‘Will Dad be back soon? Do you think he’ll be OK alone for a while?’ Claire asked Shona, as they sat together in the back.
Shona sighed, frowning. ‘He’ll have to be. He was determined to fix the drystone wall up in the top paddock. I left a note reminding him to take his medication, saying we’d be back soon. I didn’t mention about Rain. Not until we know for sure.’ Claire reached across and squeezed her mother’s fingers, remaining silent for the rest of the journey.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Got You Now
The hand comes from behind. The fingers smell like cigarettes and earth. I try to scream but my tongue just presses against bitter-tasting skin. I screw up my eyes, shaking my head and thrashing my arms and stomping my feet, but I’m all scooped up as we lumber across to the other side of the road, stumbling down a bank. My throat makes frog noises and my heart is on fire.
I’m sorry sorry sorry, Claire… I didn’t really want an ice cream.
I kick hard, and one leg breaks free, making me hop and stagger as I’m forced down to a parking area with trees all around. I’ve never been here before; I don’t recognise it. Crazy fragments of sunlight and sky and branches shatter in front of my eyes as I flail and struggle. I try to kick harder, but my legs are snapped tightly together again so I can’t move. My head is pinned back as I’m dragged towards a van I don’t recognise… Help me! But my words don’t come out.
I can hardly see now because my eyes are all blurry from tears. My feet are lowered down, but my mouth is still clamped shut – a hand strapped around my ice cream lips.
I’ll be good, I promise…
The back of the van is opened and that’s when I nearly get away. But I’m quickly shoved inside, my face smashing against the spare tyre. I yell out, but my lips are bleeding and my voice is too croaky and scared. The doors are slammed shut before I can see who it is, my screams echoing in the empty space. I feel around, thumping on the wooden panel separating me from the front seats. It’s dark in here and I can’t see a thing.
I want Claire. Oh God, oh God… I don’t want ice cream now.
Suddenly, the engine starts up and then it gets really bumpy. We’re driving away. I bang on the metal side of the van, but it hurts my hand. It stinks of petrol and fumes in here and I feel sick.
Help me…
It’s useless. No one hears. I don’t know where we’re going.
Shivering, I lie down, curled up like I do when I can’t sleep at night – when I’m too cold in winter or, if it’s summer, when it’s too light to go to bed. And then my mind starts flying to wonderful places. In this terrible bumping blackness, I see Goose and Claire running towards me with their arms outstretched, trying to save me, screaming my name.
They told me not to go off alone…
The van rumbles along. I’m being knocked and jolted and thrown about as we speed round corners. There’s nothing to hold on to except myself. We’re going so fast, I feel sick like when I read on long journeys and Mum tells me not to. It doesn’t seem real. Nothing seems real.
I really didn’t want an ice cream.
I cry, sobbing through snot and tears, eventually falling asleep on the ridged metal floor of the van. It’s not really sleep, though. It’s fear shutting me down.
When I wake, it’s all gone quiet. Am I free now? Are we here? Can I go? Why is this happening?
Then there are footsteps in time with my heart.
The van doors are flung open and the sunlight dazzles me. I can’t see a thing apart from a big shadow looming above me. Maybe I’m going to be set free. Maybe it’s all a joke.
I promise I won’t make a fuss ever again.
Something goes over my head. It smells like a dusty old sack. I am shaking as I’m bundled out, as if I am a puppy about to be thrown in the river. I scream and scream and scream, but I’m still carried away. There is no hand over my mouth, so I keep screaming, keep struggling, but it’s useless. We keep going like this forever, although I don’t know where to. I pray to God it’s home.
We must be going inside somewhere because the pinpricks of light seeping through the cloth suddenly go dark.
‘Where are you taking me?’ I ask in a deep and calm voice that surprises me. It sounds as if I am asking what’s for dinner, wondering if it’s my favourite. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’
No reply.
Wherever we are, it feels cool and damp on my skin now, not warm like outside. I’m shivering. Freezing to my core.
‘Where are my shorts?’ I ask, suddenly remembering. I must have dropped them. I don’t like it that I lost my shorts. I want my shorts! If I’m not taken back soon, then Claire will have lost her swimsuit too and I’ll get told off.
Still silence.
We stop, and I’m bent into a hard chair, hands firmly set on my shoulders. They feel warm, resting there for a second. My teacher sometimes does this. It means Stay sitting down, for heaven’s sake, Lenni. Have you got ants in your pants today?
I daren’t move. I know what hands on shoulders mean.
I hear my own breathing inside the sack. It smells like rum and raisin. I have a bit of raisin still stuck between my teeth. Then I hear clattering, like something unlocking, stuff being moved about and shoved. There’s a grunt, a wheeze, bad words that make me want to cover my ears. Then I’m pulled up by my arms, though not roughly. I don’t struggle.
I’m guided forward, listening to the sound of the chair scraping along too, as if it’s being dragged with us. It goes darker and darker and then I hear a door bang and that rattling again. I cough, bending forward as my stomach cramps and clenches. Warm stinky ice cream sick spills down my chin. I can’t wipe it away because there’s a drawstring around my neck. I’m crying hard again now.
‘Help!’ I yell, but it comes out as a bubbly retch. It tastes disgusting.
I’m put in the chair again, in the dark, in my sick-smelling bag, and those hands are on my shoulders once more.
Sit still or else.
OK.
Then there’s more banging and lifting and metal scraping.
‘Will you take me back to the beach now?’
The noises stop, as if it might be a possibility. In a flash, I’m up out of the chair and running – to where, I have no idea as I can’t see a thing – but I slam into something hard, falling on my face. My head throbs as I lie, crying, on the floor. ‘I have ants in my pants,’ I wail. ‘Lots and lots of ants.’ Then I’m hoisted upside down, like when Daddy carries me to bed on his shoulder as a game. I retch again but this time nothing comes up.
We’re going down some steps now and my back scrapes on a wall. I hear keys jangling, like when Mum goes around the house at night locking up. She thinks she’s being quiet, but I often hear her; hear her sighing as she peeks around my bedroom door to check on me. I always pretend to be asleep.
Then I’m upright again and I’m really dizzy, staggering and reaching out for something to hold. Except all I find is another hand. So I grab it.
Two warm hands clasping. It makes me feel better. Safer to know it’s there.
I’m led on a few steps and bent into the chair again. I wait for the hands to press on my shoulders but this time they don’t. I keep perfectly still anyway. No ants for me.
Then there’s a bang, a door shutting, and more clattering, though quieter than before. I hear footsteps in reverse, the soft scuff of shoes getting fainter. After that, I just sit and wait and think that if I’m a good girl, I’ll be able to go home soon.
But there’s only silence. Nothing but me with the sicky bag on my head.
I wish I could take it off.
Do I have to do everything for you, young lady? Mum said this morning. It was my silly beach sandals. The buckles got stuck so she bent down to help me, her hair falling over her eyes as she looked up at me, winking.
Ever so slowly, my hands come up to my throat, untying the stiff knot under my chin. It’s slimy from vomit but eventually loosens. I stretch the bag open, looking down t
o see my legs, all blue and mottled. They don’t look like me.
What if I get in trouble for taking it off?
I lift up the front a little, blinking. The light is dim but feels bright after the bag. I slide it off my head, looking around. My plastic shoes are all grubby and it’s horrid in here – a scary dark place with a mattress on the floor. There’s a table and another chair and stuff I don’t recognise. The walls and floor are made of brick and there are cobwebs everywhere. It’s really scary and there aren’t any windows.
I dash to the door but there’s no handle. I thump and scream and yell and cry out for someone to help me. Even after ages and ages and ages and ages and ages, no one comes.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Maggie stared at Rain’s lifeless body. She was barely able to step inside the room where her daughter lay. She seemed so small and frail, almost transparent, as if her blood had already drained away. She was lying on a white sheet on her back, arms down by her sides. She was dead still, her thin eyelids pressed closed as if someone had set her face to look angelic – nothing like the feisty girl she knew. A police officer stood at the door, glancing at Maggie sympathetically as she edged past.
A nurse was at the foot of Rain’s bed, watching as she approached. From chubby, inquisitive toddler, to cute little girl keen to explore, to a hot-headed and troublesome teen intent on self-destruction, Maggie never believed she’d ever have to face this – a mother’s worst nightmare. Rain was a survivor, had always got on with life, somehow dodging trouble around her yet leaving a trail of it in her wake. Or had she got it wrong? Was her daughter way more vulnerable than she’d ever realised?
Maggie covered her face, allowing the first agonising sob to travel up her throat and out into the cup of her hands. She couldn’t bear to imagine what vile and ghastly ordeal her daughter must have gone through to end up like this. No one had told her anything yet. She wondered if it was better that way, not knowing the details.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ Rain snapped angrily, suddenly sitting up. Maggie screamed, jumping back as Rain swung her legs out of bed. The nurse was immediately beside her, steadying her, coaxing her back down onto the pillow again.
‘You can’t go anywhere, my love, you’re hooked up to a drip,’ the nurse said. ‘Lie back and rest,’ she continued, trying to settle her.
For a moment, Maggie couldn’t move, feeling lightheaded, as though she was going to pass out, but then the relief surged through her.
‘Fat fucking chance of that around here,’ Rain said, catching sight of her mother. ‘Why doesn’t everyone just leave me alone?’ She hurled her head back against the pillow, curling up her legs.
‘Oh, Rain…’ Maggie lunged for her, wrapping her arms tightly around her. ‘You’re alive!’ She’d never been so relieved to see her daughter so angry. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God…’
‘Of course I’m fucking alive.’ She scowled at her mother, though there was something else behind the hard stare – something broken and hurting that gradually took over from the anger. ‘I just want to get out of here. Please let me go… I have to …’ Rain trailed off. Her voice changed, became softer, tinged with a sob. She hugged her arms around her body. ‘Mum, will you tell them I’m fine, that I just want to go home? I don’t have to see the police again, do I?’ She was shaking now, her whole body trembling as her eyes rolled back.
‘She’s in a bit of shock,’ the nurse said. ‘And very dehydrated.’
‘Oh, my love,’ Maggie said, not failing to notice that she’d called her Mum. She hugged her tightly again and, for once, Rain didn’t protest. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you. We all have.’ She allowed herself a moment to breathe in the familiar scent of her daughter, pressing her face into her hair. That delicious scent was still there, faintly, but there was something else too, something slightly dirty and almost feral, as if she’d been living wild these last few days. Something earthy about her.
‘Mum, tell them I just want to go home.’ Rain’s voice was thin and weak. ‘Please?’
‘I think it’s best you do as they say,’ Maggie said, the nurse nodding in agreement. When she’d arrived at the hospital, PC Wyndham had handed her over to a doctor who had brought her straight to Rain, but before they’d even got inside the room, the doctor’s bleep had sounded, and she’d rushed off to an emergency, saying she’d be back as soon as she could. She hadn’t told her anything.
‘Just take me home, Mum.’
‘Stay here a little while longer, love. You need to see the doctor.’ Maggie studied her daughter. There was definitely something different about her – the childlike way she curled up in bed, the sad look in her eyes seeping out. ‘And you keep calling me Mum,’ she said, smiling. ‘I like that.’ Then she held her at arm’s length, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. Rain looked up at her, as if she wanted to say something, but whatever it was wouldn’t come out.
Another nurse came in wheeling an equipment trolley, making chit-chat as she strapped the blood pressure cuff around Rain’s arm. Her skin was dirty – patches of grime covering her forearms, with dark stuff under the crescents of her nails. Rain lay there as the machine gripped her arm, allowing these things to be done to her as though she’d given up fighting.
‘Remember last Christmas, Mum?’ she said, after the nurse had finished. Her voice was flat and quiet. ‘I was so excited about you fetching me from school at the end of term, thinking we’d have a lovely time gift shopping together, decorating the tree, just the two of us. But then I got a message from the secretary telling me to go home with Katie for a few days, that you’d gone to Barbados with that guy, Gareth. Next thing I know, we’re moving in with him.’ She drew up her knees, covering them with the gown. ‘So now, for once, would you please just take me home and…’ A little sob burst from between her lips which, unusually, weren’t daubed in bright lipstick. Instead, they were chapped and dull. ‘…and just keep me safe.’
‘Oh, my darling…’ Maggie moved closer to hug her, but this time Rain turned away.
‘I’ll leave you two alone for a moment,’ the nurse said. As she opened the door, Maggie caught sight of PC Wyndham along with Shona, Claire and Nick waiting in the corridor. They looked concerned, so she gave them a nod, indicating to give her a moment.
Maggie wanted to explain to Rain how hard it had been for her over the years; how the men in her life had been a compensation for her loneliness and childhood pain; how she’d never truly been happy; how she believed if she kept on running everything would somehow be OK. All she’d ever wanted was for her and Rain to be settled, to feel secure and loved. She knew she’d failed. And she also knew this wasn’t the right time to discuss it, especially as PC Wyndham had just come into the room. She touched Maggie on the elbow, giving her a relieved smile.
‘How are you feeling now, Rain?’ she asked.
Rain pulled the sheet up to her chin, as if she wanted to hide behind it. She was on the verge of tears. Maggie reached out a hand, resting it on the knot of her daughter’s fists.
‘The police have worked so hard to find you over the last few days,’ Maggie said, hoping she would talk, tell her what had happened. Instead, she just gave a small nod, her face turned down to her chest. Her shoulders were shaking. ‘Oh, Rain,’ Maggie said, glancing at the officer with an apologetic look. ‘Maybe talking about it will help?’
Rain twisted the sheet, her thin fingers working the fabric. ‘I told them some stuff already. But you won’t understand everything. No one will. Ever.’
‘It’s OK, love,’ Maggie replied, knowing that forcing anything out of her was usually counter-productive. ‘All in good time.’ But she couldn’t get Callum’s arrest out of her head.
‘When you’re feeling more up to it, Rain, we’ll need to take a statement from you,’ PC Wyndham said, pausing, hoping to elicit something. But all she managed was a small nod.
‘A statement?’ Maggie looked between the two of them.
‘I want you both to know that we’re taking what happened extremely seriously. We’ll do everything we can to help you.’
‘Just tell me what’s going on,’ Maggie said, gripping the officer’s arm. ‘No one’s told me anything.’ Her voice wavered.
Rain’s head jerked up. ‘But I haven’t done anything wrong,’ she half-sobbed, burning crimson. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘I know you haven’t, Rain. You’ve suffered a terrible ordeal and we’ll do everything in our power to get justice. But we do need to get the facts from you. You won’t have to see him.’
‘See who?’ Maggie said, on the verge of tears. She didn’t understand – or rather, was it that she didn’t want to understand?
‘As you know, Maggie, we arrested Callum Rodway on suspicion of…’
Maggie suddenly felt dizzy, her chest tightening when she heard his name, hardly able to take in what she was being told. She’d tried to block out the implications of his arrest, but hearing the words direct from PC Wyndham made it painfully real. As she listened, she couldn’t stand to think of that bastard – someone they’d all known and trusted for years – doing such a vile thing to her daughter. She knew he’d been arrested, and now her worst suspicions had been confirmed. She needed to stay calm for Rain, but the anger was boiling up inside her. All she wanted to do was find him and punch his disgusting face.
‘I shouldn’t have gone into his room, Mum, I know that, but I was drunk. I thought it was Marcus’s room,’ Rain said, curling up even more. ‘Then, when I saw him, it was just like a part of me, you know…’ She pulled a pained expression, struggling to find the right words. ‘It was like I wanted to prove I’m attractive, that I’m worth something. He’d already hugged me in the cellar. I guess I wanted him to do that again. It was just nice to be noticed for once.’
‘Oh, Rain,’ Maggie said, holding her. ‘None of this is your fault.’ Though, as a mother, she couldn’t help feeling it was hers.
The Reunion: An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist Page 28
