On the other side of the bar, beyond the serving area and relaxation zone, is the emergency exit. The construction workers have dug up the floor and all the furniture has been moved out, and is now blocking the passageway between the bar and the windows. The mountain of wicker chairs and tables is covered with industrial grey tarp.
The only way through to the emergency exit seems to be past the door to the women’s locker room.
Lawrence listens for a while, then starts to creep along the pillared walkway. He keeps his eyes glued to the frosted glass of the door to the women’s locker room. Every little vibration makes him tense in an effort not to run in panic. He can see through the gap around the door that the changing room is unlit, and he holds his breath and moves past, forcing himself to walk slowly past the window to the solarium.
He glances quickly back at the door, then hurries on.
Through the next window he sees a gym full of exercise machines, treadmills and cross-trainers.
Lawrence is walking towards the other side of the bar when he hears a squeaking, clicking sound.
From this angle the pillars block his view of the entrance to the women’s lockers, but a reflected shadow is moving on the wall.
Someone must have come through the door.
Lawrence doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t dare run, so he just walks quietly around the end of the bar, where he sinks to the floor and tries to catch his breath.
108
Lawrence is hiding behind the bar, with one hand clamped firmly over his mouth. His racing pulse is thudding in his ears. He knows that DJ is in the spa area, trying to find him.
But everything is silent and still.
Some Coke has dripped down the dark veneer of the bar, and someone has stuck a piece of gum under the edge of the protruding bar-counter.
Lawrence is sweating as he huddles up, making himself as small as he can, trembling.
He’s breathing hard through his nose, thinking about how the rape set him on a path away from happiness. He’s never had a serious relationship, never been close to anyone sexually, never had a family.
To stop those close to him thinking he’s weird, he sometimes pretends to have brief relationships.
To his friends he claims to prefer one night stands. But the truth is that there has never been anyone for him, male or female.
For the past year he has been in touch with a girl he met on a dating site. She’s one of the dancers in the musical Hamilton on Broadway. Lawrence knows that this may be a lie, that she could be ‘catfishing’, but they always have interesting and entertaining conversations, and she’s never asked him for money. He loves the pictures she sends. She’s so astonishingly pretty that it makes his entire body feel happy. Her big, curly hair, and those cheeks, and that smiling mouth. She’s too good to be true, but she just sent him a ticket to the show that looks genuine, with a barcode and everything.
He’s probably being tricked somehow, but what if it really does mark a turning point in his life?
Lawrence glances over at the emergency exit, then stands up in a crouch and creeps down a broad flight of stairs.
The whole bar area has been cleared and they’ve started to lay mosaic tiles on the floor. The green exit sign is shining beyond some construction pallets.
Rain is still streaming down the big panes of glass.
Lawrence walks faster, trying to breathe quietly.
If he can get outside, he just has to keep going until he reaches the church, then head along the E10 to Bj?rkliden, and hide somewhere until this is all over.
There’s a clatter as his foot hits a black bucket. It slides across the dusty floor, and the trowels inside it rattle when it comes to a halt.
Lawrence starts running, no longer worrying if anyone can hear him, swings around the pallets and reaches the emergency exit. He shoves the handle down and pushes and pulls, but the door won’t open.
A heavy padlock is hanging from the handle.
He adjusts his glasses, turns around, and his heart starts to thud in terror when he sees DJ coming down the stairs with an axe in his hand.
Lawrence kicks at the glass but nothing happens.
His eyes sweep quickly across the room and he realises he needs to try to get to the other side of the bar, through the mountain of sofas, cupboards, potted plants, chairs and tables.
Panting, he hurries along the windows towards the stack of furniture. It’s tightly packed and reaches his chest. He lifts the plastic cover and squeezes in between a pile of chairs and a round marble table.
The light changes beneath the plastic, becomes hazy and oddly soft.
He holds the cover up with one hand and crawls into a narrow passageway between some cupboards, but stops when he hears a clattering sound behind him. He quickly huddles down and hears the plastic settle on top of the furniture again.
Leaning over and with his knees bent, he forces his bulky frame between two cupboards full of dishes.
He can’t help thinking that it’s Grace coming after him.
That this is how they’ve set it up.
In his mind’s eye he sees her pink pleated skirt, her blood-smeared thighs and her long hair stuck to her cheeks.
Panting for breath, he pushes past some huge terracotta pots and deck chairs, then suddenly hears footsteps behind him.
On one level he knows it’s DJ, but his brain keeps summoning up an image of Grace.
She’s here to get her revenge. He can hear her getting closer, dragging a skipping rope behind her, its plastic handle bouncing across the uneven mosaic floor.
Panicking, he shoves one wicker chair out of his way, picks up the next and pushes his way through to a large buffet table, but from there on his path is blocked.
He’s reached a wall of heavy cupboards. It’s impossible to get through to the pool area this way. He needs to find a different route, possibly under the stack of sun-loungers.
The plastic sheet billows up in a draught, then settles back down with a rustling sigh.
The pain in Lawrence’s chest has got worse and his left arm feels oddly numb.
When he bends down to see if it would be possible to crawl under the loungers his glasses fall off.
Shaking badly, he sinks to his knees to look for them, but manages to knock them under a low table instead. He thinks he can see them, and reaches but can’t quite grab them.
He lies down on his stomach and starts to slide into the cramped space. Shuffling forward, he blinks and stretches his arm out, touches his glasses with his fingertips and quickly puts them back on.
Still lying on his stomach, he turns his head and looks back towards the mosaic floor when DJ suddenly crouches down and stares straight at him through the table legs and chairs.
He looks like Grace, with his attractive open face and blond hair.
The plastic rustles and Lawrence realises that DJ is squeezing through the stack of furniture.
Lawrence presses on beneath the table, and hears the zip of his jacket scrape across the slate floor.
He’s breathing harder now, and with each breath his back presses against the stone slab and it feels like he’s about to get stuck.
He thinks about the ticket to the musical again, and how she’ll never understand why he didn’t show up.
Furniture is crashing behind him and he hears glass breaking as he gets closer to the other side of the table.
He’s gasping for breath now as he tries to grab something to help pull himself out.
There’s a dull clang as DJ puts the axe on the floor and reaches in after him.
‘Leave me the fuck alone!’ he screams.