by V Clifford
‘Hi, Brian, come in.’
‘No, you’re all right. I just wanted to check that you were still here. And I see Moll’s lookin’ much better.’ He scratched the dog’s ears, as she nuzzled into his legs.
Viv felt a wave of something like guilt about her and her family muscling in on Sal’s territory. She hadn’t heard back from her so she didn’t know if Sal was up to speed about what was going on back home. ‘I’ve emailed Sal. She knows that we’re all here.’ She didn’t know, but the lie fell lightly from her lips.
‘Aye, she’ll no mind. If you need me to do anything with Moll just geez a shout.’ After kneeling to pet Moll he turned and went back to his pickup, which he had to reverse all the way down the drive since Viv and Mand’s cars took up the whole width. Moll stood panting as he drove out of sight. Viv ruffled her ears. ‘It’s okay babe, you’ve got us. All females together.’
Clearly the dog understood the sentiment of her gesture because she trotted inside with Viv and settled into her basket. Viv hadn’t noticed her mum standing at the Aga stirring a pot.
‘Morning! What are you up to?’
‘I thought I’d make porridge for the troops. If we’re going to run up hills we’ll need sustenance.’
Viv shook her head, ‘You are kidding about us all going up the hill?’
Her mum frowned, ‘Why would I kid about that?’
‘Because you’re in your . . .’ The look her mum shot her was enough to stop her finishing her sentence.
‘You weren’t about to be ageist, were you?’
‘No. No. I’ll just go and get changed into my gear.’
‘Wait! Actually I have something else to do this morning so I won’t join you on the hill, but I’ll be at the finishing line when you reach it.’
Viv was wary. ‘Okay, so do we get to know what you’re planning instead?’
‘I’m going to church.’
Viv shook her head. She could see that her mum was hoping for a reaction. ‘So what’s made you find God all of a sudden?’
‘Oh, I haven’t, but it’s a good place to catch up with old friends.’
Viv shook her head. ‘Mum, what the hell are you up to?’
‘I told you, nothing that I can’t handle myself.’
‘But you didn’t handle Mand and James being followed, so it’s obvious that you can’t do it alone. Whatever it is you need help.’
‘Okay. I didn’t think they would take action so quickly.’
‘Right! Enough with the “I’m a heroine” shit. We are all involved now. Who was the man in the photographs and is there any chance that he could still be alive?’
Her mum hurled round. ‘No, there’s no way he’s alive and that’s likely to be the problem, well part of it.’
‘Great, so we’re getting somewhere. And the other parts of the problem?’
She noticed the moment when her mother decided not to say anything more. ‘Go and get Amanda. She’ll need to eat if she’s going to run.’
Viv ran her hands over her face and up into her hair, which she could have ripped out with frustration.
She took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Mand’s door. It was difficult not to smile on hearing James giggling on the other side.
Mand said, ‘Come on in. We’re having fun getting dressed. James doesn’t want to wear this.’ She held up a sweater with one or other superhero on it. ‘I only brought a couple of jerseys so he’ll have to wear it sometime. Meantime he wants this one on.’ Mand lifted him up and turned him round to show his lilac sweater with unicorns on it.
‘Look at you, Jamesie. What a great jersey! I wish I had one.’
Mand raised her eyebrows. ‘Thanks!’ Sarcasm was her strong suit.
‘You know that mum was planning on doing the run? Well, seems she’s got something else on.’
‘Really? We’ve already had Moll out for a walk. James is an early riser, as is mum, and she said she was going to give it a go.’
‘Well, no need to worry since she’s changed her mind.’
‘For goodness sake, Viv, she’s an adult. Whatever she wants to do we can’t stop her. If you keep making a fuss it will only make her more determined. So chill and let’s go and get some porridge. Remember she used to say it would stick to our ribs and make us strong.’
Viv recalled another event that involved porridge but she said, ‘I’ll get my kit on.’
We think we know our families and they think they know us, but we don’t and they don’t. People have selected highlights from the years that they were under the same roof; nothing more. Most of our adult lives are spent away from our families, and what we hang onto is the early stuff, not the continually-becoming-someone-different stuff. Viv had made her mind up about Mand long ago, and was now getting the sense that she was off the mark. She’d never have believed that Mand, with her immaculate hair, manicured nails and glamour regime, would enjoy the outdoors.. As for their mum, WTF? She’d boxed her mum up as if she was on a downhill spiral and was wrong about that too.
The porridge smelled amazing, unlike it should. ‘This is delicious, mum. What have you done to it?’
‘Sal had a tin of Carnation milk and molasses in the cupboard. I thought that’ll put hairs on their chests.’
Viv spluttered her porridge out and Mand ran for a piece of kitchen roll for her and to wipe up the mess she’d fired off her own spoon. The notion that the three of them would aspire to having hairs on their chests was too much for that time of the day. Their mum seemed to have grown in confidence. Had they infantilised her, tucking her away in the Pound? After all it wasn’t regarded as God’s waiting room for nothing. Looking at the woman standing by the Aga now, erect and strong-limbed, how could they have thought the Pound was a good thing?
James was enjoying his porridge and looked a picture of delight in his unicorn jumper.
Mand spotted her sister staring at James. ‘He’s a determined wee thing.’
‘Not a bad thing. Besides, you must have packed the jumper in the first place.’
‘You think. We’d never get out of the house without it. It’s one of his security blankets. I made sure there was more than one.’
The difficulties of only having one security blanket wouldn’t have occurred to Viv. But what a smart move to have multiples. She’d seen pleas on social media for the return of a favourite this or that bunny, dog, teddy and imagined the chaos of the household until it was returned.
Once they’d had breakfast their mum returned to her room and Viv in a lowered tone said, ‘I think you should follow her to church and see what she’s up to. I’m guessing she’s meeting someone.’
‘Why me? I thought I’d give the run a try.’
‘Well, how about we both follow her to church and once she’s in we can head off to the run. It shouldn’t take long to do 5K.’
Mand’s face was a picture. ‘I haven’t run for ages. I’ll probably end up walking it.’
‘That’s all right as long as one of us is there to meet her coming out of church. We’ll have just under an hour. She said she’d be at the finish line but she can’t be. Even she wouldn’t have the balls to walk out of a service before it finished.’
‘I’m not so sure. Did you notice how confident she seemed at breakfast?’
Viv nodded. ‘I sure did. Whatever she’s on I’d love some.’
‘Me too.’
‘We’d better get a move on if we’re to be ready as soon as she comes down.’
Mand held up a large rucksack. ‘This is what we need.’
‘Wow. We’ll only be away for a couple of hours at most.’
‘Every eventuality.’
They heard the door of the bedroom upstairs close and Mand put her thumbs up. ‘Game on!’
Viv laughed, ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you!’
‘Better than sitting at home with Thomas the Tank or a box set.’
Viv hadn’t really thought about the rhythm of Mand’s life. More often than
not they just rubbed each other up the wrong way.
They decided to walk into the village and were surprised to see signs for the ‘Fun Run’ as soon as they reached the main street. There was no one around so however well advertised it had been it wasn’t going to be busy.
‘I think we must be early,’ Mand said as she pushed James in a buggy capable of an Everest ascent. Baby and toddler acquisitions could be quite good fun if it included kit like that. They walked past the Catholic Church whose car park was full and continued along the main street.
Half way along their mum stopped and pointed. ‘You guys go that way. Follow the arrows. I’ll see you at the end.’
Viv said, ‘I thought we might be finished before the service so we’ll come and meet you.’
Alarm briefly flitted over their mum’s face, but she said, ‘Sure. You’re probably right.’
‘Which church are you going to?’
‘Ah, good question. It’s the Piscie at the end of the village. Take a left at the cross.’
How did she know this? As far as Viv knew she’d never been to Doune. But after the last couple of days, what could she believe about her mum’s past?
They parted company and Viv shooed Mand towards the street their mum had pointed to. ‘You head on up and I’ll follow her. If she does actually go to church I’ll be back with you in a few minutes.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge . . .’
She hesitated for a moment, but then complied, so Viv retraced her steps and caught up with Mand in the park where tents and stalls had been erected for registration and a crèche. There were dozens of people milling about shaking out their limbs, checking their Fitbits or sorting their vests. James began to girn as he was taken into the crèche. Viv scanned the pitch and spotted Mac chatting to an official. There were serious athletes as well as locals, who’d obviously joined up for fun since they were in costumes of various superheroes and heroines.
She turned to Mand. ‘God only knows what mum’s up to. As you say she’s an adult. But she’s not as young as she was, even if she can beat us at push-ups.’
Mac called, ‘Viv’ and waved them over. He shook Mand’s hand. ‘Hi, we probably last met in the street when we were kids.’ He handed them vests. ‘I’ve registered your names. Where’s your mum?’
‘Change of plan. She’s found God this morning.’
Mac raised his eyebrows. ‘Old school.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Meetings in churches. Churches were known as the office because they were so often used as drop points.’
Viv shook her head, ‘She’s not exactly Mata frickin’ Hari.’
‘Don’t you believe it. C’mon, we’re almost off. Pretend you’re doing some stretches or they won’t let you run. We’re only in for the 5K. Walk in the park.’ He winked, did a perfect salute to the sun and touched his toes effortlessly. Viv concentrated on her hamstrings. Mand copied them both.
The elite runners lined up at the front and the gun went off. It was a slow start because of a narrow funnel before the track opened onto a rough, hard, uneven surface. It was turning into a beautiful bright morning and the air was crisp and fresh. With their breath visible ahead of them they started up a steep incline at a gentle trot chatting effortlessly as they went. There was a dense wood to the left, and open views down to the village on their right. At the quarter way post Mac upped his pace. He and Mand, both competitive, took off but Viv wanted to save herself for a sprint finish. She was trailing behind by about 30 metres when another runner came from behind and pushed her. She flew forward onto the ground. ‘Ouch! What the fu . . .?’ His foot stamped on her calf. ‘You bastard!’
The attacker ran on the spot, waving a few runners past. As soon as they were alone he offered Viv a hand to pull her up. She brushed it away. ‘Fuck off. What do you think you’re playing at?’
He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up wrapping a huge rough hand over her mouth. He began hauling her backwards into the wood. She punched and kicked, managing once to connect with his face, but he was too strong for more. He was as big as Mac, maybe even broader. Within the next few seconds he’d slapped tape over her mouth and tied her hands behind her back. She managed to get to her feet but the branches of the trees were low and there was very little space to manoeuvre. She tried to head butt him and kicked like a mad woman but she couldn’t put her full force behind it since her leg was in agony and she couldn’t get completely upright.
Eventually, through gritted teeth, he whispered right into her ear, ‘There’s no point fighting. Keep your strength for later.’ A slight accent, English not his first language.
What did he mean ‘later’? What she’d thought was a two-minute fracas was turning into a proper abduction.
Alarm bells began clanging in her head. No one goes for a run carrying gaffer tape and string. This was planned. She tried to turn her head to see him, but he forced her forward. ‘You’re coming with me.’ He pushed her from behind again and she stumbled through the undergrowth. It was steep and heavily mulched with a thick bed of pine needles, which made the climb slow and excruciating.
He didn’t speak again until they emerged at the top of the treeline. ‘No one will hear us here.’ A German accent was easily decipherable now, with his tone at normal level. ‘Keep moving. We don’t have too far to go.’ He kept a grip of her wrists from behind and steered her in the direction he wanted to go. She racked her brain for who he was and what the hell he wanted. How was she to get away when she could hardly put weight on her leg? She stopped suddenly, leaned forward and punched her fists back up into his rib cage. He staggered back winded, but recovered and chased after her as she hobbled over the deep heather. Great place for sheep and deer, but for humans to run, not so much. He rugby tackled her and they both fell to the ground. She kicked and struggled but with only one good leg her options were restricted. She managed to roll on top of him but the only thing she could do was try to head butt him again, and this time she connected in all the right places. He screamed and pushed her over. She scrambled to her feet and tried to kick him but lost her balance. She crawled away from him and got up again. No matter the pain she had to run. She didn’t get far. He tackled her again. This time his full weight pinned her to the ground and he spoke into her ear, ‘Don’t do that again.’ The menace in his voice didn’t worry her, it just made her angry. The smell of his blood gave her some satisfaction. He gripped her wrists and steered her to just before the edge of the wood, where they descended through the trees. They reached a narrow track with such a steep icy camber that it was difficult to stay upright. He pushed her on. On the opposite side of the track was an apocalyptic landscape of recently felled pines, barren and stubbly with remnants of trunks sticking up, as if an atomic bomb had gone off. He pushed her to the left and then right onto another rough path flanked with gorse bushes. A black pick-up truck had been reversed in. The sound of a PA system echoed in the distance. The runners would be crossing the finish line and Mac and Mand would surely be wondering where the hell she was.
Her mind went into overdrive at the job they would have to find her if she didn’t leave enough evidence behind for them to discover. The German pushed her hard and she allowed herself to fall over onto the gorse, snapping a few small branches on her way down. He hauled her up and jabbed her in the back. He would so regret this when she got her hands untied. She dug a deep footprint into a soft area of earth. A few hundred yards on she spotted a mast, probably a mobile phone tower, badly disguised as a tree, but a few metres ahead of it there was a door into what looked like a water tower. It made sense to her that there would be a water collection tank at this height but why would he be interested in it? Her belly began to lurch. If he intended to shove her inside, she’d be a goner in no time. Although the sun was up the temperature still hadn’t gone above freezing. She could see his breath in the air. She panicked, yanking her hands free of his grip, and spun round
to knee him in the groin but this time he was ready for her and he kicked out at her sore leg. She squealed and squirmed as she hit the ground. As she rolled around on the decking he prised open the iron door and dragged her inside.
To her astonishment it wasn’t a water tank at all, but some kind of reinforced concrete bunker, with a path leading down and down into the hill. He banged the door shut and they were engulfed in darkness. She tried to keep her wits about her, paying attention to the smell of dampness and counting her steps to give her an idea of how far she was going. After a while the gradient flattened out and he flipped a switch. Lights flickered on, illuminating the way ahead. The corridor reeled out until eventually they came to another huge reinforced steel door painted in army issue green. It was slightly ajar. She imagined he’d been there already to prepare the way. He shoved her through the gap before struggling to push it closed even with the full weight of his back on it. She winced at it scraping on the concrete, worse than nails on a blackboard. They were now in another corridor, this time with lots of doors off it on either side. Holy shit! From the notices on the doors they had to be in a disused Cold War bunker, ‘Dry store’, ‘Boiler 1’, ‘Cold store’, ‘Sanatorium’, ‘Operations’, which may or may not have been of the medical variety. The next door sent a chill up her spine with its yellow skull and crossbones sign and ‘Decontamination’ written in red letters. He kept pushing her forward until they came to a door marked ‘Bunks’. Inside, rows of narrow iron bed frames, with wooden planks where a mattress could be placed, lined either side of walls that had once been whitewashed. Poor lighting made everything grey. It was a massive underground complex of buildings where a chosen few would have come to survive a nuclear attack, designed to keep people safe for weeks, even months. Her mind flitted from one scenario to another. Finding her here would push Mac’s limits.
