I must go.
53
SCARLETT
I wait, listening in case Justin is lurking outside the stables. When I think it’s safe, I whisper, ‘Phoebe. Can you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘Are you tied up?’
I whisper that I am, fearing he’s still in here, or at the door listening to every word.
‘Can you move?’ Her voice sounds very different to when she was speaking to Justin. It’s lower now. Broken.
‘Just about.’
‘Make your way to the partition wall nearest me and look towards the base, about twenty centimetres from the back wall,’ she says. ‘There’s a tiny hole. Lie down and look through. You should be able to see me.’
I’m not far away, having shuffled nearer to listen to the conversation between her and Justin. I roll over, following Phoebe’s voice. It’s a struggle. Pieces of hay poke and stroke my face, but I manage to prop myself up against the heavy wooden partition. I find the hole and look through, straining. It’s far from easy. A low beam of light allows me to just about make outher eyes circled with black, but little else. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘He’s a monster.’ Her voice speeds up as if she needs to get her words out quickly in case he comes back again. ‘He doesn’t untie you for the first few days. You must earn your privileges. I have a bed, and I’m free to move around my stall. And I have a torch. But if I piss him off, he randomly removes these privileges as punishment.’
‘You’re more comfortable than me.’
‘Give it time.’
The thought of her having been planted here to catch me out crosses my mind. He could be threatening her. ‘How old are you, Phoebe?’
‘Nineteen.’
My heart hurts a little more for her. ‘You sounded happy when you were talking to him.’
‘Hell no.’ Another pause. ‘Imogen.’
I pause, contemplating telling her my real name. But I still don’t know if I can trust her. ‘Call me Immy.’
‘Immy, you really need to play the game with Justin. You heard me. It’s all a sham. Don’t antagonise him. He doesn’t like questions. I was chewing my knuckle listening to you. There was another girl. She…’
I butt in. ‘What happened?’
‘She was defiant. Fought back. Not a good idea. We made this little spy hole between us. Scratched for hours until our fingers were red raw to produce this opening. So we could see each other, light permitting, of course.’
My chest tightens. She could be talking about my sister. ‘How long was she here for?’
‘Not long. Days, not weeks. Eventually, I think he’d had enough of her. His project wasn’t working on her forsome reason. He couldn’t guide her towards his spiritual enlightenment, so he got rid of her.’
‘How?’
‘I’m not sure. One evening, I think, though it’s often difficult to tell day from night in here. Anyway, I think it was evening. We’d had our meal, and I fell asleep straight away. With hindsight, I think he put something in my drink or my food. When I woke up in the morning, I had one hell of a sore head, and she was gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘Yep. It felt like the stall was empty. The stall you’re in now.’
‘Daisy,’ I say. ‘Was her name Daisy?’
‘Hell, yes. That’s right. How do you know?’
I want to scream in frustration. I want to cry. But a niggling doubt tells me to hold off divulging that Daisy is my sister – was my sister. ‘Was she scared?’
