Belle was cringing back behind the chimney breast, flattening herself into the corner by the rafters. She was gasping for air, sickened, terrified. The bats, right beside her head, fluttered their wings in unison. Their dark eyes gleamed like sequins.
‘Where’s Belle?’ Harlan was asking Jill. Belle could hear every word.
‘She went out to the village,’ said Jill’s voice. Unsteady. Panicky.
‘He warn you?’ asked Harlan.
Silence. There was a hard crack of flesh on flesh. Belle flinched and bit hard on her lip to stifle a yell of outrage.
‘Answer me. Did he?’
Jill was sobbing quietly now. But she didn’t answer.
‘Check it,’ said Harlan, and Belle saw shadows moving out in the bedroom. Nipper was checking inside the storage space, making sure Belle wasn’t in there too.
They’re going to find me, they’re going to find me . . .
‘Shit a brick!’ said Nipper’s voice.
‘What?’ asked Harlan.
‘Fucking great spider in there. Hate those fuckers,’ he said.
‘She’s not in there?’ asked Harlan, sounding bored.
‘No, boss,’ said Nipper.
But he hadn’t come beyond the jut of the chimney breast, hadn’t come as far as the rafters in the far corner. That fucking spider had saved her . . .
‘Get in there, have a look. The chimney goes up there, she could be hiding behind it.’
Belle felt an icy shudder of pure hysteria then. They had her mum. And now they were going to get her too. She could see shadows moving at the door and then movement as bulky blond Nipper wedged himself into the crawl space.
What to do, what to do?
Belle lifted a shaking hand and swiped at the bats.
Instantaneously they flew, chittering, not out of their usual exit hole because Belle was in front of it. In confusion and fear they bashed against her face in a leathery flurry, then they swarmed out through the crawl space door and into the master bedroom. Nipper fell back with a shout, swearing and stumbling as a hundred tiny projectiles flooded out over him and flittered around out in the main body of the room.
‘It’s only a few bats, what the fuck’s wrong with you?’ Harlan was saying, laughing at Nipper’s alarm. ‘Christ, you’re such a bloody moron,’ he said, and the crawl space door was kicked shut, bouncing against the ruined bolt to hang inches open.
More movement now, out in the master bedroom. Then footfall out on the landing, the heavy tread of the men and the lighter one of Jill, who was fighting them, trying to resist as they hustled her down the stairs. They were taking Mum out of here. To where? Belle heard car doors open and close. The roar of a motor. They were going. She heard car wheels crunching over the gravel driveway and out to the gate, then out into the lane and away.