by China, Max
Keen to get on with the business of beating Cathy, he didn't step out into the passageway. Her lungs on the verge of bursting, a cough tickled at her throat. In a desperate effort to suppress it, she desperately sucked a glob of saliva from her dry mouth and swallowed hard.
Finally, he withdrew, shutting the door behind him. She exhaled long and slow, and then with her ear to the door, listened, and as the sounds of further punishment inflicted on Cathy seeped from the room, she made her escape.
Out on the street, she familiarised herself with where she was. She couldn't see a telephone booth anywhere, but there was a McDonalds only a few hundred yards away. She ran all the way, stopping outside to compose herself, and then walked in to steal a mobile phone from a young mum too busy feeding her child to notice.
She dialled 999 and asked the operator for the police.
"Listen, my name is Eilise Staples I've just escaped from a kidnapper."
The operator tried to slow her down.
"There's no time! Two women are about to be murdered…You've got to hurry!" She gave the address, adding, "It's on the seventh floor, number seventy-one."
She calmly returned to the table where the young mother continued to sit and bent down to the floor. She held out the phone she'd retrieved.
"I just found this on the floor, is it yours?"
At the railway station, Eilise debated whether to bunk the fare, but decided she couldn't afford to fall into the hands of the authorities. Not yet. She cadged enough money to buy a ticket and within half an hour, was on a train heading for Romford. The journey would be a short one.
Once on the train, Eilise recalled how she'd obtained her mother's address.
She'd stared at the piece of paper for ages, not quite believing she held the key to her future in her hands. She memorised it, then terrified she might forget, decided to hide it, but where?
The last thing she wanted was for her foster parents to find it. She moved it around, trying several places, starting with between the pages of a book, but, after putting it back on the shelf, she stared at it for a while, not happy. What if her sister came in and took that book, choosing it from all the others on the shelf? Her eyes settled on the dressing table. Squatting, she pulled out a drawer and held it up, looking underneath. She could tape it to the underside. It would have to be at the bottom, otherwise the clothes from a lower one could snag it. She put the note in her pocket and went to look for some tape in the kitchen.
Staring out of the train window, Eilise dug her fingernails into the fabric of her jeans, pinching the flesh of her thigh beneath, hoping the hurt would stifle her stream of thought, but she was too far gone to be able to stop.
Her foster father had come up behind her, uncomfortably close. Pulling away, she noticed he had this funny expression in his eyes; she'd seen it more and more lately. She didn't know what it was, but she didn't like it. She continued opening drawers, systematically rummaging through before moving on to the next one.
"What are you looking for?" His voice was low, guttural.
"I'm just … I’m hoping to find some sellotape." Then, realising he would probably ask what for, she added quickly. "The binding on my homework book is coming apart . . ."
"Well, you should have said. I've got something that will do the job nicely, I think." He reached up into the top cupboard over the coffee machine and grabbed a thick roll of metallic coloured tape. "Let's go and have a look, shall we?"
She recalled it as if it were yesterday. She tried to fob him off, the colour was wrong for a schoolbook. Her friends would laugh, but he was having none of it. He was now in her room.
"Now let's have a look at that book shall we?"
She opened her bag and pulled it out.
He looked closely from the roll of tape to her. "You're lying to me," he said. "You weren't that desperate to find tape to fix a book that's still in your bag." His eyes gleamed. He seemed to know something.
She blushed. The tape rasped as he pulled a strip from the roll and tore it off.
"You know this stuff has all kinds of uses . . ." His eyes had become defocused as he moved towards her. He stuck the tape over her mouth. Her turn had come. Her foster mother was out. She realised that, in her excitement over finding the address, she hadn't yet seen her sister come home.
When it was over, he pulled the tape from her lips roughly. "Only way to do it and that's quickly."
The tape took a small piece of skin from her lip and made it bleed. Too numb to feel pain, she glanced about her; not quite believing what had just happened was real. Touching her mouth, she looked at the thin smear of blood on her fingers. He adjusted his clothing and leaning down to see in the mirror, smoothed his hair.
"It'll be better next time, if you're a good girl, we won't use the tape." He offered her a tissue he'd taken from his pocket. Eilise turned away sharply.
"Don't get any ideas about telling anyone," he said, with an air of menace. "If you say anything, I'll kill you and tell them you must have run away." At the door, he paused. "If your mother asks about the lip, you accidentally bit it. Got that?"
As soon as he left the room, she broke down. Silent tears blurred her vision, and she trembled, fighting back the urge to scream. She looked for the patched jeans that were once her favourites. They didn't fit anymore, so she stitched a patch made from a silky scarf to form a pocket on the inside and taking the note, placed it inside. She stitched it closed, sealing it in. Before turning the jeans out the right way, Eilise wiped herself on them and then hung them in the farthest dark corner of her wardrobe. There they would stay until she needed them. She was just fourteen.
When her foster mother had come home, she knew something had happened; the guilt showed through in his over-attentiveness and Eilise's detachment. His threat still inhabited her ears. If you say anything, I'll kill you and tell them you must have run away.
Soon afterwards, she did exactly that; she ran away for the first time. In her head, they were all dry runs, seeing how far she could get before they caught up with her. It would be another year before she actually got away; carrying everything she needed, in two black bin bags including the patchwork jeans, concealing the note, she would use to get him for what he did.
As for the note, hidden away as it was, it reminded her of her objective. She didn't know what would happen when she arrived there. The possibility of rejection was a risk, but if she never tried, she would never know. The one thing she was certain of was that she didn't want to wake up one day when she was older; when it was maybe too late, thinking; why didn't I go to my mum's while I was young, and had a chance for us both to make something of it.
Eilise arrived exhausted and bedraggled, soaked right through. Never in a million years, had she imagined that her real mother lived in a place like this. She checked the number fixed on the gate, unfastened the catch and walked up the pathway. The double frontage with imposing old leadlight windows was set back among creeping ivy, neatly clipped, but still threatening to take over the last exposed areas of deep red brickwork.
At the door, under an open porch area out of the rain, she raised her hand to grasp the knocker, it reminded her of an antique pistol handle; she drew it back and let it go. The weight of it delivered a resounding bang on the black striking plate. She held her breath without realising while she waited for an answer.
A shape appeared in the bulls-eye window. The face distorted unexpectedly as it leaned forward to peer out, so that one eye appeared as if it were looking through a magnifying glass.
"Who is it?" said a female voice.
This is going to be a toughie, she thought.
Chapter 147
The moment she'd rehearsed so often was upon her, the many variations practiced played through her head: Hello, Mum, I'm your daughter…Hi, Mum, I was your little girl …I'm the little girl you gave away, all grown up now…
The door opened. All her words were chased away.
"Can I help you?" The woman's eyes narrowe
d with suspicion. "I think you must have knocked at the wrong house."
"If you are not Jackie Solomons then you're right - I've knocked at the wrong house, I'm pretty sure you're Jackie, though," she took a deep breath. "You gave me up for adoption. I don't suppose you remember me do you?"
Jackie always knew this time would come. Lost for words, she looked Eilise up and down, taking in the scruffy clothes, the unwashed hair, and her hollow, haunted eyes. The girl on her doorstep didn't stop looking back over her shoulder.
"You'd better come in," she said. "What shall I call you?"
"Eilise," she murmured, almost ashamed. Then she told her everything. A long silence ensued.
For whose benefit did I give you up all those years ago – was it for you? Or did I do it for me? Jackie scoured her conscience. Because she couldn't face living with the offspring of her rapist, she'd consigned her into the hands of a child abuser. An innocent young girl; she didn't deserve that. Would things have turned out better if I'd done something different? It was something new to haunt her.
Should I be feeling something for her? Numb, that's what I feel. She studied Eilise and saw something of herself in those lost eyes. She has my eyes!
Eilise stared at her, and waited for the one thing that might change everything. A tiny crescent lifted the corner of her mouth into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
She knew Jackie never wanted her. In her heart, she knew nothing would change that, even after all she'd just told her. She'd had to come though, if only to see who'd carried her for nine months until she was ready to enter the world. At least they had that between them. It seemed there was nothing else to say. You shouldn't have expected anything else, not really. She stood, ready to leave.
"What are you doing?" Jackie asked.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have come . . ."
"Wait, Eilise…" She wasn't yet comfortable saying her name. It didn't roll the way it should from her tongue. "There's something I should tell you…" The instant she'd said it she regretted it. She'd not even told Tina; she looked for a way out. She had no idea how Tina would react when she finally heard the truth.
"Come on; follow me upstairs, I'll run you a bath," Jackie said.
On the way up, one of the steps creaked, and Eilise flinched, gasping aloud. Jackie turned. "Don't worry," she said, "you won't fall through. I'll sort you out some clothes for when you come out."
With Eilise in the bath, she crept downstairs, stepping over the noisy one. She'd been meaning to get it fixed for ages; until Eilise reacted like that, she'd forgotten all about it.
She picked up the phone and rang the police; the girl was underage after all.
The bluesy sound of female vocals started up in the bathroom. Jackie looked up at the ceiling and smiled.
Emergency, which service do you require… she put the phone down.
She needed time to work things out; she couldn't just put her back into a system that had failed her.
A taxi pulled up. Thank God, Tina's home.
She opened the front door to let her in and caught the whiff of stale cigarettes. Five discarded cigarette butts on the ground. One of them still smouldered. Someone has been having a cigarette right by the porch! Who the hell has been smoking outside my front door like that? She shuddered involuntarily. "Tina quick, get inside."
"What's wrong, Mum?"
"I'm not sure . . ."
She glanced around, nerves jangling before closing the door in a hurry and double locking it.
The strains of Eilise singing in the bath reached Tina's ears.
"Is that a new record, Mum?" she asked.
Sometimes, Jackie put music on upstairs while running the bath, or whilst getting ready. Focused on Eilise singing away upstairs, Jackie realised she actually had a very good voice.
"No, Tina, it isn't a record. It's a visitor. Someone I should have told you about years ago."
"What are you talking about?" She started for the stairs.
"Tina, love, let's wait for her to come down."
She took a step back and let her hand slide off the banister. "Okay, but who is it?"
Jackie sat down, her hands clasped between her knees; not looking at Tina as she told her, "It's your half-sister."
Tina, displaying a maturity beyond her years, moved next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, Mum. Tell me all about it."
The creaking stair behind announced that Eilise had come down.
At first, Jackie was uneasy. She told them both what happened to her. There wasn't a point in the next half an hour where none of them cried. Eilise was a tough nut to crack, but she joined in when Jackie told them how she'd lost Harry.
And then Eilise described what had happened to her.
"You should get the police, Mum," Tina said.
"The police would have got the other two girls out of there," Jackie said. "If I call them now—"
"If you do that I'm going right now."
Jackie could see she meant it. "Don't worry, Eilise, we'll work something out in the morning, I promise."
Later, while Eilise changed for bed, Tina asked, "What will happen to her, Mum?"
"For now, she'll stay with us. In the morning - well, we'll just have to see." Jackie cocked her head at her younger daughter, suddenly thoughtful. "Tina, you don't mind if Eilise shares your room? It's just I wouldn't want her sneaking off in the night … she's a runaway you see and—"
"That's okay, Mum; I'll keep an eye on her."
Jackie couldn't quite believe how well it had gone. The pills she'd popped an hour ago were dragging her into sleep. She pressed the fob to set the alarm. The activation light flashed. She cleaned her teeth, listening over the sound of the electric toothbrush for the beep to confirm the alarm had set. Now what's wrong with this? The power in the toothbrush ran out. She padded heavy-eyed, to the spare room to place it on charge.
In her room at last, she turned out the light and closed her eyes.
They've seen you; they know who you are. The game had turned against him, yet he was unafraid. Strange, but this new turn of events excited him in a way he'd not experienced in years.
Whether Eliza had come here or not, he decided he was going to have her mother. He calculated his chances; after what happened earlier, no one would expect him to turn up here and with Kennedy in hiding, not answering his phone, it was the perfect opportunity to fit him up one more time before exposing him.
There was no time to plan fully; his observations covered only a matter of hours. He noted the alarm was an old type, easily nobbled by a burglar of his ability and there was no sign of man or dog. He'd seen the mother when the young girl pulled up in a taxi. With all the curtains drawn, he couldn't see anything going on inside. Snippets of muffled conversation found their way into his ears, but he couldn't make out the words. Then he heard the singing. Rich and soulful, it had to be the mother. Sing for me baby. He'd overcome them all, one by one with the gas. They wouldn't know a thing until later, and by then he'd be long gone. He'd make up his mind about taking the girl back to another safe house later. Shouldn't have ignored me, Kennedy.
He went to fetch his equipment.
In the back garden, he finished his final cigarette and changed into his suit. Moving quickly with barely a sound, he masked up and struck a small windowpane with his elbow. The way he was hyped-up, he felt he would hear a pin drop, or feel the air pressure change if a door opened.
He felt supreme, superhuman.
Jackie often awoke with a start, sitting upright, not quite sure where she was. Despite the passing of time, the dreams still occurred with unpredictable frequency. Anything could spark them off. Sometimes, she knew it was because she'd seen a news report or a headline, or watched a film, but whatever it was, it was always the same. She'd wake up choking and gasping for air after he'd throttled her in yet another nightmare.
Tonight was different. Something woke her before she'd reached the end. The last vestiges of a so
und replayed in her consciousness. What was that? It sounded as if someone had popped a paper bag. The noise came from downstairs.
She reassured herself. The house alarm would have sounded. It's nothing. Silent trepidation stretched on like the space between lightning and thunder - waiting for the rumble that confirmed it was far away.
Once inside, the intruder eased his way up the stairs; a tread groaned as he put weight onto it. He froze and listened for any sign that the movement had been detected above him. Easing his foot from the step, he continued his ascent.
Jackie lifted her head she thought she'd heard the stair tread complain. It was the step. She knew it. Knew exactly which one it was. The girls were in bed, so how? When the toothbrush had run out of charge, and I'd… A feeling of dread came over her. The alarm! I never heard it beep when I set it.
"Oh no . . ." she whispered, on the edge of panic. "There's someone down there!"
Frantically, she started fumbling to open the bottom drawer, searching inside for her panic alarm, and the knife she kept in there. She knocked the table lamp over and caught it, but not before the base rocked loudly against the tabletop.
The intruder, almost at the top, hesitated. Someone's moving around!
Accelerating up the remaining stairs two at a time, he turned as he reached the landing; with eyes acclimatised to the darkness, he spotted a door handle turning. He moved up right outside and pressed himself flat against the wall.
Jackie opened the bedroom door.
He swung into view, startling her.
The Gasman!
She fell backwards over her own feet in her haste to get away, stunned by how quickly he'd got to her room. She struggled up into a sitting position, trying to catch her breath. She gasped in terror when she saw him in the light of her bedroom.
