and I really will have no choice but to hurt her then.
‘You don’t trust me. Is that it?’ I ask, shaking my head. I guess I’m going to have to play the frustrated boyfriend part now.
‘I did, but now you’re being all secretive.’
‘I’m not being secretive.’
‘Well, show me your phone, then.’
‘You show me your phone!’ I say, but I regret that when Louise holds out her mobile towards me because that’s easy for her to do.
She isn’t the one with something to hide.
‘This is ridiculous,’ I say, stepping away from her and taking a seat on the arm of the sofa.
‘I knew it. You’re just like all the other guys,’ Louise says.
‘What other guys?’
‘Just show me who you were texting!’
‘Why should I?’
I can’t believe I’m having to go along with this argument just to kill some time. There was me thinking I got lucky when I met Louise and found out her mum had a small fortune stashed away in her bedroom. But the longer this goes on, the less fortunate I’m feeling.
I want to send another message to chase up that code, but I daren’t look at my phone in case it irritates Louise even more. Bu
t then she just walks to the front door and opens it, and I guess the argument is over.
‘Just go,’ she says to me.
I guess this is it. I can’t put it off any longer.
‘Fine,’ I say, throwing up my hands and walking towards the door.
‘Don’t forget your rucksack,’ Louise reminds me, referring to my bag on the sofa.
‘I don’t need it yet,’ I reply, not even glancing in its direction.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not going anywhere.’
Then I turn the lock on the door, which only reinforces my point. ‘What are you doing?’ Louise asks with a hint of concern in her voice. But I don’t care about answering her right now.
I only care about the fact that she can no longer escape.
15
AMANDA
The numbers run through my head over and over again. There’s eight of them in total, and in the wrong order, they are useless. But in the correct sequence, they will give the owner access to piles of cash. There’s a reason why I’m the only one who knows that sequence, and that was the way it was supposed to stay. You don’t give out your credit card number. You don’t give out your bank details. And you definitely don’t give out the code to your personal safe.
Unless some madman tells you that your daughter’s life depends on it.
I’ve done my best to stall him up until this point. I asked him questions, I called Louise, and I even made a run for it off the train. But here I am again, back in this familiar seat, the same seat that is just one example of how routine my life has become. It’s that routine that has allowed this stranger to know my precise habits and thus trap me in this scenario.
He followed me home, and he followed me to the office. He even followed me on my lunch hour. All that time and I didn’t suspect a thing. Through the crowd of people who rush around me each day as I go in and out of London, I thought I was the clever one. I thought I was the one with the plan to escape. But it wasn’t me, all along.
