Authors: Louise Stone
‘Please. I just want to see my daughter. Take me to my daughter.’
‘How do you know your daughter’s alive?’
I struggled to make sense of her words. ‘What do you mean? She has to be alive.’ I started to kick out frantically but she fought hard. ‘Please,’ I sobbed, ‘tell me she’s alive.’
‘I can’t do that.’
I swung my arm forward and elbowed her hard in the ribs. She recoiled and momentarily loosened her hold. Enough time for me to stamp on her foot, sending her staggering backward. I turned and peered at the figure as she emerged slowly from the shadows. Sheer terror seized me as I realised she was holding a gun. She smiled and moved into the light.
I gasped. ‘You?’
‘Who do you think I am?’ The woman smiled.
I gasped. ‘Polly? Are you Polly?’ The woman who had been more jealous of Bethany at university than even I had. My head was reeling and, with one eye on the gun, I moved backward. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
She smiled, a demonic smile. ‘We finally meet again, Sophie. I killed your friend and now I want you dead.’ She flung the gun from side to side as she talked, my eyes never leaving it. ‘And now I have your precious daughter who frankly deserves a better mother.’
I screamed, my hand flying to my mouth. It was hard to believe this woman was capable of murder, but I saw it now, that look in her eyes. She was more than capable. She was crazy, obsessed with me. Obsessed with Bethany. And now she had Amy.
‘Where’s Amy? Polly, where’s Amy?’
She didn’t speak, just looked at me: all-knowing. We stared at each other: the past rushing at us from all directions.
‘It was you! All along, it was you … I told you to leave me and Bethany alone. And after Bethany died, you just disappeared. I thought it was over.’
‘It’s time you realised that you can’t always get rid of your demons.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I couldn’t believe, after twenty years, I was staring into the face of the woman who
had stalked me and Bethany, who had decided she wanted a relationship like we had. Like sisters. I had found a box of photos on my bed, once, of me and Bethany. Every single photo she had taken was of us together. The woman was nuts.
‘Oh come on, Sophie. You know what I’m talking about. Your demons. The drink, the drugs, the counting to three. Like that’s going to keep the demons at bay. Then there’s me.’ She smiled. ‘Your other demon. Your stalker.’ She laughed, it was a hollow, bitter laugh.
‘You are no longer a part of my life. You have not been a part of my life for twenty years,’ I shouted, despite my legs buckling with terror.
Polly sneered at me. ‘The girl who can do no wrong at the firm despite turning up to work drunk, despite having endless time off for
therapy.
’
‘Where’s Amy?’ I moved forward, I needed to get to my daughter. ‘Tell me she’s safe.’
‘She’s not safe. But she wasn’t safe with you either, was she?’
She was enjoying this: it was the thrill.
‘I think we should go upstairs to where it all began,’ she said, her voice strung out, her eyes bulging with excitement. ‘A trip down memory lane, you know?’
‘You’re sick.’ I felt another rush of nausea.
She strode toward me, laughing, almost deliriously, and I stepped backward, falling hard against the stairs. Dragging me up, as if I weighed no more than a feather, she turned me around and pressed the gun to my temple. ‘Let’s go see where it all began.’
I gulped and shuffled forward.
‘Come on, go,’ she said, shoving me up the stairs, the gun knocking the side of my head as we moved.
‘Where are you taking me? To see Amy?’
She laughed. ‘I told you. She’s as good as dead.’
I thrashed against her. ‘No! She can’t be. You never said that.’
She turned coy. ‘Didn’t I? Oh, because that’s what I meant.’
We reached the landing. I knew she wanted me to head toward the light but I couldn’t. Images of Bethany rushed at me. She pushed me hard toward the door, open just a crack, the light stuttering.
I flinched as she jabbed me once more with the gun. Polly told me to get moving and she propelled me into the room with such force I fell to the floor.
The last twenty years disappeared in that moment.
‘Sophie, get up,’ she snarled.
Scrambling to get to my feet, my head reeled, my eyes fixated on the spot where Bethany had died.
‘Where’s Amy?’ I shouted. I wanted to get away from there, from the memories of the men looking at us with lascivious smiles. ‘I need to see Amy.’ I took my phone out. ‘I’m going to ring the police.’
Polly shoved the gun in my face. ‘Put that thing away.’
‘No, this needs to stop.’
She scowled and held the gun up again, her once pretty face demonic. ‘I know how to use this thing, you know?’
‘Listen.’ Fear pulsated through my body as I realised then exactly where Amy was. An image of Bethany by a cliff spun to the forefront of my mind. ‘I’m going to the cliff. That’s where she is, isn’t it?’ I needed Polly to take me to the exact location so I went on, played into her psychology. ‘I want proof that Amy is …’ I paused, unable to say the next word. ‘Dead.’
She laughed again, almost overexcitedly. I realised this was all a big game to her. She was enjoying every moment.
‘Polly,’ I said, ‘it doesn’t matter if I don’t ring the police anyway because they will be here any second now. DI Ward isn’t stupid, she will be onto you.’
She stared at me. ‘No, she won’t. I’ve managed so far.’
‘You’re mad, I tell you!’ The familiar ringing had started up in my ears again, I felt faint but I had to remain strong. I had to get to Amy.
‘What did you say? Did you call
me
mad?’ Anger replaced Polly’s excitement.
‘Polly.’ I came toward her, adrenaline pumping through my veins. ‘Just show me exactly where my daughter is.’
‘Yes, OK,’ she said and wiped the sweat from the top of her lip. ‘You’re right, we need to go to the cliff, let the fun really begin.’
Bile rose in my throat as I thought about the many stories I had heard about the cliffs; folktales and horror stories passed down from one university generation to another, from one local to the next.
Without warning, I felt the gun in the small of my back and looked over my shoulder at Polly.
‘Go.’
I was guided out of the room, Polly hanging back threatening to shoot if I ran; adopting her acting role once more.
‘For god’s sake,’ I screamed at her. ‘We need to go faster!’
We stepped out of the house. The line of pine trees bent against the force of the wind, the rain slashing across our faces.
‘Come on!’ I shouted to her over the driving rain. ‘Take me to see Amy.’
‘Where’s your car?’
‘Up on the hill, but I’ve run out of fuel,’ I said, my voice shrill. ‘Please, Polly, come on!’
Polly shrugged, a picture of calm. ‘There’s a canister of petrol over she – there.’ She pointed, her face lighting up with an excited smile. ‘I was going to torch this place. You know, erase history.’
I ran to where she pointed and picked up the metal can. It was heavy and I stumbled forward under its weight. I looked back at Polly who stood unmoving. ‘Are you coming?’
Begrudgingly she followed me up the hill as I jogged then walked back to the car, my breathing ragged. The rain came at us and the cold, coastal wind whipped around our already soaking bodies.
I snatched at the petrol cap, its smooth, wet surface impossible to grip. After another try, I managed to unscrew it and, lifting the petrol canister, poured the fuel in. Polly laughed delightedly as the canister kept slipping from my grasp. Once it was empty, I threw it to the side and I clambered into the car, indicating Polly to get behind the wheel.
She did as she was told but then turned, and looked at me. ‘Actually, you know what, you drive.’
Exasperated I got out and we exchanged places. Polly climbed in the back seat.
‘Polly, we don’t have time to be messing about, just tell me exactly where my daughter is,’ I shouted, my nerves jagged. ‘We’ll drive there now. This whole thing needs to stop.’
She laughed as she shut the door. ‘She’s by the cliff, like you guessed. But you would know that, wouldn’t you?’ She smiled, ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘She’s tied up, right on the edge.’ Polly snorted. ‘A bit like you.’
Horror shot through me. ‘No! But Amy can’t even swim.’
I started the car and after it sputtered to life, I sped off.
‘Which way?’
‘Go left at the end.’
I gave Polly a sidelong look, she was laughing hysterically and I realised she was totally out of control.
We were fast approaching the cliff. I drove helter-skelter through the country lanes before cutting a right off the main road and down a dirt track. My mind spun with what lay ahead. Until I had my daughter back in my arms …
‘You are taking me to see Amy, aren’t you, Polly?’ I yelled over the roar of the motor.
She didn’t say anything and we hurtled forward, the headlights casting ghostly shadows over the trees. The thumping sound I had heard earlier from the rear of the car started up again only this time it was louder. I rounded a bend and as the sound grew more urgent, I realised the car might conk out and I came down harder on the accelerator.
‘Where is my daughter?’ I shouted as we sped toward the cliffs. The headlights swung left and right, randomly illuminating the craggy countryside. The cliff edge came into view and I braked but it took me a moment to realise that they weren’t working properly. I wasn’t going to stop in time and I started screaming.
‘Sophie! What are you doing? You’re going to kill us!’ shouted Polly, her voice momentarily filled with terror.
I was doing eighty and we were only a hundred metres from the edge, but I couldn’t stop.
‘Sophie,’ Polly continued shouting and simultaneously howling with laughter, ‘brake!’
‘I can’t! The brakes aren’t working!’
I looked at Polly’s face in the mirror: she looked crazed. She sat forward, her seatbelt stretched to the max as she wriggled between the gap in the seats, jerking the wheel hard to the right.
‘What are you doing? You’re sending us even closer to the cliff edge.’ I glanced her way as I felt the car finally respond to my foot on the brake.
We spun, once, twice and a final time, our bodies moved around the car like clothes in a washing machine. Sliding off the dirt track and into a ditch, the car rolled upside down and back around again before it hit a tree full force. My head pummelled the window repeatedly. The air bags whooshed open and then …
Silence.
Polly groaned before I heard a strangled cry from the boot of the car.
Amy. My heart plummeted as I realised that Amy wasn’t on the cliff at all. She was in the boot of my car. I felt for the door handle and pulled it. The door wouldn’t open. It was jammed. My heart quickened, realising I could smell petrol. Ignoring the pain in my head, I scrambled as fast I could to the other side of the car, pushing Polly’s legs out the way. I tried it and, thankfully, it opened. The smell of petrol was overpowering now.
I ran to the back of the car and pulled open the boot. Amy was inside, her tiny body surrounded by bags of duvets and clothes, her mouth covered by duct tape and handcuffs secured around her feet and hands. She looked at me wide-eyed and I let out an overwhelming sob of helplessness.
‘Amy!’ I put my hands underneath her and using all my remaining energy I picked her up and turned, running in the direction of the slope. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Polly crawling away from the car, her eyes never leaving mine.
No sooner had I levered us up the first rock, we were flung sideways as the car exploded: glass smashed and the tang of burning rubber filled the air. The heat from the flames rushed at us and I squeezed my eyes shut against the mirage of fumes. The smoke billowed upward and I brought my arm up across my eyes, the heady smell of petrol making my eyes water.
I turned and dragged Amy up the slope, my trainers struggling to find footing as I dug my nails into the gritty ground. Reaching the top, I looked at Amy.
She was alarmingly still, her face pale.
‘Amy, darling,’ I stroked her hair, ‘who did this to you?’
I carefully peeled the tape from her lips and she whispered hoarsely, ‘Mummy, please help me.’
Tears streamed down my cheeks landing on Amy’s delicate skin and I tugged at the cuffs.
‘Where are the keys?’
‘I don’t know, Mummy.’ Her small body shook with sobs and her fingers held mine.
‘I need to find Polly.’ I gently lay Amy on the ground. ‘Phone the police, an ambulance.’ I took out my phone and realised I had no signal. I was plunged into a fresh wave of despair, of hopelessness.
I wiped the rain from my eyes and scanned the cliff top for Polly who had disappeared. Edging slowly toward the edge, I realised I couldn’t see the water below but I could hear its roar as it thrust against the rocks and echoed back through the narrow space.
‘Oh god.’
I looked back at Amy, tears silently streamed down her face. ‘Mummy, please. I want to go home.’
‘I know,’ I soothed, ‘but you’re safe now. You’re safe with me.’
She gave a small agitated shake to the head. ‘Mummy, I don’t want to die.’
I forced a smile. ‘You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.’ I swallowed. ‘Do you remember that story I told you once?’ As I spoke, I carefully backed away from the edge. ‘The one about the girl who was a princess.’
‘Yeah …’ Amy looked uncertain.
‘Do you remember how brave she had to be?’
Amy nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘I need you to be like that girl, OK?’ I needed to think: I needed to get Amy somewhere safe and warm, but I didn’t think I had the strength to carry her back to the house.
‘OK.’
‘I need you to be the bravest you’ve ever been.’ I drove the lump in my throat back down. ‘It’s all going to be OK.’ I paused to think, panic muddying any clarity I needed in this situation. ‘How did Polly get you into the car?’
‘Polly?’ The tremble in Amy’s voice was too much for me and I fought to stay in control.