Cold Bath Lane

by Lorna Dounaeva

  Dark clouds hung over Cold Bath Lane. The urban decay of my childhood had been replaced by something more sinister. We were living in suburbia now but, in many ways, the lane was as messed up as it had always been. The people who lived there had just grown better at hiding it.

  A lone vixen sat on our doorstep. Her eyes were beacons in the darkness. She stood her ground as we walked up the front path. Dad pulled off his boot and flung it at her. He was a lousy shot, and the boot landed directly in the flower bed. The vixen howled as Dad hustled us inside and locked and bolted the front door.

  “Been telling stories about me, have you?” he said, not looking at either of us in particular.

  He went to the kitchen and turned on the hob.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. I’d never known Dad to cook.

  “Face the wall.”

  I froze where I was.

  The first blow jarred my head, but the next one was so hard that I fell to the ground like roadkill.

  Something hot licked my shoulder. The pain was so intense that I thought I must be on fire. My screams had no effect. The neighbours must have heard, but no one came. Eventually, I passed out again.

  I prised my eyes open. The floor was hard beneath me. I was lying in an unnatural position, my arm twisted behind my back. Alicia lay next to me, whimpering softly.

  I pulled myself up onto my forearms, but every movement sent shockwaves through my body. Finally, I pulled myself into a sitting position, and saw that Alicia’s shirt had been pulled up at the back.

  The word ‘FRY’ had been scorched into her skin. The wound was warm to the touch, as her skin continued to cook. I tried to get a look at my shoulder, but I couldn’t see it, and the hall mirror had been smashed years before. Still, I was certain that that must have been what Dad had written on me too. He was marking us, reminding us that we belonged to him. He couldn’t get into those buildings without Alicia. He needed us.

  “We need to get some water,” I told Alicia. “So we can cool these wounds.”

  She lifted her head ever so slightly. “No, we need to get out of here. Dad’s gone crazy. Who knows what he’s going to do next?”

  31

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Footsteps thundered on the stairs.

  “We have to go now!”

  I pulled myself to my feet. Pain shot through me like a bullet from a gun. Alicia scrabbled up off the floor too, and we stumbled towards the door, but Dad’s hand came down hard on my damaged shoulder, and I howled like a dog. I thought Alicia would go on without me, but she didn’t. Perhaps she was too weak.

  “Get off her!” she shouted, as Dad dragged me towards the stairs.

  I didn’t have the strength to fight him with my fists, so I used my words.

  “What are you going to do, Dad? Are you going to throw me down the stairs like you did Mum?”

  I heard Alicia gasp, and I realised I had never told her about the way Dad had abused Mum.

  “That’s right,” I called down to her. “He killed Mum, and he tried to kill you too, right before you were born. Run out the door, Alicia. You don’t owe him a thing.”

  “Shut up, you lying brat. Who the hell do you think you are, making up these stories?”

  Dad lifted me high up in the air, and dangled me over the banister.

  I looked down at the floor below, littered with beer cans and other debris. I clung to Dad’s sleeve, and he shook me. He seemed determined to finish me off.

  “Dad! Dad, it’s ready!”

  It was Sam’s voice that finally jolted him and he dropped me back onto the landing. I tried to get past him, but he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and chucked me into my bedroom, like a cat that needed putting out. The door slammed shut behind me.

  “Jody!” Alicia yelled from the stairs. I found comfort in her voice, though I wished she would run.

  I thought Dad would bring her up, too, but they appeared to be doing something else. There was a lot of panting and grunting as Dad and Sam shifted something about. It sounded like they were moving furniture. I waited and waited, but Alicia did not come up. I wondered if she had run away after all.

  Tenderly, I lay down on my bed, waiting for the shaking to subside. My heart beat strangely, speeding up and slowing down, as if it had lost its rhythm. When I sat up again, I found the room much too dark. I went over to the window and pulled back the curtains. The beautiful ornate shutters had been closed and nailed to the wall, blocking out the sun. I missed the familiar rooftops, and the birds that gathered on the wires. I even missed the sight of the factory pumping out plumes of smoke. Panicked, I ran to the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Dad had blocked me in.

  My room become a prison, with no view of the outside world. I yelled and banged on the door.

  “Sam! Sam, can you hear me? Let me out! Let me out!”

  Eventually, Alicia came up.

  “They’ve put Dad’s wardrobe in front of the bedroom door. I can’t shift it. What shall I do?”

  “Tell Dad I need the bog.”

  I heard her go back downstairs but she didn’t return. I hadn’t really needed the bog when I had said that, but as the hours passed, I became increasingly uncomfortable. My heart pounded loudly, as if it was trying to break free from my chest.

  “Please! Just let me out!”

  It was too dark now to do anything but return to bed, but I couldn’t get comfortable, due to the pain in my shoulder. The wound stuck to the pillow, and peeling it off again was so painful I wanted to cry. I rolled over onto my front and shuddered as images of the fire came back to me. I remembered the smell of it, in this very room, the fumes wafting up the stairs as I held newborn Alicia in my arms.

  What if there was another fire? How would I get out?

  The darkness lulled me to sleep, in spite of my erratic heartbeat but when I awoke, it was darker still. Muddled thoughts skipped around in my mind. I felt tormented, as if I were truly going mad.

  I licked my chapped lips. There was a glass of water by my bed, and I sipped it carefully, not knowing if I would be getting any more. How long could a person last without water? Was it three days? Four? My need to pee was urgent now. My stomach bulged with it, and I worried I would burst. Unable to hold it any longer, I relieved myself in my wastepaper bin. It wasn’t easy to bend that way, and some of it trickled down the sides, onto the good cream carpet.

  The house had grown quiet and I wondered if they had all gone to sleep. I banged at the wooden shutters and slammed myself against the door, but neither of them budged.

  Another day passed without food or water. Even Alicia didn’t come up and speak to me again. I missed her terribly. I continued to use the wastepaper basket as my toilet, and the whole room reeked. The smell made me retch whenever I had to use it, the bile prickled my throat. My lips were thick and sticky and my tongue felt like it had a forest growing on it.

  The second night was worse than the first. My stomach churned, making it impossible to sleep, so I paced the room, knocking into the furniture in the darkness. At some point, I heard Alicia’s plaintive cries. Then the wailing stopped abruptly and my heart ached for her. I lay back down on my bed, too weak and miserable to do anything. Once again, my mind drifted back to the night of the fire. This time the memories were so vivid I could smell the smoke.

  I sat up with a start as a cloud of vapour drifted under the door.

  “Fire!” I yelled. “Fire! Fire!”

  My heart hammered as I remembered my mum’s face, smoke drifting towards her as she lay in the bath. This was my punishment, I was certain. I had let Mum die, and now I was going to die, too.

  I was having a heart attack, I was sure of it. I could hear the blood passing through my ears. My chest heaved and my hands trembled. I felt the sweat pouring down my face. My legs juddered badly as I got to my feet, and I fell flat on my face. Smoke tickled my nostrils and I felt like I was drifting away. I wondered how long it would take me to die.

  Presently, I lif
ted my head and sniffed. I could still smell smoke, but not the overwhelming, burning smell I had expected. Perhaps the fire had been extinguished. I sat up carefully and sniffed again. I was disappointed to still be there.

  I spent hours running back over my life. Hating anyone and everyone who had brought me to this point. I hated Lindy, for stealing Julio. I hated Coral and Irvine for making me feel ashamed. I hated Sam, for not standing up to Dad, but most of all, I hated Isabel and Julio. If Julio hadn’t cheated on me. If Isabel had taken Alicia seriously. We had come so close to getting out, and now here I was, stuck in this hole.

  On the third day, I heard the wardrobe being shifted. I shook with relief. I was so weak and angry, but I needed to steady myself for what was to come. It took a long time for them to move it. Dad barked instructions at Sam, who didn’t utter a word. I pictured Dad with his hands deep in his pockets, not lifting a finger to help.

  Eventually, the door opened. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the light. But I no longer had the strength to rush at them, as I had intended. I could only stand up feebly, and totter towards the door. Dad put out a hand to stop me.

  “Not so fast.”

  “Please! I need some fresh air.”

  “Not till you’ve done your time. You need to be punished for what you’ve done. You’ve betrayed this family, you and Alicia. You should have kept her in line.”

  “Dad, I’m sorry!”

  I hoped to appeal to his better side. But Dad’s nose was red and he reeked of whisky. He wasn’t to be reasoned with.

  Sam brought in a tray of food and drink and set it down on my dressing table.

  “God, it stinks in here,” Dad said, looking around for the source of the smell. My eyes darted to the wastepaper basket. I fantasised about throwing it over his head.

  “Dad, I can’t live like this. There ain’t even a bog. Can I please go to the toilet?”

  If only he would say yes, I would climb out of the window and abseil down to the ground. I didn’t care if I was injured, as long as I got away.

  “No. You ain’t to be trusted.”

  I eyed him up, wondering if there was any way I could bolt past him. But I didn’t know for sure if Sam would let me go. I turned to my brother, but even my sweetest smile had no impact. Sam would not look at me. He only looked at Dad, awaiting his orders.

  “Can I please take a bath? It’s been days since I last had one.”

  “No, you stay right here.”

  I watched in dismay as he and Sam left the room.

  “Please don’t do this!”

  But it was too late, I could already hear them shifting the wardrobe back into place, locking me back into my prison.

  As I lay there, feeling helpless, I noticed something sticking out from under my bed. It was my suitcase. Sam must have brought it up for me. I pulled it out, and looked inside. Among the dirty clothes was my precious copy of The Gingerbread Man. There wasn’t enough light to read it properly, due to the shutters being closed, but I ran my hands lovingly over the book, and placed it under my pillow, where it belonged.

  There were other treasures in that suitcase. Mementoes of my relationship with Julio. They were almost too painful to look at: a packet of sugar from the restaurant he had taken me to, the cuddly toys he’d given me and an especially beautiful leaf he’d found for me in the forest. I tried to pick it up but it was shrivelled now and it crumbled away to nothing. I turned back to the bag and found the comb he’d left in my cabin, and finally, a tiny white cube.

  Angel Dust, my blessed Angel Dust. I hadn’t known I had any left. I held it to my broken heart. There was no way out of this room, not unless Dad saw fit to release me. But there was a way out of my own mind, if only for a while.

  I don’t remember taking the Angel Dust, or much of what happened while I was on it. I recall the sensation of floating down from heaven in the most beautiful hot air balloon, sailing slowly through the air. When I woke up, I was lying on my bed, my head resting on the pillow. My shoulder no longer blazed with pain and I had a feeling of incredible peace. I closed my eyes again, only to be startled by a man’s voice.

  “Jody? Are you all right in there?”

  Uncle Richard!

  I hadn’t seen him in years, but I instantly knew it was him. I smiled, but I couldn’t make myself respond.

  “Jody? Jody, are you in there?”

  I heard the sound of furniture shifting. It was a heavy wardrobe, and Richard was a very different build to Dad, thin and wispy. He would need help, if he was going to move it, but I couldn’t think what to do. I wasn’t in control of my body. I couldn’t get it to follow my instructions.

  The next thing I knew, I was lying under a waterfall, water gushing all over my face. I sputtered and opened my eyes.

  “What the…”

  The waterfall receded and a unicorn stood over me, with a bottle of water in its hand.

  “Come on Jody. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  It lifted me off the floor, and up onto its back.

  “I don’t know how to ride,” I said.

  “Just hang on.”

  I clung on tight, but my legs didn’t feel like mine. The ride was rough and uneven, bumping me down the stairs.

  “We have to move quickly. Your dad will be back any minute.”

  32

  Cold Bath Lane was silent as I climbed into the van.

  “Where did the unicorn go?” I murmured, as Uncle Richard got in beside me and started the engine.

  There was giggling behind me. The sound made pink ripples in the air. I turned and saw Alicia bouncing up and down on the backseat.

  “You owe me, Jody. I’m the one who saved you.”

  I blinked at her in confusion.

  “I climbed out the window and called Uncle Richard.”

  “Well done. You did good.”

  I rested my head against the seat. I didn’t know for certain if all this was real, or if I was still in a dream.

  “Uh-oh!” Alicia said.

  “What?”

  “Sam was supposed to keep Dad at the pub, but there they are, coming down the road.”

  I opened one eye, knowing I ought to care.

  “Keep your heads down,” Richard said. “I don’t think he’s seen us.”

  But we were not going to be that lucky.

  “Hey, stop! Stop!”

  Dad flung his boot at the van. It narrowly missed the front windscreen. He threw the other one, and it bounced off the roof. He planted himself firmly in the road, a smug grin on his face. Richard sounded the horn, but Dad wouldn’t budge. I sat up in my seat.

  “Run him over! Do the world a favour!”

  Richard revved the engine, but Dad refused to step aside.

  “Come on, it ain’t worth it,” Sam said, trying to lead him away, but there was no arguing with Dad.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, as Richard looked over his shoulder.

  “This,” he said, backing the van down the lane.

  Dad dived onto the bonnet and clung on, as Richard reversed all the way to the end.

  I heard geese honking as he pulled out into the traffic, then Dad slid off the bonnet. I looked out the window and saw him sitting in the middle of the street. Richard drove round him, as if he were nothing more than a traffic cone. Alicia whooped with joy as we sped off towards Whitechapel.

  “Aren’t you excited, Jody? We’re finally free!”

  I was excited, but the Angel Dust wouldn’t let me show it. I was like I had taken Botox for the mind.

  Richard drove us to his house in Silvertown. I didn’t remember the house, although he told me I’d been there as a child. It was small and basic, with a curtain of beads that swished between the kitchen and living room. He didn’t even have an indoor bog, just a shed in the back garden, where a spider stood vigil over the bog roll.

  We crammed into his tiny kitchen and he served us bowls of soup, with slices of thick white bread. It was the best meal I
had ever eaten.

  “You’ll have to give me the recipe,” I said. “This stuff is incredible.”

  Uncle Richard looked at me funny. “It’s just tomato soup out of a tin.”

  “You can’t stay here,” he said, afterwards. “Much as I’d love to have you both. Even if I had the room, I don’t think you’d be safe. Your dad knows where I live.”

  “Well, if he rings, you can say we’re not here,” I said.

  “He won’t ring. He’ll just turn up. Probably in the dead of night, and knowing him, he’ll bring some mates with him to drag you both back home.”

  I looked at him in horror. He was right. Dad didn’t give up that easily, and those ‘mates’ of his were nothing but foul-mouthed thugs.

  “He’d be within his rights to set the cozzers on us, too. Alicia is still a child, and he has the right to take her.”

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  “Nonetheless.”

  “Then we’ll have to move on,” I said.

  The thought of it was exhausting. All I really wanted to do was snuggle down on the sofa.

  Richard opened the kitchen cupboards and packed us a big bag of food. He also slipped me a wad of money.

  “Are you sure?”

  “You’ll need it. If you’re going to get away from him.”

  I counted it in disbelief. “But this is so much! Why are you giving this to us?”

  I wanted him to say, “Because I love you.” I was desperate to hear it from someone, even my uncle. Richard glanced at Alicia and back at me.

  “You know why,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “Do I?”

  But I did, if I really thought about it. Because it was him, and not Doug I had walked in on all those years ago. I blocked it out, because Mum had said it was Doug. I had half convinced myself it was true.