The girl lets out a small, frightened sound but doesn't move.
Ruth looks around. She is in a small, square, underground dungeon. Looking up, she sees the trapdoor in the ceiling, and a barred window which also has a wooden cover. The room is empty apart from a low bed, a bucket and a plastic box which seems to contain a baby's toys.
The walls and the floor are all concrete, rough in places, and there is moisture running down the walls. The whole place smells of damp and urine and fear.
My God, thinks Ruth in horror, has Erik really kept her a prisoner all this time? What about when he was in Norway? Cathbad, that must be the answer. This is the link between Erik and Cathbad. Cathbad is his jailer.
And now they must escape. Ruth turns to the girl, who is still cowering against the wall.
'Come on.' She holds out her hand again. 'I'm going to help you get out of here.'
But the girl, Lucy, just whimpers and shakes her head.
'Come on, Lucy,' says Ruth, trying to keep her voice as calm and gentle as possible. Trying to make it sound as if they have all the time in the world and there isn't a madman on their trail and a raging tempest outside. 'Come on. I'll take you home. You'd like to go home, wouldn't you, Lucy? See your mum and dad?'
She'd expected Lucy to react to the words mum and dad but the girl is still looking terrified. Ruth edges slowly towards her, dredging her mind for every soothing platitude she can think of.
'There, there. It's OK. Don't worry. It'll be alright.'
What were some of the meaningless things her mother used to say to her? Annoying little catchphrases but nevertheless as soothing as a cup of cocoa when you can't sleep.
Ruth has never had children so it is her own childhood she must conjure up. Remember the days when her mother was not just someone who annoyed her on the phone, but the most important person in the world. The litany of motherhood.
'Don't worry. No use crying over spilt milk. Never get well if you pick it. Tears before bedtime. Tomorrow's another day. All's well that ends well. It's just a phase.
Don't cry. It's darkest before dawn.'
And, as if the last words are the magic spell that releases the princess from the tower, Lucy throws herself into Ruth's arms.
Nelson drives Cathbad to the car park in silence. The only sounds are the overloaded windscreen wipers swishing to and fro and Nelson's fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. Perhaps fortunately for his continued well being, Cathbad does not comment on this typically Scorpio impatience.
The trees around the car park are blown into a frenzy.
The boarded-up kiosk looms eerily out of the dark, promising ghostly Cornettos and Calippo Shots. Grimly, Nelson gets a rope and a heavy-duty torch out of the boot.
Cathbad hums serenely.
They walk up the gravel track to the first hide. Nelson is in the lead, shining the torch in front of him. He doesn't think of himself as imaginative, but the noise of the wind howling across the marshes is starting to give him the creeps. The thunder rumbling overhead just adds to the cliched horror film atmosphere. Behind him Cathbad sighs with what sounds like happiness.
They pass the first hide and Cathbad pushes in front.
'The path,' he says calmly. 'It's near here.'
Nelson hands him the torch. If they get lost he will kill Cathbad first and arrest him afterwards.
After a few yards, Cathbad veers off the gravel track and starts to head out over the marsh. Despite the torch, it's pitch black. Here and there, Nelson can see glimpses of water, dark and dangerous. It's like walking into the unknown, like one of those ridiculous trust exercises they make you do on police training courses. Except that Nelson doesn't trust Cathbad, not one little bit. Following Ruth across the marshes, even in the daylight, had been difficult enough. It takes all his self-control now not to elbow Cathbad out of the way and insist on turning back to the track.
Suddenly Cathbad stops. 'Here it is,' he murmurs.
Nelson sees him shine the torch onto the ground. A bolt of lightning turns the sky white. Cathbad grins at him.
'Follow me,' he says.
About a mile away, across the black marshland, Ruth holds Lucy in her arms. It feels strange, cuddling this thin, vulnerable body. Ruth doesn't know many teenagers and those she does know are hardly likely to fling their arms around her and sob into her shoulder.
'There, there,' says Ruth in her mythical mother persona. 'It'll be alright. Come on, Lucy.'
But Lucy just cries and cries, her entire body shaken with the force of her sobbing.
'Come on,' Ruth is forced to say at last. 'Come on.
Before he gets back.'
That does the trick alright. Lucy breaks away, her eyes round with fear.
'Is he coming?' she whispers.
'I don't know,' says Ruth. Who knows where Erik is?
Hopefully he is lost out there on the dark marshes but, knowing Erik, he probably has a sea sprite's sixth sense that will allow him to walk unharmed through the storm and arrive just as they are trying to escape. She doesn't say this to Lucy though. Taking advantage of the girl's loosened grip, she propels her gently below the trapdoor.
'I'm going to give you a leg up. You know,' she adds desperately, 'like on a pony.' She has never ridden a pony but she is hoping that Lucy has.
'A pony,' Lucy repeats carefully.
'Yes. I'm going to push you up through that hole and then climb up myself. OK?' she finishes brightly.
Almost imperceptibly, Lucy nods.
'Put your arms up,' says Ruth. Lucy does so. Clearly she is used to obeying orders. In the event Ruth does not give her a leg up, instead she clasps Lucy round the waist and lifts her. It is surprisingly easy. Either Lucy weighs almost nothing or Ruth has developed superhuman strength. To her amazement, Lucy grasps the edge of the trapdoor and deftly swings herself up. Then she peers down at Ruth, her lips curved in something like a smile.
'Well done, Lucy! Well done!' She is so elated that she has almost forgotten that she has still got to get herself up.
Desperately, Ruth looks around for something to climb on. She spots the plastic box of toys and pulls it over to the space below the trapdoor. She stands on top. Still not high enough. So she gets the bucket, tipping its pungent-smelling contents into the corner, and puts it upside-down on top of the box. Now she balances precariously on the bucket. Yes!
She is able to grab the rim of the trapdoor. Then, using every ounce of superhuman strength, she struggles to pull herself up. Her fingers scrabble madly on the hide's wooden floor and, amazingly, she feels something else pulling determinedly at her hand. It is Lucy. Lucy trying to help her.
Whether or not this makes the difference, suddenly her torso is up through the trapdoor. One final heave and her legs are up too. Ruth lies panting on the floor of the hide.
Lucy is watching her. When she leans forward, her voice is again that breathy little whisper.
'Are we going home?'
'Yes.' Ruth struggles to her feet and takes Lucy's hand.
She can hear the rain drumming on the roof but the thunder seems to have stopped. She looks at Lucy's thin, shivering body. How is she ever going to get her home?
Ruth takes off the policeman's jacket and wraps it around Lucy. It comes to below her knees.
'There,' she says in her bright 'mother' voice. 'Now you'll be fine.'
But Lucy is looking beyond her. Staring at the entrance to the hide. She has heard something and now Ruth hears it too. Footsteps. A man's footsteps. Coming quickly towards them.
CHAPTER 29
