She liked him and would put herself in his hands. He was so different from all the other men she had ever met. Rough and slightly scary but with kindness deep in his eyes and she sensed a gentleness about him at odds with the tough exterior. She hadn’t been alone with many men apart from George; he hadn’t allowed it and she felt like a giddy girl now, alone with a strange and dangerous male. It was exciting.
She was looking forward to making him a meal. It would be fun to root around in the kitchen cupboards and the fridge to find what they might have been provided with. She supposed eggs; there were always eggs. The holiday cottage welcome pack had eggs, cheese and milk. How long ago that seemed now with all the horror that had come since the first magic night by the coast.
“Pete?” She made her way through to the kitchen and then back down the hallway into the lounge. “Pete?”
He must be still outside checking the shed.
She pulled open kitchen cupboards. They were simply equipped, again like a holiday place. It was all so temporary and here and there scuffs on the walls and scratches on the paintwork witnessed the passing of other tenants, mysteries; as she supposed their brief stay would be to whoever came here next. Unseen, but with a little of their spirit left behind in the fabric of the place.
There were indeed eggs in the fridge and bacon, a pack of ham and some salad. If he liked omelettes then maybe... She gave a tiny snort of laughter. Again her life was reduced to a film or a television drama; the ubiquitous omelette. There was no wine, she was disappointed. To complete the set there should be cheap wine or at least a quarter bottle of whisky.
“Pete?” She had pushed open the back door. How long did it take to check on a shed?
It was at the end of the garden, beneath a brick wall. A small flagged path dissected the neat lawn. There were no flower borders but a couple of shrubs broke up the monotony of the little space. “Pete?”
The little quiver of fear was so small at first that she called it hunger. “Pete, are you there?”
Perhaps she shouldn’t be out here calling in the open. She didn’t want him to be angry with her and this probably wasn’t sensible. She stepped back inside and pulled the door closed. Crossing to the window she peered out into the garden. There was no sign of him.
In the lounge she stood behind the heavy drapes to squint out through old fashioned net curtains to where the car sat at the curb. He wasn’t there. Her throat had dried and the quiver of nerves shuddered through her gut.
As her feet thudded on the carpeted stairs she remembered his grin as she had pushed past him such a short while ago, “Come out, come out,” she had said. Had they? Had they come out while she was in the shower?
On the landing she paused to listen; perhaps he was in the master bathroom. There was no sound of running water and then the click of a handle turning echoed through the house.
She ran into her chosen room at the back and stared out. Now at the end of the grassed and paved garden she could see the shed clearly. She could see the door as it swung on shining metal hinges. She could see Pete, and she could see the man beside him and the glint of dark metal in his hand and she heard the fall of feet on the stairs.
Chapter 41
She glanced around. The wardrobe door stood open. Should she climb inside? It was empty and the very thought was ridiculous. The curtains were short offering no chance of concealment. The room was so simple and sparse that there was nowhere to hide.
The stairs creaked and she scurried back to glance through the window. Pete was at the end of the little path. He and the man with him were staring at the house. Pete shook his head, he lifted his hands and gestured. There was tension in every line of his body.
She had to hide.
She had to help him.
Now there was movement on the landing. A small tin of deodorant stood on the dresser. She grabbed it and snapped off the plastic cap.
She chose the bed, the hiding place of frightened children. As she slithered underneath, the door to the room next door slammed back against the wall.
Even with the covers dragged down as far down as they would come it was hopeless. Like a creature in the jungle she had fallen into a trap. No way out. Nowhere to go. She lowered her head to her hands, closed her eyes. Her stomach clenched in fear.
The booted feet and lower legs were visible now in the glow from the window on the half landing. Pauline tried to remember what she had left in the room. Was it obvious that she had been there? Well, of course it was. There was a damp towel, a steamy bathroom filled with the scent of shampoo and body spray. There might as well have been a great arrow pointing to her hiding place. It was all over. This was the end and Pete wasn’t here. She really would have liked to be with him now. To face this horror alone seemed an unduly harsh twist of fate but then had she not been alone for twenty years?
The intruder didn’t call out. Feet paused briefly before the wardrobe and the door swung open. Next was the bathroom and the overwhelming evidence of her occupation and then it was time. The black boots were inches away from her face. They flexed and bent. She held the small can in front of her.
There was a small change in his breathing as he leaned down. The bedcovers twitched and the light changed as he flicked the pink duvet back and away from her space.
Without a moment for thought she acted. Her finger jabbed down hard on the plastic button and she straightened her arm aiming directly at his eyes. As the spray hit him he yelled out, harsh and piercing. Shock and pain combined to send him back onto his behind. She slithered out and across the carpet. He was a huge man but temporarily incapacitated.
The sharp, but brief pain wasn’t going to hold him; she knew that. He had thrown one arm out to balance while the other was across his eyes. She stamped down hard on his flexed fingers and was rewarded by another yell. The sickening crack as small bones fractured was followed by a more piercing scream. She stomped again and as the figure on the floor rolled away from the source of his agony she leaped across him and made for the door.
He was swearing now and pushing to his feet. She ran from the room, slamming the door behind her. It wouldn’t hold him for long but it would give her an extra moment. Her feet flew across the landing and down the stairs. The thud of the door hitting the bedroom wall and the roar of anger told her she had moments only to unlock the bank of bolts that Pete had fastened so securely a couple of hours ago. She wouldn’t make it, there was no chance. Already he was across the small space at the top of the stairs. There were bolts and chains and dead locks requiring screw keys. It was impossible.
Spinning through one hundred and eighty degrees she kept her eyes down. If she looked up and saw him then it was possible that fear would overwhelm her. The hallway was narrow and short, in moments she was in the kitchen.
At last a small piece of luck, he had left the garden door open. She was through it and turning instinctively towards the road. Pete and his captor were at the bottom of the back garden so she must go to the front and away. A tall wooden gate closed off the access and she ran at it. Grabbing out at the metal handle she dragged and pushed but it was secure. A wheelie bin stood beside the wall and she clambered onto the wobbling top. As a security breech someone’s head should roll but for now it was a life saver. In just moments she’d dropped to the paved path at the side of the house. Adrenaline and muscles made strong by her outdoor life carried her forward.
The little car was yards away. He would have locked it surely? She hurried to it and snatched at the passenger door handle. Unbelievably he had left it unlocked, perhaps for just such a situation, perhaps in the rush to stop her stretching and bending as they had been visible on the pavement earlier; but for whatever reason it was open.
Leaning in she popped the little door of the glove compartment and thrust her hand to the back where she knew she would find the tiny tag of cotton. She took a deep breath as his words echoed in her mind. You’ll have to do it slowly; if not it’ll twist and that’s a bugger.
/> “Slowly, slowly,” she muttered under her breath, “slowly.” It moved and began to slide towards her. “Slowly.” As soon as there was space she pushed her hand into the dark recess and grabbed the pistol hidden there. She had no idea whether it was loaded and didn’t know how to fire something she had always been afraid of. She supposed there would be a safety catch but had no idea what that was or how to release it but she grabbed at the handle and dragged the thing into the light. The gate at the side of the house began to swing backwards.
She ran back up the path, the gun heavy in her hand. She peered down at it as she hurried forward and wrapped her hand around the metal handle. Her finger curled naturally on the trigger.
He was stood before her now, cradling his damaged hand. Time stilled, there was no sound in this world where she stood, armed and facing a man whose only aim was to hurt her. The thundering in her chest and the sound of her breathing was all there was in this pivotal moment. She had killed already to protect herself; didn’t they always say the second time was easier?
Chapter 42
With both arms stretched straight in front brandishing the weapon Pauline stepped forward. The thug hadn’t moved. His eyes were unsure but his stance was confrontational. He wasn’t going to run, but for now just sized up the situation. Measuring the threat and weighing his options.
She moved again, another two steps. He held his injured limb across his chest but raised the other hand palm towards her. “Come on love. You don’t want to be waving that about. Just put it down. You know you don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Go back, just go back. Down the garden. You have to let us go.”
“Look love, you’ve got yourself mixed up in some nasty stuff here but we know you didn’t mean to. We know you got drawn in. We won’t hurt you. Give us the memory stick and whatever else you still have and that’ll be that. Don’t worry about Pete, that’s another issue and nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t have it. I never had any of it.”
“Yeah, so you say. Well sorry love but that won’t wash. You just need to hand it over and you can be on your way. We don’t need to have any more trouble. If you decide to be difficult, well...” He shrugged. Pauline jerked the hand holding the little gun and in response he waved his arm. “Steady now, take care with that.” She was very frightened but her instinct to run was hampered by the knowledge that Pete was at the bottom of the garden and if she left him surely he would come to harm.
She didn’t know how to help him, not really. The only thing now was to go to where he was and to take him the weapon. To do the other thing, to turn and run, leaving him to his fate was unthinkable. First though there was this other person to deal with.
She strode forward now with greater purpose. “Move down the garden.” He frowned and shook his head but took a small step backwards.
The crack of a firearm discharging fractured the drowsy quiet of the suburban street.
“Christ!” The thug turned towards the source of the sound behind him, down the garden beside the shed. As he swivelled Pauline hurled herself the last few steps and barrelled into him knocking him sideways.
Injured as he was he tried to reach out but she scuttled past and ran to where she had last seen Pete. He was heading towards her across the grass, waving his arm, gesturing to her to turn and make for the gate but the way was barred by the other man.
Pete was beside her now and together they ran towards the gate. He reached across and grabbed the pistol, pushing her backwards so that he was between her and the gateway. Moments later the sound of a second shot rang out. The thug at the gate ducked and dived back inside the open door of the kitchen. They pushed forward, down the path and into the car. In moments they were speeding through the narrow street as the sound of police sirens grew in the distance.
“Shit, shit! Well that’s it; we are now well and truly buggered!” Terror had stolen her voice and all Pauline could do was stare at him as he thumped a hand in fury against the steering wheel.
“Right. What the hell do I do now?” Surely he didn’t expect any answer. She was shocked and confused, her world spinning out of control. Nothing made sense, her brain was refusing to process the information it was receiving. One hand hung on to the door handle and the other braced against the seat to steady herself as Pete threw the car around the corners, heading back to the motorway.
“Is he dead?”
“What?”
“The man at the end of the garden. Did you kill him?”
“No, no. We fought and I fired at him but I didn’t hit him. Just scared him shitless.”
“I’m glad.”
“Yeah, so am I. You have no idea the bother it causes.” He gave a short laugh.
“So, where are we going?”
“Any idea would be welcome at this point.” She drew in a sharp breath and Pete glanced across the narrow space. “No, no don’t worry. I’m kidding. It’s fine. We need to go to another place I know. It’s fine, just keep calm. Hey, you did really well back there. I don’t think I would have got away if you hadn’t had the gun and kept Skip busy.”
“Skip?”
“Yeah, that big gorilla. Can you believe it? Skip.”
By this time they had reached the slip road for the motorway and joined the stream of traffic. It felt safer to be here travelling to anywhere away from that ill-fated house and as the tumultuous day wound towards its close she found herself once again swept by the tide of fate with no option but to go with the flow.
Chapter 43
They headed north. Pauline recognised names on the road signs and the scenery became more familiar. Most of the time she sat silently, her mind reeling, thoughts scuttering back and forth. When she mentally relived the past day it was hard to convince herself it had really happened. There had been gun fire, hulking thugs and a desperate escape. More drama heaped on the turmoil since her flight from the Dales. It was as if she had passed through a curtain into another reality yet here she was, real and whole, sitting in a warm car hurtling along the motorway.
Pete spent the first part of the drive flipping his gaze frequently to the rear view mirror. Now and then he would change lanes and tuck in between the many great trucks and then after a while they would speed up again. At first this all seemed random and edgy until she realised that he was watching the traffic and allowing suspect cars from behind them to pull in front and roar away. It scared her, it quietened the obvious questions that she wanted to ask. She didn’t want to draw his attention to herself and break his concentration.
Now though, nearing the Midlands, he had visibly relaxed. His shoulders drooped a little and the flick of his eyes to the mirror became more natural.
“Are we okay now?”
“Yeah. I think so. If there is anyone following us they are being very discreet and the crowd that we are dealing with don’t do discreet.”
“Do you know where we’re going? Well, what I mean is do you have a destination in mind?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you what, there’s a service area up ahead. Shall we go and have a cup of coffee, a bite to eat and I’ll bring you up to scratch. God, you must be so confused. I’m sorry if I’ve scared you. You have been amazing you know. Most people would have fallen apart or caused a fuss. I’m very impressed.”
His words wrapped her in a warm glow. She was glad of the need for him to concentrate on the road because, try as she might to quell it, a grin spread across her face. It had been so long since anyone had paid her a compliment and she had forgotten how wonderful it felt to earn approval.
“Well, I haven’t had a lot of choice have I.” She attempted to cover her pleasure with flippancy and was rewarded by a chuckle from the other side of the car.
“I guess not. Anyway, here we are, just about half a mile to go and then we can have a chat.”
The services were huge and busy. As they pushed through the rotating door they were assaulted by the smell of burgers, chips and coffee and the noise of hundreds of
travellers milling and pushing about in the brightly lit space.
“I need the ladies.”
“Yeah, me too. Well, no – I mean.” They began to giggle and as they made their way through the busy crowd the shared humour bound them, made them into a unit. Pauline was reminded again of how empty and lonely her life had become while she had been with George. Unexpectedly anger welled towards her husband and his theft of so much of her life. She pushed it away for it was of no use to her now, but no matter what happened from now on she was never going to give herself away again.
They bought coffee and sandwiches and found a table in a corner near the window and with a clear view of the doors. The coffee was hot and strong and as she sipped it the last little worm of worry began to uncoil and disappear. The tall, bulky man sitting opposite to her wasn’t exactly handsome, but he was imposing, with a charisma that drew glances from passing women. Pauline basked in the silly little glow of pride that came from being with a man who other women admired. If only. The thought brought with it a sweep of sadness because of course this wasn’t real, none of it was based on truth and tears sprung into her eyes with the knowledge that it wouldn’t last. This precious experience would be swept away with the return of normality. She sighed and he leaned towards her, stretching out a hand to touch hers where it curled around the warm cup.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded and dredged up a smile. “I’m fine.” Pete nodded and looked down at the table for a moment. He collected his thoughts and then looked back at her. His eyes were serious but clear and honest and she steeled herself for what was to come.
“Well, put simply, I think we are safe at the moment. I don’t know what happened back at the house though it does prove that there is a leak somewhere in the group I’m working with. I find that hard to accept but there can’t be any doubt now. It means that we have to look out for ourselves. I am heading for a place that is just mine. It’s nothing to do with the job and nobody I work with knows about it. I’m not supposed to have it but…” he shrugged and grinned at her. “Is that okay?”
Leaving George Page 13
