twenty-four …) I scoop it up from by the door.
What time am I on? Must keep counting. Three minutes now? Yes, it must be. Just keep feeling the pulse. (Three plus one, two, three …)
I start to slide the cake into the pillowcase. It will go mouldy. Smell. Alert him. Or poison me another way. Maggots in my ear. Perhaps there’s a better way. Yes, I know! The girl! Not Cara, the other girl. The outside girl. I can tempt her with the cake. It doesn’t matter if it’s poisoned because she’ll never get it. I can put it on the window ledge, next to the skipping sign. Climb the chair and there, done, it’s on the windowsill! Progress! (Three plus twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two …)
But only up to a point. What is Cara doing? Why hasn’t she replied yet, about our escape? It was too much, wasn’t it, me asking her to run down that corridor she fears? Too pushy. (Four plus thirteen, fourteen, fifteen …)
Or maybe she’s just having her supper. Building her strength for tomorrow. She probably assumes that I assume she’ll go along with my plan – her plan, really, with my simple revisions. I should eat too. Because look at the rest of the food on the tray. It looks so unappetising that it must be safe. Who would poison an overripe avocado? Or a grizzled pork chop. And, do you know, I might even treat myself to eating the whole thing for once. The cupcake was the danger zone. This must be safe.
And it feels good. It feels good to eat this full meal. I actually start to feel normal. (Four plus forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine …) My hunger is starting to be sated. Would be nice if there was a glass of wine to with it, Chablis perhaps, to celebrate my last meal in captivity. Because tomorrow will go well. Tomorrow we will escape. (Four plus fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty – or are we on five already? I must continue counting. Yes, I must. Eyes drooping a bit, but I must, I must, five plus one, two, three …) And we can find out who this sod is, this sod who would take my daughter away from me, only to give me poisoned (five plus one, two, three …) food. Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow. I’ll just rest my head on the pillow a bit, now it’s not poisoned, and I’ll be closer to Cara’s letter stash. Yes, there we go. That’s really – oh gosh, these yawns! – nice. (Five plus two, three … Plus three plus four …)
Chapter 23
Alice looks over her shoulder as she hurries along the pavement towards school. Night has become day, but it feels like she’s still in a nightmare, a crazy chase dream. Another two streets to go. He’s still following her. The bright green car is leaping along the road towards her like an overzealous frog. Why won’t he stop this? She keeps telling him that she’s told him all she knows. She’s done her bit. Described exactly the place he asked for.
Suddenly, the car is level with her.
‘Hop in, Alice,’ he says, like he knows he’s driving in a frog.
She shakes her head and carries on walking.
‘Come on, get in,’ he says again.
Doesn’t he understand? You don’t get into cars with strangers. Who brought him up? Besides, she’ll miss registration, and she doesn’t want a black mark.
She starts to run. She stops looking where she’s going and runs as fast as she can. She’s told him about Cara, everything she knows.
But it was like he wasn’t listening to what she said. He was only interested in his own questions: ‘So did her mum usually drop her at school?’ ‘Have you seen her mum recently?’ ‘Did you ever see her with her mum and her mum’s husband together?’ ‘What were they like?’ ‘What did they have for supper when you went round?’ ‘Did they ever have alcohol?’ ‘Did they drive you home afterwards?’ And before she’d even answered one question, he’d start on another. Weird. Totally weird.
As she runs, she wishes she had told Mrs Cavendish. Mr Belvoir said he’d told Mrs Cavendish that they were meeting outside school, and that
What time am I on? Must keep counting. Three minutes now? Yes, it must be. Just keep feeling the pulse. (Three plus one, two, three …)
I start to slide the cake into the pillowcase. It will go mouldy. Smell. Alert him. Or poison me another way. Maggots in my ear. Perhaps there’s a better way. Yes, I know! The girl! Not Cara, the other girl. The outside girl. I can tempt her with the cake. It doesn’t matter if it’s poisoned because she’ll never get it. I can put it on the window ledge, next to the skipping sign. Climb the chair and there, done, it’s on the windowsill! Progress! (Three plus twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two …)
But only up to a point. What is Cara doing? Why hasn’t she replied yet, about our escape? It was too much, wasn’t it, me asking her to run down that corridor she fears? Too pushy. (Four plus thirteen, fourteen, fifteen …)
Or maybe she’s just having her supper. Building her strength for tomorrow. She probably assumes that I assume she’ll go along with my plan – her plan, really, with my simple revisions. I should eat too. Because look at the rest of the food on the tray. It looks so unappetising that it must be safe. Who would poison an overripe avocado? Or a grizzled pork chop. And, do you know, I might even treat myself to eating the whole thing for once. The cupcake was the danger zone. This must be safe.
And it feels good. It feels good to eat this full meal. I actually start to feel normal. (Four plus forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine …) My hunger is starting to be sated. Would be nice if there was a glass of wine to with it, Chablis perhaps, to celebrate my last meal in captivity. Because tomorrow will go well. Tomorrow we will escape. (Four plus fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty – or are we on five already? I must continue counting. Yes, I must. Eyes drooping a bit, but I must, I must, five plus one, two, three …) And we can find out who this sod is, this sod who would take my daughter away from me, only to give me poisoned (five plus one, two, three …) food. Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow. I’ll just rest my head on the pillow a bit, now it’s not poisoned, and I’ll be closer to Cara’s letter stash. Yes, there we go. That’s really – oh gosh, these yawns! – nice. (Five plus two, three … Plus three plus four …)
Chapter 23
Alice looks over her shoulder as she hurries along the pavement towards school. Night has become day, but it feels like she’s still in a nightmare, a crazy chase dream. Another two streets to go. He’s still following her. The bright green car is leaping along the road towards her like an overzealous frog. Why won’t he stop this? She keeps telling him that she’s told him all she knows. She’s done her bit. Described exactly the place he asked for.
Suddenly, the car is level with her.
‘Hop in, Alice,’ he says, like he knows he’s driving in a frog.
She shakes her head and carries on walking.
‘Come on, get in,’ he says again.
Doesn’t he understand? You don’t get into cars with strangers. Who brought him up? Besides, she’ll miss registration, and she doesn’t want a black mark.
She starts to run. She stops looking where she’s going and runs as fast as she can. She’s told him about Cara, everything she knows.
But it was like he wasn’t listening to what she said. He was only interested in his own questions: ‘So did her mum usually drop her at school?’ ‘Have you seen her mum recently?’ ‘Did you ever see her with her mum and her mum’s husband together?’ ‘What were they like?’ ‘What did they have for supper when you went round?’ ‘Did they ever have alcohol?’ ‘Did they drive you home afterwards?’ And before she’d even answered one question, he’d start on another. Weird. Totally weird.
As she runs, she wishes she had told Mrs Cavendish. Mr Belvoir said he’d told Mrs Cavendish that they were meeting outside school, and that
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