I ran after him, hoping to reach the front door before it could slam behind him, but I couldn’t match his stride. My fingers closed around the handle as I heard the lock turn a second time. ‘No!’ I shouted, beating my palm against the door. ‘Justin … you don’t have to do this! You don’t have to lock me in!’
His muffled voice came from behind the door. ‘Unfortunately, I do, Angel. You’ve proved once again that you can’t be trusted.’
My feet were cold. And wet.
I looked down and saw that the heels of my stilettos were half-submerged in dank, brown mud. Murky water lapped at my toes.
Where was I?
I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. The sky was the colour of brushed steel and a fine mist hung in the air over the river. I could see the dome of St Paul’s above the rooftops on the opposite shore, which meant I was … on thesouthside of the river? I turned to find myself at the edge of a muddy and rocky beach, nestled beneath the unmistakable concrete and glass of the South Bank Centre.
I didn’t remember leaving the flat, let alone how I’d got there.
I patted myself down, checking for injuries, taking inventory. I was wearing the same clothes, minus the apron. No coat. My hand flew to my chest and I found a comforting lump of bee-shaped metal there. I raised my hand and rubbed the raw skin at the back of my neck. I must have pulled the pendant out of the bin after Justin had left. As I explored the chain with my fingers, I realised it was another one from my jewellery box, longer and finer than the original.
I didn’t remember doing any of that that either.
My stomach hollowed out and I feared I would vomit.
It had happened again, hadn’t it?
I carried on my self-check and found my phone in my right trouser pocket and a small silver key in my left. Well, that explained how I’d got out.
For at least six months, Justin had taken to locking me in the flat if I did something he didn’t like, or if he evensuspectedI might. Given the level of his paranoia, it was becoming a pretty frequent occurrence.
But yesterday the cleaner had left her key on the kitchen counter. I’d been about to call after her, but then I’d stopped and stashed it quickly and silently in my pocket. It was the miracle I’d been waiting for – freedom, a means of escape.
The momentary warmth caused by finding the key evaporated. Standing there, shivering beside the Thames, I was scared. What if I had a brain tumour? What if there was something seriously wrong with me? Normal people didn’t do this kind of thing, did they?
As if to add weight to the suspicion, a voice called out from the concrete embankment beyond the beach. ‘You all right, love?’
I turned to see a middle-aged couple, foreheads creased in concern, leaning over the railing. I stared back at them, jaw frozen shut, unable to answer even that simple question. The woman headed down the steps leading to the beach. I watched her get closer and closer, my toes feeling the cold lap of river water. I still hadn’t moved.
‘Looks like the tide’s coming in,’ she said nervously when she got close. ‘We saw you standing there and, well, we thought you were about to … um … that you might need a bit of help.’ In that very British way, she’d said both nothing and everything. She must have thought I was about to walk into the dirty waves, ready to blot everything out.
I should have been horrified at that realisation, but the idea didn’t shock me. Quite the reverse. I realised how simple the plan seemed, how beautifully efficient.
That wasn’t normal either, was it?
‘Are you okay?’ she asked again, her voice soft with concern.
‘No,’ I croaked back. ‘I don’t think I am.’
‘Do you need …? I mean …’ She glanced at her husband. ‘Is there someone we can call for you?’
‘No,’ I said shakily. ‘I’ve got my …’ My phone. I had my phone with me.
I clamped my hand over my mouth. How could I have been so stupid? I slid my hand inside my pocket and pressed the button to turn it off, hoping Justin hadn’t checked my location as he often liked to do. If he found out I’d left the flat, he’d want to know how I got out, and then what was I going to do? He’d make me tell him about the key and any hope I had of escaping, living a normal life, would be gone! I began to shake, my ribs squeezing inwards, preventing me from drawing a full breath.
I realised I was on the verge of having a panic attack, but instead of letting the terror consume me, I began to get that floaty feeling again, the one that allowed me to stand outside myself. I watched myself gulping in breaths, the concerned look of the other couple exchanging glances, unsure of what to do, and in that instant, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that even with a ‘miracle’ key in my possession, this was not ‘normal life’ at all. It wasn’t even close.
Like a rubber band pulled too tight, I snapped back into myself. ‘Do you think I could borrow your phone?’ I asked the woman, not wanting to risk turning mine back on.
She nodded warily but passed it over to me.
‘Thank you,’ I said, my heart full of gratitude and relief as I dialled Lo’s number, even though she was probably at work and might not pick up. I almost cried when she did, even though we hadn’t spoken in almost eight months. ‘It’s me …’
‘Lil?’ she said warily.
