Page 53 of The Memory Wood

‘I was just watching you on TV,’ he says. ‘What is it? Are you OK?’

Deep breath. ‘I think it’s happening,’ she says. ‘The baby, I mean. I think I might be losing this one too.’

She’s pleased – pathetically so – by her matter-of-fact tone. The last thing either of them needs is hysterics.

‘OK,’ Scott says. ‘I’m here. I’m listening. Talk me through it.’

‘There’s … I felt some pain.’ She swallows. ‘And there’s spotting.’

Silence, on the line, for the space of two breaths.

‘Hon, listen to me. I know that’s scary, I know. And I know it’s your body, and you know what you’re feeling, and there’s no better judge. But … but those symptoms, on their own – they don’t necessarily mean you’re miscarrying. They don’t. I can be out of here in five minutes. I’ll come and pick you up. We’ll call the surgery, get Dr Michaels to refer us. I’ll drive you over to EPAU. And if—’

‘Scott, no.’ She shakes her head. ‘You don’t need to do that.’

‘I think we should get this checked out.’

‘I know. I agree. I’ll call the surgery right now. But you don’t need to come down here and get me. Seriously. I’m a big girl.’ Mairéad forces out a laugh she doesn’t feel. Truth is, if the worst really has happened, it’ll be easier to face without him there.

Perhaps, on some level, Scott understands that, because he doesn’t put up much of a fight. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m positive. Look, I’ll phone them now, see what they say, let you know how I get on. And Scott … I’m sorry.’

Mairéad hangs up before he can respond. And then she searches her contacts for the surgery. Her hands are shaking so much it’s difficult to navigate the directory.

Hold on, please hold on, stay with me, please don’t go.

She finds the number and is just about to call it when her phone starts ringing. It’s Halley.

‘Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing,’ he says, ‘stop right now. We’ve got something.’

Elissa

Day 5

I

After Elijah leaves, Elissa’s so weary that she curls around her rucksack and sleeps. When she wakes, cold and bruised from the rocky floor, she lights a fresh candle and reviews their conversation. She’s gained a few insights, particularly via his throwaway comment about the building above her head:The walls are stone, the windows are all broken and Papa’s stripped most of the tiles off the roof.

Does Elijah’s father own the cottage? Is he restoring it? Since she’s been down here, she’s heard no building work, but the cell’s partition wall and ceiling have been carefully designed to stifle sound. If heisrenovating the place, he surely isn’t blind to what’s happening in the cellar, which means there’s a chance that Papa is the ghoul. If that’s true, it explains a lot of her observations about his son; Elijah, quite clearly, is one deeply troubled individual.

She’ll consider him more closely later. Right now, she has another task. Clenching her eyes shut, she calls up her mental chessboard and rolls open the drawer at C8.

This one’s going to be tough. Acknowledging her fear,Elissa crosses time and space, all the way back to the car park of the Marshall Court Hotel.

II

She’s in the passenger seat of her mum’s Fiesta. Monkey’s in her lap. Shoving him into her rucksack, she scrambles from the car. Then the day goes dark.

Those first few seconds are the worst to relive. At the start, she was confused about what was happening but not scared. Her life had already changed, but the reality hadn’t struck. A panic attack, that’s what she’d thought. Or something stranger – narcolepsy, or possibly cataplexy. When her shoes travelled backwards across the tarmac, she wondered if the tournament’s public-school girls, with their unblemished record, were playing a prank. Then came the rotten-poultry stink of her abductor; the dark and dirty taste of his hand. That’s when she knew.

Now she’s in the van itself, heels scrabbling over the back bumper. There’s the thunk of a closing door. And that voice:Easy now.Easy.I’ve got plans for you, darl. You won’t die today.

She fights then, fights with the spit and venom of a cornered wildcat. When her efforts knock his hands loose, she thinks she has a chance, but almost immediately the cloth is over her mouth and she’s breathing butterflies and meadows. She sinks down and down. The van shudders beneath her.

CHILLAX.

That whole episode lasted no more than twenty seconds, and yet her memories of it are so scrambled – so tainted by terror and loss – she can’t guarantee they’re in the right order. Despite her anguish, Elissa replays those last few moments. Then a third time, even slower.

---