by Fortin, Sue
A sudden hammering at the door snapped Marcie from her thoughts. Her phone slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor. There was the unmistakable sound of the glass breaking.
Swearing, Marcie bent down and grabbed her phone, flicking it over to reveal a shattered screen. She swore some more.
The thumping on the door came again, this time accompanied by shouting.
‘Ouvrez la porte!’
It was the unmistakably sound of Yves’s voice. Asif appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Fear blazed in his eyes. He hesitated and then ran to Marcie, clinging to her tightly.
‘Mademoiselle. Please open the door.’ A different voice this time. ‘It is the police. We need to speak to you. We know you are there.’
Marcie’s heart gave a leap and immediately her thoughts turned to Will, wondering if there had been an accident. The next thought chilled her to the bone. What if it was something to do with Fatimah and Asif?
She looked down at Asif and put her finger to her lips and then walked over to the locked door.
‘What do you want?’ she called back.
Yves began ranting and Marcie could hear the policeman calming him down until eventually he was silent again.
‘Mademoiselle, I need to speak with you about the boy.’
Marcie caught her breath. Yves must have seen them or guessed that Fatimah and Asif were here. Or worse, Will and Fatimah had been caught out at the hospital. ‘What boy?’ she called back, stalling for time. A thousand thoughts whirled through her mind. There was no way she could let them come in. They might try to take Asif away.
‘The boy stole from Monsieur Bedeau. I must speak with the boy and you. Is Monsieur Grainger there, please?’
‘No. He’s in England.’
‘When will he be returning here?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Marcie trying to keep the wobble of anxiety from her voice.
‘Then I must speak with you.’
‘Come back tomorrow,’ said Marcie. ‘It’s late and I am going to bed soon.’
She knew it probably wouldn’t deter the police officer but she needed to bide some time.
‘I cannot wait until tomorrow. This is a matter of importance,’ came the reply.
‘Wait while I get dressed,’ called back Marcie. She turned to Asif, grabbed his hand and ran upstairs with him. Standing on the landing, she hesitated as she tried to think of the best hiding place. Asif wasn’t very big, he could easily hide in a small space. It couldn’t be anywhere obvious though, nowhere like a wardrobe or under the bed. If the policeman came upstairs, that would be the first place he’d look. From nowhere, she remembered the cupboard in Ben and Lisa’s en-suite. It was storage space where Lisa kept the extra linen and towels for their guests.
‘Come, quickly,’ she whispered to Asif, pushing open her brother’s bedroom door and going into the en-suite. Marcie moved the wooden towel rail to one side. The cupboard door was less than a metre high, just enough access to the crawl space. She pushed at the top corner, releasing the magnetic catch. Pulling several towels out of the cupboard she indicated for Asif to climb in.
The poor boy looked terrified. Marcie wished there was some way she could reassure him with words. Instead as he clambered in, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s okay, I promise,’ she said. She held her hand to the side of his face. ‘I promise I’ll look after you.’
She closed the door and moved the towel rail back into place, hanging the clean towels over the wooden rails to hide the cupboard.
The banging at the front door had started up again and she could hear the police officer shouting, this time with more insistence.
Hurrying, Marcie closed both the en-suite door and the bedroom door behind her, before running as light footedly as possible down the stairs.
‘I’m just getting dressed,’ she called. ‘Wait a minute.’
‘Please, Mademoiselle. Open the door. Now.’
Marcie took a deep breath and unlocked the door. In front of her was Yves, his face bright red and a deep scowl furrowed his brow. He went to bustle his way in but Marcie stood her ground, not letting go of the door, effectively blocking his path.
The police officer pushed Yves back and stepped forward. ‘Thank you,’ he said to Marcie. ‘May we come in?’
Marcie eyed the farmer. She didn’t trust him one bit. ‘You can but not him,’ she said.
The police officer spoke to Yves who protested, but ultimately had to wait outside. Marcie closed the door firmly on the disgruntled farmer as the police officer stepped in.
‘Thank you, again,’ said the policeman. ‘Who else is with you?’
‘No-one, I’m on my own,’ said Marcie.
‘Monsieur Grainger, he had a guest. A man,’ said the policeman.
‘Oh, you mean Will,’ said Marcie as she tried to think of a plausible excuse as to where he was. ‘He’s out walking somewhere.’
The police officer raised his eyebrows. ‘In the dark?’
‘Yes. He likes to photograph wildlife,’ said Marcie. ‘Foxes, badgers, owls.’ At least that part was true.
The police officer nodded, seemingly enlightened. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Monsieur Bedeau has reported a theft. He says a boy stole from him. He says the boy and his mother are with you. Is that true?’
Marcie gave a false laugh. ‘I’ve really no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said.
‘You will not mind if I look around the house,’ said the officer. It was a statement rather than a question.
Marcie swallowed a lump of fear that rose from nowhere, lodging itself in her throat. ‘No. Not at all.’ She indicated with her hand towards the living room but the police officer ignored her and headed straight for the stairs.
His booted feet clomped on the oak treads. Marcie said a silent prayer that Asif would hold his nerve and stay in his hiding place.
‘Hello!’ called the policeman as he reached the landing. ‘Hello. Are you up here?’
His footsteps were slow and purposeful as he walked across the floorboards. Marcie ran up the stairs as he began his search. He methodically opened each bedroom door and entered the room in search of his prey. Marcie watched as he looked under the beds and opened wardrobe doors.
Finally he reached Ben and Lisa’s bedroom. He pushed open the wooden door and walked in, performing his routine search. Then coming to the en-suite, he rested his hand on the latch and paused. He glanced back at Marcie.
Her heart felt like it was about to erupt out of her chest. She folded her arms and rested against the doorframe in a bid to look nonchalant.
The police officer turned back to the door and lifted the catch. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Are you in here?’ He stepped into the small bathroom and Marcie heard him swipe back the shower curtain. He tutted. She could hear his feet on the floorboards as he turned around in the bathroom. Another tut and he strode out, coming to stand in front of her.
‘I will look downstairs now,’ he said.
All Marcie could do was nod. Sweat pricked the back of her neck. She didn’t trust herself to speak as she followed the police officer downstairs.
They entered the living room and Marcie’s heart gave another slam against her chest. There were two cups on the coffee table. One with the remains of her tea and the other with orange juice. She looked at the police officer as his eyes swept the room, finally his gaze coming to rest on the coffee table.
He picked up the cup of juice. ‘You are thirsty,’ he said.
Marcie shrugged, brushing off his comment. ‘As you can see,’ said Marcie. ‘There is just me here. No-one else. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to go to bed. I’m very tired.’
The policeman looked at his watch. ‘At seven in the evening? You must be very tired indeed, Mademoiselle.’
‘As a matter of fact I am,’ said Marcie and then as an afterthought added, ‘I have a headache. J’ai mal à la tête.’
‘You speak French,’ said the policeman. ‘I am impressed
.’
‘Only what I learnt at school,’ said Marcie, edging towards the door, hoping he would take the hint.
The policeman took one last look around the room, replaced the cup on the table and followed Marcie to the door. ‘If you do see the boy and his mother, be sure to call me,’ he said. ‘In France you can get into a lot of trouble for helping people who are here illegally.’
Marcie slid the bolt back. ‘Of course,’ she said.
He policeman paused in the doorway. ‘Perhaps if your friend is out taking photographs of the wildlife, next time he should take his camera.’ He nodded at the kitchen table. Marcie followed his gaze. Will’s camera was sitting right in the middle of the table. She looked back at the policeman. ‘Goodnight, Mademoiselle.’ He tipped the front of his hat and left.
Immediately he was greeted by Yves, firing off a stream of French which Marcie didn’t need to translate to know he wasn’t happy at the police officer coming away empty handed. Their voices faded away as they left the property.
Marcie ran back upstairs and into the en-suite. She pulled the towel rail out of the way and pushed opened the cupboard door.
Asif was huddled up in the foetus position. He lifted his head and on seeing Marcie, promptly burst into tears.
‘It’s okay,’ soothed Marcie, stroking his head. She gave his arm a gentle pull. ‘Come on, Asif. Come out. It’s okay.’
She took the boy downstairs, grateful that she had taken the trouble to close the curtains earlier that evening so no one could see in. Marcie made the boy comfortable on the sofa again and in a bid to take his mind off what had just happened, she picked up her flute and played Edelweiss to him. It took a while, but eventually, his breathing calmed and his eyes grew heavy as the music lulled him into a sleep.
Marcie put the flute down. Her phone was on the side and she inspected the damage from earlier. The screen was cracked all over but the display still appeared to be working. Tapping out a message, she was just about able to read what she typing and she fired off a text to Will.
Police are looking for Asif and Fatimah. They have just been here but I hid Asif and they have gone now. We need a plan. Get thinking. x
Almost immediately she received a reply from Will.
I’m working on the plan. Stay calm. x
Marcie felt reassured they’d come up with something between them. They had to. Handing Fatimah and Asif over to the authorities wasn’t an option.
Chapter Ten
Shit. Will tapped his fingers against his phone. The police turning up was all they needed. How the hell had he let himself get dragged into all this? He was at The Retreat for some peace and quiet, not to get mixed up with a one-woman rescue mission. He immediately chided himself. It wasn’t the way to think, not if he was going to sort himself out. Marcie had been right when she said he had to reconnect with people. Disconnection certainly hadn’t worked. He also acknowledged that he was doing this as much to please Marcie as he was for himself.
He stood up and stretched. The plastic chair outside Fatimah’s room was hard and uncomfortable. As the evening was drawing in, he was beginning to get the hemmed in feeling. He desperately wanted to get outside in the open but, at the same time, he didn’t want to leave Fatimah alone. He didn’t want anyone questioning her without him there.
The nurse at the end of the corridor was sitting behind her desk. She looked up at Will and they exchanged a nod of acknowledgement. There was no-one else about and the low lighting of the corridor gave an eerie feel to the place.
Will looked in through the glass of the door to Fatimah’s room. She was sleeping well, hopefully the extra fluids and the antibiotics they had given her would soon start to take effect. Will wanted to get them both out of the hospital as quickly as possible.
He settled himself back in the plastic chair, folding his arms and tucking his chin on his chest. He closed his eyes and although he knew he wouldn’t sleep, he would at least relax and, if lucky, doze whilst still being aware of his surroundings and what was happening.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been resting there but the sound of Fatimah’s voice, albeit faint, woke him. Immediately, his mind was alert. He glanced down the corridor at the nurses’ station which was now empty.
Will slipped quietly into the room. Fatimah’s eyes opened wide as she saw him. She tried to sit up.
‘It’s okay,’ said Will. ‘Stay there.’ He went over to the bed and rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘You were very ill. I had to bring you here.’ He indicated to the drip.
Fatimah relaxed as she took in what Will was saying. ‘Asif?’ she asked.
‘He’s with Marcie at the house,’ said Will. Checking the door was firmly closed and no-one was about to disturb them, he sat down at the side of Fatimah’s bed. ‘Now, listen carefully,’ he said. ‘I told the hospital you were my wife.’
‘Wife?’ said Fatimah, she raised her eyebrows.
‘To keep you safe,’ said Will. ‘Your name is Fatimah Adams.’
Fatimah gave a laugh. ‘Fatimah Adams,’ she said as if considering the sound of it. ‘Fatimah Adams.’ She grinned at Will.
Will shrugged. ‘It’s the best I could do. Say as little as possible. We are here on holiday and you have been unwell for two days. Don’t mention Asif, Marcie or anything like that. Just pretend you can’t understand them or something. Okay?’
‘Yes,’ said Fatimah. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me yet, we’ve got to get out of this place first. Get some rest now. If you feel better tomorrow, hopefully they’ll let you leave.’
‘If not better?’ Her was face now serious.
‘We still might have to leave.’
Will left Fatimah to go back to sleep. He was relieved she seemed coherent and the fever had broken. She would still be very weak, but she seemed to be coming out the other side already.
He didn’t bother trying to doze again after that. His mind was working overtime as he went through the possibly scenarios that lay ahead. He strolled up to the far end of the corridor, checking out his surroundings and the quickest exit point. There were three other rooms, which he assumed were no different to the one Fatimah was in. As he reached the end of the corridor he noted a fire escape with an emergency push bar release system.
Will casually strolled back down the corridor to the nurses’ station which was now occupied by the nurse he had seen earlier that night.
‘Ça va?’ she said as he approached.
‘Toilet?’ said Will.
She pointed through the double doors. ‘Push button to open door. Press bell outside when you come back,’ she said in broken English, her voice heavy with her French accent.
‘Thank you,’ said Will. ‘Merci.’
Will pressed the green exit button and the click of the lock told him the door was released. Going out into the main corridor he got his bearings as to where the lifts and staircase were which led to the ground floor and the main entrance. Looking out of the window on the landing, the early morning light was just bright enough to allow him to make out where he was in relation to the car park and where he’d left the MPV the previous day.
Happy that he had the layout of this part of the hospital, Will rang the bell to be let back into the ward area. There was a security camera panel in the wall to aid identification and it was only a few seconds before a voice came over the intercom, telling him to come in.
Will nodded and smiled at the nurse as he walked down the corridor and resumed his position outside Fatimah’s room.
Marcie woke early the next morning. She hadn’t slept well at all. Every sound had startled her, bringing her back from the brink of a deep sleep. Several times she had got up and crept over to the spare room to check on Asif. He had woken up once crying. It had taken a good hour to settle him back to sleep.
Marcie got up and showered quickly before dressing and going downstairs. The kitchen flagstones were cold on her feet and she slipped on her boots which were by the back d
oor. Opening the fridge to retrieve the milk she checked what was there. Not a lot, as it happened. She had planned to do some food shopping today but without a car this wasn’t an option. There was a drop of milk left, enough for a cup of tea but certainly not for any cereal. One egg and some ham were a pitiful sight. There was a bit of French stick left over from yesterday, it wouldn’t be particularly fresh but it would have to do for Asif’s breakfast.
She contemplated going into town on one of the pushbikes in the garage but decided against it. She really didn’t want to leave Asif alone, it was too risky. By the same token, she didn’t want to take him with her either, in case someone spotted them or she bumped into the policeman.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, her phone bleeped with a text message. That was something, at least her phone was still working. It was from Will. A quick one liner to check she was okay and to say Fatimah had improved and they should be home today.
‘Thank goodness,’ said Marcie opening the back door so Poppy could go out. She screamed at the sight which greeted her.
Standing in front of her was Yves.
He grabbed her by the top of her arms, bringing his face right up close to hers. Marcie could smell his stale breath. She struggled, trying to free herself from his grip. Poppy, sensing the excitement, began barking and jumping around Yves’s feet.
‘Get off me!’ shouted Marcie. Yves shook her. He spoke in French, his voice low and menacing. It frightened her more than his shouting ever had. ‘I don’t know what you’re saying,’ she said. ‘Je ne comprends pas.’
Marcie may not have been able to understand what Yves was saying word for word, but she certainly got the message. He wasn’t going to let the matter of Asif drop.
Without any warning Yves pushed Marcie away from him, she stumbled back but managed to stay on her feet. She saw Yves’s eyes look towards the open back door. She had to stop him from getting in the property.
