The Lover's Children

Chapter 126 – Autumn’s Fury – Part 18

CHARLOTTE

The door slams in my face and a second later, the bolt on the other side slams closed. With a clunk,

the key turns in the lock, leaving me with Cara and Adam at the top of the stone steps down to the

cellars.

My heart bangs wildly and I’m panting so fast that, despite the darkness, I’m seeing stars. I slap

sideways to catch the switch I know is there somewhere and the light blinks on.

Muffled, sound carries through the door, “You, what's your name? Mitch, Those your car keys? Walk

ahead of me. Get into the driver’s seat. Don't forget I've got the kid. I'll be behind you. If we see

anyone, nothing’s happening. We’re just going for a drive…”

Feet clip on tiles, a receding echo until the front door Clunks and all grows still.

Full-blown panic rises in me, of a kind I’ve never felt before…

Mom…

I’m breathing so fast I feel faint…

Get control…

Get a grip…

I’m at the top of the steps leading down into the cellar, a place the children are never permitted to go.

Aside from the detail that my Master’s playroom is in the basement, if a child slipped here, they would

tumble down a dozen stone steps to crash down onto stone flags at the bottom. This is adults-only

territory and the door is always bolted from the outside.

There’s a way out, the escape tunnel constructed by Michael as our insurance against troubled times.

It’s seldom seen use of course, but that’s the nature of insurance policies. They’re there for when

they’re needed.

But that tunnel is no place for small children. It leads out into the woods, surrounded by brambles and

thickets, deliberately so to keep the exit concealed…

A memory, bitter as gall, rises like vomit up my throat, Mom’s question to me once. It seems so long

ago now…

“… Ask yourself a question. If something happened: a fire, or a car accident… a terrorist attack

maybe… and you were faced with the choice, who would you save? Me or Cara?”

“Mom, I wouldn’t…”

“No, Jenny. Don’t argue about it. Answer the question. If your back was against the wall. If you had no

other choice, me or Cara, who would you save?”

“Cara,” I whispered.

“Of course you would. And that’s as it should be…”

I never dreamed her words might be an omen…

… or a prophecy…

“Mommee…” Cara’s piping voice wavers.

I want to weep and sob and scream but with Cara and Adam here, I can't.

Toddlers… Barely more than babies…

At the least, I have to get them safely down the cellar steps. “Hold my hand, Cara. You too, Adam.

We’re going downstairs.”

Cara whimpers. “Shhh, Sweetie. We're going on an adventure. You've got to be very brave. And you've

got to be brave for Adam too, cos he's littler than you. I know it’s dark down there, but I’ll turn on the

lights. Now, carefully…”

Does she understand me?

I've no idea. Cara's not yet two. Adam’s even younger How can she possibly understand that the bad

man wants to hurt Granny?

One slow step at a time, I get the two toddlers down the steps, then as both baulk at the dark dank

corridor, flick on a light switch. “See, nothing scary here. It’s just a bit different.”

Leave them here and run for it through the tunnel?

Adam clings to my leg, tugging up at my hand and dragging back. “Don’t wanna…”

“It’s alright. Look Cara’s not scared. Do like Cara’s doing…”

Leave them here and come back when I’ve raised the alarm?

They might wander back up the steps…

Slip and fall…

He might come back.

My heart hammers…

Not a possibility…

Gotta take them with me…

But they’re so slow…

The blood hums inside my head. It’s hard to breathe…

Am I hyperventilating?

Slow down…

Stop panicking…

Control your breathing…

Taking tiny steps as the two tots toddle along beside me, I breathe in deep. Breathe out. Breathe in…

“Come on, Sweeties. We’ve got to hurry.”

Carry one and come back for the other?

“Here, Adam. Let me give you a ride. Cara, you follow Mommy.” Sweeping him up I stride along the

corridor, kicking open the door at the end, then running through my Master’s room. Behind me, Cara’s

wail of panic rises.

Tears stream down my face as I run, Adam in my arms, tucking his face into my chest so he doesn’t

see what’s around him. By the concealed exit, I put him down. “Be a good boy. I’m going for Cara. I’ll

only be a minute.”

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HARKNESS

“Turn in here.” In the mirror, her gaze meets mine. She blinks rapidly, but keeps her face impassive,

trying to convince me she’s not scared. She’s lying of course. As she flicks the indicator, pulling in to

the motel, my balls tighten.

Those green eyes, wide as you try to scream…

My holdall’s stowed in the footwell next to me. I’m looking forward to opening it… Letting her see. “You

stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be watching. Remember who’s got your kid.”

She nods slightly, gripping the steering wheel tight enough to whiten her knuckles. The vein at her neck

throbs. So does my groin.

Gonna be a good evening…

With the carry-cot in one hand, I amble into the reception office. “I made a booking. Waterman.”

“Yes, sir.” He glances down at the kid. “Cute little nipper, isn’t she.” He pauses, frowning, as though

sniffing the air.

“Yeah…” I jerk back toward the car. “Wife barely wants to let her go.”

“I get that,” The frown turns to a grin as he reaches back to a key rack. It’s pretty full, nearly all the keys

hanging from their hooks. Plucking off a key, brass with a large wooden tab, he slides it across the

counter to me. “My wife’s just the same. Thinks she gets to have all the fun.”

He raises an arm, aiming through the air. “It’s Chalet Fourteen. Out to the left and drive to the far end.

Nice and quiet like you asked. Good view too, at the back. Straight onto the woods.”

“Sounds great. We don’t get a lot of time off, y’know. We wanted to get away for the night. Hoping for a

nice romantic break.”

“Yeah?” He glazes a bit, then smiles. “Well, enjoy yourselves. It’s pretty quiet. Mid-week and all that.

You shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Perfect. Good night then.”

“You too. Have a good evening.”

My red-headed whore watches in silence as I get back into the car. “Drive to the end of the row.

Number Fourteen.”

A minute later, she pulls up outside.

“Turn off the engine. Give me the car keys and get out.” I pass the door key forward. “Open up. Go

inside.”

Carrying the kid, I follow.

*****

CHARLOTTE

I sprint back, Cara screaming her fright. “Shhh… It’s fine, Baby. Everything’s alright….”

Can I carry both?

Piggyback?

Too small…

I press at the oddly-shaped knot in the woodwork and with a Click the door swings, yawning open to

the dark space beyond. Two panic-stricken screams rise and quickly, I flick the switch for the tunnel

lights, then whisk both toddlers inside, pulling the door closed behind me.

Inside, I sit a sobbing Adam on one of the trunks of equipment and outdoor clothes routinely kept there,

each labelled for the person the clothes fit.

“No!” Cara shrieks as I pick her up, fighting all the way, squirming and struggling in my arms.

“Mommee… No… Dark, Mommee. Dark!” Twice I almost drop her, and then again, in places where I

have to duck the low ceiling.

At the end of the tunnel, a short ladder leads to ground level, topped by a hatch which opens into a tiny

clearing…

I hope…

When did Michael last cut it back?

I don’t know.

“Stay here, Cara. I’m going back for Adam.”

Adam shrieks panic and relief and protest as I scoop him up, racing back along the tunnel.

Back with Cara, I hammer up with my fist at the hatch. It resists, and through a crack, I can make out a

tangle of greenery blocking the movement. Ignoring the frantic cries of the children, I bolt back to the

equipment boxes, scrabbling the tops free…

Secateurs… Saw…

Anything…

Knife!

Michael must have taken a liking to that one Dad carries. It’s a savage-looking thing; long-bladed,

jaggedly-toothed; and as I slide it through the crack of the hatch, slashing at the greenery, I ponder

Mom’s words.

Scheherazade?

Telling stories for the Wicked King.

No, not stories…

Something else…

But playing for time.

A thousand and one nights?

Mom might not have a thousand and one seconds.

*****

HARKNESS

I carry the kid under one arm, my workman’s holdall in the other hand. Old-Whore walks in front of me.

“Straight on through to the living area.”

It’s just what you’d expect in a budget motel. Basic, in the way of such places. Bland paint. Bland

wallpaper. Bland drapes. An open space with cheap furniture. The kind that doesn’t show damage, or

cost too much to replace when it’s been knocked about. A drop-leaf Formica-topped table. A settee, L-

shaped, heavyweight, well-worn on the arms, cushions half-collapsed. Probably second-hand when it

arrived here, it dominates a whole quadrant of the room, from the entrance to the kitchenette. Matching

armchairs dangle threads as though a cat’s been at them.

The ‘kitchenette’ consists of a small sink and drainer, with a microwave, mini-fridge, and tea and coffee

facilities on what passes for the counter. A transparent acrylic countertop leaflet holder contains

takeaway menus for Indian, Chinese, and Italian food. Doubtless, that dork at reception gets a kickback

for anything ordered from here. And he saves on the cleaners’ costs too.

Moving around the room, I draw the bolt on the back door, then close the windows, draw the drapes.

“You. Sit.” I point to an armchair. “No… First, look in there…” I point to the minifridge. “See what there

is to eat and drink.”

As she opens the door, stooping a little to see inside, I set my holdall down on a side table by the

armchair, clicking the combo and letting the top fall open to give her a glimpse of the contents. The top

tray glints with my collection of scalpels. But there’re handcuffs too. Surgical scissors. Tape and cable

ties.

She speaks, half-turned away from me. “There’s plenty of drinks. Beer. Red and white wine. Whiskey.

Gin. Mixers. And some snacks. Chips. Peanuts.”

She looks back, then freezes as she sees my kit. I give it a few seconds for her to register what she

sees, then as she turns her face away, snap it closed again.

She licks at her lips. “What would you like?”

“Pour me a beer and give me the chips.”

She rummages under the counter, working through cupboards until she produces a tumbler and a bowl.

She pours the beer and empties a packet of chips into the bowl.

“Would you…” She sucks at her lips again… “Would you mind if I have something too?”

“Like what?”

“I’d… like a drink.”

“Yeah?” I grin. “Help yourself.”

She sets another glass on the drainer, then fishes out a mini-bottle of gin and a can of tonic. Her hands

tremble as she takes a packet of peanuts.