Fatal Page 19

  ‘I’m not saying that I’m—’

  Abel cut in, bitterness twisting his whole being. ‘You know what they did to her! But I, me, I had to watch them do it to her. To Natalia. I watched them like fucking animals raping her as she begged me to make them stop. She was calling my name, Alfie, do you know what that’s like? Pleading with me to help her and I couldn’t. They made sure of that by tying me to a fucking chair, so all I could do was watch and listen to her pleas … Sshhh. Sshhh. Can you hear that? Can you hear it, Alfie?’

  ‘What, Abel? Hear what?’

  Abel wandered around the room, staring up, staring round, staring at Alfie with a penetrating, tormented gaze. ‘Her … There. There … Can you hear it? Can you hear her? You must be able to hear it. Hear Natalia.’

  Sadly, Alfie shook his head. ‘No, Abel, no, mate.’

  Once again, Abel’s eyes were wild and wide as he roared, raw emotion echoing around the house. He smashed the side of his head with his fist repeatedly. ‘Well, I can! I can! That’s all I hear.’

  ‘Abel, come on. I know it tortures you, but you’re not to blame. Nobody blamed you, she knew it wasn’t your fault.’

  Abel shook manically. ‘You didn’t see the way she looked at me.’

  ‘I did, Abel, when you brought her back here, I saw it. She was ill, Abel, it wasn’t you. What happened made her very ill. She never blamed you.’

  Pacing about, Abel pointed at Alfie. ‘Yes, yes, she did. She would ask me why, over and over again, why hadn’t I helped her … why hadn’t I told Nico where the money was … Well, I didn’t know! I didn’t fucking know, Alfie!’

  Abel fell to his knees and, feeling inadequate, Alfie said, ‘I know, mate, I know.’

  ‘And now Nico is my oxygen and one day I will get my revenge. I told them a long time ago. La mia vendetta … I’ll help you, Alfie, I’ll do anything it takes to get Franny and Bree back … Now get out! Leave me alone! Go on, go!’

  And as Alfie shut the door behind him, he looked at the name scrawled and carved everywhere in the corridor: Natalia.

  35

  In the darkness of the warehouse, Bree shuffled over to Franny in the tiny cage, sending the large black rat that had been nibbling crumbs off the ground scurrying.

  It was cold, and hunger pains stabbed at her stomach. The only food they’d been given since they’d arrived three days ago consisted of a packet of biscuits, a half-eaten ham-and-cheese sandwich to share between them and the minimum amount of water.

  She shivered, trying to push everything out of her mind as she had done when she’d been a virtual prisoner in her last marriage, tortured and brutalised by her ex-husband. Even there in the small trailer park where they’d lived, she’d found a way to shut off to survive, imagining herself to be in a place where no one could hurt her, and no one could find her.

  And that’s exactly what she’d tried to do now – shut off. But no matter how hard she tried, all she could think about was her daughter, Molly, Alfie, her baby growing inside her and Franny’s haunting words: we’re going to die. She took a sharp intake of air, the enormity of the situation hitting her; tasting the fear.

  She wondered if the reason she wasn’t able to separate herself from her surroundings was that in the last few weeks with Alfie happiness had touched her and she couldn’t pretend to herself anymore that life wasn’t precious. And now the terror she felt seemed to sit in her chest, weighing down on her with every breath she took.

  But right now her concern was for Franny. She was worried about her because she knew, behind that tough exterior, Franny must be hurting and as scared as she was.

  Bree shuffled even closer to Franny. Even in the darkness she could see her face, swollen and bruised from the beating that Bobby had given her for blurting out the truth to Alfie.

  ‘Are you awake, Franny?’ she whispered.

  A moment passed before Franny’s voice cut through the darkness. Franny winced as she spoke, her lip painful from being split by one of Bobby’s punches. ‘Yeah. Are you okay, Bree?’

  ‘Yeah, I was just wondering how you were.’

  Sitting up slightly to try to find a more comfortable position on the hard, wet concrete floor, Franny stared at Bree. Her tone defensive, she asked, ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m worried about you, you haven’t said much for a while.’

  Franny raised her eyebrows, seeing the strain on Bree’s face. ‘What is there to say? And like I told you before, I’m fine – worry about yourself, not me.’

  ‘But—’

  Hardening her tone even more, Franny snapped, ‘Listen to me, Bree. I appreciate your concern, but talking like this won’t help, it won’t get us out of here, will it?’

  Still keeping her voice in a whisper, Bree spoke warmly. ‘I’m not saying it will, but it might—’

  ‘Might make us feel better?’ Franny cut in bitterly. ‘Is that what you were going to say? Because if it was, don’t bother. I’m not a child, so pretending all is frigging tickety-boo ain’t going to work for me. The only thing that will work for me is to see you getting out of here alive. Now if you don’t mind, Bree, I’d like to get some sleep.’

  Feeling a sudden surge of loneliness at the loaded tension in the air, Bree hugged her knees close to her, wondering if this was really how she was going to spend her final days.

  Alfie’s face was whiter than white as he led Lola and Alice into the grand kitchen through what had been the servants’ entrance. Although the sun outside was high in the sky and the day was bright, the minute they walked into Abel’s house the darkness and gloom surrounded them.

  Alfie’s head was swimming as he tried to concentrate on Alice. He took her hand, but she pulled away, still not wanting to have anything to do with him. Hoping to make the atmosphere less tense, Lola asked, ‘Are you all right, Alf?’

  ‘I’m fine, Lola. I’ll speak to you later.’

  ‘Alf? You look terrible. Are you sure you’re okay? Is it your leg, is it playing you up?’

  Refusing to break down in front of Alice, Alfie answered tightly, ‘Yeah, it’s giving me a bit of jip, but can we leave it now. I …’ He took a deep breath, unable to finish his sentence.

  The thought of Franny and Bree with Salvatore made him feel ill. He had known Natalia and had seen what a mess they’d left her in and now, Jesus, now they were all pawns in the Russos’ game.

  He turned to Alice, just trying to get through the next half an hour. ‘I’ll take you to your bedrooms and I’m sorry, but for now you’ll just have to keep on wearing the same clothes until we figure something out. But at least you’ll be able to shower and wash all your stuff. And, Alice, you do know this ain’t what I wanted for you, none of us did … I love you.’

  Alice stared at Alfie oddly as Lola, sensing the strain, tried to sound cheery as she looked around the once splendid Elizabethan kitchen.

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find something. Back in the day, Abel was one of the best-dressed people I know, him and Nat …’ Lola stopped, nervously looking at Alfie, worried by his expression she’d said too much.

  Kicking the chair hard in anger as he walked past it and up towards the kitchen stairwell, Alfie snapped, ‘For God’s sake, Lola, why don’t you just keep it fucking zipped, just shut it! For once in your life just shut it! Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms.’

  Alfie sat, head in hands, on the dark oak four-poster bed, the orange drapes around it faded and dusty. Glancing up, he looked out through the window to the wide sweeping views of the forest and sea.

  His chest was tight and a sense of panic was rumbling through his veins. Only a short time ago all he had to worry about was which woman he wanted to be with. That was all. That was it. What a fucking luxury to have that as his only problem, especially as both women were such extraordinary human beings that it put him to shame. He hadn’t seen it at the time, but now, now he knew that it hadn’t been a problem at all, because this,
this nightmare he’d somehow found himself in, was a problem. An unresolvable fucking problem. Choose between two women he loved, but by the way, Alf, choose which one will live and which one will die. Fuck!

  Picking his phone up, Alfie stared at it for a couple of minutes then abruptly pressed call.

  ‘Salvatore? It’s Alfie.’

  Salvatore’s voice was slow but a hint of amusement danced in his words, emphasising his New Jersey twang. ‘Can’t stay away or are you phoning to let us know you’ve got our money already and you’re keen to make your choice?’

  Holding onto his anger, Alfie said, ‘I want to speak to them.’

  Salvatore laughed. ‘Why?’

  Taking a moment to fight his emotions, which seemed to cut like a razor at the back of his throat, Alfie squeezed his eyes shut as he spoke, aware how much his hand was shaking as he held onto the phone. ‘I need to make sure they’re okay.’

  ‘They’re okay.’

  Alfie smashed his fist against one of the wooden bedposts – the pain that shot through his arm making him feel better. ‘Let’s put it this way, Salvatore, I have no reason to trust you. I want to hear for myself.’

  ‘Okay, Alfie, if that’s what you want, but if you do, that will be a day down. Instead of sixteen days to get our money and give us Alice, you’ll only have fifteen days. One day equals one conversation. Are you sure that’s what you want?’

  Alfie placed the phone on the bed. Pale, covered with a sudden cold sweat and feeling an intense throbbing in his leg, he got up and made his way into the cream-tiled en-suite bathroom, where he was promptly sick, retching up mucus and bile from his empty stomach, his nose blocking up with vomit. And then, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he began to cry, uncontrollable deep sobs, unable to stop the well of emotion drowning him.

  Attempting to pull himself together, Alfie threw cold water on his face before going back to the phone. He let out a long sigh and then calmly said, ‘Salvatore, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s a deal, let me speak to them and you can make it fifteen days.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Not at all sure, but too afraid to question if he was doing the right thing, Alfie growled, ‘Listen, you motherfucker, I’ve already said it’s a deal, now just put them on the phone.’

  Again, Salvatore broke into laughter. ‘Alfie, we have a problem. You only get to speak to one of them, not both. Both of them was never the deal. Unless of course you want to make it fourteen days?’

  Even though he wasn’t fully able to think straight, Alfie knew that only having fourteen days was not an option – even fifteen days was really too little time to pull together that kind of money. Not that he had any idea what he was going to do; the sense of already being defeated hung over his head like Damocles’ sword.

  With hatred, he snarled, ‘You’ll pay for this, Salvatore.’

  ‘I doubt it, Alfie, but if it makes you feel better to think that, knock yourself out. So, come on, who do you want to speak to? Who will it be?’

  Taking long, deep breaths to try to calm the panic that was rising, Alfie rubbed the water off his face with his hand and opened his mouth to answer Salvatore. Then, changing his mind, he closed it. Jesus Christ, it was impossible. What he wanted maybe wouldn’t be the right choice. If he chose Franny, what would he say to her? He knew she’d try to reassure him that she was fine, that she was strong, but he would also know that she was terrified, not that she would ever admit it. And if he chose Bree, how would Franny feel? And Christ, what would he say to her? He’d be able to hear the pain in her voice as she told him not to blame himself. She would tell him not to worry about her and to keep himself safe. And maybe he shouldn’t be talking to them at all. Gambling one of the days away, for what? So he could speak to them, so it would make him feel better. But then he had to know, he wanted to know, and fuck, it was selfish, but he couldn’t help himself.

  ‘Bree. Put Bree on the phone.’

  There was a pause before Salvatore said, ‘Good choice, that would’ve been my choice as well. Mouthy women like Franny should be kept in their place, and besides, she probably wouldn’t be able to talk very much, not with the fat lip Bobby gave her. Hold on.’

  Alfie screamed down the phone, ‘No! No! Salvatore, come back, what the fuck do you mean? Put Franny on instead, Salvatore!’

  Then a soft voice came onto the line. ‘Hello?’

  It was like an ointment, a healing, soothing balm. ‘Bree, it’s me.’

  Bree’s voice was breathless. ‘Alfie, are you all right?’

  Although he was on his own, embarrassed, he wiped away his tears. ‘Shouldn’t that be me who says that to you? How’s Franny? Can you tell her that I wasn’t choosing you over her, I just … I just … How is she?’

  Bree repeated Alfie’s words out loud – ‘How’s Franny?’ – at the same time as she glanced at her sitting huddled in the cage on the hard concrete floor, her face battered. Franny nodded, encouraging Bree to answer Alfie positively as Salvatore and Bobby stood above them, amused.

  ‘She’s fine, Alfie.’

  ‘But Salvatore said—’

  Bree cut in, speaking firmly. ‘No, she’s fine … I promise.’

  ‘Good.’ Alfie closed his eyes, knowing Bree was lying but too much of a coward to push it further – he didn’t think he could cope with what he might hear. ‘Good. I’m glad … Fuck sake, Bree, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me about the baby? Is it mine? Not that it matters, cos I love you anyway, and I know it’s crazy cos I never said it to you before, but I do. But that don’t mean I don’t love Franny, cos she’s my world, it’s just … I, fuck, I’m being selfish, ain’t I? I’m just a bit lost, a bit fucked up.’

  ‘Alfie, it’s okay.’

  Alfie pressed his head against the intricate carved post of the bed. ‘But it ain’t, is it? And when it was okay, I messed up, I wronged you both … I …’ He trailed off.

  ‘Alfie, listen to me, and this is really important. I don’t want you to choose me because of the baby.’ She paused before adding, ‘Cos I’m not going through with it anyway. I won’t be going through with the pregnancy even if I get out of here.’

  ‘What? Bree, look—’

  ‘No, Alfie, I don’t want another kid. So don’t get sentimental, Alf, I know what you’re like. Now I’ve got to go … and, Alfie, we both love you too. Take good care of yourself.’

  Bree clicked off the phone, unable to speak to Alfie any longer. She trembled as she handed it back through the bars to Salvatore, and in the darkness of the warehouse, Franny whispered, ‘That wasn’t true, was it, Bree? About the pregnancy, about you not wanting to go through with it, it’s not true.’

  Leaning on Franny’s shoulder, with drops of water dripping on them from the leaking warehouse roof, Bree shook her head. ‘No, it’s not, but it might help him make the right decision. He may love me, but the difference is he not only loves you, but he needs you. He needs you, Franny. Problem is he doesn’t even know it.’

  36

  Night drew in and Alice, having stayed in her room the whole afternoon, crept down the long airy corridor, trying not to make any of the wooden floorboards creak as she tiptoed along. In the darkness, with only the moonlight as her torch, she glanced behind her, shivering as she crept past the large gold-framed paintings of formidable-looking lords and ladies of bygone days, past the deer and boar heads covered in dust and cobwebs dotted around the wall, and past the brass suit of armour standing ominously at the end of the corridor, which felt to Alice as if it were watching her, stalking her from behind the eye slits in the helmet.

  Alice came to a large wooden door and pushed herself into the shadows, making sure that no one was around. Looking up and down the hallway and certain that she was on her own, Alice turned the oversized brass handle as quietly as she could.

  The room was pitch-black and a smell of musty cloth hit Alice’s senses. There was silenc
e apart from the soft murmur of Lola snoring in the large four-poster bed.

  ‘Lola?’ Alice whispered, not wanting to wake her but at the same time wanting to make sure that she was properly asleep.

  Hearing no reply and unable to see in the darkness, her heart thumping, Alice crouched down to the wooden floor. She crawled along, feeling her way carefully, stretching her arms out to make sure she didn’t bang into anything that would cause Lola to wake up.

  Crawling further forward, Alice felt something soft under her fingertips. Still unable to see, she picked up the object and examined it. Quickly realising it was what she was looking for, Alice began to back away, but as she did her foot banged into the hearth, sending the fire grate crashing down.

  ‘Hello? Who’s there? Abel, is that you? Don’t you come in here, Alfie’s next door and I’ll scream, don’t you think I won’t. You stay away from me, you hear? Abel? Abel?’

  Alice stayed frozen, her thoughts confused. What was Lola talking about? And why did she sound so frightened? There was a huge part of her that wanted to make sure Lola was fine, but then Lola would want to know what she was doing in her room.

  ‘Abel? Abel? I know that’s you.’

  Aware that Lola thought she was Abel, Alice, deciding to take her chance, stood up and ran out of the room, hoping to get to the door before Lola had the opportunity to switch on the light.

  Slamming the bedroom door behind her, Alice stood in the corridor slightly out of breath. She leant her head on the door, hearing Lola’s muffled, frightened cries. Ashamed of herself, but not wanting to waste any time, Alice quickly pulled herself together, ran along the hallway and through a set of double doors leading to the far end of the house.