'I'm fine,' answered Emma, her voice small. She sounded afraid. 'They say I should be home tomorrow, if you've got the money.'
'I've got the money, baby, don't worry. We're going to have you home by tomorrow night, I swear it. God, it's so good to hear you're all right.
They haven't hurt you, have they?'
'No, but it's . . .'
Emma broke off, and there was a minor commotion at the other end. It sounded like she was being moved away from the phone, and Andrea felt a wave of panic, as if she was losing her all over again. Emma cried out, but the cry was cut short. It sounded as if it was being muffled.
'Emma?' she shouted as the panic shot through her. 'Emma, darling, are you OK?'
For a few seconds there was silence. Then came the sound of a door being shut and a new voice came on the line.
'You've spoken to her, and you know she's alive, so we've kept our side of the bargain.' Once again the voice was disguised but the tone was more aggressive. Andrea thought it might be a different person from the one who'd called the previous night. 'Now it's your turn to keep yours. Have you got the money?'
'Most of it,' she answered breathlessly. 'I'll have the rest by tomorrow.'
'Good. Then you'll be hearing from us tomorrow night to make the final arrangements.'
'Don't hurt her, please,' begged Andrea, hating herself for showing her desperation, but unable to stop. The line, however, was already dead.
Slowly, she put down the phone. Jimmy had followed her out into the hallway and was staring at her with a look of concern. He didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, then he stepped forward and took her in his arms. She sank into them, burying her head against his chest.
'It's going to be all right,' he said quietly, the deep, gruff intonation of his voice suddenly making her feel safe.
That was the thing with Jimmy. Even now, he could inspire so many different and conflicting emotions. She breathed in his scent. He must have splashed on some more cologne after he'd had a shower earlier. It smelled strong, but somehow comforting.
'I spoke to her,' said Andrea, pulling away and looking at Jimmy. 'She's alive, Jimmy. She's alive.'
'See, I told you it was going to be all right, babe,' he said, continuing to hold her. 'These guys are professionals. They're not going to do anything to hurt her. She's their prime asset.'
Andrea didn't like his choice of words, nor the fact that he still hadn't referred to Emma by name, but she was too excited by the fact that she'd spoken to her to pay too much attention to that. Finally, she had confirmation that Emma was OK. She was scared, but it didn't sound like they'd hurt her, which meant she was going to get her back. This time tomorrow, she'd be safe and sound.
Jimmy's hand ran down her back and moved across her buttocks. At the same time, he pulled her closer, and she could feel the hardness growing between his legs. 'It's going to be OK, babe. I'm here now. I'm back.' His grip on her tightened as he rubbed his cock against the material of her gypsy skirt.
She thought of Pat. Her husband. How their love life, once so vigorous, had slackened in recent months until, in the past few weeks, it had evaporated to almost nothing. Pat wasn't coming back. She was sure of that. One man leaves her life, another returns.
Jimmy lifted her chin so she was looking up into his dark eyes, seeing the lust in them.
'You still look beautiful, babe,' he whispered.
But she didn't want Jimmy. Not like that. She'd already betrayed one husband with him. Whatever Pat's faults, whatever he might have done, she wasn't going to betray a second. She pulled away from his kiss, trying to move backwards, but his hand grabbed her chin roughly and turned it back so she was facing him.
'Come on, I know you feel the same way.'
He was smiling now. As cocky as ever, forcing her towards him. She could smell the booze on his breath. Anger overtook her – anger that the bastard could be so cold to both her and Emma's plight – and she slapped his hand away, wrenching herself free from his grasp with more force than she'd intended.
'You fucking bitch,' he snarled, clenching his fists; but she stood her ground, glaring back at him.
'I'm not the little girl you used to know, Jimmy. So don't you dare try it. Think of someone else for a change. Like Emma . . . your daughter.'
'Still a tease, ain't you, babe?' he said quietly, and then with a snort of derision he walked past her back into the living room.
Five
The next day, Thursday, was excruciating. It was the waiting.
Jimmy apologized for his behaviour in the morning, which was typical of him. Always changing tack. She accepted the apology but she didn't believe it was genuine. Jimmy Galante was not the sort of person to feel remorse about anything he'd done. If he was, he'd never sleep at night, and she knew from experience that he slept like a log.
Their conversation over coffee in the kitchen was strained, and she was pleased to get out of the house and leave him behind. He'd wanted to come with her as she drove to the bank to pick up the remainder of the money, but she told him it would be easier if he didn't. 'It'll just arouse suspicions,' she explained, knowing that this was just an excuse. She took the holdall containing the money with her as well.
'Don't you trust me or something?' he asked her at the door.
And the truth, of course, was that she didn't. But she didn't say this. Instead she looked him right in the eye and said, 'This money represents our daughter's freedom. It's not going out of my sight today.'
Jimmy nodded and left it at that.
The bank were reluctant to part with the money, even though it was hers, and she had to go into the back and endure a lecture from the manager about the perils of being in possession of large sums of cash and sign a load of paperwork before they let her out with what was rightfully hers.
For lunch she grabbed a sandwich and took a walk on Hampstead Heath, leaving the money locked in the boot of the car. Usually it was a place of tranquillity where she could relax and enjoy the illusion of being somewhere in the country. Today, however, she paced relentlessly, counting down the minutes and hours, worrying about someone stealing the car and therefore the money, and when she encountered passers-by she felt bitterness and jealousy at the way they went about their easy lives while she suffered alone in hers. Waiting, always waiting.
She was home by mid-afternoon, and carried the holdall with difficulty up to the front door. Half a million pounds, she was discovering, weighed one hell of a lot. Jimmy was out, for which she was thankful, and she took the opportunity to sit on a lounger in the back garden, look out at the trees and listen to the sounds of early autumn. This was her refuge, her place of peace, and today it gave her hope. There was still that numb fear that it could all go wrong, and that these people, whoever they were, were simply stringing her along, but Andrea was a pragmatist, and the more she thought about it the more she shared Jimmy's view that their primary motive was money. If she did what she was told, they would release Emma. And then maybe, just maybe, things could start to get back to normal. Just the two of them together again.