Lila opened the fridge door, peered inside.
‘Nothing hot,’ came Quint’s voice from behind her, ‘nothing you have to cook. You might get ideas about throwing hot oil. Wouldn’t want that, would we?’
‘What about a cheese sandwich? Am I allowed to make you that?’
‘Yeah. As long as you use a blunt knife.’
She took the block of cheese out of the fridge, closed the door. Quint stood in the doorway of the kitchen, gun held on both her and Anju. She took a dinner knife from the draining board, began to hack at the block of cheese.
She buttered the bread, stuck a few lumps of cheese on it. ‘Want pickle with that?’
‘If it’s to hand. Not if it’s miles away.’
Back into the fridge for the pickle, smeared a brown dollop on the cheese, slapped the top lid on.
‘There you go.’
Quint gestured with his free hand for her to bring the plate over and put it down on the table, near to where he stood. She did, then he waved at her to walk away to the far end of the kitchen. She did that too.
He ate. Anju glanced between him and Lila, looking like she was desperately trying to come up with something that would get them both out of there. Lila hoped she wouldn’t try anything that would get them killed.
‘Shall I make us some tea?’ asked Lila, mainly to stop Anju trying anything rash.
‘What d’you think this is, some fucking tea party?’ said Quint through a mouthful of sandwich.
‘Don’t you want some, then?’
He nodded, tried not to take his attention off the two of them.
Lila crossed to the kettle, filled it from the tap, flicked the switch. Arranged three mugs with teabags in, got the milk from the fridge, the sugar from the cupboard. She looked down at the sugar bowl.
And had an idea.
A pretty desperate one, and it probably wouldn’t work, might even get them both killed, but she had to try it. The alternative wasn’t looking too promising. She didn’t believe for one minute that Quint was going to let them live after he got what he wanted. Even if he didn’t get what he wanted. So a bad idea would be better than no idea at all, she reasoned.
The kettle boiled. She filled all three mugs with boiling water, turned to Quint. ‘Sugar?’
‘Two,’ he replied.
She put two spoonfuls into his mug.
‘Milk?’
‘A little.’
She added a little milk, squeezed out the bag. Handed it to him.
She went back to the counter top, turned to Anju. ‘I know how you like it.’ She put some milk in Anju’s, took the bag out. Handed it to her. ‘There you go.’
Anju took it.
‘I’ll just do mine. Then shall we go back in the living room? Better than in here.’
‘You’ll go where I tell you,’ said Quint, brandishing the gun.
‘Fine.’ Lila nodded.
She took the teabag out of her mug. Added six large spoonfuls of sugar. Anju watched her, frowning. That wasn’t the way she took her tea. Lila flashed her eyes at her, hoped she remained silent. Hoped Quint didn’t catch the gesture.
‘Yeah,’ said Quint. ‘Get back in the living room. I’ll decide what to do in there. Go on.’
Anju went first, followed by Lila. Quint, gun still extended, followed behind.
As soon as they reached the living room Anju stopped dead, stared at the window.
‘Shit . . .’
Lila did the same.
So did Quint.
Outside, the night was lit up. Quint’s borrowed car was in flames.
‘What the fuck . . .’
Lila noticed he had momentarily dropped his gun arm, was no longer pointing it at them. She looked quickly at Anju, told her with her eyes that she was going to do something and to be ready. Anju looked terrified, but nodded.
It took seconds but felt like a lifetime. Lila turned on Quint and, while he was watching his car go up in flames, threw the contents of her mug into his face.
An old prison trick that Tom had told her about. Boiling hot water to burn, sugar in it to make it stick. Make it really hurt. Lila had got him right in the eyes.
Quint screamed. Lashed out.
She grabbed Anju’s wrist, made for the front door.
Quint hadn’t locked it behind him when he had barged in. She had remembered that. With Anju beside her, they ran into the night.