I follow her into the lounge, whereThe Greatest Showmanis playing. She’s watched this film so many times, I’ve lost count.The Greatest Showman. Just like her son. She pats the sofa beside her with one hand, clutching the remote control with the other. ‘Sit here, dear. Harold won’t mind.’
I do as she tells me, willing the Uber to hurry. I check my phone to track its route. It’s six minutes away. It feels like a lifetime. I’ll give it another couple of minutes before fetching my bag and going outside. Then I’ll be gone before Justin comes back. I check again. Five minutes. Freedom is within reach. It’s empowering. I just need to get away before Justin comes back to the house.
Hattie sings along to one of the songs. Seeing her absorbed in the musical, I whisper, ‘I need to go, Hattie.’ I lean across and kiss her, surprising myself. Such displays of affection don’t happen between the two of us. I suddenly feel very sorry for her. I push the emotion away. I’ve got to think of myself now.
As I go to get up, her hand snaps to my arm and locks. ‘Stay, dear. We love this film.’
I try to pull my arm away. She’s not releasing it. ‘I’ve got to go, Hattie,’ I say, trying to disguise the anxiety in my voice.
It’s as if she senses something amiss. ‘Please stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.’
A car turns into the driveway. It’s here. My salvation. I tug my arm away. She clutches her chest. ‘Oh, oh, my heart. My heart.’
‘Not now, Hattie. I haven’t got the time for this.’ It’s not the moment for her to play her games. I glance at the window and back at her. A car engine is running in the driveway. I manage to calm her with the promise of a cup of tea and a biscuit. Guiltovercomes me as I stand up, but I’ve spent my life giving in to this family. Now I must go.
I hurry as fast as the pain will allow, into the hallway where I collect my bag. Limping, I wheel it to the front door, where I have to stop to catch my breath.
I open the door and stop in disbelief.
Justin is leaning into the Uber car window chatting to the driver. He glances over his shoulder at me and smiles. A smile that doesn’t reach those cold green eyes.
The Uber driver nods and raises his hand. Spinning his car around, he swiftly drives off, taking with him my only hope of escape.
Justin walks towards me. My shoulders slump at the look on his face telling me I’m beaten. He’s going to give me both barrels now. But oddly, he says, as calm as a priest taking confession, ‘Darling. You said we needed to talk. So let’s talk.’
55
SCARLETT
‘I kept a fork from dinner one day,’ Phoebe continues. ‘He never noticed. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for another one of us to join me. I’ll stab him in the eyes. We’ll overcome him, then I’ll stab him in the neck. We’re lucky tonight. There’s a clear sky and a full moon. Tonight’s the night. We can make this happen.’
She’s not thinking straight. I fear for her sanity. It would take days, possibly weeks to make a hole big enough to get through that wall. Justin would find us out before we could hatch our plan.
Initially, I didn’t know if I could trust her, but the way she’s talking, there’s no doubt in my mind. Beth enters my thoughts. ‘Does his wife know what he’s doing here?’
‘No. She’s ill. Did you meet her?’
‘Yes. I’ve been helping to look after his mum. From what I can make out, she’s dying.’
Moonlight seeps through small high-placed windows with metal bars, casting shards of light across the stall. I bet this place is freezing in winter.
‘How do you cope?’ I ask. ‘Being held here for so long?’
‘I was petrified at first. Then I was angry and defiant until I realised it wasn’t getting me anywhere. I reckon he’s going to let me go soon. The amount of time he’s interrogated me, he can’t keep me much longer. I’ve nothing much more to say.’
‘I didn’t like the way he turned when you asked about getting out of here,’ I say.
‘It’s OK. Just Justin’s getting his own way. You’ll soon realise he likes people kowtowing to him. Do that, and it’ll make life easier.’
How accepting of the situation she appears to be. It must be her coping mechanism. ‘How long do you think you’ve been in here?’
‘I came at the end of April.’
‘How?’
‘I came here of my own free will. Or at least I thought I had. The truth is, he coerced me, under the guise of one of his private sessions. He said he could heal me. His bullshit spiritual enlightenment. Then he offered me a job. Just a temporary one, helping to look after his mum and Beth while he went to the USA to do some talks. I was homeless, jobless, so what could be more appealing? Their house is bloody lovely. It was hard work. His mum was a handful, and his wife is so ill, throwing up all the time. Passing out. Poor woman. But she was so kind to me.’
It must’ve been hell spending cold nights in this damp, derelict shack. ‘Weren’t you cold to start with?’
