‘Polly,’ he said again and it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. I hated him saying my name. ‘You said you loved me. You lied.’
‘You’re right. I did,’ I said. ‘So just leave me alone. And leave my mum alone. Don’t ever talk to her again. Understand? You don’t belong here.’ I could see tears in his eyes now, and I knew I was breaking him. It was the only way to make it stop. ‘Go away, Jacob. Or I’m calling the police, and you’ll go back to prison. Is that what you want?’
I guess I’d gone too far. He ran at me, and I stumbled back, tripping on a loose paving stone, falling back, landing on my hands. The pain shot up my arms. Jacob was standing over me now, his face red, spit at the corner of his mouth.
‘You lied to me!’
He grabbed hold of my pyjama top, screwing it tight in his hand and pulled me towards him. I tried to prise his hand away, but he was too strong. I always forgot that about him, how strong he was.
‘Jacob, please,’ I said, but he just pulled me up further, closer to his face.
‘I loved you,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said and put my hand over his. ‘I do love you, really.’
‘Liar!’ He let go of me, pushing me to the floor, and I felt my wrist crack as I landed.
I was too busy rubbing at my wrist to notice what Jacob was doing, but when I finally looked up, I saw him staring in to my house, his eyes flickering back and forth. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted in.
I stood up and raced to the door, Jacob on my heels. He tried to grab hold of me, but I pushed him away, and he stumbled over the same paving stone I’d tripped on. I ran into the house and pushed the door, but Jacob was already up and pushing back. His hand was inside, trying to grab at me. I could hear him screaming something but couldn’t make out the words over my own voice, screaming at him to go away, to leave me alone.
I thought the old woman would be out soon, the whole street maybe. Perhaps the police would come.
I bent over and bit his hand. He screamed out and withdrew his hand, and I used the advantage to throw my weight against the door. It slammed shut, and I locked it before sliding down to the floor, exhausted.
But Jacob didn’t give in. He threw himself at the door, and the wood rattled as he did, vibrating against my back. I closed my eyes and wished it would stop. That he would stop. But I knew now that he wouldn’t. I’d underestimated him, what he was capable of.
I realised I was crying. Big, heaving sobs that made my chest hurt. Everything that’d happened, everything I’d tried to control and tell myself I could deal with, it was all coming out. ‘Leave me alone,’ I said between sobs, banging my head against the door. ‘Please, leave me alone.’
The banging suddenly stopped, and I let out a long, shuddering breath. Maybe he’d exhausted himself too.
I heard the letterbox open, and before I could move his hand was in my hair, pulling it hard.
‘Why did you do this, Polly?’ he said, and I tried to get away. I scratched at his hand, but he held on tight. I twisted, feeling the hairs pulling my scalp, and tried to push the letterbox onto his fingers, punching it hard trying to make him stop. Finally, he gave in, and it slammed shut, taking a chunk of hair with it.
I backed away from the door, still cowering on the floor, tears streaming. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t live like this, couldn’t take it any longer. I was going to have to leave. Leave it all behind. The house, Jacob, Mum. I couldn’t take it anymore. In the morning, I was going to walk away and start again. Somewhere new.
Jacob had won.
15
I’d fallen asleep on the floor in the hallway, curled up like a baby. When I woke the next morning, I ached from top to bottom and wondered how much was from sleeping on the hard floor and how much was down to Jacob.
My face felt puffy from crying, and my throat was sore. I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d been asleep. For all I knew, Jacob was still there. I couldn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean much. He could be sleeping on the other side of the door, as exhausted from our fight as I was.
I peeled myself up off the floor, stretching my arms and legs, pushing my shoulder blades back and rolling my neck. I heard a few clicks and crunches but felt no better. My wrist throbbed, was swollen too.
I went into the kitchen and ran the tap as cold as it would go and filled a glass to the top. It felt good sliding down my throat, soothing it momentarily. I was about to put some bread in the toaster but stopped myself. I didn’t think I could eat anything.
In the living room, the TV was still playing from the night before, the blanket I’d been beneath on the settee was on the floor by the window where I’d dropped it as I ran out to confront Jacob. Why had I gone out there? What did I think I’d achieve?
I turned off the TV and sat down on the settee, head resting in my hands until I realised it made my head and my wrist hurt even more. I leaned back and closed my eyes, thinking about what’d happened.
Why had I never been afraid of Jacob before? I knew about his past. I’d seen what he could do, seen his temper aimed at other people, but somehow, I’d always managed to avoid it, and that had led me to believe I was safe, immune maybe. But that was then. Last night, I knew I’d made a huge mistake getting involved with him. How I ever thought it would be all right, I just don’t know.
I thought about my decision to leave. Perhaps it’d been a little melodramatic thinking I’d leave everything behind. But something had to give. Jacob wasn’t going to give up. And living in this house, knowing he could show up at any time…maybe that was the biggest problem.
But I loved this place. I opened my eyes and looked around. This was my home now. I didn’t want to leave, certainly didn’t want to be pushed out by him, it just wasn’t fair. I sighed and looked at the clock. It was gone eight-thirty. I needed to call work.
‘Hi, Janet,’ I said as she picked up. ‘It’s Polly. Sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday.’
‘Oh, honey, you sound terrible,’ Janet said. I could hear my voice, it sounded shaky, raw. ‘Is it bad?’
‘Yes,’ I said and started to cry.
‘Oh, sweetheart. Look, don’t you worry about this place. You just take your time and call me if you need anything. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ I sniffled and hung up, already thinking about what to do next.
16
I didn’t leave the house at all that day. I stayed inside, thinking, trying not to think, trying to sleep. Every now and then, I’d get up and go to the window or the door and sneak a look, trying to see if he was out there.
I didn’t see him at all that day, but I knew that meant nothing. Maybe he’d been there while I was asleep or was hiding out of plain sight. I kept the curtains closed at all times. The doorbell went once, and I almost jumped out of my skin, but when I peeked out from behind the curtain, I saw someone else, a stranger, most likely selling something. He looked up at the windows, and I ducked away. He probably wondered why all the curtains were closed. Maybe decided to go somewhere less weird.
I finally ate something at tea time, my stomach had been rumbling for a while. But as soon as the food went down, I felt ill, my stomach was in knots.
By seven, I was exhausted and went to bed, the luxury of a real mattress was so welcoming that I fell asleep almost immediately, and I slept through until morning, not even nightmares disturbing my sleep.
I felt better the next day, a good night’s sleep in an actual bed does wonders for the state of mind. But I still stayed inside, just in case, as I did the next day and the day after that. At first, it was nice. It was quiet, peaceful. I did as I pleased, ate what I wanted, whenever I chose. Napped on and off throughout the day, and as the days went on, I checked the windows less and less. I didn’t see Jacob once.
I started to think that our little encounter that night, as much as it had shaken me, had damaged him more. Maybe my threats of prison had worked, and he’d given up. I started to think that maybe
I should go outside again, maybe even go back to work. Maybe Jacob hadn’t won at all.
On the fourth day, I opened all the curtains and even some of the windows, letting in some fresh air. It felt good, and I realised how stupid I’d been to think about packing up and going. I could work something else out. It wouldn’t be like this forever. Jacob would get tired of it. When had he ever seen anything through?
I decided to do a little experiment. I sat by the window all day, reading a book, looking out onto the street, seeing all the comings and goings. The old woman from next door came out and walked off, slowly, down the street. I watched her for a while, wondering where she’d go, what her life consisted of. I hadn’t seen anyone else there, no Mr Old to keep her company. I wondered if she was alone now or if he was in a home like Mum. Or maybe there’d never been a husband. Maybe she’d always been alone.
I went back to my book, but every little sound distracted me, and I’d look up and around the street, making sure that Jacob wasn’t the one making the noises. But I hadn’t seen him all day, and I was starting to believe he had given up, that this was going to work out.
I didn’t notice her until she was right there in my face. I let out a little gasp, but she didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to think pushing your face to someone’s window would freak them out. I stood up and walked to the door. When I opened it, Mrs Old shuffled away from the window and came to the door.
‘I’m Mrs Rodgers,’ she said. ‘Ethel.’
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘I live next door,’ she said, looking at her house. ‘I just wanted to introduce myself. As we’re neighbours now.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘Very kind of you.’
‘I knew Agatha,’ she said. ‘The lady who lived here before,’ Ethel said, trying to angle her head to see inside.
‘Oh. Right,’ I said. ‘What happened to her?’
‘She died. Terrible, really. She fell down the stairs. Was never right after that,’ Ethel said, and shook her head. ‘So sad. How long have you been here?’ she asked. ‘I saw you the other day, but we didn’t get a chance to talk. I didn’t see a removal van. Or a for sale sign.’
‘It all happened quite quickly, and I didn’t have much to bring. Besides, a lot of the furniture was left here. I guess the family didn’t want to clear the place themselves,’ I said.
‘I don’t think Agatha had much in the way of family,’ Ethel said. ‘Her husband died years ago and after that, well, I think she was lost without him. Terrible, really. And of course–’
‘I suppose that’s how I got it so cheap,’ I said, interrupting her before she could give me Agatha’s whole life story.
Ethel nodded and then moved a little closer to me. ‘I heard some noise the other night,’ she said, and I wondered how much she saw, whether she’d seen Jacob, if she’d thought about calling the police.
‘It was nothing, just kids messing about,’ I said.
‘I thought I saw a man. I thought–’
‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘My phone’s ringing. It was nice speaking to you.’ I closed the door and went inside, pacing up and down the hallway. I could tell she was still outside, waiting. I wanted her to leave, to stop asking questions. How could I tell her who was out there without her getting suspicious? Without her calling the police? No, I needed to handle things myself.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror in the hallway. I wasn’t looking my best. I needed to sort myself out. I made a decision. Starting tomorrow, I was going to get things back on track. I’d get this place looking good, just how I wanted it. The laminate flooring, the chiffon curtains, the accent colours I’d use. A minimalist, stripped back look rather than all this clutter.
I’d get a new job, something better. Something stimulating, better paid. And I’d forget about everything from my past.
Jacob was gone. And so was everything that came with him.
17
The other man is bigger than Jacob. Taller, wider. He stands in the doorway, filling it completely. He looks at me with dead eyes, and I can’t stand it. I turn back to Jacob. He looks nervous, won’t look me in the eye. I can feel my legs shaking like jelly beneath me. I need to sit down. But not here. I need to get out first.
I lift my chin and stride towards Jacob’s friend. He doesn’t move. ‘Excuse me,’ I say, and his face changes as a grin spreads across it. His eyes flick over to Jacob and then back down to me. I try to look defiant, show that I’m not afraid of him, but I wonder if he can see me shaking.
‘Sit down, Polly,’ the man says, and I step back when he says my name. It’s not that I’m surprised he knows it, of course Jacob has told him, but it’s just the way he says it.
I step back until I hit the table, and I see the cricket bat on the floor. He sees me looking and lurches forward, picking it up before I can. He turns it over in his hand, twirling it and tapping it on his palm.
‘Nice,’ he says.
‘That’s mine,’ Jacob says from behind me, and his friend looks at him wide eyed.
‘All right, mate,’ he says. ‘Here.’ He tosses it towards Jacob who fumbles it and it clatters to the floor. ‘Good catch,’ the man says.
‘Shut up, Phil,’ Jacob mumbles, picking the bat back up.
I look back at Jacob who’s staring at what he has in his hands, and I wonder if he’ll hurt me with it. If that’s why he came here.
‘So, should we do this?’ Phil says, and my head darts around to him.
I see a gap between Phil and the doorway, a gap I could easily get through if I were fast enough. I try to steady myself and then make a run for it. I get out of the kitchen and into the hallway, but then, I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling at my coat, pulling me backwards.
I try to shrug out of it, but Phil is closer now, is reaching around my neck, trying to get me in a headlock. I throw myself forward, propelling myself towards the front door, but I stumble, tumbling to the floor, Phil on top of me.
The wind goes out of me, and my hip slams into the floorboards. I’d cry out if I didn’t have a monster of a man on top of me. He stands up, too fast for his size, and grabs my ankle, dragging me back to the kitchen.
‘Get some tape,’ he says, and I can hear Jacob rummaging about in the drawers. I kick out at Phil, catching his knee, and he buckles and drops me. I scramble on hands and knees towards the door again, but I can’t have kicked him hard enough, and he catches me again far too easily.
‘Get off me,’ I scream, hoping that Ethel might hear.
‘Got some,’ Jacob says, and Phil drags me into the kitchen, the loose screws in the floorboard scraping my skin.
Phil pulls me up and sits me on a kitchen chair. He twists my hands behind my back, and Jacob tears some tape off and ties my wrists. I try to struggle, try to make him mess up the tape so that eventually he’ll run out, and they’ll have to think of something else, but Phil is too strong. I can’t move my hands at all, and before I know it, they’re tied behind me, looped behind the wooden slats of the chair. I try to stand, but Phil has his hands pressed down on my shoulders, keeping me in my seat.
‘Use the rest,’ Phil says, and I hear Jacob mutter as he tries to find the end again. ‘Come on,’ Phil says before snatching the reel from Jacob. ‘Hold her still.’
Jacob takes over, and he’s not as strong. I can move beneath his hands, but it doesn’t matter. Phil tears the tape with a violent rip and starts wrapping it around me. It’s tight. Too tight. I can hardly breathe. He winds the whole thing around me so I can’t move my arms at all. I’m fastened to the chair completely.
Jacob and Phil take a step back to admire their work. Phil grins again, and I know I’m in too deep. This man is not like Jacob. He’s enjoying what he’s doing, whatever it is he’s going to do. Jacob stands beside him and giggles as if it’s all a game, as if that’s the only reaction to seeing a woman tied to a chair.
‘It’s a nice place, this,’ Phil says, stepping back, looking around as if he ow
ns the place. ‘A bit of paint. Some nice laminate floor in here. It’d be lovely.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ I say, looking at Jacob. I know it’s a stupid question, I know that he believes I’ve done him wrong, and maybe I have. But if anyone is going to stop this, it’s Jacob. I know I can get him to stop. But this other man, this Phil, I don’t know him. I don’t know what he’s here for, what Jacob has promised him.
‘Jacob?’ I say, my eyes pleading with him.
‘You know why,’ Phil says and leans into me. ‘You’re a little cunt.’
I kick out at him, my legs are still free, even if the rest of me isn’t. Phil jumps back, a flash of anger across his face before he reverts back to his game face.
‘Careful,’ he says and walks around the back of the chair, grabbing a fistful of hair. ‘Get some more tape,’ he says, and Jacob looks around.
‘That was all of it,’ he says. ‘I could go to the corner shop.’
‘Never mind,’ Phil says, and lets go of me, coming back to where I can see him. As he passes, I kick out again, this time catching his shin. He curses in pain and turns to slap me hard across the face. I cry out.
‘Bitch,’ Phil says and lunges towards me, his hands going up my skirt.
‘Don’t. Please, don’t,’ I say, still fighting, trying to get him to stop.
His fingers dig into my flesh as he gets hold of the tops of my tights and tears them off. I can feel my underwear has pulled down, sitting at the top of my thighs. Phil takes my shoes off and then pulls my tights off while Jacob stands watching, his mouth gaping.
‘Hold her legs,’ Phil says, and Jacob crouches down, his hands firm around my ankles while Phil ties me to the chair with my own tights. As they stand I try to move my legs, but it’s impossible. It’s so tight, I can feel it digging into my skin, I can feel the circulation being cut off already.
‘You can’t do this,’ I say, and try to shake the chair, try to do anything to get out of this.
No Place Like Home_a gripping psychological thriller Page 6
