TRAPPED (37 page)

When she’d walked in, she’d seen the bare whitewashed
rooms; the only pieces of furniture a bed in the middle of the
small bedroom and a closet. The place had seemed inoffensive but on closer inspection she’d seen the handcuffs, the chains and hooks hanging discreetly from the corners of the room, and immediately she’d known what was going to happen.

There was plenty about those twenty-four hours that Sheila couldn’t recall, but not being able to remember it was, as she saw it, the only light in a lot of darkness. The images she did have in her head were depraved, grotesque and humiliating, and over the years she’d disconnected from them, shut down a part of herself; forever locked away so that she could carry on breathing and carry on putting one foot in front of another. And even though over the years he’d abused her, nothing had come close to the horrors of those twenty-four hours.

She couldn’t feel the terror or the pain anymore – and now, when she thought about the parts she
could
remember, it was as if she was watching someone else through a glass wall, seeing a person who was screaming for help, but she couldn’t hear her cries.

All these years Sheila knew she’d been waiting for this moment, waiting for something to happen so her invisible cage could be unlocked, allowing her to escape. At times she’d thought it would never happen. The times she’d been beaten and raped, and the times she’d failed her children by allowing them to suffer at the hands of her husband; all those times she’d only been an observer in her own life and she’d felt worthless. But something inside her had kept her going, something had told her, one day; one day she’d be free. Now at last the waiting was over. Sheila Donaldson could finally unlock the door.

‘Max.’

Max turned to look at his wife – and as he did so, he came face to face with the barrel end of a gun.

The convoy of Range Rovers drove with speed along the deserted roads to the north-east of Epping Forest. It was rural and sparsely populated for an area which was so close to London.

Frankie was in the lead Range Rover with a sullen-looking Lorna sitting next to him. They drove in silence, neither knowing what to say – it almost felt to both of them as if words weren’t quite enough. Too many things had already been said.

Frankie had received the call from Maggie insisting she
meet him, and as usual he’d dug his heels in far enough
down to plant the summer bulbs; but Lorna had stopped him slamming the phone down, coming up to him when she’d heard him getting upset. She’d put her hand gently on him and spoken with an understanding he didn’t know she had.

‘Frank, we need to go and help sort this out.’

He’d let her take the phone from him to speak to Maggie, and when she was finished, she’d come to find him. ‘You’re in shock, Frank, but we need to go and do this and you need to talk to Gypsy.’

‘I can’t. I can’t get me head round it.’

He’d been thrown a spiked curve ball by what Lorna had said to him, especially as he’d already been planning in his mind how to finish off Max. It was going to be easy; imagining Max Donaldson and his wife happily frolicking away had meant he was going to make him suffer until the last breath was pummelled out of his body, but when Lorna had said the word which seemed so short but held so much meaning, the word which explained what had happened to Gypsy all those years ago, it’d changed everything. It’d made him worse than bleeding useless.

‘If it makes you feel like this, how do you think Gypsy’s feeling? She’s had to carry it around for all these years and then just as she’s trying to get answers, I come along and destroy everything. I know you’re hurting, Frank, and you do need to lick your wounds, but not now. You need to rise above how you feel darlin’ and think of your wife. You can’t just leave her on her own. She needs you more than ever.’

‘I don’t know, Lorn.’

His sister had got annoyed with him then which had surprised him. ‘Well I do, even if you don’t. Put down your dummy and grow up, this ain’t about you.’

‘Talk about a turnaround; a waltz has nothing on you. When did you become best friends with Gypsy?’

‘Listen, I doubt Gypsy will ever talk to me again but that don’t mean she has to stop speaking to you. None of this means the end, Frank. She needs caring for, not judging.’

‘But she’s been … I can’t help it, but when I think of her and …’

‘No, Frankie boy, I ain’t listening; I don’t want to hear it. She’s the same woman you loved and you need to shovel that macho bullshit out of your head. Being raped is not the same as her sleeping with another man.’

He’d just nodded his head and then Lorna had given him a hug and gently chivvied him along. ‘Now get your keys and let’s go and meet Maggie, we’ve got to help. After all, we’re family now.’

The middle Range Rover was driven by Tommy, and next to him sat Gypsy. She hadn’t wanted to go in the same car as Frankie, even though Lorna had texted her to say he now knew the truth about the situation. So when Tommy had suggested she jumped in his car, she’d leapt at the chance.

Frankie had been so quick to believe she was lying, which had hurt her but she’d put that to one side in her concern about Frankie and how he felt. But when she’d got the text from Frankie saying,
‘I’m not angry now’
it’d only served to annoy her.

How lucky it was for Frankie Taylor not to be angry, well bully for him – because she was. It was her turn now, her turn to be angry about everything that had happened. So she’d ignored him. When Frankie didn’t know what to say or was sorry about something he’d been caught out doing, like his numerous indiscretions or getting drunk and obnoxious at Christmas or at their villa in Spain, a pitiful, boyish look appeared on his face. And at times like that, Gypsy supposed it had a place. But for this? For what they were talking about, she needed more than soppy eyes and a hangdog expression; much more, but sadly, she wasn’t sure that Frankie was capable of it.

The last Range Rover held Maggie. She’d almost lost faith in her family and any hope they could be mended, but here they were, albeit in the most difficult and extraordinary of circumstances, coming together as one. And no matter what happened in the future, she was going to hold onto this unique moment of unity for the rest of her life.

The cottage at the end of the path looked deserted but Tommy noticed the padlocks were open. Apart from the strong black metal door with three sturdy-looking locks, the rest of the place was rundown; although he came here on numerous occasions, he noticed it never more so than now.

Tommy was about to stride in, but Frankie, more cautious and worried that someone might be in there, held him back, then signalled to the others he was going in. Kicking open the door, Frankie looked around. It was empty, though an unpacked suitcase and a woman’s handbag lay in the hallway. Always mindful, he checked every room, checking under the bed to be extra vigilant, with Tommy following behind him.

After they finished checking, Tommy spoke. ‘Ain’t no one here.’

Frankie eyeballed Tommy. Although he was undeniably grateful to him for saving his nearest and dearest there was still something about him which made him feel very uncomfortable, although he was trying not to show it. Frankie spoke to Tommy with as much politeness as he could muster. ‘You’re right there, son. Any ideas?’

‘Plenty, but not any that will help.’

‘Why don’t we go into the forest? They can’t be very far, their car’s still there so they haven’t left. We can split up, Frankie can go with Gypsy and Lorna, and I’ll come with you.’

‘Sounds like a good idea to me. Is that alright with you, Frankie?’

Tommy got an absentminded nod in return and then an enquiry from Frankie.

‘You got your own tool, Tommy?’

Tommy pulled out a gun from underneath his jacket. Silver and gleaming to match the one Frankie held in his hand.

‘Yeah, I’m more than ready; I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. In fact, I’ve wanted to do this for most of my life.’

Max laughed out loudly, his voice full of scorn as Sheila pointed the gun at him. She’d led him through the woodland, to a deserted clearing within Epping Forest, the gun pointed to his head, all the while. Now she was looking at him, and even though it was
her
who had the gun in her hand he could see the look of terror on her paler-than-usual face. He growled at her. ‘Jaysus woman, yer a fecking mess. You can’t even kill me properly without shaking like a stinking fecking rat caught in a trap. Do yourself a favour and turn the gun on yourself – because if you can’t kill me, yer going to wish you had, because your life won’t be worth living.’

Max started to walk towards her, dragging his feet through the fallen leaves. Sheila shouted at him. ‘Stay there, stay where you are or I’ll shoot.’

Max roared with laughter. ‘You’ve been watching too much
C.S.I. Miami
sweetheart.’

He chuckled menacingly, ignoring her threat and continued to walk forward, watching as her hand shook and the tears rolled down her face. He was about to reach out and grab hold of the gun until he heard the quiet, but definite sound of the trigger of the gun being drawn back. He froze. For the first time, it crossed Max Donaldson’s mind that his wife might be serious.

‘No more, Max, no more, it comes to an end here. I should’ve done this a long time ago. You’ve hurt too many people for too long. You did everything you could to break us and you almost managed it, Max; almost, but not quite. I’ll go to my grave knowing I failed my children but you Max – you’ll go to yours knowing I put you in there. I finally put a full stop to it.’

‘Do it then, come on, I dare you. Put the bullet through my brain because words don’t stand for much, it’s actions darling.’

Max’s eyes were blazing and he screamed at Sheila, pressing his forehead on the gun.

‘Do it, do it then! Come on, what are you waiting for woman? You can’t, you can’t fucking do it can you?’

‘No, but I can.’

The voice was loud and came from the thicket of trees. It belonged to Tommy.

‘Hello, Dad.’

Max was clearly shocked but he regained his composure as he spoke. ‘What the frig are you doing son? Put the gun down.’

‘Why? So you can blow my brains out? I don’t think so.’

‘I said put it down, Tommy.’

‘And I say fuck you. Fuck you for everything you’ve ever done.’

Max looked at Sheila then back at Tommy and roared with laughter. Taking his chances he quickly brought up his fist; backhanding Sheila. She flew backwards holding the gun which went off as she landed on the hard ground, then she dropped it.

Max raced over to pick it up and was about to point it at Tommy when he saw Frankie Taylor running through the thicket, brandishing a gun in his direction.

Deciding he didn’t want to be outnumbered, Max quickly decided to head in the other direction and disappeared into the forest.

‘He’s been shot.’

Sheila’s voice was as worried as the look on her face. Frankie, Maggie and Lorna hurried over to Tommy, trying their best not to slip down the steep bank.

‘I’m fine, it’s just my leg, the bullet’s just skimmed it.’

Frankie spoke to Sheila and Tommy. ‘Will you be alright here for a bit? I don’t want him getting away.’

‘We’ll be fine.’

Maggie, crouching down with Tommy, looked up at Frankie.

‘Where’s Gypsy?’

‘She didn’t want to come with me. She’s in the car back at the cottage.’

‘Which is probably where my dad’s heading.’

Frankie’s face fell before he started to run, quickly followed by Maggie. ‘Frankie, you go along the path, I’ll go this way back to where he’s parked his car, it might be quicker.’

Breathing heavily, Frankie watched Maggie dart ahead in the other direction. As he ran, he mouthed a silent and unseen thank you.

Gypsy hadn’t wanted to sit in the car any longer, she hadn’t wanted to go into the forest – or rather she couldn’t cope with it. The moment she’d arrived, she knew exactly where she was. She knew this was where it’d happened. And knowing that, she hadn’t wanted to go and revisit any part of it, and she certainly hadn’t wanted to go with Frankie.

‘You ain’t sitting in the car, Gyps.’

‘Oh? And who says I can’t, Frankie?’

‘I do.’

‘Well you can tell ‘I do’ to keep his nose out of me
business
, and whilst you’re at it, you can also tell ‘I do’ to shove it where the sun don’t shine.’

She’d stormed off and sat in the car, listening to the radio until the songs had got too emotive and she’d needed to turn it off and go for a walk.

Now as she looked down the track of Epping Forest and recalled the memories she felt very ill at ease. She’d walked quite far from the car and now she wished she hadn’t. It was a beautiful place but the memories cast ugly shadows, making her nervous of even the trees. The wind was getting up and Gypsy thought it was best to head back to the car.

A sea of buttercups covered the ground and Gypsy bent down to pick a bunch to take to Johnny and Harley.

‘Hello, Gypsy.’

Max’s hand covered her mouth and he forced her
backwards
into the woody undergrowth. Her legs scrambled to support her as she toppled to one side as Max spoke. ‘So finally the cavalry’s turned up.’

Max’s laughter made her burst into tears fearing she’d used up her cat’s lives with this man. His hand was heavy and hard on her mouth and she bit down on it, managing to pull her mouth up enough to let out a scream.

Frankie turned at the sound. Gypsy was in trouble.

‘This way.’

He shouted loudly as he ran, not knowing if Maggie or the others would hear, but he wasn’t going to wait and find out; his gut instinct told him to wait would be fatal.

Frankie couldn’t hear anything now as the wind caught the branches of the trees, and he didn’t know which way to turn. He ran to the left seeing only a voluminous mass of trees and bracken and turned back to the right, again only seeing a mass of identical foliage.