If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.
George Orwell, 1984
‘Do you want to see something?’ Tara said, grinning at Dorothy.
‘What?’
‘A secret.’
‘What kind of secret?’
‘The best kind. The dangerous kind.’
Dorothy didn’t want to be part of any secrets this strange girl might have, especially dangerous secrets, but she also didn’t want to insult her.
‘What is it?’
Tara turned, edged up to the top of the old horsehair mattress. Slid her hands inside. When she extracted her hands, she was holding three items: an ancient cutthroat razor; a busted cigarette lighter; and a miniature, moth-eaten teddy bear, encrusted in dirt, most of its face missing.
‘I’ve been chipping beneath the boarded-up window with this old razor. I’ve already made a wee spy-hole to see outside. If we make it bigger, we can escape. The wood isn’t very strong. It’s filled with woodworm. This whole shitty place is falling down.’
‘Won’t that take forever, using that rusty razor?’
‘Not now that there’s two of us. Don’t you see? I can work away at the wood, while you listen out for Scarman.’
The mere mention of Scarman’s name made Dorothy’s stomach percolate with nerves. ‘But…what if he finds out? Won’t…won’t he punish us?’
‘The trick is not to let him find out, isn’t it? Any wee bits of wood from the cutting, I shove it out through the hole. That’s what I’ve been doing, every chance I get.’
‘But how are you able to reach the window from here? It’s so far away.’
‘Not when you can do this.’ Tara arched herself downwards towards her ankles, her hands pulling slowly on the manacle. Within seconds, she had slipped her bare foot out of the metal enclosure.
Dorothy looked on in amazement.
‘How…how did you do that?’
‘I’m double-jointed. It comes in handy when I break into houses to steal. Give it a try. You might be double-jointed as well, without even knowing it. Go on. Try it.’
‘Okay…’ Dorothy took a deep breath before reluctantly carbon-copying each of Tara’s moves. She slowly pulled on her ankle. Her face cringed. ‘That’s sore! My skin’s coming off!’
‘Can’t you stop fucking moaning for a second? It’s only a scratch. Try it again.’
Gritting her teeth, Dorothy reluctantly attempted the manoeuvre again. This time, blood appeared beneath the shredded skin. ‘Arhhhhhhhh! I’m bleeding!’
‘It’s nothing. A wee speck.’
‘It’s not a wee speck. And it’s sore.’
‘It’ll toughen you up. You’ll need that, if you want to get out of here, and beat this bastard. You need to keep trying it, every chance you get, wee bit by wee bit. Eventually, you’ll be able to get your foot free from the chain.’
‘I…I’m sure there are people looking for me, right now. My mum and dad won’t give up until they find me. They’ll rescue me.’
‘Stop fooling yourself. No one’s gonna rescue you, except you. Get that through your thick head.’
‘Why are you being so nasty to me? I didn’t do anything to you, did I?’
‘Shut the fuck up!’
‘Okay…I…I don’t want to make you angry. I’ll keep quiet, if that’s what you want.’
‘Just stop getting on my nerves and messing up my head! I was fine until you came here, asking question after question.’
Watching Tara pace up and down, mumbling, tightened Dorothy’s stomach like a taut spring. There was something unpredictable, malevolent even, about Tara that frightened the life out of her.
After a few minutes of pacing, Tara said, ‘I saw an old man walking along the grass-way, the other night. I think he was a farmer, the way he was dressed, and walking like a duck. I flicked the lighter a few times, you know, like Morse code, hoping he’d see me.’
‘What’s Morris code?’
‘Morse, not Morris. Don’t you know anything? I can’t be arsed explaining everything to you. Morse code is like secret signals.’
‘How would the farmer know if it’s secret?’
‘You really are daft, aren’t you? C’mere. Let me show you something.’
Tara walked to the door. Dorothy hobbled behind her.
‘Do you see that metal box inside the door?’ Tara said, pointing.
‘Where the keyhole is?’
‘Behind that is a large bolt. That’s what Scarman locks the door with. Not a key.’ Tara placed her shoulder against the wall, and began snaking her arm through the tiniest of gaps in the plaster. A moment later, Dorothy could hear metal scraping against metal.
She watched in horror and amazement as the door creaked, opening a sliver.
Tara smiled at the look on Dorothy’s face.
‘I don’t blame you for looking scared. Sometimes even I get the shits, putting my arm out there, as if he’s waiting with a big butcher’s knife, ready to slice my arm off.’
‘No, I can slide it back in place without him knowing. A couple of times, when I heard his van drive away, I sneaked down the stairs, looking for grub.’
‘You didn’t, did you? You’re mad for doing that.’
‘Mad…?’ Tara seemed hypnotised by the word. ‘Yes I am, aren’t I? That’s what they said about me in Blackmore.’
‘Aren’t you terrified, putting your arm out?’
‘Shitting bricks, but I get a real strange thrill in my stomach, as if it’s being tickled from inside. It’s like, don’t do it, but the more I tell myself not to, another part of me is daring myself to do it. Like a devil and an angel, on my shoulders.’
‘What’s downstairs?’
‘Rooms. Lots of rooms. All the windows are boarded, with wood and metal bars across them. The front and back doors can only be opened from outside. I tried getting out, but it’s no use. I found some hard bread, though, in a filthy cupboard in the kitchen. Rats had been feeding on it, but it was delicious.’
Dorothy made a puke face. ‘You ate filthy bread touched by rats?’
‘You think you wouldn’t? Just wait until you get pains in your stomach from the hunger. You’ll wish you had a slice, even a crust, anything to stop the pain and cramps.’
‘I don’t care how hungry I was, I’d never eat it.’
‘You said that about the bucket…’ Tara put her arm back out through the gap, securing the bolt in its rightful place.
A wobbly smile of relief appeared on Dorothy’s face, seeing the closed door.
‘Why do I feel safer now that it’s closed, Tara?’
‘Fear. You’re filled with it. You’ve got to overcome it, face it. That’s how I survived in Blackmore.’
‘Blackmore? You keep saying that. What is it?’
‘The orphanage I was in, until I escaped. They used to scare the girls in there, with talk of the devil taking them away if they didn’t do what they were told. There was an old tower in the centre of the yard. It was black with age, like something out of a horror story. Pastor Kilkee always told us, that’s where Satan comes at night, watching. If we didn’t do things for him, Satan would take us away with him, to Hell.’
Dorothy shuddered involuntarily. ‘Don’t talk about…you know, “S”. I don’t like hearing his name.’
‘Satan? Ha! Know what I did when they told me Satan was in that big dark tower?’
‘I don’t want to know.’
‘One night, I sneaked right over there in the pitch dark, a black candle and a deck of cards in my hands. I lit the candle, and spread all the cards out in front of me. It started raining, thunder and lightning, the entire fucking show. Then I called Satan up from–’
Dorothy placed her hands tight against her ears, trying to block the sound of Tara’s words from her head, hobbling back to the mattress.
‘Please, Tara, stop talking about–’
‘–Hell, told him to take me away.’
‘Stop it!’
‘Next thing I knew, footsteps started coming up the stairs. Really weird footsteps, like a goat would make. The footsteps were getting closer and closer. Then I saw him – yellow eyes, fangs, tail, face all hairy…’
‘Stoppppppppp it!’
‘It was Bonzo.’
Dorothy slowly took her hands away from her ears. ‘What…?’
‘Bonzo. The cook’s shaggy dog.’
‘Dog…?’
‘That’s right. Not Satan, but a stupid dog. Next thing I know, Bonzo’s licking my face and wagging his tail, like I’m this big dog biscuit. That was when I knew, there’s no such thing as Satan. That was when I knew, I had the power to overcome my fear. That was when the staff began to fear me, especially Pastor Kilkee…’