She had to hide.
She had to help him.
Now there was movement on the landing. A small tin of deodorant stood on the dresser. She grabbed it and snapped off the plastic cap.
She chose the bed, the hiding place of frightened children. As she slithered underneath, the door to the room next door slammed back against the wall.
Even with the covers dragged down as far down as they would come it was hopeless. Like a creature in the jungle she had fallen into a trap. No way out. Nowhere to go. She lowered her head to her hands, closed her eyes. Her stomach clenched in fear.
The booted feet and lower legs were visible now in the glow from the window on the half landing. Pauline tried to remember what she had left in the room. Was it obvious that she had been there? Well, of course it was. There was a damp towel, a steamy bathroom filled with the scent of shampoo and body spray. There might as well have been a great arrow pointing to her hiding place. It was all over. This was the end and Pete wasn’t here. She really would have liked to be with him now. To face this horror alone seemed an unduly harsh twist of fate but then had she not been alone for twenty years?
The intruder didn’t call out. Feet paused briefly before the wardrobe and the door swung open. Next was the bathroom and the overwhelming evidence of her occupation and then it was time. The black boots were inches away from her face. They flexed and bent. She held the small can in front of her.
There was a small change in his breathing as he leaned down. The bedcovers twitched and the light changed as he flicked the pink duvet back and away from her space.
Without a moment for thought she acted. Her finger jabbed down hard on the plastic button and she straightened her arm aiming directly at his eyes. As the spray hit him he yelled out, harsh and piercing. Shock and pain combined to send him back onto his behind. She slithered out and across the carpet. He was a huge man but temporarily incapacitated.
The sharp, but brief pain wasn’t going to hold him; she knew that. He had thrown one arm out to balance while the other was across his eyes. She stamped down hard on his flexed fingers and was rewarded by another yell. The sickening crack as small bones fractured was followed by a more piercing scream. She stomped again and as the figure on the floor rolled away from the source of his agony she leaped across him and made for the door.
He was swearing now and pushing to his feet. She ran from the room, slamming the door behind her. It wouldn’t hold him for long but it would give her an extra moment. Her feet flew across the landing and down the stairs. The thud of the door hitting the bedroom wall and the roar of anger told her she had moments only to unlock the bank of bolts that Pete had fastened so securely a couple of hours ago. She wouldn’t make it, there was no chance. Already he was across the small space at the top of the stairs. There were bolts and chains and dead locks requiring screw keys. It was impossible.
Spinning through one hundred and eighty degrees she kept her eyes down. If she looked up and saw him then it was possible that fear would overwhelm her. The hallway was narrow and short, in moments she was in the kitchen.
At last a small piece of luck, he had left the garden door open. She was through it and turning instinctively towards the road. Pete and his captor were at the bottom of the back garden so she must go to the front and away. A tall wooden gate closed off the access and she ran at it. Grabbing out at the metal handle she dragged and pushed but it was secure. A wheelie bin stood beside the wall and she clambered onto the wobbling top. As a security breech someone’s head should roll but for now it was a life saver. In just moments she’d dropped to the paved path at the side of the house. Adrenaline and muscles made strong by her outdoor life carried her forward.
The little car was yards away. He would have locked it surely? She hurried to it and snatched at the passenger door handle. Unbelievably he had left it unlocked, perhaps for just such a situation, perhaps in the rush to stop her stretching and bending as they had been visible on the pavement earlier; but for whatever reason it was open.
Leaning in she popped the little door of the glove compartment and thrust her hand to the back where she knew she would find the tiny tag of cotton. She took a deep breath as his words echoed in her mind. You’ll have to do it slowly; if not it’ll twist and that’s a bugger.
“Slowly, slowly,” she muttered under her breath, “slowly.” It moved and began to slide towards her. “Slowly.” As soon as there was space she pushed her hand into the dark recess and grabbed the pistol hidden there. She had no idea whether it was loaded and didn’t know how to fire something she had always been afraid of. She supposed there would be a safety catch but had no idea what that was or how to release it but she grabbed at the handle and dragged the thing into the light. The gate at the side of the house began to swing backwards.
She ran back up the path, the gun heavy in her hand. She peered down at it as she hurried forward and wrapped her hand around the metal handle. Her finger curled naturally on the trigger.
He was stood before her now, cradling his damaged hand. Time stilled, there was no sound in this world where she stood, armed and facing a man whose only aim was to hurt her. The thundering in her chest and the sound of her breathing was all there was in this pivotal moment. She had killed already to protect herself; didn’t they always say the second time was easier?
Chapter 42
With both arms stretched straight in front brandishing the weapon Pauline stepped forward. The thug hadn’t moved. His eyes were unsure but his stance was confrontational. He wasn’t going to run, but for now just sized up the situation. Measuring the threat and weighing his options.
She moved again, another two steps. He held his injured limb across his chest but raised the other hand palm towards her. “Come on love. You don’t want to be waving that about. Just put it down. You know you don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Go back, just go back. Down the garden. You have to let us go.”
“Look love, you’ve got yourself mixed up in some nasty stuff here but we know you didn’t mean to. We know you got drawn in. We won’t hurt you. Give us the memory stick and whatever else you still have and that’ll be that. Don’t worry about Pete, that’s another issue and nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t have it. I never had any of it.”
“Yeah, so you say. Well sorry love but that won’t wash. You just need to hand it over and you can be on your way. We don’t need to have any more trouble. If you decide to be difficult, well...” He shrugged. Pauline jerked the hand holding the little gun and in response he waved his arm. “Steady now, take care with that.” She was very frightened but her instinct to run was hampered by the knowledge that Pete was at the bottom of the garden and if she left him surely he would come to harm.
She didn’t know how to help him, not really. The only thing now was to go to where he was and to take him the weapon. To do the other thing, to turn and run, leaving him to his fate was unthinkable. First though there was this other person to deal with.
She strode forward now with greater purpose. “Move down the garden.” He frowned and shook his head but took a small step backwards.
The crack of a firearm discharging fractured the drowsy quiet of the suburban street.
“Christ!” The thug turned towards the source of the sound behind him, down the garden beside the shed. As he swivelled Pauline hurled herself the last few steps and barrelled into him knocking him sideways.
Injured as he was he tried to reach out but she scuttled past and ran to where she had last seen Pete. He was heading towards her across the grass, waving his arm, gesturing to her to turn and make for the gate but the way was barred by the other man.