The Golden Anklet

by Beverly Hansford

  She did not finish the food. Her appetite had diminished, and she was now more determined than ever to get to work on those screws. Getting them out offered the only hope of escape. It was vital now. Perhaps even her life depended on it.

  At first she was unable to hold the nail file tightly enough against the screw to even attempt to turn it. It also hurt her fingers. She thought desperately for a solution. Tearing a page out of one of the magazines, she made a small pad of paper. It worked, but it needed an excessive amount of effort and strength on her part to hold everything in place. She tried with all her might to turn the screw, but it would not budge. All that happened was that on several occasions everything slipped and her hand hit the woodwork.

  She tried again and again on both screws without success. Desperation and fear drove her on. How long she wrestled with the screws she had no idea. Almost in tears she pleaded for them to loosen. ‘Please, please turn,’ she whispered.

  Suddenly her prayer was answered. At first she thought the file had slipped out of the slot yet again, but no: there was slight movement. She tried again with all her strength and managed a good half turn. Her hopes rose. She was confident that having moved the screw so far, she could eventually get it out. All evening she persevered. The shadows were already lengthening when she heard Mel’s footsteps in the corridor. She was lying on the bed again pretending to read when Mel entered the room.

  Mel immediately pressed the light switch and plunged the room into brightness before putting down the mug of cocoa she had brought for Jane. ‘You must need a light to read,’ she remarked. She glanced at the unfinished food from her earlier visit. ‘You didn’t eat your tea,’ she said, studying Jane.

  ‘I don’t feel hungry,’ replied Jane. ‘I think I’ve got a cold or something coming on.’

  ‘I’ll get you a couple of aspirins,’ said Mel, looking at her critically.

  ‘Thank you,’ answered Jane, wondering when Mel would bring the tablets. She was desperate to get back to work on those screws. Normally she was left alone for the night after Mel brought her the mug of cocoa. Now she would have to wait to start work again.

  It seemed a long time before Mel appeared again carrying a bottle of aspirins and a glass of water. She deposited the glass and a handful of tablets on the bedside table. ‘I don’t want you to die on me,’ she remarked with a chuckle.

  Jane thanked her and with that Mel left her again.

  She waited until she heard Mel go back down the stairs, and then leapt into action. Hastily gulping down two aspirins with some water, she returned to the window. The second screw proved to be even more stubborn than the first. Again and again she tried to turn it, but each time she failed. Exhausted, she sank down onto the floor under the window, her back to the wall. She was almost in tears, all hope of escape slowly drifting away from her. On top of that her hands and fingers hurt with her efforts and she was beginning to feel rotten. Perhaps the aspirins would help. She hoped so.

  She could hear a television somewhere below the window, and once she heard the dog bark from somewhere in the same direction. It was now completely dark outside. Eventually she got up from the floor. She had to have just one more attempt.

  Once again she fitted the nail file into the slot in the head of the screw and pushed with all her might. Nothing happened. She tried again and the file slipped, causing her knuckles to hit the woodwork. In desperation she continued the task, and after a while the screw began to move. Encouraged, she laboured on.

  It took her a long time to loosen the screw completely. On each turn it appeared to hit a tight spot and it required extra effort on her part to continue. All the time there was the danger of the nail file slipping or the slot in the screw becoming worn. Slowly she worked away. She guessed it must have taken her almost an hour to completely extract the screw, but eventually she was able to turn it with her fingers. Excitement was welling up inside her when she at long last held it in her hand. She returned to the first screw, which came out comparatively easy.

  Her heart was thumping. Now to open the window, she thought. At first it would not budge, but then slowly she managed to ease it upwards about a foot. She peered out. The first thing that struck her was the cool breeze. For three days she had been cooped up in that small, stuffy room. Now it was a pleasure to breathe the fresh, clean air. She tried to take in her surroundings. The window was right above the peaked roof of some sort of outhouse or extension to the main building. Below and to her left there appeared to be a yard illuminated by the light from a window. She could still hear the sound of the television. She guessed the dog must be somewhere in or close to the yard. That could be a problem: one sound, and it would bark. First she had to get the window open a bit more so that she could get out onto the roof and somehow reach the ground. It stuck, and it required great effort on her part to force it open far enough for her to crawl through. As she pushed the window up it gave a pronounced squeak. She froze. Would the dog bark? To her relief no sound came.

  She knew she had to be quick. Desperately looking round the room, she grabbed the pair of shoes Mel had given her and with them in one hand she squeezed through the window onto the slate roof. She had already selected an escape route. She would climb down the roof on the opposite side to the yard, and when she reached the edge she would hopefully manage to get to the ground. There was a pipe that might help her descent.

  As she turned to make her way down the roof, disaster struck. One of the shoes slipped from her grasp. She watched in horror as it catapulted down the roof towards the yard. It reached the edge of the roof and then hurtled over the edge. She heard a splash as it landed in some water. Immediately the dog started to bark. Panic overtook her. In desperation she slid down the roof, still clutching the other shoe. She reached the edge and dangled over, clutching the pipe for support as she eased herself downwards, pressing against it to slow her descent.

  It seemed a long way down, and as she edged her way she felt the pipe start to come loose. Frantically she fought to reach safety, and just as her foot touched the ground the pipe gave way completely and crashed down, just missing her. She was not so lucky with the gutter, which caught her shoulder with a glancing blow as it fell, knocking her to the ground. The noise stirred the dog into furious action, and it started to bark frantically. There were sounds of movement in the house. Jane heard a door open and a shout. She knew instantly that her absence was about to be discovered. Picking herself up, she was overtaken by panic. She found herself running over soft ground, perhaps a garden; she spied a gate and ran towards it. There was more shouting in the house. Somebody was in the room she had occupied. Any minute now they would be after her.

  The gate led directly onto a road. Jane gave no thought to which way to go, but just turned and ran as hard as she could, propelled by one simple thought: escape. The sharp gravel of the road surface was painful to her bare feet, but she hardly noticed, such was her panic. There were sounds of more activity from the house. To her horror she heard a car door slam and a motor starting. She guessed it would be Carl. She knew now she was being pursued. She looked frantically for somewhere to hide, but there was a hedge on either side of the road. On top of that everything was partly illuminated by moonlight. She heard the car pull out onto the road, and to her relief it turned to move off in the opposite direction. Still running, she heard it recede in the distance.

  Her relief was short-lived. It was only a short time before she heard the car again. She was sure it must be Carl, who, not finding her on the other section of road, had now turned round and was coming in her direction. The car engine was getting louder by the second. She looked frantically for somewhere to leave the road. Luck was on her side: a field entrance came into view. Panic-stricken at the sound of the approaching vehicle, she climbed over the gate, conscious that the top of it was armed with barbed wire, which pierced her hands. She hardly felt it. In her haste she almost fell off the gate onto the ground on the other side. She searched desperately for som
ewhere to hide. It was a large field with no cover. Her heart thumping, she crouched in a ditch close to the gate. In order to be less conspicuous, she stretched out full length. The ditch was wet and muddy. To her dismay she heard the car stop alongside the gate. Somebody got out. The next instant the field was flooded with a powerful light, moving from side to side, searching. She waited, her heart in her mouth, expecting her hiding place to be revealed at any moment.

  It did not happen. Carl spent a good two minutes shining his light over every inch of the field, but he missed Jane lying in the ditch. Then the light went out and Jane heard the car door slam. The next second, the car moved off slowly down the road.

  Jane climbed out of the ditch and started to run across the field away from the gate and the road. The surface was rough and uneven and at one point she felt a stab of pain in the sole of her foot as she trod on something sharp, but she dared not stop, exposed as she was in the middle of the field. As she ran, a cloud started to move in front of the moon. She was thankful. Darkness might assist her concealment; the only downside was trying to see in the gloom.

  By the time she reached the edge of the field, Jane was completely out of breath. She tried to recover as she walked slowly along the hedge trying to find a way out. She reasoned that she must eventually reach a house or a farm where she could get help. She eventually found a wide gap in the hedge and went through it. Now she seemed to be walking over marshy ground. Several times she splashed into water and mud. On one occasion her feet sank into soft mud well above her ankles. This produced a new fear in her. Didn’t swamps swallow people up rather like quicksand? She was sure she had heard that somewhere. Fortunately the marshy terrain ended and she found herself walking on firmer ground again.

  How long she walked was uncertain. She guessed perhaps an hour or more. Somewhere close by she could hear the sound of sheep calling each other, and from time to time a fluffy shape would scurry out of her way. The terrain was scattered with huge boulders, which she had to avoid occasionally. It was darker still now, and the sky was completely covered with clouds. Suddenly she saw a building start to take shape out of the gloom. Her hopes rose. It could be a farmhouse. Just as she spied it the first drops of rain started to fall, slowly at first and then settling into a steady downpour. She hurried towards the building.

  It turned out to be a small cottage with several outbuildings. Jane hurried through a broken gate and spied a door. She lost no time in hammering at it with both hands. Everything was in darkness and she guessed the occupants had long since gone to bed. She had no idea of the time but she supposed it must be long past midnight. No answer came. She knocked again and waited. Still nothing. Then she saw something she had not noticed in her earlier relief at finding habitation. The windows were boarded up.

  Despair seeped into her. She wandered round the cottage and onto a single-track road. It was raining heavily now and she was sopping wet. Desperation made her start to walk down the road. If a car came she would try to stop it and pray that it wasn’t Carl. Or she might find a house that was inhabited.

  She walked on, the rain running down her face. After only a few minutes she spied the outline of another building. She hurried towards it. As she came closer she realised in disappointment that it was a barn, standing a little distance off the road. It turned out to be quite large, with a wide, open doorway. She peered inside. In the gloom she discovered that it was full of straw and hay. The dry interior was inviting. Jane staggered in. She was exhausted as well as being soaked to the skin. She was now feeling the full effects of the cold or whatever it was. She would just rest for ten minutes and then she would continue walking. She sank gratefully onto the straw. She noticed that she was still clutching one shoe. She discarded it on the straw beside her. As she lay there listening to the rain steadily pouring down outside, the weariness enveloped her. Just for a second she let her eyes close…

  It was the sound of a voice that woke her. Alarmed, she sat up. It was broad daylight, and Carl was standing in the doorway of the barn looking at her.

  Chapter 44

  For a split second they stared at each other, and then both sprang into action. Jane was already on her feet when Carl lunged at her. A scream burst from her lips as he attempted to grab her.

  ‘You bitch!’ he shouted.

  She evaded his grasping hand and bolted for the door of the barn.

  In a flash he was upon her. She fell to the ground with an impact that almost winded her. Even so, she struggled to her knees and attempted to escape from him.

  He grabbed her ankle as she crawled away, but he slipped on the floor and she managed to evade him. But he recovered quickly. He grabbed her with both hands.

  Jane found herself shrieking, ‘No, no, no!’

  ‘Shut up!’ he snarled. His order was accompanied by a blow to the side of her face, followed by a second, which made her lose her balance and crash heavily to the floor.

  The next instant he was forcing her face down on the rough floor of the barn. She felt the weight of his body pressing down on her, and then her arms were roughly pulled behind her back. He tied her hands tightly with something as she struggled.

  Jane found herself shouting at the top of her voice in a frantic attempt to summon outside intervention. ‘HELP! PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP ME!’

  Her efforts infuriated Carl. ‘Shut your mouth,’ he threatened.

  Another ‘HELP’ escaped from Jane’s lips.

  ‘I’ll shut it for you then,’ growled Carl.

  He grasped her hair from behind, yanking her head back as he forced something into her mouth to stop her cries. The next second he was tying a cord round her ankles.

  Jane lay there shaking. If only somebody had heard her screams… She heard Carl get up and leave the barn. The next minute there was the sound of a vehicle reversing up to the barn door and stopping. Hearing Carl approaching her again, she made frenzied whimpering sounds, all she could muster, gagged as she was. The next instant he picked her up as if she were a sack of potatoes and slung her over his shoulder. He carried her to the door of the barn, where she caught a glimpse of open van doors before he deposited her none too gently on the floor of the vehicle and slammed the doors shut. She heard the driver’s door close and the van began to move off.

  Unable to move, Jane was jerked and bumped every second of the ten-minute journey. Not only did she feel utterly defeated, but she was also angry with herself for falling asleep. She guessed it was still quite early in the day, but if she hadn’t allowed sleep to overtake her she might have been somewhere safe now. Instead, she was once again in the hands of her captors. She knew they would keep a close eye on her, and today they had something else planned for her. She lay there feeling every jolt of the vehicle, an occasional whimper escaping from her, the only bit of comfort she could muster.

  She felt the van make a turn and draw to a halt, and then Carl call out, ‘I’ve got her.’

  The next moment the van doors were opened, and Carl stood leering down at her. He grabbed her and pulled her roughly out of the van. Somehow she found herself standing up. She was conscious of Mel, grim-faced, standing close by, and she realised that she was back at the farmhouse where she had been a prisoner most of the week.

  ‘Welcome home, darling,’ smirked Carl.

  Jane said nothing. She stood, her eyes cast down, thoroughly beaten.

  Mel bent down and started to untie the cord around Jane’s ankles. ‘Where did you find her?’ she asked Carl.

  ‘In Johnson’s barn. She’d been kipping in there.’

  Mel took Jane’s arm and led her into the house. Carl followed, grinning. They took her up the stairs again and back into the room she had occupied previously. Jane noticed that the window was now closed, but the screws and the nail file were still lying on the windowsill where she had left them. Mel pushed her down onto the bed.

  Jane made frantic sounds to have the gag removed, but she was ignored.

  ‘Leave her like that,’
growled Carl. ‘She’s had me up all night searching for her.’

  Mel made no comment and she and Carl left the room, leaving Jane lying where she was. Once again, there was the sound of the door being locked.

  Jane was face down on the bed. Her wrists hurt. The gag tasted awful, and she was beginning to feel ill again. On top of that her right foot was smarting. She remembered the sharp pain she had felt while she was crossing the field in the dark. A mass of complete misery, perhaps to comfort herself she found herself uttering low whimpers from time to time.

  How long it was before Mel returned she had no idea. This time she remained silent when Mel appeared. She heard her put something down and then she was gently turned over.

  Mel removed the gag from Jane’s mouth and looked down at her. ‘You little fool, trying to escape. You got Carl mad. He’s dangerous when he’s like that.’

  Her remark stirred the little bit of defiance left in Jane. ‘What do you expect me to do? There was an opportunity and I took it. I’m being held against my will.’

  Mel made no reply. She started to untie Jane’s wrists. She struggled with Carl’s knots and in the end had to go downstairs to fetch a knife.

  When she returned she also carried the handcuffs. ‘You’ll have to wear these,’ she said coldly.

  Even that was a relief. Carl had tied Jane’s hands so tightly that she had begun to lose feeling in them. She held them out obediently for Mel to secure them. There were more angry red marks on her wrists. Her ankles also showed similar signs of her ordeal.

  ‘I’ll fetch you something to put on them,’ said Mel, seeing her trying to rub the affected areas.

  Jane murmured a thank you. But she had a more pressing need. ‘Can I have a bath?’ she asked miserably. ‘I’m filthy all over.’