Long moments of silence followed and, though it was still uncomfortable, she gained control of her breathing. It was like the cave all over again. He was dead though, the man in the cave. Pete had told her he was gone, tossed in the sea. So, she had escaped that horror to find herself yet again tied and gagged and beaten. It was all too much.

She had taken all she could. She wanted to just drift away. She was finished. It seemed that there was to be no way out of this drama and it was all too hard. The sobbing made breathing impossible again. Tears tickled her cheeks and as phlegm gathered in her throat she felt the panic returning. Like a dog she shook her head and was rewarded with another drag on her hair.

“Quiet! For God’s sake, bitch, be quiet! You’re not doing yourself any favours here and you causing us trouble is just going to make things worse. Now keep still.” He moved behind and his feet slapped on the kitchen flags. Another chair dragged to where she was, just behind her and facing the door.

She remembered a poem, something from long ago. Something about a highwayman and a woman watching and waiting with no way of warning her lover but to die.

Pete had surely been her lover but for him she couldn’t even find a way to die.

Chapter 49

She heard a car. The low rumble grew and was joined by the spit of gravel under tyres. Next there was the whisper of grass as Pete drove to the hiding place among shrubs at the rear of the house.

The thug sitting behind her tensed and chair legs scraped across the floor. Pauline’s heart pounded, the pulse in her ears was near to pain. She shook her head back and forth and stamped her bound feet up and down. Anything that she could think of to make a row, to warn him. She was rewarded for the effort by a hard blow against the side of her head that sent her senses reeling again. The iron taste of warm blood and the liquid gathering in her throat told of more damage to the delicate lining of her mouth. Still she rocked back and forth, the wooden chair rattling in the quiet.

Would he hear? If he did would he understand and even then what could he do? He mustn’t come through the door. Now at last she had a glimpse of her attacker. The dark figure stepped forward. He was dressed in black with a hooded top. The fabric was pulled forward and down so that there was no way to see his face from where she was. Dark leather gloves covered his hands. As he moved forward he kicked out at her. “Quiet, bitch!” It was an aside, almost nonchalant. His voice was lowered now to a hiss.

Tears blinded her. She couldn’t let this happen. The monster waiting to blast Pete out of existence was calm, his hands steady as he raised the gun and aimed at the door. Again she rattled the chair. Now she tried to stand, shuffling forward and then pushing herself up using the strength in her thigh muscles. As she slid from the seat and straightened her legs he turned to her, lowering his hands and giving her a glimpse of the lethal weapon held before him. The bottom of his face was hidden behind a scarf or deep collar, all that was visible were his eyes peering at her.

He raised the gun again and pointed it directly at her face. Her bladder failed her now as buzzing filled her ears. She thought that she would faint and in truth would welcome the oblivion but footfalls on the flagstones held her in the moment.

Desperate squeals from deep in her throat were of no use as a warning. She let her legs collapse, dropping herself back down to the chair, intent on knocking it to the floor. Her only thought now was to make as much noise as possible in her weak and hobbled state. Misjudging the distance between herself and the seat she toppled backwards and in the event accomplished her aim by accident. As the chair tipped she tumbled on to it and landed hard on the upended legs which poked agonisingly into her stomach. The pain was indescribable but the noise was satisfying.

Now the gunman swung his weapon down and she twisted her head to look into the evil of his eyes and believed that the moment of her death was upon her.

The rattle of the door handle had him swinging back, caught between the need for revenge and the execution of his plan. Pauline took the momentary diversion to roll from the broken frame of the chair and try and tuck herself under the table. She drew up her legs, intent on making herself as small as possible and protecting the most vulnerable areas of her body. She was sobbing and choking in a world of fear and hurt.

The intruder swung his head around and glared one more time before straightening. “I’ll save you for later bitch and you’ll regret what you just did.”

Now he turned back to the door, took a step, another and then raised the gun.

Pauline screwed her eyes shut. It was over. There was nothing she could do. Pete would open the door of his haven and be shot before he even registered that there was a problem. She couldn’t bear it.

The click of the door lock filled the quiet of the summer afternoon. A pale dagger of sunlight speared across the grey flagstone floor. Dust motes disturbed by the sudden breeze danced and twinkled merrily and then the air was riven by the shock of the gunshot echoing through the old house and sending screaming birds spiralling into the cloud freckled sky.

Chapter 50

Pete was calling to her in the darkness. Pauline needed to go to him, to help him. She had to find him and make him whole again.

The pain in head and stomach held her back. Though her heart tried to drive her forward her body was broken. She had to move. Something held her down. Strong arms restricted movement. She heard him calling and if she didn’t find him he would die.

She didn’t want him to die.

She didn’t want to die.

“Pauline, Pauline, lie still. It’s okay, you’re okay. Just try to relax. We need to take care of you.”

Now the light came, floating before her eyes, swooping and receding. “I hurt.”

“You’re alright Pauline. We’re going to take care of you. Just relax.”

The small, sharp pain in her arm became a soothing caress, sweeping through the discomfort and befuddling her mind. Nothing mattered now. She could drift away and it would all be over and she could find Pete.

“Pete?” She felt her lips move and the sound was close. Had she spoken?

“It’s okay Pauline. I’m here with you. It’s all fine. We’re okay.”

Against the weight of medication she forced open her eye lids and his face floated above hers. He smiled at her. She had found him.

Now she let the darkness sweep her away…

Even before she opened her eyes the sounds, smells and sensations told her where she was. She had been in a hospital before.

Her throat was dry. There was a dull ache at the back of her eyes so she stayed in the dark for a while longer. The whirl of dreams and confusion cleared slowly and nibbles of memory flicked in and out of her consciousness. Then it was time; she knew she must open her eyes and face reality.

He was sitting in a chair beside the bed. Though he had a magazine in his hand, his eyes flicked often towards where she was lying. Finally they made contact and he gave her a smile.

“Hi there.”

“Pete.” The sound was little more than a croak. He leaned towards her and took the plastic beaker from the bedside table. He helped her to drink.

“I thought you were dead. I thought he shot you.”

“I know, you made that clear when we were trying to help you. You were pretty upset.”

“What happened? Why am I here?”

“Okay, second question first I think. You hurt your stomach. You ruptured your spleen. It looked as though you fell on the chair leg. They don’t think you need to have an operation but it’s going to be sore for a while.”