He leaned and untied the belt from around her face. The pain in her jaw was expected now, coming as it did after so much and so she gingerly closed her mouth and felt the roil of nausea and rode it and breathed through it.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
She shook her head. It was hard to form the words but a whisper came and found its way through her swollen lips. “I can’t. I haven’t got them. Haven’t got anything. Never had anything.”
He spun away from her with a curse and kicked at the ground. “Right, right. You’ll stay here now and, if the sea doesn’t get you perhaps you’ll see sense.” She gave a small shake of her head, she was done.
He made her stand again and pushed her further into the darkness along the ledge, pressed against the rock wall. He grabbed her hands and tied them behind her and then ran the rope down and round her feet. He dragged the belt from his pocket but after peering at the wounds in the corners of her mouth he growled at her. “There will be no use shouting; nobody will hear you. Nobody comes here. I’ve watched and I’ve been down here and the waves are too loud so don’t even bother calling out.”
He turned and with no further backward glance scrambled into the light and left her alone with the roar of the ocean and the drip of salt water and the enormity of fear.
Chapter 21
When she was sure he was gone Pauline screamed out. The effort tore at her throat and the sound was that of a desperate animal but she continued to yell until pain and exhaustion reduced the cries to a whimpering plea. “Oh please, please, someone. Please.”
He had told her there was no point. He said the cave was too far from the quiet beach and the roar of waves would be too loud but she had needed to try.
There were no more tears left for her to cry now and her nerves were numbed. How was it possible that she was tied with rope in a dark, damp cave? She was Pauline Green. An ordinary person; she was just Pauline. The hard wetness of her perch and the constant drip of moisture argued for truth and in the end all she was able to do was mourn and wonder how it had come to this.
She shuffled and tried to ease the pain in her arms and shoulders, in her back and her neck. After a time she managed to swing her legs round and lay like a trussed chicken on the wet ledge. Shivers came in painful waves and with each one she whimpered through chattering teeth. There were no beach cries, no laughing children or barking dogs. The only sound was the sea, relentless, endless and timeless. It was hell, but then her body and her brain took her away from it. The oblivion that lulled her wasn’t sleep but it was better than reality.
A variation in the noise brought her back to wakefulness, a rattle that wasn’t there before. There was a rolling clatter that swelled with each wave.
The tide was coming in.
She wanted to sit up and look down into the depths of the cavern but it was beyond her. Lying on the hard stone her limbs and muscles had stiffened and she simply didn’t have the strength in mind or body to fight the pain. She lay quietly, barely breathing.
How high would the water rise?
During the last hours death had seemed a tempting thought, but now it was inconceivable that she should simply lie and wait for it. No matter how bitter, life is sweet and the least she must do was to try to survive. She gritted her teeth and with a bark of pain managed to swing her legs around. After almost toppling from the ledge she desperately shuffled her behind backwards and dragged her feet up. Now that her knees were bent the pull on her arms was eased. Spots of sunshine shone through holes in the rocks above her and lit the wall in tiny smears of gold and she was able to peer down into the void.
Swirls of light and dark rushed to and fro across the bottom of the cave. Small boulders and pebbles rolled and played in the waves and filled the air with another layer of sound. The echo of the sea amongst the cliffs was louder now and she realised that when it was no longer possible to hear the pebbles it would be because they were submerged beneath the water. There was no weed inside where she was and she didn’t know whether that was because of the lack of light or because the tide would fill the space, scouring it clean and snuffing out what was left of her. Terror rippled through her, she didn’t want to drown here in the dark. Tears tracked down her face and a great sob sounded out into the void.
Near to her head was a tiny hollow in the dark wall and she shuffled closer. Leaning against the surface of the rock she slid her face towards the indentation and stuck out her tongue. She tasted sweet water. The relief was overwhelming. It was rainwater seepage from the rocks above. So, did this mean that she would not drown? If the water were not salt then surely it was because the tide didn’t reach this far. It must do, surely. With agonising slowness she leaned lower until her lips touched the cold puddle and she sucked the gritty nectar into her damaged mouth and though it was only enough to wet her lips and tongue it was bliss. She shuffled further along the ledge, yes, another dip, another small drink and then another. In her excitement she almost toppled into the depths and she stopped and took some deep breaths to calm herself. In the depths of despair and fear she was amazed to feel the stretch of a smile on her face. A small victory, a tiny triumph and as she licked the walls of her prison she found a new resolve to endure.
No-one would search for her. He had taken her coat and bag and hidden them in the dunes and so when Dolly came for their morning coffee she would assume that she had gone for a walk. He had made no obvious mess in the house it didn’t seem and so there was nothing to raise the alarm. He would return though; when he had done whatever had taken him away today he would come back and berate her again and bully and try to make her confess. She must find a way to convince him that she had no diamonds and no computer memory stick. But then like a dark worm the thought uncoiled: what would he do when he realised that she was, in truth, of no use to him at all?
Chapter 22
To drive back the terror Pauline had to hold onto a belief in her future. If she accepted that death was inevitable then surely the best and quickest thing to do was to throw herself from the ledge to drown in the swirling water. But no; this wasn’t an option. She knew that she would relive this horrible event for the rest of her life always, supposing there was to be more life for her. If, when she thought of it, she saw herself as a snivelling coward, then it would torment her and so she resolved to endure and tried to think; to plan.
The rainwater soothed her mouth and throat. The dripping soothed her nerves because while there was dripping she would be able to drink. Each little pool and hollow filled quickly and she blessed the inclement weather of the last few days.
Her wrists were raw, the skin torn and enflamed with rope burns. She had pulled and twisted at the ties but it only brought more pain. She had coiled and stretched her aching limbs every way that she could in an attempt to loosen the rope around her ankles, but in her confined position on the ledge and with the insults already paid to her body she had to acknowledge finally that she couldn’t escape the bonds.
In books and films there would be sharpness in the rocks. She would saw the ropes until the strands gave way and she would be free. But this place that she was in had been smoothed by eons of tides. The rocks were rounded. She had shuffled back and forth along the ridge but had found nothing rough enough. It was difficult to find a position where the rope was taught and she could still move. Nevertheless, endless minutes had been spent simply rubbing the rope along the edges of the rock, surely it would wear through. Rock, rope, hope; a desperate triumvirate. Yet rope held.