Evie remains quiet. He’s probably telling the truth about her being on the news, but that version of herself, the trusting naive one, the one they have in their photographs, is long gone.
‘I guess, even knowing that, I’m not going to get you to change your mind,’ he mutters, disguising the choke in his voice with a cough. ‘What about at least leaving it a month or two, letting things settle down. Taking advantage of people’s short memories.’
That may have been an option a few minutes ago, but the emergence of his manic side makes her doubt that he’d follow through. Even Matthew, who supposedly cared for her, never let her leave. She is in danger of being trapped all over again.
‘I could drive you to Dover, then,’ Maplin resumes. ‘We could go together. It’d be like a holiday.’ His voice brightens as he outlines the prospect. ‘And you could see your precious mountains.’
‘Timothy, you’ve been kind to me,’ she says quietly, avoiding his eye. ‘I’ll always be grateful.’
His head sinks. ‘I won’t be able to rescue you next time, not once you fall into their hands.’
‘I understand.’ She has no intention of being taken. She has killed once and knowing what they would do to her, if caught, she will just have to do what is required again. In some ways, with that first killing, she was the one whose savage side was unleashed.
‘How long do I have?’ His voice is wretched. It is as though she is a lover breaking up with him.
She has never had to terminate a relationship of any sort, but realises, even with her lack of experience, that the situation requires her to stay strong. ‘I’ll go this evening, as soon as it is dark.’
‘Of course you will.’ Maplin’s tone is still upset, but perhaps a little less so than before. He turns from the glass. ‘Well, despite how crazy this is, I will respect your wishes and I’m not going to have it on my conscience that I didn’t help. There are some things I can give you, things that will increase your chances. Maps and stuff. I think I even have a compass – help you to find your wretched mountains.’ He smiles at her. ‘I just hope they don’t disappoint!’
She can see he is making a huge effort and, grateful for it, she smiles back.
‘My sister left some guidebooks too – she was always one for travel. Want to take a look?’
‘Thank you,’ she says.
‘Follow me, it’s all in the store room.’
Store room? Evie thinks, her mood lightening, now that this is nearly over. The whole house is a store room!
She follows him into the hall where he pushes out of the way a heap of coats and exposes a three-quarter-height door under the stairs.
She hears the patter of soft feet and glances behind. The monkey is leaning over the bannister, tail wrapped around the rail. He shakes his head at her, but who is he to give disapproving looks? She turns away.
Maplin pulls the door outwards. A wave of chilly air washes over her face. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, ‘it’s a little bit dark, but there is a light just ahead of you. The switch is on the wood. You’ll need to bend a bit. Here let me help, mind the steps…’
Then the door slams behind her, striking her shoulder. The key twists in the lock and she can’t do anything about it because, thrown off balance, she falls down a set of shallow steps, to land hard on a brick floor.
22
Evie’s head spins. The darkness is too dense for her to make anything out.
Well done, Simon says, asserting himself after hours of silence, choosing this moment that she has been brought low. Now we’re properly fucked.
Ignoring him, hoping he goes away, she feels her extremities for damage. The fall was a short one, and miraculously she can find only a single tear to her skin, albeit it is on her elbow, an area of wear.
She clambers to her feet and works the door handle uselessly. She throws herself against it, but there is no space to get any momentum and it remains rigid.
She discovers a light switch along the splintered beam above the door and the room is revealed by a dim bulb to be a windowless hole. Mouldy collapsing cardboard boxes lie scattered on the floor but in these she finds only old books and clothes and heaps of damp papers; nothing substantial to use as a tool to help her escape or a weapon when she does.
She sits on the steps to conserve energy, her cheek against the wood of the door.
Maplin’s actions don’t surprise her in the least but she is angry that she did not take the potential seriously. Always having had people to look after her, she is still far too trusting. Even though she thought she was learning, she has obviously a long way to go.
She loses track of time but refuses to put herself into standby so as to remain ready for whatever is required.
After an hour, she hears Maplin’s snivelling voice on the other side of the door. Their heads are less than an inch apart. ‘I’m so sorry Evie,’ he whispers.
She can feel the vibration of his breathing, the wood panel minutely resonating.
‘I didn’t want to have to do this but I just couldn’t let you go, let you take the horrible risk.’ He goes quiet, waiting for her answer. Seeking reconciliation and reassurance.
Evie hears him gulp. She calculates whether it will help her position to answer, promising him what he wants in an attempt to win him over. She should try it, she knows. But no lies come from her mouth.
‘It’s for your own good,’ he continues, weakly. ‘You will see that when you’ve had a chance to reflect. Then everything can be as it was.’
His steps retreat and she knows that she should have done more to overcome her rage.
Later – it could have been just hours, it could have been a day – the door quietly opens. She is lying on the floor, her hair in the dirt.
Maplin bends in the low doorway, peering down at her. The shadows behind his head make him appear hunchbacked.
Evie stirs, turning her head towards him, raises herself on an elbow and gazes into the bright light behind. And starts to get up.
He withdraws. The door closes.
‘No,’ she shouts. On her feet and up the few steps in a heartbeat. She throws herself against the wood, a second too late, as the lock clicks.
He is waiting for you to weaken, run out of power, Simon says, startling her. Since the loss of Daniels, he has provided little in the way of companionship or useful advice. You ought to have feigned system failure…
No, Evie snaps. If that is what you think, you should have said so before, not now, not after, not clever after the event, any fool can do that. They could have been an old married couple, staring and speechless. She feels Simon struggle to reply but she is determined to have the last word. I hate you, she thinks inwardly, as venomously as she can. Stay away!
23
Evie is roused again by the sound of bolts sliding across.