by Carla Blake
“ What? In the lift?”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re only going as far as the third floor! But you, my girl, were bloody marvelous! And where the hell did you get ‘Sophie La Mann, interior designer’ from?”
“I know.” Kate grinned back. “I surprise myself sometimes. But do you think he bought it? He did look a bit dubious towards the end. Think he’ll come after us?”
Polly frowned. “Probably.” She said. “After he’s checked his appointment book and rung round and discovered no one here knows a thing about us. Then I think we might be in trouble.”
“Do you think he’ll call the police?”
“Probably. But I reckon he’ll come after us on his own first. Or call security. If they’ve got that here. What’s the matter?”
“This place.” Kate said, staring out of the now open lift door. “Are you sure this is an apartment building?”
“Yeah.” Polly replied, holding open the door and wishing Enya would soon stop urging them to ‘ sail away’. “You know it is. Why?”
“Because these carpets.” Kate sighed, bending down to run her hand across the pile. “Are softer than my towels. And these pictures” She added, straightening up again to examine an abstract painting done in varying shades of blue. “Must be worth a bomb! Look at them, Polly, they’re all bloody originals! Which begs the question, how the hell does a slime ball like Simon afford to live in a place like this?”
Polly shrugged. “I’ve no idea. “She said. “And right now I don’t care. All I want to do is find Rachel and fast. Before matey boy downstairs gets his act together.”
“Okay. Just one more thing though?”
“Shoot.”
“What if Rachel isn’t here? I mean, we’ve been so preoccupied with getting in here and all that, we haven’t stopped to consider what we’re going to do if Simon hasn’t got her.”
“Well, in that case.” Polly said. “We go to the police and we hound the bloody life out of them until they do something. That good enough for you? What are you doing now?”
“Jamming the lift.” Kate replied, heaving one of the fire extinguishers from behind a pot plant and wedging it against the open lift door. “If the doors can’t close he can’t call the lift. Won’t hold him off forever, but it’s a start. And yes, going to the cops will be good enough for me. Right. Where to now?”
Polly shook her head. “God knows!” She sighed. “I’m not even sure we have the right floor.”
“But I thought you said...”
“I know!” Polly shot back. “But it was only a guess. Rachel didn’t exactly give me chapter and verse about this guy you know, just how bloody horrible he was. Look, why don’t we split up and go from door to door. Maybe if we listen, we’ll hear something suspicious..”
“And then..?”
“.. and then we’ll decide what to do! Unless you have a better idea?”
“Come on!”
Sweating heavily, Rachel dropped the knife to the floor and twisted the key in the lock, muttering under her breath. Her fingers were clumsy, working with all the finesse of ten undercooked sausages and stopping to scratch - what the hell was wrong with her skin?- she clawed at her backside and stomach, tearing at the irritating tickle. The clock inside her head ticking off the seconds, reminding her that Simon could wake up at any moment and find her and that she should stop scratching her fuckin’ belly and turn the bloody key!
The bloody key turned. Unexpectedly and smoothly. But it didn’t open the door. Instead the second lock, the one Simon had so recently added, jarred the door to a standstill and wrenched the key out of Rachel’s hand.
“Fuck!” She grumbled and hastily pressed a hand to the wood to stop it juddering in the frame. “The fuckin’ second lock!”
She inserted the second key.
The door opened.
And immediately slammed shut again.
Frustrated, she twisted the key again, locking the door, then unlocking it again, unable to understand why it wasn’t opening? What was stopping it? The safety chain! It was still slotted into place. Grabbing it, she yanked it free, a triumphant “ Yes!” issuing from her lips as she took hold of the handle, turned it and heard someone cough at the other end of the hallway.
“NO!” She screamed and wrenching the door open, fell out into the hallway just as Kate, alerted by her cry, came racing round the corner.
Opening her eyes, Rachel stared at the ceiling.
For a moment she didn’t move, preferring to lay still and silent. Her fingers touching clean sheets, her head resting on a soft pillow. The room itself dark and quiet, yet not altogether unfamiliar, if only she had the courage to move her eyes and see. But she couldn’t. Not yet. For now she just wanted to lie here in the dark and pretend that she was safe and well, before reality came crashing down and took away what little peace she had.
Her head hurt and she shivered, feeling her body stiffen and the numerous plasters stuck to her many cuts and grazes, crinkle against her skin. Her stomach itched and she slowly raised her left hand to scratch it, taking a while to notice the handcuff was gone and a pristine white bandage, secured with a safety pin, put in its place. Puzzled, she stared at it, failing to comprehend what new game Simon was playing now and touching the bandage with her right hand, feeling the tender wound beneath and flinching when a door suddenly opened and low, yellow light illuminated the fire and the Polar bear and the white, embroidered duvet lying softly across her legs.
Kate stood on the threshold. “Hey, babe.” She said, walking across to drop a kiss on Rachel’s forehead. “ How you feeling?”
It was like a dream, that’s all Rachel could say later. A beautiful hallucination she couldn’t bear to bring herself to start believing in case she woke up and found it had all gone away again. And perhaps that was why, when Kate sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in hers and brought it up to her lips and kissed her fingers, that Rachel couldn’t answer straight away, but instead shriveled away and tried to hide behind the duvet, convinced this was still just a dream and that she would eventually wake up in Simon’s apartment, naked and handcuffed to the bed. Waiting for him to start tormenting her all over again.
Kate, though, was patient and holding onto Rachel’s hand, she stroked her fingers and with whispered words, slowly convinced her that everything she was feeling and seeing and doing right now, was real. She was home. She was safe. Nothing could get at her now.
“Really?” Rachel whispered in return. “It’s real? I’m home?”
“Yes babe, you’re home You really are. I promise you.”
“But how..?”
“It’s a long story and I don’t want you to worry about that now. All you gotta do is get some sleep and get better and then we’ll talk about it later, okay?”
“Okay. Kate?”
“Yes babe?”
“Don’t go.”
It was morning when Rachel next awoke, and with sunshine trying it’s best to worm it’s way in through the closed curtain and tickle her nose, she snuggled beneath the duvet and listened to the sound of birds singing and then to the crash and clatter of the bin men clattering their way down the road and shattering what little peace there was left.
She then noticed that Kate was not beside her and for a moment she felt curiously desolate and if she was totally honest, a little afraid. She still needed Kate beside her, she realised, if only to confirm that all this was real. Her dreams – nightmares- were still raw and frightening and every time she woke up, sweating and clutching the duvet, her first thought was still of Simon and handcuffs and sawdust under the bed.
It was going to take ages to get over it.
But she would. It was okay now. She was home. With Kate and Polly. Safe.
Her eyes closed.
Then snapped open again as panic shot through h
er veins and her breath hitched in her throat. Fire! She could hear fire. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t a beautiful dream! Simon still had her. She was still in the apartment. He was going to kill her!
“Move that bloody bin out of the way!”
Rachel’s eyes shot to the open window. Bin men, she could hear the bin men. Simon didn’t have bin men. They were too noisy, too intrusive, too common for the likes of him.
“Come on Ron, move yerself, yer lazy git.”
What the fuck was going on here?
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The bandages were still there, she noticed, the handcuffs were still not. But the sound of a fire, still crackling merrily away, remained and she closed her eyes tightly against the tears that pricked at the corners..
What was wrong with her, she moaned. Where was she? At home? At Simon’s? She didn’t know what was real anymore! What to believe. She was going mad!
Kate has a fire in her bedroom now.
The memory slammed into her. Of course, she thought, choking back a sob. She did. It was new and Kate was so proud of it. Oh, God…
Was it always going to be like this?
Propping herself up on one elbow and drying her face from a box of tissues Kate had thoughtfully provided, Rachel gazed towards the hearth in the corner of the bedroom. Kate had indeed lit the fire, probably in an effort to cheer her up, how ironic was that, and in front of it had placed a vase of bright red tulips which were now beginning to wilt from the heat.
They’re going to need moving soon, Rachel thought, sitting up and wincing when the sticky plaster on her back caught on the edge of the pillow. And I’m going to have to get Kate to tell me what the hell happened at Simon’s, cos I don’t remember a thing after I got to the door. I just remember opening it and seeing the landing and then seeing Kate and then nothing.
Carefully she got out of bed. She wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to do, seeing as how her head was still spinning a bit and her skin felt like it was wrapped in tight elastic bands, but lying there wasn’t going to get her any answers and she needed to know, because without all the facts, how was she going to be able to start the healing process?
A smile touched her lips. I sound like a ‘self help’ book, she thought looking down at herself and noticing for the first time – God, she was so unobservant at the moment- that someone – Kate?- had dressed her in a long baggy T-shirt with Snoopy on the front.
She tried to imagine Kate plodding about in it and gripping the edge of the bedside cabinet, heaved herself to her feet. Her legs felt like they’d been made from a curious mix of jelly and stiff cardboard and walking awkwardly, hissing though her teeth as various plasters pulled at her skin, she reached for her bathrobe and slipped her arms through the sleeves, relieved to discover that the pain in her shoulders had finally reduced to nothing more than a dull ache. It was just a shame the same couldn’t be said for the rest of her and particularly her breasts because they still hurt like hell, and glancing anxiously down her top, she winced at the shallow scratches and ring of bruises around each of her nipples and then at the residue of a white cream still clinging to her skin.
Kate again, she sighed, letting the top fall back into place. My lover’s been busy. I wonder where she is?
The landing was quiet and conscious of the fact Kate might still be asleep else where in the house, Rachel tiptoed to the bathroom, wondering why Kate hadn’t stayed in bed with her before realizing that maybe she hadn’t wanted to disturb her.
The bathroom was chilly, but Kate had clearly been busy in here too. The shower curtain was gone for one thing, the horrible, faded yellow one with the mould beginning to gather around the bottom replaced by a lovely, crisp, white curtain with dark blue shells running up and down the length. Gone too was the old toothbrush holder. The new one, complete with unused toothbrushes, decorated with blue stripes that perfectly matched the new and still very fluffy bath mat that now lay snuggled up to the edge of the bath.
Rachel wasn’t sure how she felt about it. It wasn’t so much that Kate had changed stuff, after all it was her house, so in theory she could do what she liked, it was more the thought that Kate had done all this whilst she’d been locked up in Simon’s apartment. It seemed so flippant somehow, like she hadn’t given a damn what was happening to her, or maybe, seeing as how Kate hadn’t actually known where she was, Kate had thought she’d been dumped and this was just her way of trying to get over her pain and disappointment - by redecorating.
A knock sounded on the door and Kate’s voice drifted in from outside. “Can I come in?” She asked. “Or would you prefer to be left alone for a bit? It’s okay if you do, I can always..”
Rachel smiled. “No, come in.” She said, tightening the bathrobe around her. “I was just admiring your new shower curtain.”
“Oh, that.” Kate said flatly. “That was my useless attempt at distracting myself. Not that it worked. I still worried myself sick.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault babe. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of Simon sooner. Might have saved us both a lot of grief. But enough of that! How are you feeling now? Up for a bit of brekkie?”
They sat in the kitchen. Sunlight, warm and yellow, streamed through the windows, yet still wasn’t strong enough to thaw the thick frost that clung stubbornly to the grass. Next door’s cat was out there too, prowling the perimeter and keeping a weather eye on the bread crusts Kate had thrown out for the birds.
“You spoil that animal.” Rachel remarked, accepting the coffee Kate had insisted she was too weak to pour for herself. “He thinks he’s the king of the castle out there.”
“Yeah, right.” Kate asked, pulling a face. “Look at him. He’s fat, he’s slow and he hasn’t got a bloody hope in hell of catching a bird. Also, I do not spoil him. Those crusts aren’t out there for his benefit you know.”
“He thinks they are.”
“Yeah, well he would. He hasn’t got the sense God gave a chicken.”
Rachel sipped her coffee. “So.” She said at last when Kate didn’t look like she was about to add anything else. “Are you going to tell me what happened at Simon’s or not? On the landing, I mean. How did I get from there to here? And what about Simon? Has he been arrested? Have the police got him? And where’s Polly? Is she back?”
“Actually she is.” Kate said. “She’s asleep upstairs in the spare room. I would have told you last night, but we thought it best just to get you settled and asleep yourself rather than fill your head with too much stuff. Tell you what, you drink your coffee and I’ll go see if she’s awake. Then we can tell you together.”
“Rachel!” Polly breathed when she finally pitched up in the kitchen, dressed in an old grey tracksuit and with her hair tied back with a red scrunchie. “ You don’t know how glad I am to see you! We’ve been so worried! How you feeling?”
“Better than I was.” Rachel admitted, hugging her friend. “My shoulders still ache a bit, my tits feel like shit and my wrist are still sore, oh, and my bloody backside is killing me, but aside from that, I’m great. How’s it looking by the way? Has that bastard scarred me for life?”
Kate shook her head. “Don’t think so. “She said. “Lucky for you, it’s more of a scald than a burn, I looked it up on the internet, Christ you should see some of the pictures on there, they’re gross! Anyway, you’ll be okay and it is healing. Do you want a cushion or something?”
Rachel smiled. “No, it’s okay. Think I’ll manage. It’s just such a relief to know he hasn’t done any permanent damage. God, guys, I don’t know what to say. What would I have done if…if…”
The tears came then, hot and salty and feeling stupid, she sniffed out an apology.
Kate stroked her fingers. “Hey.” She soothed. “It’s okay. You’ve been through so much, it’s no wonder you want to cry. Maybe we should wait a little longer before we tell
you what happened?”
Rachel shook her head. “No. I want to know. I need to know. Tell me.”
“Okay, it that’s what you want, babe. Polly?”
Polly cleared her throat. “Right. Well, I won’t bore you with how Kate and I got into the building.”
“Other than to say it was pure genius.” Kate cut in.
“…but when you came hurtling out into the corridor, all naked and bloody and scaring the living shit out of us, the only person Simon saw was Kate. He didn’t see me because I was at the other end of the landing and standing behind him when he tried to drag you back into the apartment.”
“What? He tried to drag me back in? Why don’t I remember that?”
“Because.” Kate said gently. “You were already unconscious by then.”
“What!?” Rachel cried. “He knocked me out again? Christ all bloody mighty! I should go to hospital. What if I have concussion?”
“You don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I looked it up on the internet?” Kate said doubtfully.
“And.” Polly quickly cut in, ‘‘ you haven’t exhibited any of the signs. But if you still want to go, we’ll take you.”
“Fine.” Rachel sighed. “Maybe. But I still want to know what happened first. So the bastard had knocked me out. How by the way.”
“ He threw a knife at you.” Polly said. “I know, I know, we couldn’t believe he hadn’t stabbed you either, but that’s what he did. He just picked it up from the doorstep and chucked it at you.”
Rachel ran a hand through her hair. “The knife I’d nicked from the kitchen.” She said quietly. “Shit!”
“Was it? Well, anyway, the handle hit you on the head and down you went. Like a ton of flippin’ bricks.”
“I thought he’d killed you.” Kate whispered miserably. “I really thought he had.”
Rachel gripped her hand. “Then what happened?”
“Well then he went for Kate. Slapping her round the head and yanking at her jacket. Trying to drag her into the apartment as well.”
