Behind Closed Doors: The gripping debut thriller everyone is raving about

by B. A. Paris

  ‘Scream all you like.’ His voice came through the door. ‘You don’t know how much it excites me.’

  Unable to control my fear—that he would never let me out, that he would leave me to die there—I became hysterical. Within seconds, I found I couldn’t breathe and, as I began to hyperventilate, the pain in my chest brought me to my knees. Realising that I was having some sort of panic attack, I fought to regain control of my breathing, but the sound of Jack laughing excitedly from the other side of the door only increased my distress. Tears streamed from my eyes and, unable to catch my breath, I honestly believed I was going to die. The thought that I would be leaving Millie at Jack’s mercy was truly terrible and, as a picture of her wearing her yellow hat and scarf came into my mind, I clung on to it, wanting it to be the last thing I remembered.

  It was a while before I noticed that the pain in my chest had eased, making it possible for me to draw in deeper breaths. I didn’t dare move in case I started everything off again; instead, I stayed as I was, my head on my knees, and concentrated on my breathing. The relief that I was still alive, that I could still save Millie gave me the strength to lift my head and look for another way out of the room. But there wasn’t even a small window. I began searching the walls, running my hands over them and moving the paintings aside, hoping to find some sort of switch that would open the door.

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ Jack’s voice drawled, making me jump. ‘It can’t be opened from the inside.’ Just knowing he was on the other side of the door made me start shaking again. ‘How do you like the room?’ he went on. ‘I hope you’re enjoying yourself in there as much as I am listening to you out here. I can’t wait to hear what Millie thinks of it—hopefully she’ll be even more vocal than you.’

  Suddenly exhausted, I lay down on the floor and curled myself into a ball, wedging my fingers in my ears so that I wouldn’t have to listen to him. I prayed for sleep to take me but the room remained brightly lit, making it impossible.

  As I lay there, I tried not to consider the possibility that he would never let me out of the hell he had created for Millie, and when I remembered how I had truly believed, on the strength of a beautiful yellow bedroom, that somewhere deep inside him lay a tiny shred of decency, I wept at my stupidity.

  PRESENT

  I stare at Millie, the pills still in my hand, wondering if I’ve heard her correctly. ‘Millie, we can’t.’

  ‘Yes, can. Have to.’ She nods her head determinedly. ‘Jorj Koony bad man.’

  Frightened of where the conversation is going and conscious of Jack waiting, I fold the pills back into the tissue. ‘I think we should flush these down the loo, Millie.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘We can’t do anything bad, Millie,’ I say.

  ‘Jorj Koony do bad thing,’ she says darkly. ‘Jorj Koony bad man, very bad man.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  A frown furrows her brow. ‘But I come live with Grace soon.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, you are coming to live with me soon.’

  ‘But I not live with bad man, I scared. So we kill bad man, we kill Jorj Koony.’

  ‘I’m sorry Millie, we can’t kill anybody.’

  ‘Agata Christie kill people!’ she says indignantly. ‘In And Then There None, lots of people die, and Mrs Rogers, she die from sleeping medicine.’

  ‘Maybe she does,’ I say firmly. ‘But they’re just stories, Millie, you know that.’

  Yet even while I’m telling her that we can’t, my mind races on ahead, wondering if there are enough pills to at least knock Jack out long enough for me to escape. Common sense tells me that even if there are enough, the chances of being able to get them into him are almost negligible. But despite what I’ve just told Millie, I know I’ll never be able to flush them down the toilet because they represent the first glimmer of hope I’ve had in a long time. But I also know that whatever I decide to do with them—if anything—Millie can’t be involved.

  ‘I’m going to flush the pills away,’ I tell her, walking into one of the cubicles. As I flush the chain, I quickly stuff the tissue up my sleeve but immediately panic when I realise that Jack will see the bulge and ask what it is. Fishing it back out, I look up and down my person, wondering where I can hide it. I can’t put it in my bag, because Jack always checks it before I put it away, and hiding it down my bra or knickers is out because he always watches me undress. Stooping, I slip the scrunched-up tissue into my shoe, wedging it firmly into the toe. It’s difficult to get my shoe back on and I know it’s going to be even more uncomfortable once I start walking, but I feel safer with the pills hidden there than on my body. I have no idea how I’m going to be able to get them out of my shoe if a time comes when I feel I can use them but just knowing they are there gives me comfort.

  ‘Grace stupid!’ Millie says furiously, as I come back out. ‘Can’t kill Jorj Koony now!’

  ‘That’s right, Millie, we can’t,’ I agree.

  ‘But he bad man!’

  ‘Yes, but we can’t kill bad men,’ I point out. ‘It’s against the law.’

  ‘Then tell police Jorj Koony bad man!’

  ‘That’s a good idea, Millie,’ I say, seeking to soothe her agitation. ‘I’ll tell the police.’

  ‘Now!’

  ‘No, not now, but soon.’

  ‘Before I come live with you?’

  ‘Yes, before you come to live with me.’

  ‘You tell police?’

  I take her hand in mine. ‘Do you trust me, Millie?’ She nods reluctantly. ‘Then I promise I’ll find a solution before you come to live with me.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Yes, I promise,’ I tell her, fighting back tears. ‘And now you must promise me something. You must promise that you’ll continue to keep our secret.’

  ‘I like Jack but I don’t like Jorj Koony,’ she intones, still upset with me.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, Millie. Now, let’s go back out and see Jack. Maybe he’ll buy us an ice cream.’

  But even the thought of an ice cream, one of Millie’s favourite things, isn’t enough to lift her spirits. When I think about how proud and excited she’d been when she handed me the carefully wrapped pills, how clever she’d been to find a solution to the desperate situation we’re in, I hate that I can’t tell her how amazing she is. But despite the surge of hope I’d felt when I placed the pills in the toe of my shoe, I don’t see how I’ll be able to use them.

  The walk to the nearby park, and the ice-cream van that is parked there, is so uncomfortable because of my squashed toes that I know I’m not going to be able to spend the next three hours walking around. Millie is so downcast I’m worried Jack will guess that something transpired between us during our time in the toilets and start asking questions that she won’t know how to answer. In an effort to distract her, I ask her which flavour ice cream she’s going to choose and, when she shrugs unenthusiastically, Jack’s appraising look tells me that even if he hadn’t noticed before, her change of spirits has now caught his attention. Looking for a way to distract him, and to brighten Millie’s mood, I suggest going to the cinema, which will also get me off my feet.

  ‘Would you like that?’ Jack asks, turning to Millie.

  ‘Yes,’ she says unenthusiastically.

  ‘Then we’ll go. But first, Millie, I want to know what happened in the toilet.’

  ‘What you mean?’ Caught off guard, Millie is defensive.

  ‘Just that you were happy when you went into the toilet and miserable when you came out,’ he says reasonably.

  ‘I have period.’

  ‘You knew that before you went in. Come on, Millie, tell me what happened to upset you.’ His voice is encouraging, coaxing and, sensing Millie hesitate, I feel a prickle of fear. It’s not that I think she’s suddenly going to blurt out to Jack about the pills, but he’s so good at manipulating people I’d be stupid not to be afraid and, in the mood she’s in, Millie is more likely to let her guard down. As well
as that, she’s angry with me. I turn my head towards her, hoping to be able to warn her with my eyes to be careful but she refuses to look at me.

  ‘Can’t.’ Millie shakes her head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Is secret.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re not allowed to have secrets,’ Jack says regretfully. ‘So why don’t you tell me? Did Grace say something that upset you? You can tell me, Millie. In fact, you have to tell me.’

  ‘She say no,’ she says, shrugging.

  ‘No?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see. And what did Grace say no to?’

  ‘I tell her kill Jorj Koony and she say no,’ she says darkly.

  ‘Very funny, Millie.’

  ‘Is true.’

  ‘The thing is, Millie, even if it is, I don’t believe that’s why you’re in a bad mood. I know you don’t like George Clooney, but you’re not stupid, you know very well that Grace can’t kill him. So I’ll ask you again. What did Grace say that upset you?’

  I cast around quickly for something that sounds genuine. ‘If you must know, Jack, she asked if she could come and see the house and I said no,’ I say, sounding exasperated.

  He turns towards me, understanding exactly why I want to keep Millie away from the house.

  ‘Is that so?’ he says.

  ‘Want to see my bedroom,’ Millie confirms, looking at me to show me she has understood what I want her to say.

  ‘Then so you shall,’ Jack says with a flourish, as if he is granting her a wish. ‘You’re right, Millie, you should be allowed to see your room. In fact, you’ll probably love it so much you might ask to move in with us at once rather than go back to school. Don’t you think that might be the case, Grace?’

  ‘Is yellow?’ Millie asks.

  ‘Of course it is.’ Jack smiles. ‘Come on, let’s go to the cinema—I’ve got quite a bit of thinking to do.’

  At the cinema, I sit in the darkness, glad that nobody can see the tears that spring to my eyes when I realise how reckless I’ve been. In telling Jack that Millie had asked to see her room, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say, I may have brought the danger that is awaiting her even nearer. After what she told me in the toilets, about not wanting to live with Jack, I doubt she would ask to move in with us sooner than later, as Jack had suggested she might. But what if Jack suggests it himself? After the remark he made last night about being tired of waiting, I wouldn’t put it past him. And what reason would there be to say no? What excuse could I come up with to keep Millie safely at school? Even if I found one, Jack would never back me up. I steal a glance at him, hoping to find him absorbed in the film, or asleep, but the look of quiet satisfaction on his face tells me he’s already realised that inviting Millie to the house might be to his advantage.

  The knowledge that I’ve set something that is potentially dangerous to Millie in motion horrifies me, as does knowing that I have no way to stop it. Just as the hopelessness of my situation threatens to overwhelm me, Millie, seated on the other side of Jack, bursts out laughing at something on screen and I know that I have to save her, at whatever cost to myself, from the horror Jack has in store for her.

  The film over, we drive back to the school to drop Millie off. Janice is already there and, as we say goodbye, she asks us if we’ll be coming back the following Sunday.

  ‘Actually, we thought we’d bring Millie down to the house instead,’ Jack says smoothly. ‘It’s about time she saw where she’s going to be living, don’t you think so, darling?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to wait until all the work had been completed,’ I point out, trying to keep my voice steady, appalled that he has made his move so quickly.

  ‘It will be by the weekend.’

  ‘You said my bedroom not finished,’ Millie says accusingly.

  ‘I was joking,’ Jack explains patiently. ‘I wanted your visit to us next weekend to be a surprise. So how about we pick you up at eleven o’clock and drive you down. Would you like that?’

  Millie hesitates, unsure of what she’s meant to say. ‘Yes, I like,’ she says slowly. ‘I like to see house.’

  ‘And your bedroom,’ Jack reminds her.

  ‘Is yellow,’ Millie says, turning to Janice. ‘I have yellow bedroom.’

  ‘Well, you’ll be able to tell me all about it when you get back,’ Janice tells her.

  The fear that Millie might not get back, that Jack will invent a broken-down car to keep her with us, or simply tell Janice and Mrs Goodrich that she has asked to stay on with us, makes it difficult for me to think straight. Aware of how little time I have to act, my mind races, looking for a way—not of stopping the ball from rolling, because it’s too late for that—but of diverting it from its path.

  ‘Why don’t you come too?’ I hear myself say to Janice. ‘Then you can see Millie’s bedroom for yourself.’

  Millie claps her hands in delight. ‘Janice come too!’

  Jack frowns. ‘I’m sure Janice has better things to do with her weekend.’

  Janice shakes her head. ‘No, its fine, in fact I would love to see where Millie is going to live.’

  ‘Then could I ask you to bring her down?’ I ask hurriedly before Jack can dream up a reason for Janice not to come.

  ‘Of course I will! It would be silly for you and Mr Angel to drive all the way here only to go back again. It’s the least I can do. If you just give me your address …’

  ‘I’ll write it down for you,’ Jack says. ‘Do you have a pen?’

  ‘Not on me, I’m afraid.’ Janice looks at my bag. ‘Do you have one?’

  I don’t even pretend to look. ‘Sorry,’ I say apologetically.

  ‘No problem, I’ll just pop and get one.’

  She leaves. Painfully aware of Jack’s eyes boring into me, I’m unable to answer the questions Millie fires excitedly at me about her forthcoming visit to our house. His fury at the way I’ve invited Janice along is tangible and I know I’m going to have to come up with an excellent and believable reason as to why I did. But if Janice brings Millie down, there is the unspoken assumption that she’ll be going back with her and therefore less chance for Jack to manipulate things so that she ends up staying on with us.

  Janice returns with pen and paper and Jack writes down our address and hands it to her. She folds the paper and puts it in her pocket and, maybe because she’s used to us cancelling things at the last minute, confirms that the invitation is for the following Sunday, 2 May. When I hear the date, something occurs to me and I find myself grabbing at it with both hands.

  ‘I’ve just had a thought—why don’t we make it the Sunday after instead?’ Millie’s face falls and I turn to her quickly. ‘Then we’ll be able to celebrate your eighteenth birthday at the same time. It’s on the tenth,’ I remind her. ‘Would you like that, Millie? Would you like a party in your new house?’

  ‘With cake?’ she asks. ‘And balloons?’

  ‘With cake, candles, balloons, everything,’ I say, hugging her.

  ‘What a lovely idea!’ exclaims Janice, as Millie squeals in delight.

  ‘It will also give us time to get the house completely finished,’ I add, thrilled at the way I’ve managed to buy myself more time. ‘What do you think, Jack?’

  ‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ he says. ‘How very clever of you to have thought of it. Now, shall we go? It’s getting late and there’s something we need to do tonight, isn’t there, darling?’

  Dread replaces the joy I felt only minutes before at having outsmarted him, as he can only be referring to one thing. Not wanting him to see how much his words have affected me, I turn and kiss Millie goodbye.

  ‘We’ll see you next Sunday,’ I tell her, despite knowing that Jack will never allow me to come in view of my invitation to Janice. ‘Meanwhile, I’ll start getting things ready for your party. Is there anything special you’d like?’

  ‘Big cake,’ she laughs. ‘Very big cake.’

  ‘I’ll make sure
Grace makes you the most beautiful cake in the world,’ Jack promises.

  ‘I like you, Jack,’ she beams.

  ‘But you don’t like George Clooney,’ he finishes. He turns to Janice. ‘In fact, she dislikes him so much that she asked Grace to kill him.’

  ‘Not funny, Millie,’ Janice frowns.

  ‘She was joking with you, Jack,’ I say calmly, knowing that he understands just how much Millie hates being reprimanded.

  ‘Still, you shouldn’t joke about things like that.’ Janice is firm. ‘Do you understand, Millie? I wouldn’t like to have to tell Mrs Goodrich.’

  ‘I sorry,’ says Millie, her face crestfallen.

  ‘I think you’ve been listening to too many Agatha Christie stories,’ Janice goes on sternly. ‘No more for a week, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have said anything,’ Jack says contritely, as tears well up in Millie’s eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to get her into trouble.’

  I bite back the angry retort that springs to my lips, surprised that I had even thought of contradicting him. It’s something I stopped doing long ago, especially in public.

  ‘Well, we really must be off,’ I say to Janice instead. I give Millie a last hug. ‘You can think about what dress you’d like to wear to the party and tell me when I see you next week,’ I tell her, hoping to cheer her up.

  ‘What time would you like us to arrive on the ninth?’ Janice asks.

  ‘Around one?’ I say, looking at Jack for confirmation.

  He shakes his head. ‘The earlier the better, I think. Besides, I can’t wait to show Millie her room. So why don’t we say twelve-thirty?’

  ‘Lovely,’ Janice smiles.

  In the car on the way home, I brace myself for whatever is to come. Jack doesn’t say anything for a while, perhaps because he knows that the anticipation of his anger is sometimes, but not always, worse than the event. I tell myself that I can’t afford to let fear muddle my thinking and concentrate instead on finding a way of deflecting his fury. The best way, I decide, is to make him think I’ve given up, that there is no hope left and I take comfort from the thought that my lethargy over the last few months, which I’d been berating myself for, might actually have served me well, as a slide into total apathy won’t seem so contrived.