The Promise You Made

by A J McDine

  Reluctantly, I wound down the window. ‘Yes?’ I said.

  ‘What do you think you’re playing at, you stupid cow?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘Cutting me up on the A2 then driving like a fucking pensioner all the way through town to wind me up.’

  ‘Haven’t you seen the signs? It’s twenty miles an hour now.’

  He rested a hand on the sill and leaned in until his face was so close, I could smell his breath. Coffee with a trace of stale alcohol. I shrank back in the seat and fought the urge to gag.

  ‘And braking,’ he hissed. ‘Trying to teach me a lesson, were you, you silly bitch?’ He balled his hand into a fist and stared at it, then scowled at me. ‘I want an apology.’

  I chose my words carefully. ‘I’m sorry if you feel my driving wasn’t up to scratch,’ I said primly. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I have an appointment and I’m running late, so if you’ll excuse me…’ I looked pointedly at the door.

  His nostrils flared. ‘That’s not a fucking apology, that’s a…’

  ‘Hello, Rose, everything all right?’ said a cheery voice, and SUV Man stepped back, his fist unclenching and his expression shifting from hostile to inoffensive so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined his outburst. Dorothy, Sisterline’s chair of trustees, was clambering out of her car a handful of spaces away.

  ‘Not really -’ I began, but SUV Man cut across me.

  ‘I thought one of the lady’s tyres was flat,’ he said. ‘I was advising her to get the pressure checked. That one,’ he said, aiming a kick at the Land Rover’s offside rear wheel. The entire vehicle shook. He lumbered back to his car without a backward glance.

  ‘Goodness am I glad to see you,’ I said to Dorothy under my breath. ‘He wasn’t concerned about my tyres at all, he was giving me an earful because I was sticking to the speed limit. What a nasty piece of work.’

  ‘And there I was, worrying I was going to be late for your interview. Looks like I was in the right place at the right time after all.’

  As we walked towards the parking machine, she said, ‘I can’t help thinking I’ve seen him before.’

  ‘SUV Man?’

  ‘Yes.’ She shook her head as if trying to dislodge a memory, then frowned. ‘Getting old is not to be recommended, Rose. Ah, well, I’m sure it’ll come to me.’

  Tickets bought, we returned to our cars. The Subaru had disappeared from the space behind mine, but I couldn’t escape the feeling I was being watched. I scanned the car park, my gaze finally falling on its dazzlingly white bonnet squeezed between a van and a Ford Galaxy. Even from this distance, I could see a bulky mass in the driver’s seat. SUV Man, watching me.

  Sisterline was based in an anonymous-looking red-bricked building a two-minute walk from the car park. Even though there was nothing outside the building to give even a hint of what went on inside, the fact it was home to a women’s phone line was common knowledge in the town and now and then we’d arrive for work to find the remains of an egg oozing down the brickwork, or the planters either side of the door kicked over, their contents spilling onto the tarmac. Whether these acts of vandalism were the work of disgruntled callers, aggrieved relatives or random miscreants, we never knew.

  Eddie brushed aside my apologies for being late and ushered me and Dorothy into her office.

  ‘Lovely,’ she said, as one of the volunteers bustled in and set a tray on the coffee table. ‘Shall I be mother?’ While she busied herself with milk and sugar, I tried to put both Theo and the man in the SUV out of my mind and focus on the interview ahead. Finally, Eddie took a seat beside Dorothy.

  ‘I’m sure this is merely a formality, but we have to be seen to be following due process, especially as you’re not the only person from within the organisation to apply for the role,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I’d assumed I was the only internal candidate.’

  She smiled but wouldn’t be drawn. ‘Tell me, Rose, why are you applying for this post?’

  As I described my vision for the future, I felt myself relax. Sisterline was good at what it did, but it was a small charity with limited resources and sometimes women’s calls went unanswered. Eddie’s lack of ambition had always frustrated me. If I was steering the ship, I’d put far more emphasis on income generation. I’d want Sisterline to be as well known as the Samaritans.

  ‘According to your CV, you’ve volunteered for many charities over the years. Why be the chief executive of Sisterline when there are so many other good causes out there?’ Eddie asked.

  I stared at my hands, which were clasped in my lap. ‘I once lost a very dear friend because she thought her life was no longer worth living.’ I held Eddie’s gaze. ‘I’m convinced that if she’d picked up the phone and called me, I could have persuaded her that her life was very precious indeed.’

  ‘Yet you prefer working in the office to manning the phones?’

  I shrugged. ‘I know my strengths.’

  ‘And there’s nothing wrong with that,’ Eddie said, looking at her notes. ‘One of the responsibilities of the chief executive is to handle complaints. If you were made aware that someone had complained on social media about the service they received from us, how would you handle it?’

  Occasionally callers or their families claimed we’d failed to respond appropriately to a call or text, and they tended to voice their dissatisfaction on social media before raising it with us. But such was the way of the world. Eddie was currently dealing with someone who’d posted a series of cryptic but inflammatory tweets claiming we had blood on our hands and tagging everyone from the local MP to the police.

  ‘I would reply to the post saying we were sorry to hear she’d had a negative experience and ask her to fill in a complaints questionnaire,’ I said. ‘Once we’d received that, I would speak to the volunteer involved to check their version of events. If necessary, I would make a formal apology on Sisterline’s behalf, and if any learning was required, I would make sure that was in place, so it didn’t happen again.’

  Eddie nodded.

  ‘I see from your CV that you trained for three years at medical school, but you left before finishing. Why is that?’ Dorothy asked.

  ‘My mother suffered a stroke at the end of my third year. I went home to look after her.’

  My selflessness was met with sympathetic smiles from both women. My mother had suffered a stroke, true, but it wasn’t the real reason I quit med school. But giving up my dreams of becoming a doctor to care for my poor, afflicted mother suited my narrative. I was Rose Barton, doer of good deeds and all-round thoroughly decent person. The kind who sacrificed her life for others without batting an eyelid.

  An image of Theo’s huddled form forced its way into my mind, but I pushed it away and arranged my features into a suitably self-effacing smile. ‘It was an honour to care for her,’ I said.

  Dorothy pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed an eye. Eddie jotted something in her notepad, and I fidgeted in my seat, hoping they hadn’t noticed the dull flush creeping up my neck.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eddie shook my hand firmly at the end of the interview, assessing me over her half-moon glasses. ‘Thank you, Rose. You’ll be hearing from us shortly. We have a couple of interviews left to do, so for obvious reasons I can’t make you a concrete offer at this stage, but let’s just say the interview went very well from our perspective.’

  My heart beat a little faster, and I realised just how much I wanted the job. ‘Thank you. I’d stay and tackle the invoices, but my goddaughter is staying with me at the moment.’

  ‘How lovely,’ Dorothy gushed. ‘Are you very close?’

  I thought about it for a second. ‘We are,’ I said with a smile.

  As I made my way back to the car park, I went over the interview in my mind, examining my answers, wondering where I could have made improvements. But Eddie was right. It had gone well. I’d put across my plans for the charity without criticising the c
urrent management’s lack of ambition. I’d given it my best shot. Now all I could do was wait.

  There was no sign of the white Subaru in the car park and I walked over to the reassuringly solid bulk of the Land Rover with a happy heart. The interview had been a success and, for the first time in more years than I could remember, I had someone to tell when I got home. Because a snarky cat who tolerated me because I fed her didn’t count. I found my keys at the bottom of my handbag, opened the driver’s door, and jumped in.

  The Land Rover started first time, an unusual occurrence that added to my feeling of serendipity, and I slid the gearstick into first, released the handbrake and set off for home. But as soon as I inched out of the parking space, I could tell something was wrong. The steering wheel juddered in my grip, and behind me, a loud clunking noise set my teeth on edge. Leaving the ignition running, I climbed out and inspected the source of the noise. The offside rear wheel, the wheel SUV Man had aimed his kick at, was flat as a pancake.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I muttered, crouching down to take a closer look. Deep gashes crisscrossed the rubber like a crazed game of noughts and crosses. I ran my fingers over them, shocked I’d stirred such rage.

  Eloise listened in disbelief as I described my encounter with the Subaru driver.

  ‘You’re lucky he didn’t attack you,’ she said, shaking her head.

  I stared at her. ‘You think he might have?’

  She shrugged. ‘You read about arseholes like him all the time. Just as well you stopped in a busy car park. If it had happened on a quiet country road…’ She paused, then frowned. ‘He didn’t follow you home, did he?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Truth was, my mind had been on other things after an hour-long wait for the AA man who then informed me helpfully that my spare tyre was also “buggered”.

  ‘Is that the technical term?’ had been my tart reply, but he’d just laughed and offered to tow me home.

  ‘I was in the cab with the recovery man. But I’m sure I would have seen him if he had.’

  ‘Hm. But you ought to be careful, Rose. People like that hold a grudge.’

  I could feel my earlier buoyancy sinking like a badly made raft on a team building away day, and a familiar weight settled on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down heavily.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Eloise asked.

  ‘I’m just feeling a little faint. I don’t suppose you could pass me a glass of water and my vitamins? They’re in the cupboard above the cooker.’

  ‘Of course.’ Eloise picked up a glass from the draining board, filled it, and reached into the cupboard. ‘Multivitamins for the over 50s,’ she read from the brightly coloured label. ‘Vitamin D, calcium, Vitamin B12 and Omega-3. You know, you don’t need to take these if you’re eating properly.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ I said, reaching out a hand for the bottle. I undid the childproof cap with trembling fingers, tipped one of the little orange pills into my palm, and knocked it back with a slug of water. ‘That’s better.’

  ‘I’ll heat the soup,’ Eloise said. ‘Would you like a cheese and pickle sandwich with it?’

  ‘That would be lovely, thank you, darling.’ The endearment slipped out before I could filter it, and I watched carefully for a reaction, but if Eloise noticed she obviously didn’t mind because she started humming to herself as she pulled a loaf from the bread bin and reached in the fridge for the butter. Seeing her cut thick slices of cheddar reminded me I hadn’t given Theo anything to eat all day. Reluctantly, I pulled myself to my feet.

  ‘Can you wrap a bit of clingfilm over mine? And don’t worry about the soup. I just remembered I need to feed Mary’s fish.’

  ‘Mary?’

  ‘The old dear who lives up the lane. She’s gone to stay with her sister for a few days. I promised I’d feed her precious coy while she’s away.’ I grabbed my coat. ‘Won’t be long.’

  Checking Eloise wasn’t watching, I picked up the carrier bag from the passenger seat of the Land Rover and the bucket from the footwell and made my way down the drive and along the lane for a couple of hundred yards before turning into the woods. As I drew closer to the pillbox, my heart rate quickened. What if Theo had kicked the door down and escaped? What if he was hiding in the woods, watching and waiting for the right moment to pounce? I paused every few minutes to listen for a tell-tale crackle of a twig or rustle of a branch, but the only sound I could hear was the thump-thump-thump of my own racing heart.

  My anxiety eased when I reached the pillbox, and the door was still bolted shut. I set the bucket down, slid the bolts across, and ducked through the doorway.

  Theo was still curled up in the far corner, his eyes closed and his body so still that for a moment my stomach swooped in fear at the thought he might be dead. But then I saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest and my panic subsided.

  He must have sensed my presence because he looked blearily in my direction. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw me, and he jolted to a sitting position.

  ‘Who are you?’ he said in alarm.

  ‘You don’t remember?’

  He looked around, his gaze taking in the thick concrete walls and the dusty floor, the meagre light from the two window slits and the open door behind me. He licked his lips as his gaze returned to me. His pupils were huge.

  ‘What is this place?’ he croaked. ‘Why am I here?’

  It was possible he was still punch drunk from the blow to the head, but he could also be bluffing. I pulled a bottle of water from the carrier bag and offered it to him. He took it and stared at it as if he’d never seen one before.

  ‘Let me,’ I said, taking it back and unscrewing the lid. I held the bottle to his lips, and he drank deeply.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said eventually, wiping his chin on his shoulder.

  ‘There’s food in the bag. And I’ve brought you a bucket,’ I added.

  His eyes clouded in confusion. ‘A bucket?’

  ‘For you to… In case you need to… Well, it’s there if you need it.’ I stood and dusted off my trousers.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he cried.

  ‘We’re still trying to contact your parents.’

  ‘My parents?’ He shook his head as if he was trying to clear the fog inside it, then groaned. ‘I cannot remember anything.’

  My patience was waning.

  ‘You don’t need to remember anything. Just stay put and do as you’re told. There are men outside watching. I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Please, madam…’ he began, but the four walls of the pillbox were closing in on me and I needed to get out. I closed and bolted the door, pushing all thoughts of Theo from my head as I tramped back through the woods to the house.

  ‘How were the fish?’ Eloise asked, handing me my sandwich.

  I pulled off the clingfilm and bit into the bread, even though my appetite had deserted me.

  ‘Mm, lovely,’ I said, smiling my thanks. ‘Not very communicative, but otherwise fine.’

  ‘And you have to feed them every day?’

  I nodded. ‘Until Mary’s back.’

  ‘How long’s that?’

  Until I decide what the hell I’m going to do with Theo. ‘A few days,’ I said vaguely. ‘Shall I light the fire?’

  We sat in companionable silence, Eloise’s head buried in Alice in Wonderland, me with The Times crossword on my lap. When the black and white squares drifted out of focus, I set the paper and my reading glasses on the coffee table and, my head cocooned in a warm fuzz, drifted off to sleep until a knock at the front door woke me with a start.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In the blink of an eye I was transported back to the night Eloise turned up on the doorstep, bloody and desperate, the body of her lover in the boot of her car. I glanced around the room, but she wasn’t there. The copy of Alice in Wonderland was on the side table beside her empty chair, a leather bookmark just visible three-quart
ers of the way through the book. Perhaps she’d tired of reading and gone out for some fresh air while I dozed. I hoped to hell she hadn’t ventured anywhere near the pillbox.

  There was another knock, and as I hurried along the hall, I was filled with an irrational fear that I would find Theo standing on the doorstep, his fingers wrapped around the handle of a hunting knife and his eyes as black as pebbles.

  ‘Who is it?’ I called in a shaky voice.

  ‘PCSO Steve Sutton, Kent Police,’ a deep voice boomed.

  My fear escalated. What if someone had chanced upon the pillbox and found Theo tied up inside? What if his confusion had all been an act, and he’d managed to escape and raise the alarm? Had I bolted the door properly? I cast my mind back but, to my horror, I couldn’t actually remember sliding the bolts home. I gripped the newel post and sucked air into my lungs.

  Then the rational side of my brain took over. If the police had received a report of a kidnapping, they’d have turned up in force. They certainly wouldn’t have sent a solitary police community support officer who didn’t have the power to make an arrest. Exhaling slowly, I pasted a smile on my face and opened the door.

  I recognised the hirsute man flashing an identity card in my face. I’d seen him and his impressive beard from a distance at various village events over the years. Last year he’d dressed as Long John Silver for the school’s summer fete and bravely spent an afternoon with his head in the stocks while feral village children threw wet sponges at him.

  ‘Mrs Barton, isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just carrying out some inquiries into a car found burnt out in the woods off Badger’s Hill Lane.’

  Relief flooded through me, and I widened my eyes. ‘That’s just down the road. Any idea who it belongs to?’