Finally, he rushes over to me and places a bag of frozen peas on my stomach, before slashing the tape from my arms and legs.
“Are you sure she’s secure?” I ask, glancing nervously in Alicia’s direction.
“For the time being. Now, let me see that wound.”
“It hurts!” I whimper.
“I know,” he says. “Let me help you over to the sofa. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
“How did she find us?” I ask, once I’m settled.
“She must have followed me up here. I’m so sorry, Isabel. I just had to see you.”
“I know.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m so glad you did.”
My voice drops to a whisper. “But what are we going to do with her?”
His eyes meet mine, and I’m not sure I like what either of us is thinking.
Fate has twisted the knife once again, leaving us with a cruel dilemma.
“We have to let her go sometime.”
“If we do, she’ll kill us both.”
“Then what are we going to do – go to the police?”
“But what if the police let her go again?” I bite my lip. “We don’t have to decide right now, do we?”
“I suppose not.”
I get up and walk over to Alicia. It feels strange to finally have all the power.
“Don’t get too close,” Deacon warns.
“I need to ask her something.”
I pull the tape from her mouth and hope it stings her as much as it stung me.
“What did you do with Fluffy?”
“You’ll never know.”
She spits in my face.
I seal the tape back over her mouth and walk away. Any sympathy I ever felt for her has gone. She doesn’t have a human bone in her body.
The evening passes almost pleasantly. Deacon cooks sausages and mash for supper and it tastes bloody good – the best meal I’ve had all week. He offers some to Alicia but she refuses to eat or drink anything, even water.
See? You’re killing me.
She thinks by doing this, we’ll have to let her go, but she’s wrong.
We don’t have to do anything.
Her little girl voice is soft and pitiful but it has no effect on me anymore.
“I need to go to the toilet!”
“Then I’ll take you.”
Deacon looks up sharply. “We’ll both take you.”
“How can I sleep?” she whines as the day becomes darker. “Tied to a chair like this? It’s not right.”
“You’ll live.”
There can be no opportunity to escape.
“If you don’t let me go, my sister will go after Rhett.”
“She’s bluffing.”
“And Kate.”
Neither of us even look up.
“And the baby.”
“How does she know about the baby?” Deacon whispers. “They haven’t even gone public yet.”
“I don’t know.”
It’s like she has hidden knowledge.
“Have you been spying on us?”
“Spying on you? I could still be living in the Beach House for all you know! It’s so ridiculously big, you’d never notice!”
I shudder at the thought.
“Did you really start all those fires?” I can’t help asking. “At the caravan park? And Bernie’s car and the gym? Oh and Rose Cottage?”
“Rose Cottage?” she laughs. “That one was Jody!”
So Rose Cottage was Julio’s fault – in a way.
I never thought I’d be able to sleep with Alicia so close to me, but somehow, curled up in Deacon’s arms, I do. There are perfectly good beds upstairs but we choose to sleep on the threadbare sofa. It’s vital we all stay together, in the one room. That way we know where everybody is. There’s no chance Alicia can escape.
In the morning, Deacon examines my stomach again.
“It’s looking much better,” he says with satisfaction. “Maybe it won’t scar after all.”
It will scar. I know it will.
In fact, I’ll probably be scarred for life, but at least now my outside will reflect my inside.
“Do you think she meant it about Jody going after Kate and Rhett?” I whisper, as we eat our breakfast.
“I don’t think she’ll have much chance as long as she’s locked up in prison, being someone else’s bitch.”
My cheeks burn, as I remember what it was like, being locked up with criminals, not knowing if I would ever get out. But I won’t allow myself to feel pity for Jody. She might not be as bad as Alicia, but she’s guilty nonetheless.
We try to ignore Alicia, snarling and moaning in the corner all day while we play cards and watch TV.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
“Shit, who’s that?”
As fast as lightning, Deacon flies over to Alicia and plants his hands over her mouth, warning her to be quiet. Then she starts shouting and screaming as loud as she can. I grab a strip of tape and plaster it over her mouth, but her cries are still faintly audible.
I go to the peephole.
“It’s Marjorie! What does she want? The rent isn’t due till the end of the week.”
“She probably wants her umbrella back. I was supposed to return it this morning.”
“What shall we do, pretend we’re not in?”
“No, she’ll only come back. Quick, let’s hide Alicia in the bathroom. She won’t be able to hear her there.”
We pick her up in the chair she’s tied to and carry her through the utility room to the back of the house.
Even with tape over her mouth, it is impossible to make her completely quiet.
“Shut up!” I hiss, terrified that Marjorie will hear.
But the harder I try to silence her, the more she yells.
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll have to knock you out!” I threaten, looking around for a heavy object. My eye rests on the big, red fire extinguisher in the corner.
How appropriate that would be!
I pick it up and walk towards her with it, but Alicia just laughs.
She thinks I don’t have it in me. That may have been true once, but I’m not so sure anymore.
“I’ll deal with her,” Deacon says, taking the fire extinguisher out of my shamed hands. “You get rid of Marjorie. Just for heaven’s sake, don’t let her in.”
I hurry to the door, grabbing the umbrella from the coat stand on the way.
“Hi Marjorie,” I call, trying to drown out Alicia’s cries. “Here’s your umbrella.”
“Thank you, dear. Here, I made you a casserole. I know how you young things don’t have time to cook.”
She hands me a cloth-wrapped Pyrex dish.
“Oh, how lovely of you!”
The old lady peers past me into the cottage. “Shall I pop it in the oven?”
“No!” I say, a little too sharply. “I mean, we’ve just had afternoon tea. We’ll have it a little later.”
“As you wish, dear.”
But she still doesn’t make any move to leave.
What does she want?
“So, I understand you’ve got your friend Deacon staying with you?”
“Yes. I hope that’s all right?”
“Only, you arrived in such an awful hurry. I thought maybe you’d had a falling out?”
“Me and Deacon?”
What is she getting at? God, how do I get rid of her?
“Isabel?”
I turn round to find Deacon standing behind me. He has stripped down to his boxers, his hands placed confidently on his broad hips, so little is left to the imagination.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise we had company!”
Nicely done!
The old lady blushes.
“Oh, I see, I’m interrupting! Please excuse me. I’ll leave you to it.”
But she is smiling as she hands over the casserole and instructs me to heat it at 180 degrees for fifteen minutes.