She took a long time over the scan, studying the screen intently, nodding her head now and again.
‘Very good,’ she said at last, her voice filled with satisfaction, even excitement. ‘Excellent. I shall almost certainly replace your eggs tomorrow.’ She looked at me a little less severely. ‘Try to have a good night’s sleep tonight and I’ll examine you again first thing in the morning.’
Back in our room, I told Tom what had happened. ‘I didn’t like the way she looked at me at all. I’m sure she suspects something.’
‘Possibly, but not enough for her to act on,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Not yet, anyway. It’s as well we’re going tonight.’
We spent the time until dinner sorting out what things to take with us, since we obviously wouldn’t be able to take much. Tom had already found an excuse to turn the car round so that it was facing the right way.
The other two couples seemed to have broken the ice and were sharing a table at dinner, and it was we who were alone. It was then I realised how much I missed Denny, and even Geoff.
19
We left it till just after one, then Tom shrugged himself into his backpack and we set off. Gently pulling the door to, behind us, we crept along the dimly lit passage, avoiding the creaking floorboard. We reached the top landing. The floor of the hall gleamed dully. I don’t know why, but the thought of confronting Cal face to face scared me more than anything and I couldn’t stop trembling.
Tom tied the rope to the banister as before and lowered himself over. I followed.
I was about halfway down when there was a noise from the desk below and a voice said. ‘OK, hold it right there.’ Brian. He had a gun.
‘Come down, madam,’ he said, his eyes still on Tom.
‘I—I can’t. I’m stuck.’ My hands were frozen on to the rope.
He glanced up at me and Tom hit him on the point of the jaw so fast that it didn’t register at first. Brian lurched against the panelling; Tom caught him before he fell and lowered him to the floor.
‘Come on,’ he hissed, slipping along the passage under the stairs.
My hands unfroze and I lowered myself down. Brian lay still as still. I went through to the passage just in time to see Tom disappear round the corner.
‘Don’t move a muscle, Cal.’
I reached the corner. Cal had come out of the security room and Tom had his gun trained on him.
‘OK, back inside,’ Tom said, ‘sit down…hands behind you…Jo, you know what to do.’
He moved to let me through. Cal was on his seat. I pulled the plastic cuffs from my pocket and said. ‘Put your hands behind your back, one—’
‘What if I don’t?’ He’d recovered himself. His voice was an unpleasant drawl.
‘You’ve seen this,’—Tom touched the silencer on the end of his gun—‘that’s what.’
‘You ain’t got the guts,’ Cal sneered.
In a flash, Tom had the gun levelled at his kneecap. Cal shrugged and pushed his hands between the two supports of the backrest.
‘One of your hands the other side of the support,’ I said. For a moment I thought he was going to refuse, then his hand came slowly round.
‘Closer together.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Out of the way, Jo.’
‘OK. OK.’ Cal’s hands came together and I snapped the cuffs round his wrists. They only just fit.
Tom said quietly, ‘We’ve been set up. Time we called for help.’ He picked up the phone and started keying in numbers, then swore and turned back on Cal. ‘How d’you get a line?’
Cal stared back at him with mute hatred.
Tom thrust the gun into his throat. ‘I said, how d’you get a line?’ he repeated gratingly.
Still Cal said nothing, and for a moment, I thought Tom was going to hit him, even shoot him, then he handed me the gun and quickly gagged Cal with a handkerchief.
‘Come on.’ He bustled me through the door and pulled it shut behind him.
‘What about Brian?’
He hesitated. ‘Haven’t got any more cuffs, he’ll be all right.’
We went down the passage to Carla’s room, which Tom unlocked.
‘Tom…’
‘I’m not going without these.’ He found another key and unlocked the safe. ‘They’ve bloody gone!’
He jumped up, pushed open the window and climbed out. turning to help me. A gibbous moon hung in the sky. We ran along the path past the laboratory, through the gate to the car park.
‘Bloody hell!’ he breathed. The two front tyres of the Astra were flat. He looked round. ‘There’s another Vauxhall—there.’ He ran over to a Cavalier, undid the backpack and pulled out the screwdriver and inserted it into the lock and turned, his face straining in the moonlight. There was a crack as it gave. He pulled open the door and looked round again.
‘I need a lever—iron bar, wooden post, anything—try over there.’ He pointed to a shed and went over to the garage.
I opened the shed door. ‘Will this do?’ I asked, showing him a garden hoe with an iron handle.
‘Yeah.’ He threaded it through the spokes of the steering wheel and pulled. There was another crack as the lock snapped. I glanced back at the upper windows, but no lights came on. Tom dropped the hoe on to the gravel and flung the pack on to the back seat before sliding behind the wheel and opening the passenger door.
‘Get in.’
I pulled it closed as gently as I could. Tom felt underneath the steering wheel, pulled out a circular piece of metal with wires attached, inserted his own key somewhere in the middle and twisted…The engine turned over, fired, caught. He found reverse and gently backed out.
‘Tom, it’s Cal…’
He’d appeared from the front of the house. Tom spun the wheel and turned down the drive. I twisted round. Cal raised his arm and I thought he was going to shoot us, then he lowered his arm and ran to the garage.
‘Where are we going?’
‘We’ve been set up,’ he snarled. ‘The gate at the top will be locked.’
‘Look out!’ The wooden gate ahead gleamed in the moonlight.
‘Hold on.’
He drove straight at the gate. It leapt at us, filling the screen and shattering in front of my eyes. Then we were racing up a slight rise and descending into the valley beyond, the clattering of the suspension mingled with the slap and scratch of vegetation.
‘We’ve lost a headlamp,’ he said. I hadn’t noticed.
The track switched, climbed steeply. The engine laboured, then we were going down again. The scrubby trees grew thicker, closing in…
‘Where are we going?’ I asked again.
‘Anywhere. We need a metalled road to get us to one of the villages.’
The front wheels hit something, the car heaved and there was a crunch from underneath as we grounded, followed by a ragged growl.
‘Exhaust pipe,’ shouted Tom.
The track climbed again, the engine sounded terrible and we slowed. I glanced behind.
‘We’re being followed!’
‘I know.’ He changed down, the engine revved, sounding more like an aircraft as the wheels slipped in some mud. We were down to a jog as we breasted the rise. Something suddenly loomed overhead. I screamed, then realised it was the barrel of one of the wrecked tanks we’d seen—how long ago?
I looked behind again, the lights were closer, much closer. ‘It’s catching up.’
‘Yeah, it’s the Range Rover.’
I looked down into the valley ahead. A church tower, pale grey in the moonlight, rose from a group of trees, houses clustered below it.
‘There’s a village, just down there.’ I pointed. ‘We can get help.’
‘There can’t be—‘
Without warning, we burst onto a narrow metalled road.
‘Right!’ I shouted. ‘Go right.’
He swung the wheel and we lurched round, gathering speed down a hill. After a couple of hundred yards, the handlamp picked out a sig
n: IMBER VILLAGE, and Tom gave a wild laugh.
‘What’s so bloody funny?’ I yelled at him.
‘You’ve taken us to a bloody ghost village, that’s what.’
20
We roared down through a belt of trees, the church tower rearing above us surrounded by high posts and a chain link fence, down into the village. There were no lights, only churned up mud and debris, no pavements, no windows. Tom swung the car off the road and tried to get behind one of the buildings, but the car become grounded and stalled. Silence.
‘Out.’
He opened his door. We could hear the Range Rover coming fast down the hill.
‘Over here.’ He grabbed my arm, dragging me across a clearing. I tripped over a furrow, but he hauled me up and over to a flat-roofed building marked Post Office. There were no doors or windows, only openings. He pushed me through and pulled me into the shadows.
The Range Rover stopped and its engine was switched off. Silence. It started up again and slowly moved on.
‘Please God they don’t see the car,’ breathed Tom. The Range Rover stopped, then moved on again.
‘They don’t know which way we’ve gone, or whether we’re still here,’ he whispered.
‘Tom, where are we?’
‘Imber. Right in the middle of Salisbury Plain. It was taken over by the army during the war and has been used for training ever since.’
‘Doesn’t anyone live here?’
‘No.’
‘Is there a phone?’
‘There used to be, over by the old court, but I don’t know if it’s still there. We should have stayed put,’ he said savagely, ‘I could have made Cal tell us how the phone worked.’
‘But we didn’t. Can we get to the phone here?’
‘I’m just trying to get my bearings…I think so, yes.’
‘Well, let’s go, before they come back.’
‘I go, you stay.’
‘I’m not staying here on my own.’
‘I’ll stand a better chance on my own. I trained here, remember?’
He was right, as usual.
‘If I don’t come back, say after an hour, you’ll have to try and get out on your own.’
‘I couldn’t, I’m completely lost.’
‘Remember the road down into the village? If you follow that back up, past where we turned, I’m sure it leads to the main road.’
‘I couldn’t walk that far in the dark.’
‘It’s only about five or six miles, and there’s a moon. Anyway, I will come back.’ He kissed my cheek quickly, then he was gone.
He was right about the moon, I could even make out the walls and floor of the building I was in now. The floor glistened. It would—I could feel the mud seeping through my shoes. Mud and what else? I swallowed and tried to move my feet, but it only made the wetness worse. There were noises, night noises I’d been completely unaware of before—an owl hooting, a scream in the distance, a vixen perhaps, and something scurrying past outside.
Oh, please God, not rats, I thought.
Keep hold of yourself, Josephine, you only get rats where people are living, don’t you? Anyway, the scurrying had passed.
The vixen screamed again. What am I doing here? I thought, I could have paid that ten thousand off in time, if only I’d—
If only. A bit late now.
Even Tom had come out with an ‘if only’, wishing he’d stayed and made Cal talk…but we hadn’t realised how bad things were then. We’d been set up all right.
Wouldn’t the noise we’d made have woken up some of the other patients, double glazing or not? No. Now I came to think of it, I’d never heard a single noise from outside. They’d all still be sound asleep in their nice warm beds.
Things must be bad for Tom to come out with ‘if onlys’.
I tried to look at my watch but the light wasn’t bright enough to see it by. I had no idea how much time had passed and I’d have given anything for a smoke, but that would be asking for it.
I could head rustlings and squeakings outside. A village of animals and ghosts—the very word made me look round nervously. No—I smiled wryly to myself—the squaddies and the gunfire would have driven any self-respecting spooks out by now.
More animal noises. I swallowed. Time passed, at least, I supposed it must have.
My feet and legs were growing numb with cold and stillness. I tried to shift them, but they were stuck. For a moment I panicked—then they came free with a revolting sucking noise.
It was no good, I had to look at my watch, and if I was going to do that, I might as well have a cigarette.
I listened carefully, then put a cigarette in my mouth, flicked my lighter and looked at my watch. Some small animal scampered away in alarm.
Was it really only five-past two? Then I realised I didn’t even know what time Tom had left.
The smoke tasted wonderful, so wonderful that I had another, although it didn’t solve any problems.
Time crawled on. It was now nearly twenty minutes since I’d last looked at my watch, and at least another twenty before that that Tom had gone. He wasn’t coming back, which meant they had him, they were out there somewhere and I was alone.
The thought was so appalling that my head buzzed and I felt my control slipping away.
No, hang on, I’d have heard something if they’d caught him, wouldn’t I? Maybe he’d spotted them and was lying low, maybe he’d run into them after he’d found the phone, in which case, maybe…
Did they already know where I was? Had they seen my lighter? You idiot! But I hadn’t heard any noises other than animal, not the Range Rover…or had I?
I thought back. No.
If they had caught Tom, they still couldn’t know where I was, or they’d have come for me by now. I’d have to give Tom a bit longer, then…Then what?
The thought of staying here was unbearable, the thought of moving even worse. But I couldn’t stay here indefinitely, it would be dawn in a couple of hours. I’d have to go. Soon.
The thought made me tremble all over again.
I’d have to move.
The Range Rover was somewhere on the other side of the village and I hadn’t heard anyone, so if I did what Tom told me, maybe I’d have a chance.
I had to move.
I took a breath, pulled my feet from the mud and made my way over to the door.
The moon was still high, flooding the village with ethereal light. The churned-up mud and stark eyeless buildings were like something out of Beirut or Bosnia; the branches and leaves of the trees and the sky were like something out of a nightmare Disney.
Another breath. I stepped out, picking my way across the furrows and trying to remember which way we’d come. There was the car, paintwork glinting in the moonlight. Could I take that?
No. Even if I managed to start it, the noise would be audible for miles, but at least I could see which way we’d come now. I hurried between the hateful flat-roofed buildings—how could I have ever mistaken this for a real village?—over to the clump of trees by the road, and hid in their shadows.
Not a sound, just the leaves above rustling in the breeze.
I started up the side of the road, my feet brushing dead leaves; past the church, its tower black, silhouetted against the sky. No sounds, just the breeze and me, both shuffling leaves.
A twig cracked and I froze. I couldn’t tell where it came from.
I swallowed and moved further into the shadows. Someone leapt from the deeper shadows, pinioning my arms. It was Brian’s voice shouting, ‘Over here. I’ve got her, over here. It’s all right madam, we’re not going to hurt you.’
‘You fucking moron,’ I heard myself shriek. I tried to kick him, but he was too strong…
Then others arrived and a torch flashed.
‘Hold on to her!’ It was Dr Kent’s voice. ‘Hold her still!
Brian’s arms tightened, I screamed and kicked as someone grabbed my legs, Cal, I think, then there was a sharp pain in my buttock an
d I thought, The lethal injection.
Then I stopped being scared and my last thoughts were of regret for leaving my mother behind.
21
Limbo.
I lay, aware of myself only in the abstract, not wanting it any other way.
Discomfort. I tried to push it away, to cling to limbo, but gradually, discomfort took over and I opened my eyes.
I was lying in bed in a dimly lit room. I needed the loo. My mouth felt very dry and tasted unpleasant. I pushed the duvet aside, sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, and immediately felt so dizzy I had to lie down again.
There was something attached to my left wrist. With eyes still closed, I felt for it with my other hand. It was a bracelet of some sort with tubing attached. I opened my eyes and peered at it—it was one of Tom’s plastic handcuffs and the ‘tubing’ was plastic covered wire that led somewhere across the floor.
The shock of this unclogged my memory banks—our escape from the manor…Imber…oblivion. Where was Tom?
I sat up, panicking, on the point of shouting his name, then stopped myself. I was alive, but why? Was Tom still alive?
Sitting up had increased the pressure on my bladder to the point where I had to attend to it. I eased my legs over the side of the bed again (I was in my own nightdress, I noticed) and cautiously stood up. Again, there was a rush of dizziness, but I took a few slow, deep breaths and gradually, it subsided.
The light, although dim, was enough for me to make out a bedside cabinet with a plastic jug and glass, and a door on the other side of the room. I cautiously walked over and tried it but it was locked. Even if it hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have been able to go through it because of the cuff. By now my need was desperate and I was about to bang on the door when I noticed an armchair near the foot of the bed with a chamber pot beside it, its top covered by a tea-towel.
My nose wrinkled in disgust and I turned back to the door when it occurred to me that it might be an idea to examine the room on my own before calling anyone.
I used the chamber pot, covered it again with the towel, then drank several glasses of water from the jug, noticing as I did so that my left arm was slightly sore. I held it up. It was bruised on the inside, and there was a plaster, presumably where I’d been on some kind of drip.
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