The doctor frowned at her. ‘I quite like the sound of that last bit.’
‘I’m working on a case with the police. I want to talk to you about renal failure; in particular, its causes.’
The doctor jerked his head to indicate Helen should follow him and indicated the pub across the road. ‘You can buy the drinks.’
It cost Helen a large gin and tonic, but at least Hemming knew his topic.
‘There are a number of causes of renal failure, but in our society one of the most common is excessive alcohol consumption,’ the doctor told her.
‘I thought alcohol harmed the liver, not the kidneys?’
‘It can affect both,’ he said, then he held up his glass with a grim smile and said, ‘Cheers, by the way.’ He took a sip of his G&T and continued: ‘Drinking too much can damage the liver, which places an additional burden on the kidneys. Liver disease impairs the rate of blood flow to your kidneys and hampers their ability to filter the blood of impurities. Taken to extremes, it can cause organ failure.’
‘Is there any way to get that kind of organ failure that doesn’t involve alcohol or drugs? One of the women we’re trying to find out about wasn’t known for that kind of lifestyle, so it was a shock to her family when the extent of the damage was revealed.’
‘There are lots of way. Trauma, for one, such as a heavy blow, for example.’
‘One of the subjects was hit by a car, but it wasn’t a fatal blow. I don’t think the impact damage destroyed the internal organs. That was more of a long-term condition.’
‘I see.’
‘So what else could cause renal failure?’
‘Diabetes, perhaps, or a genetic predisposition.’
‘Okay,’ said Helen, discounting both of those, since none of them had been mentioned by Sarah’s family as a possible explanation. ‘How about drugging someone?’
‘Drugging someone?’ repeated the doctor. ‘Or do you mean someone taking drugs voluntarily?’
‘Possibly either,’ Helen admitted, ‘but I’m interested in any drug that could be used on a person being held against their wishes in order to make them compliant or knock them out all together for sustained periods of time. Would the long-term effect of something like that be enough to cause kidney failure?’
The doctor thought for a while. ‘Well, there are some drugs that, if taken in sufficient quantity, and regularly enough, could damage the kidneys.’
‘Such as?’
Helen was expecting something dramatic but instead she was told, ‘Paracetamol.’
‘Paracetamol?’
‘Yes,’ said the doctor, ‘and Ibuprofen.’
‘The headache tablets?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t see a kidnapper forcing large quantities of paracetamol down his prisoner’s throat, can you?’
‘Er … no,’ admitted the doctor.
‘There’s nothing else out there that someone would use to subdue another human being that might cause kidney failure?’
‘I can’t think of anything offhand, but then I’m not used to being questioned about kidnappings. I’ll have a think about it and if I come up with anything I’ll call you back and let you know.’ He drained his drink. Of course you will, thought Helen, knowing she would probably never hear from the overworked doctor again. ‘Now I really must be getting home.’
The Bible passages were turgid and often used a lot of words while saying very little, but she read large passages anyway, focusing on the ones that had been highlighted, hoping to find some way to communicate with the man the next time he came to her room. Eva had had nothing to do with the Bible since she was at primary school, when sanitized passages about the baby Jesus were read aloud in class at Christmastime. She didn’t have a religious bone in her body and struggled to take any of it seriously but she read as much as she could and thought of it as important homework which might help her to break down the barrier between herself and her captor but, really, how could you believe any of this was the actual word of God?
There were too many contradictions, for one thing. The Old Testament Lord was a frightening vengeful God and the one from the New Testament was apparently loving and merciful, except where he seemed to be instructing his followers to tell everyone that women were inferior creatures who should be left uneducated and at the mercy and instruction of their husbands. Then there were adulterers, all of whom should be killed.
That’s half our street executed, then.
It was all a load of old bollocks, in Eva’s opinion, but it would help her to reach out to her captor, so she was determined to play the wide-eyed, repentant sinner and made sure the Bible was close to her at all times so she could scoop it up as soon as she heard the key turn in the lock and it would look as if she had been reading it avidly.
It was a long wait but finally she heard the sound she had been waiting for. Immediately she sat up as the door swung open and grabbed the Bible and opened it, like a schoolgirl pretending she has been doing her homework all along. The masked man stopped just inside her room and seemed to be staring at her. Was he impressed, or had he caught her in the act of picking it up?
When he made no move towards her she found a passage she’d picked out earlier. ‘ “I wait patiently for God to save me; I depend on Him alone,” ’ she read. She stopped and looked at him. ‘But that’s not right, is it?’ she asked him earnestly. ‘Because you can save me, can’t you?’
He did not react to this. Instead he seemed to stare right through her.
‘You said you would. Isn’t that right? You said if I believed in Father, I would be saved.’
Silence from the masked man.
‘But how,’ she asked him, ‘how will I be saved? Can you explain it to me? I want you to. I think you want to tell me, too.’
Was he wavering? It was so hard to guess what he might be thinking when he was wearing that bloody balaclava.
‘Why don’t you come and tell me?’ She moved along the bed a little and patted the mattress where she had just been sitting.
She didn’t have to see the look on his face to know she had gone too far. His whole body stiffened, then he marched right up to her.
He didn’t point the gun at her but there was no doubting the anger and aggression in the words, which came out a little higher pitched than usual. ‘Without faith it’s impossible to please God.’ His tone was a rebuke. He didn’t believe her. ‘And who can forgive your sins but God alone?’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
1983
‘Women can’t be trusted. I’m sorry, Chris, but that’s just the way it is,’ Samuel had told him when Chris was still very young. ‘Remember Eve and how she gave in to temptation and led Adam into it, too?’ Chris nodded earnestly. ‘That’s women for you. Too easily tempted, too weak to avoid temptation in the first place. Not strong like men. Men have to be strong to take on the burdens of the world. Women are just not built for it, you see? Women are weak, Chris. I’m not just talking about their bodies. It’s their minds, too.’
‘That’s what happened to your mother. It’s why she went away, see, cos she met someone else and didn’t have the strength not to give in to temptation, so she abandoned us.’
Chris nodded, but he didn’t ask further about Mother, even though he did want to talk about her. He knew curiosity wasn’t good. Curiosity killed the cat. His father was always telling him this, though he didn’t really understand exactly how the cat had died. He knew better than to ask.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Helen was already in a bad mood. She was home alone and had no idea where Tom was. She had wasted hours waiting for the gastroenterologist and come away with next to nothing for her troubles, then she’d spent even more time on some additional research that might prove to be equally fruitless. She’d barely walked through the front door when the phone rang. It was her mother, who she’d apparently failed to call for a fortnight. It was lecture time, and the subject was Peter.
Could he not b
e given a second chance? Had he not earned the right to at least be heard out by his ex-girlfriend? Then, most depressingly of all: was Helen getting any younger?
‘You do want a family one day?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, how exactly are you going to achieve this, if you’re living with that journalist? He’s hardly a long-term bet, is he?’ And before Helen could either defend Tom or deny she was sleeping with him, her mother staggered her by lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘No one is saying you can’t have a bit of fun while you’re young, Helen, but really, is this the father of your future children?’
‘Oh Mother, you’re impossible!’
The call eventually ended with a rapprochement of sorts, where Helen agreed to at least think about speaking to ‘poor Peter’ in return for her mother ending her ill-informed speculations about Tom.
Thoroughly worn out by her day, Helen decided to cook some food and pour herself a very large glass of wine. Then the buzzer went and she was surprised to see who was standing by the gate. She pressed the entry button then opened the door to Penny. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ Penny said. ‘Where is he?’
‘Tom?’ Helen didn’t have the energy for Penny right now. ‘I don’t know. Out.’
‘He’s with her, isn’t he?’ Penny hissed.
‘I don’t know where he is. I just said.’
‘Don’t lie for him, Helen.’
‘I’m not lying for him! I genuinely don’t know where he is.’ Then she realized what Penny had said a moment ago. ‘Who is he with? I mean, who do you think he is with?’
Helen didn’t like being accused of lying and she wasn’t happy with Penny’s tone. Her sense of loyalty to Tom kicked in immediately and she was keen to protect him from the younger girl’s accusations, even though she couldn’t guarantee Tom hadn’t actually been up to whatever Penny was about to accuse him of.
To Helen’s surprise, Penny did not lash out or start a row. Instead she burst into tears.
‘You’d better come in,’ sighed Helen.
Yes, he’s cheating on you, with his ex. He’s still in love with her, apparently. I’m sorry you had to hear it from me, Penny. I’ll be sure to tell him to go to hell for you. It’s been nice knowing you. Bye. Helen was tempted to say all of that and more to Perky Penny but instead she bit her tongue and listened while the younger woman poured her heart out.
‘I’m sorry, I know I’m being stupid, but I really, really, really care about him, Helen, and I think I’ve ruined everything.’ Helen put aside her journalistic criticism of Penny’s use of the word ‘really’ three times in the same sentence and realized she might have to be the shoulder to cry on, which was not a role she relished. It was quite obvious to her that Penny and Tom were not right for each other, even putting aside her own feelings for Tom. They were about as ill matched a couple as she had ever come across and she felt compelled to gently offer this up as a possible reason for their lover’s tiff, but then she looked into Penny’s teary eyes and knew she didn’t have it in her. Instead she listened while Penny told her everything: how Tom had spent less time with her lately, how he’d been helping an ex-girlfriend; how she’d seen them kiss in the driveway and the row that followed it.
‘Tom has a good heart,’ Helen told her. ‘Sometimes it’s easy to forget that. When an old friend comes to him for help, he’ll always try and give it, even if that extends to an annoying ex-girlfriend.’ Penny let out a half-laugh, half-cry at this. ‘But that is all he is doing. I happen to know he didn’t tell you about it because he was worried you might be jealous, ironically enough. He cares about you, he really does. He should have told you, Penny, he messed up, but he did it for the right reasons. Tom does everything for the right reasons, even when he is wrong, which is why we both put up with him. I’m sure he’ll be fine with you the next time he sees you.’
‘Thank you, Helen,’ sniffed Penny. ‘Please don’t tell him I’ve been round here.’
‘I won’t,’ Helen assured her.
‘You’re so lovely and I’m such an idiot. I wish I was as level-headed as you are. You take everything in your stride.’
‘I really don’t.’
‘But you do,’ protested Penny. ‘The way you called off your engagement like that. I really admired you for not going ahead with it when you weren’t happy. Not everyone is brave enough to do that, but you did.’
‘And now look at me,’ said Helen dryly, then, worried she might disillusion the younger woman, she added: ‘I mean, I’m fine, it’s just …’ And Helen had no idea why but she started to tell Penny all about Peter, including the shocking moment of his unexpected proposal and the fallout when she rejected him, even the recent excruciating phone call with her mother (though she didn’t mention the part about Tom or his suitability as her future husband). The two women started to have a long and honest conversation and Penny confided to Helen that Tom had come along at just the right time for her, following a disastrous, confidence-sapping relationship that had left her ‘in bits’.
‘I didn’t like myself until I met Tom,’ Penny admitted. ‘I’ve never told anyone that before.’ Helen realized that the over-confident, oh-so-perfect girl she thought she knew had actually been a bundle of insecurities until she had started seeing Tom, who had simply made her happier.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Penny when their conversation was drawing to a close. ‘About Peter, I mean.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Helen, and for some reason she laughed. ‘I really don’t.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
1986
For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.
‒ Matthew 24:7
You couldn’t save them all. He hoped Chris would understand that. Only a few, and they would have to earn it first. They would have to prove that they could obey, otherwise there would be no point putting them in the safe place, not if they didn’t deserve it. That would be like casting seeds on rocky ground, pearls before swine. Undeserving people were like weeds and had to be plucked out. There wasn’t room for many down there. Five was the right number. Modest, unadorned women were best and most likely to obey. A select few who would outlive the coming retribution and survive to start all over again following God’s judgement.
‘Like the Ark?’ asked Chris.
‘Yes.’ Father’s smile was almost triumphant when he realized Chris understood. ‘Exactly like the Ark.’
‘Only without the water?’
Father nodded. ‘Without the water,’ he agreed. They were walking across the fields because Father had something important to show him. ‘For His judgement this time will be fire. It’s coming, Chris, and it is coming very soon, so we must be strong and prepared.’
‘Strong and prepared,’ he repeated, because he knew Father liked that. It showed he had been listening.
‘They call it the H Bomb, and it makes a huge ball of fire up in the sky. They say they will never drop it, but why make those bombs if you are never going to use them? They can’t wait to drop them, and they’ve done it before. Whole cities destroyed in Japan. We can’t trust them, not the Ivans or the Yanks ‒ and do you know where we are?’
Chris shook his head.
‘We are right in the middle, stuck between the bear and the eagle. The bear wants to kill the eagle, but he can’t catch it. The eagle wants to destroy the bear, but the bear is too strong. Do you understand?’
And he did understand. Chris could see it in his mind’s eye: a thrashing, clawing bear and a diving, swooping eagle locked in a deadly combat, tearing up the woods as they tried to destroy each other and ruining everything around them.
‘We have to be like the fox ‒ clever, sly and cunning. That’s the only way to survive.’ And that was when Father first showed Chris the bunker.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Penny hadn’t been gone long when the buzzer went again and Helen was forced to abandon her attempt at preparing a meal for a second time.
‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ asked Bradshaw cheerfully once she let him in.
‘Working,’ she snapped.
‘Well, I wish you would turn that phone of yours on occasionally,’ he chided her gently.
‘It was on, Ian!’ The vehemence of her reply shocked him. ‘It was on, okay. I just forgot to charge it. Again! All right, happy now? Why don’t you tell Tom about it and you can both have a laugh at how stupid I am?’
Ian Bradshaw looked like someone had cast a spell on him. He seemed to freeze and just stared at her. ‘What?’ she demanded, but she knew what. He had never heard her lose her temper like this before.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Why should I not be okay?’
‘You don’t sound okay,’ he offered cautiously. ‘Sorry if I upset you.’
She forced herself to calm down. ‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for shouting.’
‘Bad day, eh?’
She nodded firmly and he decided it was best to move on. ‘You said you’ve been working. What on?’
‘Scrapyards,’ she told him, grateful that he sensed she didn’t want to talk about any of her problems. ‘I didn’t think your Gulf War veteran was very likely to come up with that name, so I’ve been looking up scrapyards in the region. There are eleven of them, at least,’ and she handed him a piece of paper with names written on it.
‘Christ,’ muttered Bradshaw. ‘Maybe we can rule one or two of them out before we go trudging round them all. Kane won’t want us to raid eleven scrapyards, so we’ll have to check them all out first before we start turning up and asking questions.’ He stopped to think. ‘I’ll take a look for any suspicious characters, though people who run scrapyards tend to be a bit odd already. It comes with the turf. Once we narrow it down we can inquire about the make and model of the car and give them the reg number, then ask to have a look around.’
‘And we can look out for any place where women could be hidden away,’ she said, ‘particularly anything that looks like it might lead underground ‒ a tunnel, a cellar or a bunker of some kind.’
The Chosen Ones Page 22
