Dangerous Promises (40 page)

Sadie opened her mouth but then promptly closed it again. Sometimes it was better to keep quiet. Instead she simply gave a nod.

‘Stay there,’ Petra said. ‘I need to check upstairs.’

The next sixty seconds were the longest in Sadie’s life. What if she didn’t come back? What if Petra went to fetch Wayne and… She stared longingly at the open door, tempted again to try and make a run for it. It took every ounce of will power to stay put. If she blew it now, there wouldn’t be any second chances.

Eventually she heard the soft tread on the stone again. Petra came to the door, put a warning finger to her lips and beckoned her out. Sadie’s heart was pounding in her chest as she left her prison and began the long walk up the steps. Was it a trap? Maybe this was just another play in some sick game of revenge. Maybe she would get to the top and… she swallowed hard. No, she couldn’t bear to think of it. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. It hurt to walk, but it was the kind of pain she could endure if it meant she was heading for freedom.

She emerged, blinking, into the brightness of the kitchen. Quickly she looked around but the room was empty. Although she’d checked her watch while she was waiting – it had said a quarter to one – she hadn’t been sure whether it was day or night. Now, from the dark squares of the window, she knew it was the latter.

Petra came up behind her, went straight to the back door and opened it. A rush of cold air flooded into the kitchen. Sadie realised, suddenly, that she had no idea where she was. In East London probably, but whereabouts? She had no coat and no money; both had been taken off her by Wayne Gissing. But none of these things mattered as she gazed hungrily at the outside world. She would have walked the streets naked if it meant getting out of here.

But as she took a step forward, Petra blocked her way. She looked Sadie up and down as if she was seeing the full extent of her injuries for the first time. And now she was obviously having second thoughts. To release Sadie in this state was too big a risk. She might collapse on the street and be picked up by the law. ‘No,’ she muttered, ‘you can’t go out like that.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Sadie said softly, afraid of wakening anyone else who might be in the house. ‘I will.’ She gazed over Petra’s shoulder to the small yard beyond. One lunge, that was all it would take, and she could be free. She could push past her and… but was the gate locked? It was too dark to tell. And it was far too tall for her to climb over. She felt her heart sinking. She couldn’t let this happen, not when she was almost there. ‘
Please
, I’ll be fine.’

‘Where are you going to go?’

Sadie wondered where she could go. Only one place sprang to mind. ‘Kellston,’ she said, thinking of Velma. ‘I’ve got a friend there. She’ll take care of me.’

‘Where in Kellston?’

‘A guest house. It’s called Oaklands. It’s opposite the station.’

Petra pondered on this for a moment and then said, ‘Wait here,’ before moving past her and disappearing into the living room.

Sadie wasn’t sure what was going on. She gazed longingly towards the gate. Here she was alone in the kitchen with the door open. Was it worth the gamble? There was nothing to stop her from…

But the thought had barely entered her head before Petra was back. She had a set of car keys in her hand. ‘We’ll drive. It’ll be quicker.’ She gave Sadie a small push on the shoulder. ‘Come on, then,’ she said roughly. ‘Don’t just stand there.’

Sadie stepped out into the chill air, walked along the path to the gate and waited while Petra pulled across two bolts. The woman did it slowly, trying not to make a noise. Every now and again she stopped, glancing back over her shoulder and up at the top windows of the house. Sadie, impatient and fearful, looked too but saw nothing but blackness.

It seemed an age before the gate was open and they passed through into a dark narrow alleyway. The only illumination, and it was meagre, came from a house that still had its lights on. Petra went first, weaving her way past dustbins, heaps of tin cans and other accumulated rubbish. Sadie stuck close to her heels, terrified of bumping into something and creating a racket.

After twenty yards, the path took a sharp right-angle turn and emerged on to the street. Petra hurried towards the red Ford Capri parked under a streetlamp. She unlocked the driver’s side, got in and leaned across to open the passenger door.

It was only in the confined space of the car that Sadie became aware of the pungent smell of alcohol. It drifted off Petra in waves so strong they almost made her gag. Jesus, the woman was pissed! She had to be. But Sadie was past caring. She’d rather take her chances with a drunk driver than with Wayne bloody Gissing.

Petra put the key in the ignition, started the car and instantly stalled it. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ she muttered as the Capri gave a lurch. She tried again and this time succeeded in getting away from the kerb.

Sadie said a silent prayer, hoping they weren’t too far from Kellston. It would just be her luck to escape from a dungeon and end up wrapped around a lamppost. She gazed out of the window, trying to figure out exactly where they were. Nothing looked familiar. She saw a few street names but they didn’t ring any bells.

Petra, hunched over the wheel, shot her a quick sidelong glance. She was, perhaps, starting to have some regrets about what she was doing. ‘You open your mouth about all this and you’re dead, you get it? No second chances.’

‘I get it,’ Sadie said. ‘I’ve told you, haven’t I? If I blab to the police, I’ll be going down too.’

‘Just remember that, huh?’

Sadie kept her eyes on the road ahead. Petra was steering erratically, frequently veering over to the right. Fortunately, there wasn’t much traffic about. ‘How far is it?’ she asked.

‘Not far.’

Sadie gave a nod. Her teeth were gritted, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, partly in response to the driving but mainly because freedom was so close and she was terrified that something might still go wrong. She wondered how Wayne and Kelly would react when they found she was gone. Not with equanimity, she imagined. Still, Petra was their mother; if anyone could deal with them, she could.

Five minutes later everything was starting to appear more familiar. There was a building she recognised, an old factory with two tall chimneys that she’d seen from the train. They must be getting close. She uncurled the fingers of her right hand and ran them through her matted hair. God, she must look a state. But that didn’t matter right now. All she wanted was to get there, to be safe, to be free.

Petra took a left on to Station Road and slowed down, her eyes darting to the left and right as she searched for the guesthouse. ‘Where is it, then?’

‘On the other side,’ Sadie said, gesturing towards the long line of Victorian houses. ‘It’s just opposite the station. You can drop me there or by the Fox.’

But Petra didn’t seem too keen on this idea, worried perhaps that Sadie wasn’t going where she said she was going. ‘Before the Fox or after?’

‘Just before.’

When they got to the pub, Petra swerved into the car park, did a careless three-point turn and, turning right, exited back on to Station Road. A few seconds later she pulled up outside Oaklands. ‘Okay, we’re here. Remember what I said? You call the filth and you’ll be sorry. I’ll make sure of it.’

‘I won’t.’ Without another word, Sadie opened the car door, stepped out on to the pavement, closed the door behind her and walked quickly up the short drive to the guesthouse. The house was in darkness and she pressed hard on the bell, hoping that someone would answer. As she waited, she glanced back over her shoulder. Petra was still watching her.

‘Come on, come on,’ Sadie urged. ‘
Please’.

She was about to press the bell again when a light came on in the hall and a figure appeared through the frosted glass. There was the sound of a bolt being pulled across and then the door swung open.

Velma, who was still dressed, stared at her for a moment. And then her jaw dropped as she realised who she was – and what state she was in. ‘Jesus Christ! What the —’

What happened next would remain forever engraved on Sadie’s memory. Almost simultaneously she heard the sound of the Capri moving off and a shout coming from the direction of the Fox.

‘Sadie! Sadie!’

She turned to see Mona Farrell hurtling across the street at exactly the same time as the car accelerated. There was a screech of brakes, a dull thump, a single piercing cry. She had a sense of time standing still before Mona was thrown into the air like a rag doll, her body twisting as she fell on to the bonnet of the Capri, bounced off and landed heavily on the pavement.

At first, paralysed by shock, Sadie couldn’t move. It was Velma who ran to help, Velma who knelt down beside the girl. Sadie stood watching, her gaze flicking between Mona and the car. And then, without much more than a second’s hesitation, Petra put her foot down and the red Capri shot off.

Sadie’s legs felt leaden as she forced herself to walk. She couldn’t understand it. What was Mona Farrell doing here? Where had she come from? Not that any of those questions really mattered any more. As she reached the end of the drive, Velma turned and shook her head.

‘We need to call an ambulance,’ Sadie said.

‘It’s too late, love. She’s dead.’

Sadie dropped her gaze to the limp, lifeless body of Mona. The girl was lying on her back. Her eyes were glassy, partly open. A thin trickle of blood was running from the corner of her mouth.

55

Despite the late hour the street suddenly began to fill. People seemed to appear from nowhere until a small crowd had gathered. Like moths drawn to a flame, they fluttered round, their voices hushed, their eyes drinking in the tragedy. A soft murmur rippled through the air. An elderly woman brought a blanket and placed it over Mona’s body.

Velma stood up, moved away and took hold of Sadie’s arm. ‘Come on,’ she whispered. ‘We have to go.’

Sadie gazed at her, bemused. ‘We can’t just leave her.’

‘There’s nothing more we can do, love. The ambulance will be here soon, and so will the law.’

‘Which is why we have to stay,’ Sadie protested. ‘They’ll want to know what happened. They’ll want statements and —’

‘You do know they’re looking for you?’

‘Yes… no… I don’t know. I thought they might be. Joel must have told them I was missing.’

Velma gave her an odd look. ‘You don’t have a clue, do you?’

‘What do you mean?’

Velma shook her head. ‘Wait here a sec.’ She walked briskly up the drive, closed the door to Oaklands and came back to join her again. ‘We have to get away from here.’

Sadie didn’t understand what was going on. She was still reeling from the shock of the hit-and-run, still dazed, still in a state of partial disbelief. Her brain couldn’t fully register the reality of Mona lying dead on the pavement. ‘We can’t. I mean, it doesn’t feel right, leaving her like this.’

But already Velma had taken hold of her arm and was propelling her gently forward. ‘Don’t say anything. Just trust me, okay?’

Sadie, who was in no state to argue, allowed herself to be manoeuvred round the crowd. As they walked up the street, her confusion increased. Where were they going? Why were they leaving the scene of a crime? Petra Gissing had been drunk; she had killed Mona and just driven off.
Mona Farrell was dead.

It wasn’t until they were a good ten yards from the accident that Velma finally spoke again. Her voice was low and anxious. ‘What happened to you, Sadie? Where have you been?’

‘The Gissings happened. They grabbed me on my way home, shoved me in a van, brought me to London and…’ Sadie shrugged, knowing that the rest was self-evident. Suddenly her experiences in the cellar seemed far away and distant, overlain by the more immediate horror of Mona’s death. ‘Wayne’s mother let me out. She drove me to Kellston and… I don’t understand what Mona was doing here. What was she doing here?’

‘I’ve no idea, hon.’

‘She was drunk, really drunk. Petra, I mean. I could smell it on her. She could barely drive in a straight line.’ Sadie paused and then, recalling what had been said earlier, asked: ‘What did you mean about me not having a clue?’

‘The police, love, that’s what I meant. They’ve been looking for you – they came to Oaklands – but not because your boyfriend reported you as missing.’

Sadie frowned. ‘I don’t —’

‘Have you ever heard of a guy called Peter Royston?’

‘He’s a reporter in Haverlea.’

‘Was,’ Velma said. ‘Not any more. I hate to tell you this but he was murdered on Saturday night.’

Sadie stopped dead in her tracks and stared at her. ‘What?’

‘Don’t stop,’ Velma said, glancing nervously over her shoulder. She tugged on Sadie’s elbow again. ‘Come on, we’re almost there.’

Sadie, who had become used to doing what she was told over the past few days, obediently began walking again. ‘Dead? How… what… I don’t…’ But she could barely string her thoughts together, never mind a sentence.

‘And you went AWOL at the same time and no one knew where you were so…’ Velma sighed into the cold night air, her breath emerging in a small steamy cloud. ‘Well, you know what Old Bill’s like, always putting two and two together and making five.’

Sadie shuddered as she started to realise the kind of trouble she was in. Royston was dead and she was in the frame. ‘Where?’ she asked.

‘Huh?’

‘Royston. Where was he…’

‘Oh, at a fairground,’ Velma said. ‘Someone caved his head in, apparently.’

Sadie swallowed hard. She’d been supposed to meet Mona Farrell at the fair, had waited for her by the Big Wheel. Someone must have seen her and told the police. ‘And they think it was me?’

Velma veered left into Albert Road, pulling Sadie along with her. It was empty apart from two prostitutes standing hopefully on the corner at the far end. One of them was tugging on a cigarette, thin plumes of smoke rising from her mouth. Sadie found herself staring at the smoke as if it meant something, as though if she concentrated hard enough some answers could be found in a world that had gone mad.