by Anna Jacobs
'No!' she said aloud, but even she could hear that her voice didn't have its usual decisive tone.
I'm just resting, she concluded in the end, gathering my strength, that's all. And I'll stay in bed for however long it takes. Silly to push myself so hard when what I need most now is rest and recovery time.
After taking a nap she rang the bell. Andy answered.
'I need something to read, something light and happy.'
'I'm not sure we've got much fiction in the house. You don't usually—'
'Then go out and buy me a few books. Anything will do, as long as it's got a happy ending.'
He went back to the kitchen. 'She wants something light and happy to read. I'll have to visit the nearest bookshop.'
'No, wait! I've plenty of light fiction in my room, romances, mostly. I'll take her up a few, see if they'll do.' Lena snapped her fingers suddenly. 'I know! Georgette Heyer. She'll love them.'
She went up to Maeve's room. 'Try Friday's Child. It's one of my favourite books.'
When she tiptoed up to listen at the door half an hour later, she heard Maeve chuckling and went down to report the good news to Andy.
He gave her a hug. 'You're a miracle worker.'
'I'll take another couple of books up with her lunch tray.'
Lily was in despair. Not only was her mother or Wayne in the house at all times, but they didn't leave her alone except to sleep, and they made sure the security system was switched on downstairs when they went to bed. She tried going down the first night to test it out and set off alarms that screamed. Wayne came leaping down the stairs.
She stood in the kitchen, arms folded. 'I only wanted something to eat.'
'In future you'll have to wake one of us, or better still, we'll put some biscuits and water in your bedroom and you can stay put.'
She went and got a couple of biscuits and a glass of orange juice, though she wasn't in the least hungry. Back in her room she sat up in bed, arms crossed round herself, feeling desolate.
She was trapped!
After that, from the minute she got up in the morning till bedtime (the hour of which was dictated by Wayne) she was always with one of them, packing, clearing out cupboards, never given a minute to think or even sit peacefully reading.
She retaliated by speaking as little as she could, answering in monosyllables, never making a comment or starting a conversation.
One morning her mother tried to put an arm round her, 'Lily, can't you—'
She shook the arm off. 'Don't touch me! I can't bear you pretending to care for me.'
'I'm not pretending. I do care for you.'
'Then you choose a strange way of showing it, dragging me off to America against my will, separating me from Dad - who is my father in every way that counts and always will be. How many times do I have to tell you that? You've changed, Mum, and I don't feel I know you any more, don't even want to. You're a gaoler not a mother. So don't touch me any more and especially don't tell lies about loving me.'
She had the satisfaction of seeing her mother shrink away from her.
But of course the following morning Wayne cornered her after breakfast. 'If you upset your mother again, young lady, I'll do something about it.'
'What else can you do to me? You're taking away everything I love, my father, my country.'
'Oh, I'll find some way to get through to you, believe me.'
'I'm sure you will. Sadists always do. I don't know what she sees in you.'
He slapped her across the face.
She stood her ground, even though she could feel her knees trembling. 'Very brave of you. I'm what - half your weight and size? You could beat me up quite easily if you get your kicks from that sort of thing.'
'Sit down and shut up!'
She judged it best to do so.
When Kerry came home she noticed Lily's red cheek. 'Did you bump yourself?'
'No. Wayne hit me.'
Her mother stood open-mouthed and stared at her. 'I don't believe you!'
'Whatever. I wonder why I thought he slapped me. Perhaps it was a cupboard door that jumped out and hit me.'
Kerry grabbed her arm and swung her round. 'Tell me the truth.'
Lily could feel tears in her eyes and blinked furiously.
She'd vowed not to cry in front of them. 'I did tell you the truth.'
'What on earth did you say to provoke him so much?'
'What does it matter? He'll probably say I'm lying and you'll believe him.' She pulled away from her mother. 'I need to be alone sometimes, you know. This is - it's cruelty.'
'We can't trust you.'
'I feel exactly the same about you.' She went and sat on the window seat, staring out at the front garden but seeing only a blur of colours as she tried to blink away the tears. But they would fall in spite of her efforts.
When her mother came to stand beside her and said more gently, 'It really is the best thing for you to come with me, Lily. You'll have everything money can buy, a beautiful home, a wonderful lifestyle.'
'That's what you want. What I want is my father.' To her horror, she began to sob, couldn't hold it back any longer. But she thrust her mother's arm away. 'I told you not to touch me. I hate you! And I don't care if he hits me again for saying that.'
When she ran upstairs, her mother didn't follow and she was allowed a whole half hour to herself. She sat by the window, letting the peace and silence wash around her. Then Wayne came home again and her mother called her downstairs.
But the incident had shown her a slight weakness in her mother and she wondered if she could exploit it. She went to look out of her bedroom window, wondering how long it would take her to open it and climb down a knotted sheet. She didn't dare cut up a sheet in advance, though, that was the trouble.
Next time she was in the kitchen alone she pulled a pair of ancient scissors out of the bag of things to be thrown away and stuffed them down her sock, where they were hidden by her jeans. As soon as she could she went up to the bathroom and hid them in the cistern of the toilet.
She wasn't at all sure she would manage to escape, though, because Wayne was terrifyingly efficient in his arrangements. He seemed to have a hold over her mother that was beginning to worry her. Did her mother really love him? No, she probably just loved the fact that he was rich. She was always going on about money and security.
Every night Lily vowed to try her best to escape the next day, to be alert for the tiniest opportunity. But as the long slow hours crawled past and Sunday drew closer, no chink became evident in the walls surrounding her. Hope began to fade and her spirits got lower and lower.
She didn't even try to hide her reddened eyes from her mother in the mornings any more.
Judith squeezed the first half inch of colour from the tube with a hand that trembled. It was so long since she'd painted, months now, not since before Des had hurt her knee. She'd only sketched a bit, and that half-heartedly. Hesitantly she dabbed paint on the canvas, working slowly and carefully.
When she stood back an hour later she could see no life in what she'd done. Maybe they didn't have to lie to Des about my talent, she thought. Maybe I really don't have what it takes to call myself an artist. She felt very sad at that tfiought.
Going downstairs, she made herself a cup of coffee and sat sipping it near the kitchen window, gazing out at the view she loved so much. Suddenly galvanized, she rushed upstairs, piled a few things together and set up her easel on the paved area at the back, looking straight across at the slopes of the moors, the undulating tops and the glorious cloud patterns above them.
This time she didn't dab cautious blobs of colour on the canvas, she slathered it on with big strokes, trying to capture the clouds, the shadows, the faint curls of mist near the tops of the slopes, the zig-zag patterns of the drystone walls.
When the phone rang inside the house, she ignored it. She didn't intend to let anything interrupt her today. It rang again a bit later, she didn't know how much later because she always took
her watch off to paint.
It wasn't until a drop of rain fell on her face that she realized the weather had changed. Looking up she saw drops whizzing down at her, laughed as they hit her face, and began to carry her things into the house. By the time she'd finished, it was pouring down and she was wet through.
The day's post lay on the floor in the hall. She gathered the letters up and dumped them on the hall table, shivering now but feeling on a high. It was always like this when her painting went well.
She didn't look at what she'd done until she'd had a hot shower and made herself a mug of coffee. Only then did she allow herself to study the canvas. She froze at what she saw, feeling as if she'd never seen it before. Was this really her work? It wasgoodl Well, promising, anyway. Putting the mug down on the nearest surface, she folded her arms and studied the canvas. She didn't move for a long time, not until she'd imprinted it on her brain and decided what to do to it the next day.
This painting had promise, it really did. Tears of joy came into her eyes. She'd found her purpose in life now.
Just wait till she saw Des! That thought made her pause. There had been no more nasty tricks played, not for a few days. Did that mean another one was brewing or that he'd given up?
If she knew him, there would be something else brewing. He never gave up if he really wanted something.
Mark had asked for a wheelchair for Kate and it was waiting for them when they got off the plane at Heathrow. He saw her staring round and murmured, 'This has to be the ugliest airport there is.' He watched her nod and try to summon up a smile, but she looked so wan he felt sorry for her.
A chauffeur-driven car was waiting for them and took them to a large hotel, where another suite had been booked.
'I could get used to this sort of luxury.' Kate gestured round the sitting room.
'Miss Corrigan always treats people well. Ah!' He pounced on a letter that was propped up on the table and ripped it open. 'You have an appointment tomorrow afternoon with a specialist.'
'So quickly!'
'Yes. I hope it's not too soon for you? We can always postpone it if you're too tired.'
'The sooner the better.' Her voice came out choked as she added in a near whisper, 'I daren't hope.'
He couldn't help it. He went and put his arm round her, even though he knew this wasn't a professional thing to do. 'Why not? They've made great strides these days in treating ME.'
She leaned against him with a sigh. T know. And I've only been like this for a few months. What about the people who've spent years struggling to get better?'
'We won't let it last for years with you.'
'Mmm.' She didn't move, just stayed in his arms.
He felt protective. 'Are you tired?'
'Yes. I know I slept on the plane, but I never seem to get enough sleep.'
'Food first, then I'll leave you in peace.'
'You're a bully.'
She looked up at him with a teasing smile and for a moment he caught a glimpse of the pretty, lively young woman she must have been before, then the smile faded and he realized how white she was. He frowned. 'Do you always go so pale when you're exhausted?'
'Yes. I used to be quite rosy, though you'd never believe it now.'
'Don't forget to tell the doctor that.'
'Will you come in with me?'
He was startled. 'Me?'
'I need someone with me because my brain gets even fuzzier when I'm tense. I say the wrong thing, can't think straight.'
'I'll come in with you.'
He watched her force some food down, then trail across to her bedroom as if each step was a huge effort. He hadn't realized how badly ME affected people.
Cal went to the house again, banging on the front door until Wayne opened it. There was no sign of Kerry.
'I want to see my daughter.'
'She's not your daughter.'
'We can have this argument every time we meet, but it won't change the fact that I helped bring her up.'
Wayne tried to close the door but Cal put his foot in the gap. He looked at the other man, saw chill anger in his eyes and suddenly felt even more worried for Lily, couldn't bear to think of her under the control of such a cold fish. He tried to speak more temperately. 'I've been to see my lawyer and I definitely have a right to see her because I've acted as her father for all these years and because I've paid maintenance. My lawyer will be contacting you about that if you keep refusing access.'
'I'll wait for the letter and refer it to my lawyer. Don't hold your breath.'
There was a noise in the back of the house and the door at the far end of the hall banged open to show Lily struggling against her mother.
'Daddy! Ow!'
Kerry dragged her away again by her hair, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Wayne took advantage of Cal's shock at this violence to shove him backwards and slam the front door in his face.
He stood there on the path, breathing heavily, wanting to smash his way in again and stop them hurting his daughter. Then common sense took over and he made himself stand still. It'd do his case no good to cause trouble. He yelled, 'I'll be back, Lily' several times, as loudly as he could, then turned and strode back to his car. It would be better to see his lawyer and get that court order granting him access. Being reasonable had got him nowhere.
It hurt him to remember Kerry handling Lily so roughly, to hear his daughter calling for him, to be so utterly helpless.
In the garden next door Mrs Baxter shook her head, upset by the screaming and shouting. And when the sound of sobbing drifted out of the sunroom a short time later, she felt tears rise in her own eyes. She never could bear to see children upset - or beaten - and Lily was such a nice child. What was going on?
Inside the house Lily was sobbing, curled up in a ball on the old couch. 'You could have let me speak to him, at least!' she threw at her mother. 'How mean can you get?'
'Darling, it's best to cut the tie. He's not your father and you'll not be seeing him again after this week. Why prolong the agony?' Kerry sat on the other end of the couch and tried once again to put her arm round her daughter.
Lily threw her off and looked at her with loathing. 'I don't know you any more. I don't want to know someone who's so unkind.'
Wayne came into the room. 'I've told you before, young lady. Mind how you speak to your mama.'
'Or what? You'll hit me again.' She jutted her chin out at him. 'Go ahead. What does it matter?'
He took a hasty step forward. Kerry jumped between them. 'No, Wayne!'
'You let her run rings round you, honey. And I can't bear to see you so upset.'
'I wonder why no one cares whether I'm upset?' Lily asked the air above her head.
'Give her a few minutes to recover,' Kerry said and threaded her arm in his, pulling him out of the room.
The minute they were outside, Lily tried to control her sobbing to listen where they went. Into the kitchen. Seizing the opportunity, she tiptoed out to the hall and opened the front door as quietly as she could. As she was stepping through it, Wayne grabbed her from behind. She wriggled out of his grasp and began to run down the path, screaming at the top of her voice, but he lunged for her and began to drag her back into the house.
She kicked and screamed all the way and had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs Baxter next door standing by the fence watching them, her mouth open in shock.
He shoved Lily along the hall towards the kitchen. 'Don't try that again, young lady!'
She said nothing, but vowed she would try to escape every single time she saw an opportunity. Surely she'd manage it? Surely they wouldn't succeed in taking her out of the country? She began sobbing again, not because of the thump he'd given her but because she kept remembering her father shouting that he'd be back. He didn't know they were leaving and she had no way of telling him.
She didn't go down for the evening meal and when her mother came up and tried to persuade her, she shouted, 'Why don't you drag me downstairs by my hair since you seem
to enjoy hurting me.'
'Of course I don't.'
'Then you'd better send Wayne up to do it for you. Is that what he's going to do in America? Beat me into submission?'
She had the satisfaction of seeing her mother wince.
'You can't win, Lily. I don't know why you won't admit that and make the best of things.'
'It's you who can't win, Mother. If you want me to hate you, you're going exactly the right way about it.'
'Don't be stupid! You'll forget all about this once you're settled in your new school?'
'Did he tell you that? Ha! You ought to know me better.'
Her mother spread out her hands in a helpless gesture and left the room. No one came up to see Lily.
She was very hungry, but she wasn't going down willingly, not now and not in the morning either.
What she was going to do was make a plan.
She went to open her bedroom window and looked down, trying to work out how long a rope she'd need to make.
Someone had nailed the window shut.
She lay down again, her stomach growling with hunger, despair filling her. Wayne seemed to think of everything.
When she went to use the bathroom, she checked the window there and to her surprise, found it still opened. It wasn't very big, but she was sure she could get through it. It'd be dangerous. She might fall. But this could be her only chance of escape.
Seventeen
Birdsong ebbs and flows around the house, while a bright summer dawn gilds the edges of the hilltops. It is the very best of mornings.
Judith woke early, went to stand by the window on her way back from the bathroom and enjoy the day's promise. She stretched, feeling lazy and happy, then decided tojhave the luxury of another few minutes in bed.
She awoke two hours later to another sort of nojse, one she couldn't quite place though surely there were men's voices somewhere close to the house? She went to look out of the landing window at the front of the house and discovered a van and trailer parked on the road outside while two men were hard at work, digging up her drive. She gaped at the scene for a moment, unable to believe it was real, then slung on her dressing gown and marched outside.
'What the hell is going on here?'
