Her eyes roll back in her head. I know I need to act fast and get her out of here before her psycho husband comes back. Then I remember I have no phone.
I scour the hallway. Nothing. I run into the kitchen. Then I see it: an old-fashioned cordless push-button phone on a shelf by the door. I grab it, punch 999 and head back to Fida.
‘Ambulance, please.’
As I speak to the operator, Fida tugs on my sleeve.
‘Hang on a sec,’ I tell her as I give the address to the woman on the other end of the phone.
I end the call then turn to Fida. Her injuries are worse than I initially thought. I can see now why she can’t speak properly. Her mouth is all cut and swollen. It must be agony.
‘It’s okay, the ambulance is on its way,’ I tell her, praying that it will be fast. ‘You’re going to be fine.’
She starts to shake and I put my hand on her arm.
‘Shh,’ I whisper. ‘It’s okay. They’ll look after you in the hospital. I’ll make sure they know about your husband. He won’t find you.’
‘Not okay,’ she mumbles. ‘I . . . he nearly died . . . he’s so tiny, I . . . I’m not a monster.’
Her words twist inside me. So he’s real. I wasn’t going mad.
‘Fida,’ I say, leaning over her. ‘Tell me. Where is he?’
Her breath becomes shallow and for a moment I think she is going to pass out, but then she opens her eyes and grips my arm.
‘Sally,’ she gasps.
‘Sally? My sister?’ I cry. ‘Is she here?’
I recognize the coat covering her. It’s Sally’s green puffa.
‘Please, Fida. Where is she?’
‘Sh . . . sh . . . shed.’
The exertion of getting that final word out is too much and she flops back on to the stairs.
‘Listen, Fida,’ I say, jumping to my feet. ‘The ambulance is on its way. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m going to go and find my sister.’
I step out into the garden. It is eerily quiet. As I close the back door, my heart thudding, something rustles in the hedge and I freeze.
‘Who’s that?’ I call, wishing I had my torch with me. ‘Sally?’
Probably just a bird, I tell myself, though my skin prickles as I make my way across the grass.
Why did Sally come here? She’s usually scared of her own shadow. It’s not like her to go running into danger like this.
The door is open when I get there and I step inside.
‘Sally?’ I call. ‘Sally, are you there?’
I hear a muffled sound, like voices speaking underwater.
‘Sally?’ I rush forward.
I don’t see the hole until it’s too late.
44
I fall down some steps and land on cold concrete, winded and bruised. What the hell just happened? I slowly push myself to my knees, clutching my ribs. And that is when I see her.
She is lying on a filthy mattress, tears coursing down her face, and next to her, clinging to her chest, is the boy.
‘Aunt Kate?’
‘Hannah,’ I exclaim, holding my hand to my chest to steady myself. ‘What are you doing here? What the hell is going on?’
I stumble towards them.
The boy starts crying too and it’s then I see the rope tied round Hannah’s wrists. I rush to her and begin undoing it.
‘Hannah,’ I say, speaking quickly. ‘What’s going on?’
I repeat the question but she doesn’t answer. The tears continue to stream down her face.
I undo the knotted rope and she rubs her wrists. The boy stares up at me, his eyes wide.
‘We heard you when you were in the shed that time,’ says Hannah through her tears, holding the boy to her chest. ‘We thought you were coming to rescue us.’
‘Rescue you?’ I say. ‘You mean you’ve been here all this time?’
She nods her head.
‘But who’s the boy?’ I ask.
‘David’s mine,’ she says.
David.
I stand frozen to the floor, trying to take it all in. Then I see something glinting in the half-light. My silver pen. It’s lying on the ground by the bed.
Hannah sees me looking at it.
‘David found it. He brings me presents to cheer me up.’
I feel numb.
‘He likes sparkly things,’ says Hannah.
As I bend to pick up the pen I see a little pile of marbles next to it and I remember the one I found in Mum’s garden.
‘Mum.’
That’s Sally’s voice. I turn round. There’s a mound of old blankets in the corner.
‘Is your mum here, Hannah?’
Her eyes are terrified, looking towards the blankets.
I run over and start pulling at them. ‘Oh my God! Sally!’
She’s been wrapped up, like a child in swaddling. I turn her towards me.
‘Oh, Sally!’ Her face is a mess. She’s covered in blood. It’s in her hair, all over her clothes.
‘Jesus, what happened?’ I cry as I gently put her in the recovery position. She moans softly.
‘He had a knife,’ says Hannah.
I look up. Hannah is standing above me, just staring at her mother.
‘Who stabbed her?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice calm so as not to alarm Sally.
‘Hannah, who stabbed her?’ I repeat but she doesn’t answer. She just looks at me with vacant eyes.
‘Mum,’ murmurs Sally. ‘Is that you?’