A Time for Hope

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘I am very careful. Always remember it.’

  That night was the first time he failed to satisfy Radka in bed. He couldn’t get the image of Gabi being pushed into a crash out of his mind.

  ‘I’ll ring her in the morning, see how she is,’ he muttered as he turned over to try to sleep.

  Radka’s sharp voice stabbed at him through the darkness. ‘You will do no such thing. As well tell the world you arranged the attack. You will wait for us to find out what’s going on and tell you.’

  He didn’t answer, pretended to be asleep.

  She really did fall asleep soon after that. He knew her patterns of breathing by now.

  It took him a while to follow her example. He was still feeling guilty. No, not that. He didn’t do guilty, had nothing to be guilty about, but he was annoyed at himself for not being more careful, not choosing his helpers more carefully. He’d been trying to nudge Gabi into doing the sensible thing, not kill her.

  He looked at the woman sleeping so peacefully beside him, frowning as he studied the fine-boned face, the slender arm curved across her pillow. Radka was gorgeous, but she had been more than a bit scary tonight. As if she was in charge and he was there to do her bidding. He’d never associated with a powerful woman, and there were aspects of it that worried him.

  She seemed to find things out amazingly quickly, and to know everything about him. In fact, she knew far more than he’d ever told her. How?

  What had he got himself into? A way out, that’s what. He’d had no choice but to find some method of paying his debts. Lady Luck hadn’t been with him lately. She’d come back, though; he was sure of that. And, in the meantime, he had Radka.

  But who exactly was he working for here? That thought had started to really worry him. Big-time business was one thing. Big-time crime was quite another.

  Who exactly was she working for? Oh, she’d given him a company name and said they did behind-the-scenes stuff, but that told him very little.

  By the time Gabrielle waved goodbye to Dan, she felt a lot more secure in the house. Strange what a difference a few little bolts had made.

  She also felt more secure about her developing relationship with him. She’d never moved so slowly before, taken such care of where she was giving her affections. That suited her mood at present. She was afraid of making another huge mistake.

  But she was almost free of Stu now. There was just the house to sell. What a relief that would be! She might even go down a little more in the price she would accept, if only to expedite matters. What was money compared to peace of mind?

  Soon after Dan had left, the post arrived. She picked up the envelopes and opened the electricity bill there and then. She always had to find out how much a bill was for as soon as she got it. She knew it was a silly quirk, but what harm did it do anyone if she opened her bills in the hall? There was no one to sneer at her about it now.

  As she turned to go back into the kitchen, another flyer was pushed through the front door. This one was from the new beauty salon she’d seen on the way to town. She’d driven past Pampered a few times and thought how attractive the place looked. She wished she could afford to book a session there because she loved relaxing in a bubbling spa or treating herself to a soothing massage.

  It seemed such a long time since anyone had pampered her.

  She was about to throw the flyer away when a piece of card fell out. As she retrieved it, she saw the words ‘Free Gift’ and couldn’t help noticing what it was offering: the chance of a full day’s pampering session totally free. This would begin with a massage and spa, go on to a facial treatment, hair wash and blow dry, then finish with a professional make-up artist giving her some advice and then doing her make-up. They were only giving this prize to three lucky people.

  ‘Scratch the silver bar of soap to see if you’ve won,’ it said in big print.

  ‘Ha! As if.’ She threw the card into the rubbish bin without trying to scratch it. There would be a catch to winning. There always was. She didn’t have time for messing around, had to finish packing up her life. It was part of the agreement with the agency that she would get out of this house as soon as it sold and settled, so she had to be ready to leave.

  Only she still hadn’t worked out where to go. Should she really take the offer of a house in Rochdale, or find a place where she could make a home? Buy a small place, even? Not round here, of course. She’d not have enough money for that.

  The quick sale agency had guaranteed settlement within five working days, which amazed her. She’d never heard of that happening so quickly.

  They were certainly trying hard to sell the house, she’d give them that. Nearly every day that week, she’d had to get out to let another potential customer look through it. But none of them had made an offer that was even halfway decent, and though Stu had suggested lowering the price, she’d refused to do that. So far, anyway.

  There were more disturbances during the next two nights. She called at all the nearby houses, but none of her neighbours had experienced any problems. It was just her, it seemed. No damage had been done to her house, though the garden plants at the rear had been pulled up one night.

  The broken sleep was very wearing, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She was getting too tired to think straight. Dan said to hang in and, if she felt in danger, to book into a hotel. If she could last just a few more days, he was working longer hours to finish his job earlier.

  She contacted the police, who said the same as last time. There were vandals everywhere, but because of her history of troubles, patrols of the area would be increased. Big deal! How could you increase nothing? She hadn’t seen any patrols round here before and she hadn’t seen any since they’d said that the first time. And she’d been up a few times in the night just looking outside and checking her garden for intruders.

  She went back to packing and throwing things away, yawning. When she opened the kitchen rubbish bin and saw the voucher lying on top of some papers, she pulled the brightly coloured piece of card out, drawn again by the words ‘Free Gift’.

  Oh, why not scratch the silver image? If she found out for sure that she’d won nothing, then maybe she’d stop longing for the impossible.

  It couldn’t do any harm to give herself a few minutes to dream of luxury and pampering, so she waited until she’d finished a leisurely cup of strong coffee, designed to keep her awake and alert. Only then did she get out a ten-pence coin and scratch the card.

  She stared at it, then cried out loud, ‘No! I don’t believe it. I never win anything.’

  But however carefully she studied the card, the word ‘winner’ still sat there in big black letters, with ‘Congratulations!’ in bright red slanted at an angle beneath it.

  There must be some catch. She studied the conditions, reading them several times. The winner had to agree to have her name used in promotions. Fair enough. And the day’s pampering had to be taken on a Tuesday or Wednesday. Also reasonable – obviously these would be their quiet days.

  She walked to and fro, still unable to believe this had happened to her. She’d never won anything except two pounds from a scratchcard in her whole life. Should she claim the prize?

  That was a no-brainer. Of course she was going to claim it. And she was going to enjoy every minute of being pampered.

  When should she go? She didn’t have to go back to work for another week and intended to ask for more time off anyway. The mere thought of going back to that horrible, windowless building made her feel ill, and she didn’t know how she’d ever paste a smile on her face, let alone keep it there all day.

  But it was easy to smile today in anticipation of such a treat. She picked up the phone to book the pampering session. ‘Um, I’ve won your free gift of a day’s pampering.’

  A soft, cooing voice said, ‘Congratulations, madam. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your special day. When would you like to claim it?’

  ‘Would a week on Wednesday be all right?’

  ‘
That would be fine. We’ll look forward to seeing you at nine a.m. Could I have your name, please? Thank you, Ms Newman. And your phone number? Right. Got it. Don’t forget to bring your winning card with you. Um, just one thing. You do realize it’s a condition of the free gift that we can use your name for publicity? And we’ll give you some free beauty products if you let us take your photo as well.’

  ‘Yes, I understand about the publicity. As for the photo …’ What the hell? she thought recklessly. ‘Yes, all right, you can take a photo. As long as you make me look good for it.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll do that, don’t worry. We have a brilliant make-up artist and hair stylist.’

  Gabrielle smiled as she put down the phone. She didn’t care about the photo or them using her name, because she’d made another decision. She was going to move right away from the district.

  In fact, she was going to Rochdale. Not only because there was a house available rent-free and information about her family, but because she’d checked on the internet several times and hadn’t seen anywhere suitable near here – well, not in her price range for buying. And not even in her rental range. She needed to save money, not spend it on high rents.

  Tania said she could stay with her for a week or two if a sale really did happen quickly, but Gabi would only do that if she was desperate. She’d hate to impose on her friend, who only had a small, two-bedroom flat. Besides, Tania was kind, but loud and slapdash. They might be good friends, but they weren’t the sort of people who should ever share accommodation, not if they wanted to remain friends.

  No, she’d have to find something else for herself and the lawyer was offering her a house.

  Spirits lifted by the prospect of the pampering and the fact that no one had been to look round the house that morning, Gabi picked up the phone the next day without checking who was calling. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Stu here. I’m coming round. Be there.’

  Her heart started thumping at the harsh tone in his voice. What did he want now? Every time she saw him or heard from him, he nagged her about lowering the house price so that they could sell quickly.

  She might lower it a few thousand, but she didn’t intend to give her hard-earned money away to the extent he was demanding. She’d rather wait and sell for a fair price – well, as fair as you could get in a quick sale.

  When she heard his car, she waited for him to knock, but he used his key and marched straight in. She stayed where she was at the kitchen table, hands clasped round a mug of tea, glad of its comforting warmth.

  He took a chair, twisted it round and sat astride it, scowling across the table at her. ‘I’m here to talk some sense into you.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘That last offer for the house was nearly good enough. You have to face facts about house prices, Gabi. Peter thinks we can push the guy up a bit, but not much more.’

  ‘That would still be fifty thousand pounds under our lowest price.’ She was about to offer to go down a few thousand when he interrupted.

  ‘So what? The money’s doing us no good locked in this damned pile of bricks. And house sales aren’t improving, either in this area or in the country as a whole. If you’re intending to buy another house, you can simply screw someone else into accepting a much lower price. Swings and roundabouts. Surely even your tiny mind can understand that?’

  When she didn’t respond, he thumped his clenched fist suddenly on the table, sending tea from her mug spurting in every direction.

  She had to make a stand. ‘Stu, I can’t afford to lower the price that much. Fifty thousand pounds is more than I earn in a year!’

  ‘Twenty-five thousand pounds. We’re splitting the house sale money down the middle, remember.’

  ‘I still can’t agree to throwing my share of the money away. You shouldn’t be getting half of the house money, anyway. You cheated me on that and I don’t intend to lose any more of what is—’

  Before she realized what was happening, he was up and out of his chair. Moving round the table, he grabbed her by the front of her T-shirt and dragged her to her feet. This sent her mug flying and she heard it smash against the cooker.

  ‘Stu, don’t!’

  ‘Don’t!’ he mimicked, then shook her like a rag doll. ‘If you don’t change your mind, Gabi my pet, I’m going to do a lot more than give you a shaking up. I’m going to get rather nasty about this.’

  She tried to push him away, but he only laughed and shook her again, after which he grabbed her hair with one hand and twisted it round so hard she cried out with the pain. Then he lifted her up by it.

  ‘We are going to push this guy up a little, then accept the offer. Is that clear?’

  He thumped her down in the chair again, but kept hold of her hair.

  She didn’t know how to get away from him, couldn’t think clearly because of the pain in her head.

  He laughed, a low, feral sound. ‘Now. Are you going to listen to sense or do I have to get seriously nasty?’ He let go of her hair and sat down on the chair beside her this time, not the one opposite, his eyes watchful.

  She knew she hadn’t a chance of standing up, let alone running out of the house, before he caught her, but she tried to speak assertively, only to hear her voice wobble. ‘If you touch me again, I’ll complain to the police.’

  ‘What precisely will you complain about?’

  ‘You. Hurting me.’

  ‘I haven’t even begun to hurt you. Yet. It’s quite possible to do that without leaving an external mark, believe me. I’ve heard of several ways. How brave are you feeling today, Gabi? How much pain can you take?’

  She swallowed hard. Suddenly, the days of anxiety and the harassment all piled up and it was too much to bear. Even the money didn’t matter. What mattered was getting right away from this madman.

  Yes, madman. She stared at him and he stared coldly back. He didn’t say anything, and the way he was studying her seemed just as frightening as when he’d hurt her. No sign of emotion, no trace of caring about her as he’d once sworn to do for ever.

  The silence went on and on as she tried to think what to do.

  His expression was so different today, so full of suppressed violence, that she was terrified of him hurting her permanently.

  ‘You’re such a fool – too stupid to know how to play against major league characters like me.’ Stu grabbed her hair again before she could move away. As he used it to lift her from her seat again, she screamed loudly.

  He laughed. ‘You can end this whenever you like. Just agree to lower the price.’ He shoved her backwards and banged her against the wall a couple of times.

  She snapped. ‘All right. I’ll sell. Stop it, Stu! I’ll sell.’

  But she hadn’t given in because he was hurting her. Not exactly. She’d given in because she wanted to get as far away from him as she could and never, ever see him again. And because she’d suddenly realized he must be mentally ill.

  Marrying him had been the worst mistake she’d ever made in her whole life. The money didn’t matter nearly as much as escaping from him permanently.

  He thumped her down hard in the chair. ‘Very sensible. But let’s make sure you don’t change your mind. We’ll ring Peter straight away and you’ll tell him yourself that you want to sell. Right?’

  She could only nod.

  When he held out the phone, she identified herself, listened to Peter’s soothing platitudes about the state of the market and then waited till he stopped. ‘Yes. I agree to sell at a lower price.’

  Stu grabbed the phone from her. ‘There you are. Settled. How soon can you find out if he’ll accept our counter offer, Peter? I know he’s representing a company. How long will it take him to get permission from them to offer more?’

  He listened intently, then raised one thumb in a sign of triumph. ‘Good. I’ll stay here at the house till you phone me back.’

  He put the phone down. ‘We’ll know within the hour, but Peter thinks the company has given their buyer carte blanc
he up to a certain limit.’

  Turning his back on Gabrielle, he went to fumble in the pantry and pulled out from the back the bottle of whisky he’d left there. It still had two inches in the bottom. He got a glass from the cupboard and emptied the rest of the whisky into it, admiring the colour for a moment against the light.

  Taking his place at the table again, he took a sip. ‘Aaah! Good whisky, that.’

  As she continued to sit there like a broken automaton, he picked up the newspaper and began to flick through it.

  She couldn’t bear to go on watching him for a minute longer, so found the strength to stand up, intending to go into another room.

  He pointed his forefinger. ‘Stay there.’

  She didn’t argue, sat down again on the chair. He’d gone mad. She had no doubt about it now and was genuinely afraid he’d murder her if she didn’t do as he said.

  How could this be happening to her? It was like a horror movie.

  He still had a gleeful, demonic expression on his face, and it frightened her more than the violence had. He raised his glass to her in another silent toast and took a sip.

  If she survived this, she was not only going to move to Lancashire, she told herself: she was going to change her name.

  She just had to hold it together till he’d got what he wanted. Surely he’d leave her alone then?

  The minutes seemed to tick past with extraordinary slowness.

  Six

  An hour later, Peter phoned and Stu put the phone on speaker so that Gabrielle could hear what they were saying.

  ‘The offer’s gone up by another ten thousand, but he won’t go any higher.’

  ‘Take it, then. Who is the buyer?’

  ‘Ah. Well, he’s doing this on behalf of a company, so that’s fairly irrelevant. You won’t recognize his name. He’s only their agent in this. You probably won’t recognize the company, either. They’re a behind-the-scenes sort of outfit. Big. Fingers in a lot of pies.’

  ‘Is this a cash offer?’ Stu asked.

  ‘Of course it is. Didn’t I just say they were big? This will be peanuts to them. I’d not have advised you to accept the offer otherwise.’