The Perfect Girl

by Lorna Dounaeva

  Sapphire was getting frantic. It had been days since Claire’s last visit. She began to worry that she might be hurt, or even dead. What if they were all alone down here and nobody knew? She lay awake, cold and bored in the darkness. A rat scuttled over her and she booted it off. She was more prepared for them now and quicker with her shoe. She heard Ingrid sniff.

  “You OK?” she asked softly, careful not to wake the others.

  “I’m sorry,” Ingrid whispered. “I miss my home and my family. Do you think they’re even looking for me?”

  “Of course they are!” Sapphire reached out and took her hand, knowing what a comfort it was to feel the warmth of human contact.

  “I’d barely spoken to them since I left Sweden. I was too caught up in my new life, my studies, my boyfriend. We don’t have May Queens in Sweden, but I thought the idea was charming. I couldn’t believe it when I won. I made the dress myself, you know. It took weeks to do all the embroidery.”

  “It is beautiful,” Sapphire said.

  “It was,” Ingrid allowed. “Now it’s a filthy rag. If we ever get out of here, I’m going to light a fire and burn it. How I long to put on a comfortable pair of jeans and a pullover and just snuggle up in front of the TV.”

  “I miss TV,” Sapphire said. “I never realised before how many hours there are in a day.”

  “You know, I was watching a really good serial before I was taken,” Ingrid said, wiping her eyes. “I was only halfway through it. I wish I’d set it to record.”

  “It’s the silliest things you think of,” Sapphire agreed. “I had a load of washing in the machine. I hope someone’s been up to my flat to hang it out; otherwise it will be all mouldy.”

  “Come to that, I bet my car’s been towed!” Ingrid giggled.

  “Hey!”

  “What?”

  “That’s the lift! Listen!”

  “Shall we wake the others?”

  “No, leave them. It’s probably Claire.”

  They listened, but there was no knock. “That’s not Claire!” Ingrid said.

  They shielded their eyes as the door burst open.

  Clunk! Clunk! Clunk! came the boots on the stairs. Then that smell – sweet, earthy, cocoa flavours. A bright lamp shone around.

  Through her fingers, Sapphire saw a ghostly figure, dressed from head to toe in white.

  Ingrid took her hand and squeezed it. She tried not to shake.

  Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

  The May Queen Killer descended into the depths of the cellar and looked around.

  “What do you want?” Sapphire asked, her voice trembling slightly.

  “Kneel before me,” the May Queen Killer said.

  Sapphire hesitated. She could hear a dog whining in the corridor.

  “Just do it,” hissed Ingrid. “Get it over with.”

  Sapphire dropped to her knees. She felt a swift kick in the face and she tumbled backwards, smacking her head on the stone floor.

  “Are you hurt?” Ingrid asked, springing forward.

  “No,” she said. Her head smarted, but she wasn’t going to show it. She pulled herself to her feet.

  “I want to go home,” she said, as forcefully as she could manage.

  “You can go – on one condition.”

  Her heart leapt. “What’s that?”

  “You leave me your ear.”

  She shrank back. “You’re out of your bloody mind!”

  “Maybe. But the offer stands.”

  “What, you’d really let me go? I don’t believe you.”

  She glanced at Ingrid, who was shaking her head emphatically.

  “You don’t have to decide now. Have a think about it and let me know.”

  “Why would you want my ear?”

  “Because then I’d still own a part of you.”

  There was a loud whine from the door and the May Queen Killer turned sharply. “Shut it!”

  The dog snarled. It sounded mean and hungry. If only she could turn it against its owner; how much happier they would all be.

  “How do I know you’d really let me go?” she asked, blinking at the light.

  “We’d do it outside, on my boat. Then I’d drop you off upriver. I know you won’t give away our location because I’d still have Claire. And you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, would you?”

  “No.”

  “So? What’s your answer?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t have to decide now. Why don’t you sleep on it?”

  29

  “What do you think?” Sapphire said, as she and Ingrid lay awake in the darkness. “Maybe it would be better to lose an ear. We’re just rotting away in this cellar. I don’t know how much longer we can survive with so little food and drink.”

  “The offer’s not real,” Ingrid said. “Of course it’s not. They just want to torture you.”

  “But what if it is real?” Sapphire insisted. She touched her left ear and then the right, trying to imagine how it would feel to lose one.

  “Do you think the offer applies to the rest of us?” Harmony asked. “I was too scared to ask.”

  “Just stay out of it,” Fizz warned. “Offers like that we could do without.”

  Jock held the pastel pink receiver to his ear and twirled the cable round his hand. It felt odd to talk on a real phone; he hadn’t used a landline in years.

  Gabriella’s voice sounded gruff as she answered the phone, as if she had only just got up.

  “Hi, it’s Jock,” he said. “I was just ringing to see how your mum’s doing?”

  “Oh, hi, Jock. She’s a lot better today, no thanks to those lunatics.”

  “Does she know who attacked her?”

  “She said there were two of them, both covered from head to toe in protective gear. Like beekeepers.”

  “Wow! Does she have any idea who it was?”

  She hesitated for just a fraction of a second. “Thanks for your support, Jock. I really appreciate it. But it turns out that my dad was the May Queen Killer after all. He brought all this upon us.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “What have you found out?”

  “I’m sorry, Mum’s calling. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back later in the week, I promise.”

  “But…”

  She was gone.

  “You look serious,” Dylan said, as he sat back down at their table. “What’s the matter? Has your mum just told you where babies come from?”

  “That wasn’t my mum on the phone. It was Gabriella. She said she thinks her dad was the May Queen Killer after all. She sounded pretty certain.”

  “Well, ring her back and ask her to explain, pronto!”

  “I tried, but she went all vague and said she was busy. Something’s going on with her.” He glanced around quickly. “What if the police were right the first time?” he murmured. “What if Simon is involved?”

  Now it was Dylan’s turn to look puzzled. “What have you got against Simon?”

  “They were definitely up to something at your party. And Gabriella was so open about everything to begin with. Now she’s downright cagey.”

  “Yeah, but Simon?”

  “Just hear me out, OK? What if the two of them are working together, covering each other’s tracks? Or worse still, if he’s threatening her to keep her mouth shut?”

  “But what would be his motive? We still don’t know who attacked Daphne. I don’t believe for a minute it was either of them.”

  “Gabriella said there were two attackers. Two people working together.”

  “I think she’d know if one of them was Simon. He kind of stands out.”

  “What if she’s too scared to say?”

  He poured himself a fresh cup of tea from the pot. There wasn’t much a hot cup of tea couldn’t help with. “Even if Simon’s not directly involved, I think he knows something – something he’s not telling us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We get
him pissed,” Dylan said.

  Jock rolled his eyes. “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?”

  “Do you know a better way to get information out of people?”

  “The police interviewed him for two days and they didn’t get what they needed.”

  “Well, they didn’t try alcohol, did they?”

  “I’m not even sure he drinks that much.”

  “He will if we say it’s home-brewed.”

  “Organic,” Jock said. “We’d have to say it was organic. Are you sure there isn’t a better way?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “How are we going to get him to come out with us, without it looking weird?”

  “We’ll say it’s your birthday.”

  The lie made him squirm. “Why can’t it be your birthday?”

  “Because he knows when my birthday was. Bronwyn made me a whiskey cake.”

  “Nice.”

  “Yes, it was actually.”

  “So who’s going to ask him?”

  “I think it would be better coming from you.”

  “But you’ve known him longer than me. And I haven’t really spoken to him since the party.”

  “Still, he’d be less suspicious of you.”

  Jock walked up to the counter. “Alright, Simon?” he said, as brightly as he could.

  “Fine, thank you,” Simon said without looking up from his Guardian.

  He had never found it particularly easy to make small talk with Simon, but now it was worse than impossible. Jock wasn’t sure if he was even listening.

  “So, Er … Do you want to go over the Dragon later? For a drink, I mean? It’s, um … it’s my birthday.”

  “Me?” Simon said, scratching his head.

  “Er, yeah.”

  Heat filled his cheeks. He had made it sound like he was asking him out on a date. Oh God, what if that was what Simon thought?

  Angie stepped forward, a big smile on her face.

  “We’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Simon?”

  Simon looked at him a little oddly, but he nodded politely and returned to his paper. Jock went back to his table, embarrassed. He should have known this wasn’t going to work. Simon was too clever to fall for such an idiotic ploy.

  Angie disappeared into the kitchen and re-emerged a few minutes later with an entire Battenberg, decorated with pink and yellow candles.

  “I wasn’t sure how old you were,” she whispered, as she set it down on the table. She looked at him, clearly expecting him to provide this information, but he just shook his head. He wished he had never opened his stupid mouth.

  He cringed as the entire teashop sang ‘Happy birthday’ to him in a loud chorus. Any moment, he expected someone to point out the fib. He glanced at Dylan. It was just the kind of thing he would do. But just this once, Dylan kept quiet.

  “Go on, Jock. Aren’t you going to blow out your candles?” Angie asked.

  Simon’s mum smiled at him encouragingly and all the other old ladies waited in anticipation.

  “Don’t forget to make a wish,” Dylan added. Jock caught the look on his face. He was clearly enjoying his discomfort.

  Sapphire woke up in a sweat, which was quite a feat, since there was a howling gale coming in. The door strained against the wind, making a sound like a tom cat’s yowl. She willed the wind to smash the door and pull it right off its hinges, but it remained, steadfast, blocking her and the other May Queens from the outside world.

  She was suddenly aware of a movement outside the door. Was Claire out there? Maybe she was. She had never liked thunderstorms when they were young. She used to scream and hide under her bed with her dolls. Mum would say that Gertrude had summoned the thunderstorm with her wickedness. She had always been a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Claire had been young enough to believe it, though. Maybe she still did.

  She pressed her face against the door. “Claire, I know you’re out there,” she whispered, but there was no reply.

  “Claire, is that you?” she pressed her ear against the door.

  Someone or something was definitely out there. She could hear it breathing. She hoped it was Claire and not a dog.

  “What are you doing out there?” she whispered. “Why don’t you come in so we can talk?”

  She waited a while, but there was no answer. Perhaps she had imagined it. She settled herself on the top step and closed her eyes. She was just drifting off when she heard a sneeze.

  “Claire?” she called. “Is it safe to talk?”

  There was no reply, but she gabbled on anyway. “If you’re out there, Claire. I want you to know that I still love you and I really wish you were here with me. I just want to talk to you. I thought you were dead! Don’t you even care what I went through?”

  “What you went through?” The voice was so unexpected, it made Sapphire jump. “I’m the one who was taken. You just carried on with your life. If fact, as far as I can see, your life got better. I’ve seen your tea shop. It looks pretty swish. You’ve been doing pretty nicely for yourself without me.”

  Sapphire sucked in her anger. What Claire had said was unfair and unjustified. But it was so great to hear her voice again. She had to be very careful. She didn’t want to do anything to scare her off.

  “Claire, what are we doing here?” she asked, swallowing her emotion. “What do they want with us?”

  “I saw your face in the paper. I couldn’t believe you were going to be a May Queen, after what happened to me.”

  “But you … you told them it was me?”

  “I was so surprised, I just blurted it out.”

  “I don’t get it, Claire. Why don’t you want to escape?”

  “I do,” she said. “I just don’t know how. I’m sorry I haven’t been down for a while. I’ve been locked in my room since … well, this is the first day I’ve been allowed out. But I’ve been told not to come down here. I’m not supposed to see you or talk to you.”

  Sapphire had to think fast. She knew that whatever she said next was crucial. If she played this wrong, she might not get another chance.

  “Just tell me what you know,” she begged. “What’s out there? What’s keeping us in?”

  “The doors and windows are locked at all times,” Claire said. “I’ve been allowed out on a few occasions, to … help with stuff. But never alone.”

  “How many floors are there?”

  “Three, besides this cellar. But the building is full of old machinery and some of it looks dangerous. Worse still, there are Rottweilers. They’re trained to keep us in and other people out.”

  “But they don’t go for you?”

  “They know me. I look after them, but even so, I don’t trust them one bit.”

  “There must be something, anything you can think of that might help us to escape?”

  “There is no one here at night,” she said. “It’s just us and the dogs.”

  30

  Claire had given her what she wanted and yet Sapphire’s face burned with rage.

  “Do you mean to say that we are alone here every night and you never once let us out? We could have escaped, Claire. We could be free.”

  “It’s not that simple,” came Claire’s reply. “Even if we made it out of the building, we’d have to get across the canal.”

  “I’ll swim if I have to.”

  “Then I hope you’re a better swimmer than you used to be. It looks dangerous.”

  “This is dangerous,” Sapphire said. “We haven’t had any food or water in days. You have to get us out, Claire. Give us a fighting chance. If we stay here, we have no chance.”

  She looked back into the dimness of the cellar, where the other May Queens lay huddled together. Soon they would be too weak to escape.

  “Now we need to do this carefully,” Dylan warned, as they stood outside the Dragon that evening. “We want him nicely oiled, not blazing drunk.”

  “The same goes for us,” Jock said, already beginning to doubt the plan.
“I’m not even supposed to be drinking with you, remember?”

  “But you’ll make an exception, this once?”

  “You could just drink coke.”

  “No way! It’ll look suspicious.”

  “How are we supposed to get him drunk anyway? A six pack wouldn’t even touch the sides.”

  “It’ll be easier than you think,” Dylan said. “Just because he’s big doesn’t mean he can handle his booze.”

  “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” Jock asked nervously.

  “You can never be a hundred percent sure,” Dylan said. “Are you coming inside or what?”

  Angie gave Jock a strange look as he returned from the bar with a round of drinks and set a pint in front of Dylan. Hadn’t he told her just the other day that he wouldn’t be drinking with Dylan anymore? She must think he was terribly weak. He glanced at Simon, wondering how they were going to bring the conversation round to what they wanted to talk about. He was hoping Angie would mention Sapphire, but tonight she seemed to be avoiding the subject. Perhaps she wanted a night off from her grief. He cast his eyes at Dylan, but he was drinking as if it were a competitive sport, not even bothering to tell any amusing anecdotes. Simon talked plenty, but not about anything the rest of them were really interested in. Jock had nothing against pandas, but Simon’s monologue about their battle for survival was so incredibly dull that he found himself wishing they would just become extinct already.