I cycle to the local fish and chip shop, taking care to pull my hood low and keep my head down. It’s busy, so I doubt anyone will remember me.
I leave the food in its paper and carry it down to the basement, along with two plates, just in case. I also have a bottle of wine and two glasses.
Maybe Joanna doesn’t need the wine, but I certainly do. I fully expect the glass to be thrown at me. I deserve it.
I listen outside the door, but all is quiet.
‘Joanna, I’ve brought food. Are you standing back?’
No reply.
I sigh.
‘Joanna, will you please give me a chance to explain?’
Still nothing. I take a deep breath, set the tray on the floor, and open the door, quickly stepping aside in case she rushes out and attacks me. Nothing happens. I gently push the door open wider.
Joanna is sitting on the couch, clutching the photograph of her son.
I pick up the tray and walk into the room, stepping over the scattered remains of the shepherd’s pie. She doesn’t lift her head or acknowledge me. I set the tray and the wine on the small table.
‘I thought we could both do with a glass,’ I say.
She lifts her head and glances at the bottle.
‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t smash one of them over my head,’ I add, with a smile.
She stares at me, confusion written across her face.
‘Fish and chips,’ I say, like I’m announcing caviar. I feel ridiculously self-conscious around her. I unwrap the paper on the table and offer her a plate.
‘Good news,’ I say. She looks at me uncertainly. ‘You’ll be going home soon.’
The fish and chips are left untouched in her lap. ‘Why can’t I go now?’ she asks, glaring at me as though I’m the village idiot. ‘You kidnapped me; why can’t you just let me go?’
I exhale. ‘Because it’s not up to me.’
‘Whoisit up to?’ she snaps.
‘You’ll find out soon.’
She jumps to her feet so quickly that I don’t have time to react, and the fish and chips hit me square in the face. I stand there like an idiot as vinegar dribbles down my chin.
‘You fuckingkidnappedme! Stop blaming it on someone else. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.’
As she moves to push past me, we both hear the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door.
‘See?’ I say, trying to wipe the food off my clothes. ‘He’s here.’
I leave the basement.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Stuart is thinking about the girl who’d served him at the chippy. He considers her as a reward, a gift to himself for a job well done.
The Millwall Lane house is brightly lit. Stuart could have done without the security light at the front, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. There aren’t any close neighbours. He glances again at the photo of Joanna.
What a shame, he thinks. And yet…Maybe I could have some fun with her.
