Chapter 26

Laurel felt something rough and wet moving over her face, like the tongue of a gentle dog. Was it Billy, Dr Neave’s Labrador? Was he licking her back to life? She tried to move her head, it was full of lead shot, rattling round her brain, rolling from one side to the other, hurting, making her head heavy. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, which was full of a horrible salty taste. Water. She needed water. She felt a movement as someone sat down beside her. She was on a bed. Who was next to her? Where was she? What had happened?

Having coffee. Drinking it. The chair under her starting to move. Her eyes unable to focus. The face of Ben Tucker, close to her, changing shape like a reflection in a fairground mirror. Staring. Then blackness. Drugged. She’d been drugged.

Who was he, the person beside her? Was she ill? Was she in hospital? The lunch. Hager waiting on them. Waves of dislike pouring from him. Was it Hager next to her? Panic surged from her guts to her throat. Must open her eyes. Her eyelids were sticky. She blinked several times as she tried to open them. The light hurt them. A face was looking at her. It wasn’t Tucker. It wasn’t Hager. It wasn’t Frank.

The bright light made it difficult to see his face. She blinked again. He was a boy, a teenager, with black hair down to the collar of his jumper. His eyes were dark blue, his face as pale as milk. Was he the Caravaggio boy, the one in the painting in Tucker’s parlour? Had he come to life and stepped down from the picture? This boy was as beautiful. Her breath stopped. No. It couldn’t be. But it was. It was him. She knew his face. He wasn’t the boy in the painting. She’d seen him in a photograph in his file. Mounting excitement pushed away the pain in her head. Bubbles of joy exploded in her heart and brain. She couldn’t believe who she was seeing. She thought he would be dead, lying in some cold grave. He was alive.

‘David?’

‘Yes, I’m David.’

‘David Pemberton?’

‘Yes. How do you know who I am?’

She tried to sit up. Her brain whirled round and she collapsed back.

He put a pillow behind her head.

‘Thank you. Have you any water? My mouth tastes as though it’s full of chicken shit.’

He laughed, went into another room and came back with a glass full of water. He held it as she drank. It tasted wonderful and washed away the stale salty taste.

‘Thank you. My name is Laurel Bowman, I’m a private detective. We’ve been looking for you.’

He looked at her as though he couldn’t believe her words. ‘After all this time? I’d given up hope anyone would find me.’

‘Your parents have never given up hope. The police searched for you, and we’re the second firm of detectives your parents have hired.’

His eyes filled with tears. ‘I should have told Daddy … If I’d told him this wouldn’t have happened … Peter would be alive.’

‘You know about Peter? How do you know?’ God, she felt as weak as a young child. She took several deep breaths

He opened his mouth as if to say something, his lips trembling, opening and closing.

She remembered about his dislike of speaking; but he’d spoken fluently, with only small hesitancies between words.

‘David, I know you don’t like talking, but we’re in a serious situation. I need you to tell me about how you came to be here, and as much as you can about Tucker and Hager.’ A wave of panic passed through her. She wasn’t either physically or mentally up to dealing with this. ‘The good news is the other detectives know where I am. They’ll come here when I don’t go back.’ She had a horrible thought. ‘Are we in Tucker’s house? Or have they moved me?’

He stared at her.

She tried to smile, willing him to speak.

He opened his mouth, his lips trembling. ‘I don’t know where we are … I’ve only been out of the house a few times. Tucker drove me in his car, but Hager was in the back with me all the time … They took me to places where I could see old buildings … I wasn’t allowed out of the car. Tucker wanted me to draw what I saw, but I was frightened of Hager, and I didn’t see why I should draw what Tucker wanted. I only draw what I want to draw.’ His voice gained in strength as he spoke.

They hadn’t broken his spirit, he still had that determined look she’d seen in the photograph. She must try to seem confident for his sake. ‘What did the house look like from the outside?’

He described the house she’d entered that day. ‘Thank goodness. We’re in the same place, that’s something.’

‘You mean we’ll be rescued?’

‘Yes, I’m sure we will.’ She made her voice strong and definite. ‘But, I need you to tell me why they brought you here and why they’ve kept you here all this time.’

‘You mean why haven’t they killed me? Hager wants to kill me, but Tucker doesn’t and he’s the boss … He says I’m a genius and he’ll make sure when the project is over I’ll be freed.’

‘What’s the project?’

‘I don’t know, but I think it’s nearly complete. Tucker is getting edgy and Hager’s angry and keeps telling me how he’s going to kill me … He doesn’t say that when Tucker’s there.’

‘David, we know you ran away from home, and you didn’t want to go back to the school. Where did you go to?’

‘I did go to the school. I was going to rescue Peter. Then we would run away together.’

Dear Lord, what a brave and foolish boy. ‘What happened?’

David gulped. He shook his head.

‘Please try, David. I need all the information you can give me, and I need it quickly.’

‘Does it matter if your friends are coming?’

She decided to tell him her fears. ‘We can’t depend on Tucker leaving us alive. We need to make plans in case things go wrong. My friends will come, but perhaps not for several hours. We need to be prepared for anything. Does that make sense to you?’

The urgency of her voice seemed to have got through to him. ‘Yes. If Hager has his way, he’ll kill me.’

Me as well, she thought. ‘I don’t know why they’ve involved me. I think it must have been Tucker’s idea. Hager can’t stand the sight of me. Perhaps Tucker thinks my friends will come to find me, and if they find me, they’ll find you.’ She looked into his frightened eyes, willing him to put aside his phobias and fears. ‘David, I need to know.’

He swallowed, his adolescent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. She wanted to hug him close and tell him everything would be all right, but there wasn’t time and she’d remembered he didn’t like being touched.

‘I ran and walked to the school. I’d planned a way there using lanes and going across fields. It took me ages; I slept in a barn. It was the evening of the next day when I got there. I went in through a back door and I hid until it was night and everyone was in bed. I went up the stairs to the dormitory where Peter slept with the other boys from the orphanage. It was the holidays so there weren’t many staff about. There was only John there, he said Peter was in the sick room, he wasn’t well. I told John about my plan and asked him if he’d like to come with us. He told me to go away. He’d get into trouble. He pulled a sheet over his head.’

He was agitated, his eyes flickering with pain. ‘I went to the sick room. There was a light on. I opened the door a little. On a bed was a body covered with a sheet. My heart was trying to escape from my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Who was it? Was he dead? My legs wouldn’t move. I was stuck in the doorway. Then as I looked at the shape under the white sheet something happened to me. It was like a boiling in my guts, it bubbled and steamed up through my chest, up my throat to my head. I was hot with anger. I went to the bed and turned down the sheet. It was Peter. He was cold and when I put my hand on his face my skin seemed to sizzle. My best friend. My only friend. Dead. There was a great roaring sound. It was me. I howled.

‘They came running in. The nurse and Mr Salmon. They grabbed me. He hit me and I went down. The nurse got a needle and stuck it in me. It went black. When I came round I was here in this room. With Tucker.’

Her skin turned into a sheet of ice. Such words from a child’s lips. She’d loved working with children. Seeing their adult characters emerge from childish bodies. Rejoicing in them as they started out on their journeys through life. To hear this. She wouldn’t let another life be wasted. She reached for the water and took another drink.

‘Thank you for telling me, David.’ She was beginning to feel more human; she risked putting her feet on the carpeted floor and, grasping the side of the bed, made a few tentative steps. ‘Could I have some more water?’ she asked, holding out the glass to him. She looked round the room. It was spacious, with a chest of drawers, a bookcase stuffed with books, a television, and a record player with piles of 45s and 78s beside it. This part of the room was carpeted, the rest was bare boards, with an easel, shelves for paper, paints, brushes, pencils, charcoal. Everything an artist would need. A large window let in light. She staggered over to it – no sign of the sun. A northerly aspect? Perfect for an artist. Except for the steel bars running vertically from top to bottom.

David came into the room carrying the glass of water. She drank half of it.

‘Bathroom?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Do you want to use it?’

‘Please.’ Thank God for that. It was well equipped with a washbasin, shower and lavatory. She used the loo, then threw cold water over her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror over the basin. What a fright! Her hair was wild, and the pupils of her eyes dilated. She tried to contain the anger surging through her body. The slimy bastards. Keeping David prisoner all this time. What had that done to him? How was he going to cope with life after what he knew had happened to Peter, after Hager’s frightening taunts and the perpetual fear of his own death? How dare Tucker drug her and imprison her here in this room? She threw more cold water over her face and shook her body. No time for anger now. She must think what they would do, could do, if either of the bastards came to finish them off.

She went back to David and drank more water. She must try to get rid of the poisons in her body. Flush them down the loo.

David came towards her with a long slim parcel. ‘Tucker left this. I think it’s for you.’

Laurel took it and squeezed the packaging. Something long and hard. ‘Is he fond of giving presents?’

David waved a hand at the TV, record player and radio. ‘Anything I asked for he gave me, except the one thing I really wanted.’

She tore at the packaging.

‘Sorry, I haven’t got anything sharp. He wouldn’t give me scissors.’

She looked up. ‘In case …?’

‘Yes, in case I tried to kill myself.’

‘Do you think you would have done?’

His face was grave. ‘I might have. It was sucking me dry. I wasn’t even doing much drawing. I drew a few things I saw on the television. I don’t feel like that now. Now you’ve come’

‘Good.’ Laurel continued to rip at the paper. At last the Sellotape submitted. She unwrapped the brown paper. Inside was a long, slender knife. Its blade sharpened on both sides. A stiletto dagger. She showed it to David.

‘It’s a message, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it means we may have to fight.’