‘No,’ she screamed, sensing she would be safer in the car than in his care.
But he was too strong for her and simply batted her hands away, lifting her from the seat with one arm and dragging her out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind them. Her Twirl and Fanta had fallen to the floor of the car when he pulled her out, but he’d made no effort to go back and collect them. She kicked and clawed as best she could but it did nothing to slow his stride. They soon made it to the steps leading up to the first of the white caravans. He unlocked the door and pushed her inside. Before she could even consider her next move, his finger was in her face, a silent warning.
‘My friend lives in the caravan next door. You’ll be safe in here until I’ve collected what I came for, and then I’ll be back. Don’t do anything to annoy me. You won’t like me when I’m angry.’
It was so dark inside the caravan that she could barely make out what any of the shadows represented. Some kind of shutters covered the limited number of windows inside. It suddenly felt like Halloween, with nothing but terror lurking in the darkness.
‘There are some colouring books on the table over there,’ he continued, pointing to the far side of the interior. ‘Why don’t you colour a nice picture for your mum and dad, and I’m sure by the time you’ve finished, I’ll be back.’
She felt his hand on her back, pushing her further inside, and then the door was slammed shut and she heard the key the other side locking it tight. She tried the light switch on the wall to her left, but no amount of flicking brightened the gloom.
He hadn’t shouted or threatened her, yet she’d never felt so afraid to be in the presence of the man in the grey suit.
Her mum would be pacing the house frantically by now. Joanna could no longer see the face of her watch but it had to be an hour since she’d set off for the shop, and she’d never been out alone for this long before. They had to know she was missing by now. They were sure to ground her for several weeks after this incident whether Kim’s dad had messaged or not.
He isn’t Kim’s dad, she had to remind himself. And if that was true, then he probably wasn’t a friend of her parents either. And if that was also true, what else had he lied to her about?
Holding out her hands to check for obstacles, she made her way to the cushioned bench and table, finding the colouring books he’d referred to along with a woollen pencil case. Sliding onto the cushion, she unzipped the pencil case and examined the collection of blunt and broken pencils and crayons inside. They reminded her of the motley collection of stationery in the dentist’s reception room. Opening the top colouring book, she found that the first ten or so pages had already been scribbled over; whoever had been responsible for these colourings didn’t appreciate the benefit of staying inside the lines.
She found an uncoloured picture but it was of a boring flower and didn’t appeal, so she continued to flick the pages until she came to one that stopped her in her tracks and made her blood freeze. The image of the bunny rabbit on its own was harmless enough, but the three letters scrawled over the top in thick red crayon were clearly a warning:
RUN
Pushing the colouring book away, she slid off the cushion and hurried back towards the door. Although she’d heard it lock, there had to be some way to get it open from inside. The door handle didn’t budge so she moved into the small kitchen area, opening and closing cupboards but finding nothing but dust and dead bugs inside.
The panic started to rise in her throat again; she had to get out, but she had no idea how to. What would her dad do? Clearly, he wouldn’t allow himself to get into such a tight spot, but if he were trapped, what would he do?
She thought back to the time last year when they’d returned from a weekend away and found their front door wouldn’t open. It had been bolted from inside, her father had determined, which suggested someone had broken in. He didn’t let it faze him, and had used a charge and his shoulder to break through the door, finding valuables smuggled away inside a stolen pillowcase.
She wasn’t as tall nor as strong as him, but she had to try.
Running as fast as she could, she slammed her body into the door, and although the whole caravan shook, the door remained firmly locked. She tried it again, but all she managed was to bruise her arm.
Slumping to the floor, she pressed her back into the door, cursing herself for being stupid enough to climb into the man’s car; stupid enough to believe his act of generosity in the shop was anything but sincere; stupid enough to think she’d get away with sneaking to a shop and indulging herself.
She buried her head in her hands and wept silently.
And then she heard voices beyond the door. It was the man in grey and at least one other, making no attempt to cover their words.
‘We’ll lay low tonight and make a move at dawn,’ the man in grey said.
‘And what if she causes trouble in the meantime?’ the second voice asked.
The man laughed. ‘If she gives us any trouble, we’ll kill her, and leave the body where nobody will ever find it. It wouldn’t be
