Molly was not sure how much time had passed. Despite her discomfort, she had tried to remain as quiet as possible. Max’s even breathing from across the room indicated that he had fallen asleep at last and she wanted him to get as much rest as possible. She could no longer feel her arms because they were crushed beneath her, tied at an awkward angle over the back of the wooden chair in which she was lying. She had been trying to loosen the string that was bound around her ankles by rocking the chair slightly from side to side and she thought that the fastening was a little slacker than it had been before. She wished that Rupert had at least left the light on because she might then be able to see something that she could use to cut her way through the string round her wrists. She thought if she could perhaps get her feet free she would be able to roll herself upright and the rough edge of the radiator might be sharp enough to at least saw some of the way through.
After he had knocked her over, Rupert had snickered and said something about her being like a beetle on its back. His face was flushed, intent. He bent over her, and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her. She tried to stop herself flinching. She knew that if she showed her revulsion and fear it would only stimulate him into further cruelties. It seemed to her that her senses were more heightened than they had ever been before. She could smell his breath, which was hot and foul. She could see where his hair at the front was thinning, each follicle distinct, emerging slightly damp and erect from his scalp. He untied the strips of sheeting he had wrapped around her mouth and face, and slowly traced a finger round her mouth. He watched her closely as he pulled down her pyjama bottoms. She could feel him fumbling, pinching her hard and then thrusting his fingers into her, the effort making him grunt, his teeth pushed into his bottom lip which was purplish and slightly swollen as if he had been biting repeatedly on it. She was glad that the chair that Max was tied to was turned away and he couldn’t see.
‘Why are you doing this, Rupert?’ she said, keeping her voice as calm and even as possible. Trying not to make any sudden movements, as if she was in the presence of an animal that would not react well to being startled. He pushed his face even closer to hers.
‘You’re making me,’ he said.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said trying not to plead, but knowing that her voice had risen, despite her attempts to control the pitch. ‘What have I done?’
‘You. Brought. This. On. Yourself,’ he said, punctuating each word with a twist of his fingers inside her and although the pain was sharp she tried not to cry out.
‘I need to go to the toilet. I need you to untie me.’
He pulled his fingers out of her, stood up and rubbed his hand with an exaggerated movement down his leg, his face registering disgust.
‘Piss yourself for all I care,’ he said and then he went over to the door, unlocking it with a key from his pocket.
‘Rupert … could you just let Max go? Just Max. Take him to Kate’s. Please. Please.’ She couldn’t stop herself from begging but he had ignored her. He flicked the light switch off and walked out, locking the door behind him. She had heard the front door opening and closing, then the sound of the car starting up in the garage and reversing down the path, and then there was a silence so deep and so profound that she felt suffocated by it.
She thought he had now been away for about four hours, but she wasn’t sure. She had no watch and this room didn’t have a clock and because the window had been boarded up she couldn’t even see how light it was outside. She wondered how long it would be before anyone came looking for them. She thought that Kate would probably come round to the house if she hadn’t seen them by the end of the day, and the thought consoled her. Max shifted in his chair and made a gentle moaning noise. She knew he still had the gag across his mouth and was trying to say something to her.
‘I’m here, darling,’ she said to him. ‘You’ve been asleep.’
Max shifted his chair from side to side causing the legs to scrape against the floor. She could feel his agitation and fear.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll get out of here. Your father has gone. I don’t think he’s coming back and I’m sure Kate will come soon, or the police.’
Molly wondered why the police hadn’t already been since they must be aware by now that the phone line had been cut. That in itself should surely have triggered some sort of an alarm.
‘I’ve loosened the string around my legs a bit. If I can just get it a bit looser I might be able to slip it off the chair leg.’
For another hour Molly continued to pull her legs up and away from the chair until she thought she was too exhausted to move any more. The muscles in her stomach were straining. The string had rubbed her flesh raw and she could feel her ankles burning. Max had been crying on and off into his gag and as she rocked and wriggled she had done her best to console him. She had run through her repertoire of stories and poems and had even resorted to a selection of feeble knock knock jokes. Just when she had decided that she would never get free she managed to slide one of the bindings off the leg of the chair. Heartened by her progress she worked away at the other until at last, both legs were free. She rolled over onto her side and then over again until she was lying against the wall. She used the wall to lift herself up, pushing against it until she was standing upright still attached by her arms to the chair. Because she had been lying for so long at a strange angle the pain in her legs was excruciating. She leant against the wall for a while, feeling the blood starting to circulate around them again, the stinging sensation of pins and needles receding.
Bracing the side of her body against the wall, she moved along slowly until she hit what she recognised as the edge of the radiator. She bent herself to the right height and scraped the chair and her wrists against the edge. Through the noise of the chair banging against metal she could hear Max whimpering and rocking from side to side. At last she felt the string give and with one wrist free was able to work away at the other one until it too came loose.
She went over to Max, put her arms around him and then pulled his gag off. He spat out the lump of sodden cotton wool and took a deep, gasping breath.
‘I wet myself,’ he said piteously. ‘I couldn’t hold it in any more.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Max. I’ll get you free and there’s a change of clothes in the chest of drawers.’
She turned the light on, both of them blinking in the sudden brightness, and went over to the chest of drawers that was stocked as the police had recommended with some basic supplies; a change of clothes for Max and herself, some biscuits, a torch, a couple of bottles of water, some antiseptic cream, some bandages and a small pair of scissors. She was very glad that she had taken their advice since at the time she had felt vaguely ludicrous taking what seemed to be a wildly unnecessary precaution. She quickly cut through Max’s bindings and got him carefully to his feet. As she pulled off his wet trousers she could feel his body trembling. She dressed him quickly in the dry clothes and sat him on the sofa with a biscuit and a bottle of water while she rubbed cream into the sore places on his ankles and wrists where the string had made angry raw patches.
‘You are such a brave boy,’ she said, stroking his hair off his eyes. ‘I don’t think any boy could be braver than you are.’
‘You’re a brave mummy too,’ he said, and he put up one gentle hand and stroked the hair away from her eyes. It was such a tender, almost adult gesture that it made her eyes fill with tears. She got up, took a long drink of water and then looked around the room to see what she could use to pull the nailed wood away from the window.