It was just a key, but Colleen’s expression frightened me. Her freckles were stark on her ashen face and her bravado had fled.
‘He’s trying to break me.’ Her voice was barely a croak. She looked around, and for the first time, I registered a bizarre array of items scattered across the floor: a blonde wig, an apron, a pair of wrinkled stockings and a bucket and spade.
Panic forced fresh tears to my eyes. ‘Colleen, what’s going on?’
She’d dropped to the floor again. She was barefoot, one skinny knee drawn up, and she was staring blankly at the label attached to the key. ‘He’s playing mind games.’ Her voice was heavy with dread. ‘Making me dress up to clean this crappy room. Offering reminders of Bryony’s death, as if I needed reminding.’ She flicked me a dark look through her lashes. ‘Bryony was the sister before you. She died, a long time ago.’
I wanted to tell her I knew, but it didn’t feel right. I remembered her expression when I told her I’d met Reagan: a painful mix of anger and jealousy. She was like a child in some ways, rousing a protective instinct.
‘But why would he do that?’ I pressed a hand to my aching head, which was throbbing in time with my ankle.
‘I don’t know.’ She tipped her head back and screwed her eyes shut. ‘I didn’t realise he had it in him to be this cruel.’
She didn’t elaborate, and I dropped beside her on the cold hard floor and rested a hand on her knee. Reagan had told me that Celia wasn’t the same after Bryony’s death, and although I didn’t know the circumstances, it was clear Colleen blamed herself.
Her eyes flew open, startling me. ‘He’s watching, you know.’ She pulled away from my touch.
‘What?’ I looked to where she was pointing and noticed with horror a small camera in the corner, a red light winking.
‘He’ll be enjoying the effects of his tragic behaviour.’ Seeming to revive, she flipped her middle finger at the lens, then slid the key and its label across the floor. ‘I’m not looking in the box, Jake,’ she called. ‘I refuse to play.’
I stood up, wincing at the wrenching sensation in my lower leg, and moved to look closer. We’d had a camera like it rigged up at home for a while, after a spate of break-ins along our road, but I’d hated the way the lens seemed to follow me around and had it removed. ‘Please let us go.’ I stared at the camera, my throat clogged with tears. ‘We won’t say anything. We just want to get on with our lives and—’
‘He doesn’t want us to get on with our lives.’ Colleen got up and stood beside me, hands on hips. ‘That’s why we’re here, isn’t it, Jake?’
I imagined him staring back at us coldly, and thought about pleading again – appealing to his better nature, assuming he had one – when the sound of a door banging outside made us jump.
‘What was that?’ I looked at Colleen, heart leaping.
A car engine revved, and there was the sound of tyres spinning.
‘He’s leaving,’ she said, crossing to the stack of boxes.
She clambered clumsily up on them, attempting to peer through the window. ‘He’s probably panicking now you’re here,’ she said, jumping down again. ‘Your hire car’s at the hotel, isn’t it?’
I was gripped with hope as I hobbled towards her. ‘But that’s good,’ I said. ‘I mean, I haven’t checked out of the room yet. Surely people will wonder if I don’t go back? Someone will report me missing.’ Would Greg notice, if I didn’t get in touch?
‘He’s probably got that covered.’ Colleen’s tone was resigned. She didn’t look at me when she added, ‘He’s clever, Ella. He won’t leave anything to chance.’
I tasted acid in my mouth. My eyes roamed the floor, and I lunged for the key and the label that Colleen had discarded. This is for the final box, Colleen. Then it’s all over.
The words made me shiver. ‘Let’s look inside,’ I said. ‘There might be something in there we can use to get out.’ I sensed her tensing. ‘You said he’s playing mind games.’
‘And?’
‘Well, maybe this is some sort of challenge. He’s driven off and isn’t coming back, and we have to find our way out.’ Even as I spoke, I didn’t really believe it. ‘It’ll be our word against his,’ I said. ‘He could easily get away with it.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Ella, you’re living in Enid-Blyton-land.’ She shook her head, her expression almost pitying. ‘This is real life. Why would he give us the opportunity to get out when it’s obvious we’ll turn him in?’
I realised her earlier reassurance that he wouldn’t hurt us had been an attempt to placate me, and now she’d abandoned the pretence. I couldn’t accept this was it; that we were stuck here, at Jake’s mercy. ‘Which box is it?’ I said, filled with a grim determination.
Colleen released a long sigh and gestured with her foot to the smallest wooden box, underneath the window. ‘That one.’ It had a padlock, and a number 3 roughly carved into the wood.
‘He’s really thought about this,’ I said, repulsed. I almost didn’t want to touch it; didn’t want to imagine the thought processes behind such sick behaviour.
Colleen stayed where she was while I unlocked the box, but came over when I lifted the lid, as if she couldn’t help herself.
What little light there was outside was fading, making it harder to see as we peered inside.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a photograph,’ I said, lifting it out. It was an enlarged copy of the half of the picture Jake had shown me at the hotel, of a younger Colleen, standing by a motorbike.
Her expression was hard to read – shock or puzzlement, I couldn’t tell. ‘Why the hell’s he put that in there?’
‘Look at this,’ I said, not taking in her words. There was another picture: a grainy photo of a naked couple sprawled on a rumpled bed. Only the man’s back and shoulders were visible, and a strip of his fair hair, but clearly recognisable beside him was Colleen. She was on her back, her eyes closed, one arm flung over her head, frowning in her sleep, as though troubled.
She snatched the picture off me and held it to the fading light. ‘Jesus Christ.’ There was a pause, then her lip curled with disgust. ‘He was watching us.’ She scrunched up the photo and flung it back in the box. ‘We were on the ground floor,’ she said, her eyes wild as she squatted down, clutching her hair with her hands. ‘The curtains were half open when I woke up.’
‘What are you talking about?’ There was a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. ‘What was that?’
She shook her head. ‘After I left Jake, I had a stupid one-night stand with an old boyfriend.’ Her voice was filled with self-loathing. ‘He was someone from way back I thought I’d loved. I hadn’t seen him for years.’
‘But you met him again?’
‘I bumped into him in Sligo when I was searching for somewhere to stay.’ She sounded tired. ‘I’d travelled by train for most of the day and my head was all over the place. He suggested we go for a drink, for old time’s sake, reminded me he saved my life once.’ Her voice dropped an octave. ‘I’d gone up the cliffs at Aughris Head, intending to throw myself off, join Bryony at the bottom of the ocean, but he followed me up there. He said I should take some drugs to ease the pain instead, that they’d make me feel better.’
She shook her head, as if clearing the memory. ‘Anyway, I said no at first, told him I didn’t drink anymore, but he managed to persuade me.’ She started shaking. ‘I’ve been knocking back the booze ever since.’ She raised her head, looking hollowed out, her eyes blank and staring. ‘I can barely recall the rest of that night, but I knew the next morning it was a big mistake and got out as quick as I could.’ Her eyelids lowered like shutters, her hand trembling as she held the photo. ‘Jake must have followed us, taken this picture …’ Her voice broke off.
‘Oh, Colleen.’ I could see it all: the jealous, controlling husband, finding his wife in the arms of another man – worse, someone she’d loved before him. ‘How could he do this?’ I scrolled back to my conversation with Jake at the hotel, racking my brain for clues. He was obviously a brilliant actor, because I’d truly believed he cared about Colleen. ‘He seemed so concerned.’
‘Psychopaths are good at being charming – it’s part of their profile,’ Colleen bit back. ‘Look at Ted Bundy.’
As she stood and began pacing, I slammed the box shut and straightened, flexing my ankle. ‘We can’t just do nothing,’ I said, wishing she’d stop moving in circles.
‘Have you got any bright ideas, Sherlock?’ She threw me a look, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘You’re the clever one, aren’t you?’
My laugh sounded more like a sob. ‘Why would you think that? I photograph food for a living. How’s that going to help?’
She shrugged. ‘We’re fucked then.’
My eyes swept the walls, as if a secret door might have materialised, or a portal that would transport me back to my old life. ‘Could there be another way out? You must know this place well.’
‘Why would I know it?’ There was a crease between her eyebrows. ‘I haven’t a clue where we are.’
‘Jake said you came here years ago.’
‘What?’ She pulled her chin in. ‘If I did, I can’t remember.’ She looked around, as if seeing the gloomy room with fresh eyes. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t have forgotten,’ she said, but didn’t sound certain anymore.
‘He implied you had happy times here, when you first got together.’
‘Did he?’ Her mouth opened and closed. ‘Well, I wasn’t really myself when I met Jake. Those first few months are a bit of a blur, to be honest.’ A moment later she added reluctantly, ‘Drugs,’ maybe seeing a question in my expression. ‘Long story.’ She paused. ‘I admit there’s something familiar about that view though, what I could see of it.’ She shook herself. ‘It doesn’t really matter now, anyway. We’re not going anywhere.’
My spirits dropped even lower. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘What am I supposed to say?’ Any fight she’d had seemed to have flowed out of her. ‘I’m just sorry I got you involved.’
My stomach growled, loud in the sudden silence.
Colleen looked at me. ‘There’s no food,’ she said drily. ‘There’s water in the tap if you’re thirsty, and you’ll have to pee in the bucket.’
The incongruity of her words struck us both, drawing reluctant smiles.
‘Oh, and there’s no electricity, so I hope you’re not scared of the dark.’
‘I’m not.’
‘This is crazy,’ she said, whirling around and kicking one of the boxes with her bare foot. ‘Ouch!’ She hopped about before sitting on the edge of the biggest box, her chin propped in her hand. ‘It sounds awful, but I’m kind of glad you’re here.’ She gave a fleeting smile. ‘Makes the thought of my imminent death a little easier to bear.’
‘We’re not going to die.’ I almost believed it for a moment. ‘I’ve a husband and daughter, and a father who loves me, and a brand-new sister I want to get to know.’
Her eyes swivelled to me, but she didn’t speak.
I looked around again. ‘Maybe one of those keys will fit the door.’
‘Worth a try,’ she said. ‘I tried the first one, but maybe one of the others?’
I could tell by looking they were too small. We tried anyway, Colleen passing them over. I slid each one into the lock and jiggled it around, but none of them worked.
Infuriated, we rattled the door, taking it in turns trying to break it down, me with my shoulders, Colleen by kicking it, her legs lashing out like swords.
‘It’s hopeless,’ I said at last, breathless and sweating with the effort. We moved back into the room, which was almost dark now, and sat on a smelly patch of carpet near the sink.
‘I don’t want to die,’ said Colleen. ‘At least, not before I’ve met my father.’
‘Me neither.’ My voice cracked. I didn’t want to think of home, of Maisie growing up without a mother, but I couldn’t help it. I remembered with perfect clarity the day she was born, how I’d cradled her in my arms, vowing never to let anything bad happen to her. I thought of Greg, raising our daughter alone and of my father, endlessly walking Charlie, alone in his grief. Tears pressed behind my eyelids.
‘What was she like?’ Colleen said, close but not touching me.
‘Who?’
‘Your mother, of course.’ She hesitated. ‘Our mother.’
Snapshots of Mum flooded my mind, unbidden. Not her final days, when her spirit was fading, her skin stretched tightly over her bones, but from way back. Her look of concentration when she was painting, a wrinkle between her eyebrows; her comical despair when she baked me a birthday cake that sank in the middle; the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed; the feel of her hand around mine as she walked me to school, pointing out birds and trees; the way she held me when I wept after falling out with my best friend.
‘She was lovely, the best …’ I began crying, great hiccupping sobs, my arm across my face. ‘I miss her so much,’ I managed at last, aware Colleen’s hand was on my back, stroking in little circles.
When I could breathe again, I dragged my sleeve across my face. ‘I thought there’d been some big romance between her and your dad, some drama, but it wasn’t like that,’ I said. ‘She wasn’t ready to have a child, but knew how much Celia wanted one. She thought you’d have a good life with her.’
‘I did at first; it was so perfect. I mean, she was always a bit too hot on the old religion, but things got really bad after Bryony …’ She paused, but there was no real animosity behind her words. I sensed that, despite her outburst at the hotel, she had no bitterness towards my mother – hadn’t given her much thought at all. Her focus had been on Reagan. She wasn’t yearning for the woman who’d given her up – she wanted her father. ‘It can’t have been easy, finding out she’d kept this big secret from you.’
Tears welled again. ‘I’ve been telling myself she must have had her reasons. That she believed it was for the best.’
‘It probably was,’ Colleen said, but it was hard to believe she meant it.
‘I wish I’d known you as a child.’ It felt easier to say in the gathering darkness, when I couldn’t see her face properly, knowing mine was swollen and damp. ‘I always wanted a big sister.’
She didn’t respond right away, and I wondered if she was thinking of Bryony, but out of the blue, she said, ‘You’re young to be married with a kid. These days, I mean.’ Her hand was still on my back, warm through my jacket.
‘Greg and I knew pretty quickly we wanted to get married, and we both wanted children,’ I said, wiping my face again. ‘When we found out Mum’s cancer was terminal, we brought everything forward.’
‘You couldn’t have been sure you’d get pregnant.’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘But I did.’
‘Does he get along with his parents? Greg, I mean.’
I nodded. ‘His father died of a heart attack a couple of years ago, and his mum lives abroad now, but they were a close family. I suppose we’ve led charmed lives, compared to you.’ I began to weep again.
‘Jesus, Ella,’ Colleen reached round to lift my hair off my face. ‘You’re a regular cry-baby, so you are.’
I managed a snotty laugh. ‘It’s funny you should say that, because I rarely cry normally.’ I blotted my face on the sleeve that wasn’t soaked. ‘I have to keep things together for Maisie.’
‘It won’t do her any harm to see her mammy sad now and then,’ Colleen said. ‘And your lives don’t sound that charmed to me.’ She took a breath. ‘Sounds like you’ve had a lot on your plate, what with his da dropping dead, and your mam getting sick and dying. Nothing charmed about that.’
Her words settled around me like a cloak. ‘When you put it like that …’ I said, remembering, with a bolt of guilt, Greg’s choking grief over his father’s death. I should have made more of an effort to console him. I’d been too distracted, still hoping they’d find a cure for Mum. ‘Greg slept with a woman at work.’ I wasn’t sure why I was telling her. I’d never talked about it to anyone. ‘It was all my fault.’
‘Rubbish,’ she scorned. ‘He should have kept it in his pants.’ I suspected her experiences with men had made her more than a bit cynical, but she surprised me by saying, ‘It’s obvious he loves you, Ella.’
With her words, I felt a loosening of the constraints that had been holding me back since Greg’s infidelity. ‘Thanks for saying that.’
‘You’re welcome.’
For a second, I imagined Colleen and me growing up together, sharing confidences into the night. Perhaps it would have been like this.
‘Here,’ she said, tugging the hem of my jacket. ‘You should take this off – you’re boiling.’
It was true. My face was slick with sweat. I could feel it under my armpits and gathered at the backs of my knees.
Colleen wriggled away while I pulled my arms out of the sleeves, and as I folded it neatly, wondering why I was bothering, a sound floated through the gaps around the window; the distant, but unmistakable sound of voices. ‘Did you hear that?’
Colleen stiffened, head cocked. There was a shout, followed by laughter. ‘Hikers,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘They must be lost if they’re all the way out here.’
As the implications sank in, we turned to face each other.
‘If we can hear them, they might be able to hear us.’ Colleen was on her feet, yanking me up. ‘Come on.’
We moved to the wall by the window and began to holler.
‘HELP!’
‘We’re over here!’
‘HEEEEEEEELP!’
We cupped our mouths as we shouted again, in an attempt to amplify the sound, but the words seemed to travel no further than the surrounding walls.
Pausing, breathing heavily, we waited. There was no response; just another faint shout, more distant this time. Whoever they were, they were moving away. I imagined a group of young people with backpacks and ruddy cheeks, looking forward to camping out. Or, lost, trying to get a phone signal, but finding it hilarious, part of the adventure. I wished more than anything we were out there with them.
‘They’ve gone,’ I said, still panting. I couldn’t seem to get enough air in my lungs. ‘No one’s going to hear us.’
‘I’m not giving up.’ Colleen clumsily scaled the boxes and pressed her mouth as close as she could to the frame, shoving the window as wide as it would go. She screamed at the top of her lungs and I joined in, almost scared by the feral sound. I’d never imagined a scenario where I’d make such a terrible noise.
We took it in turns, pausing after each bout of yelling and screaming to wait for some sort of reply – anything at all – until I was hoarse and whimpering.
‘You’re right,’ Colleen croaked at last, shoulders slumping as she let the window drop shut. ‘No one’s going to hear us.’
I clutched my sides and doubled over, disappointment as acute as stomach ache. ‘Let’s try again.’ They could be on their way, running towards the building, one of them calling the police.
‘It’s pointless, Ella.’ Colleen’s words, flatly spoken, punctured my last bubble of hope. ‘They were probably miles away. Sound carries out here, if the wind’s blowing in the right direction.’
‘Shame it wasn’t blowing the other way.’ I wanted to cry again, overwhelmed with helplessness. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
She jumped down, falling against me, and we held each other for a long moment.
‘I’m thirsty,’ I said, still close to tears. ‘And I need a wee.’
‘Me too.’ Her voice was thick with emotion.
We released each other and I felt my way to the sink to drink from the tap, and left it running for Colleen.
‘After you,’ she said, directing me to the bucket in the corner. It didn’t feel odd to be tugging my jeans down in front of her; it was so dark now. And nothing was normal anymore.
When we’d finished, Colleen emptied the bucket in the sink, then clattered it back to the floor. ‘Not very good room service here.’
‘No point ordering a sandwich then.’ I sounded slightly hysterical and took a deep breath in an effort to calm my breathing.
I could barely make out anything in the room. There wasn’t so much as a sliver of moon outside the window to relieve the darkness, just a patch of ink-black sky. I thought of Maisie, spending another night without me, and I wanted to howl.
‘We’ll just have to wait it out,’ Colleen said, reaching for my hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Ella.’
Tears leapt to my eyes as her fingers linked with mine. ‘It’s OK.’ The truth was, from the moment I’d known she existed she’d become my sister, and despite her belief that this was all her fault, she was just as much Jake’s victim as I was and had been for a long time. If he were to come back and offer me my freedom at Colleen’s expense, I wasn’t sure I would go. ‘Let’s try and sleep.’
‘Fat chance of that,’ she said. ‘A prison cell would be comfier.’
Buoyed up by the thought that help might be on its way, I felt around in the darkness for my jacket. ‘We can use this to lie on,’ I said, arranging it into a makeshift pillow.
We shuffled together and in a weird way it was nice having her beside me, the warmth of her body seeping into mine. Her breathing quickly deepened and, drained by the last twenty-four hours, my eyelids drifted shut.
Hours, or maybe minutes later, the purr of an engine reached my ears and a yellow beam swept across the room. I jolted upright. In the brightness of the headlights, I saw Colleen’s fearful expression and knew it reflected my own.
‘He’s back,’ she said.