The Doll's House - [13]

But he had chosen his quarry well. Money was all that mattered to Angie.

She placed the items on the counter, but as he reached out to take them, she slammed her hand down to stop him.

‘Money first. No cards, no cheques.’

He handed over the cash and departed with his purchases. As he walked through the back streets of this forgotten part of town, he afforded himself a small smile. He now had everything he needed and though he didn’t normally go in for such cheap amusement, he had to admit to a small thrill at having paid for it with Ruby’s own money. She wouldn’t thank him for it – who would given the pain that lay ahead? – but he was prepared to face down any protest or defiance. After all, she had been put on this earth to make him happy. And the best way to do that was to learn how to submit.

20

They were caught in a strange kind of hell. This one came complete with plastic flowers, a statuette of Jesus and tired sofas. Many people, having discovered the worst, fled the mortuary, wanting to get as far away from the reality of their tragedy as possible. Others, like Daniel Briers, simply didn’t have the strength in their legs. Which is why Helen now found herself sitting by his side in the mortuary relatives’ room.

‘It doesn’t make any sense.’ Daniel Briers hadn’t said a word since he’d identified his daughter. Now, a full thirty minutes later, he was trying to process the awful news, cradling a full cup of cold tea.

‘She texted me, wrote tweets,’ he continued. ‘I replied to her texts for God’s sake.’

‘Did she ever reply directly to your texts? Within the following day or so, say?’

Daniel looked at her, but didn’t speak. It was as if he didn’t understand the question.

‘Daniel, I know that none of this seems real, that you’re in shock, but it’s really important that you answer my questions, if you can.’

He looked at her for a moment, his mind scrolling back, trying to connect to his past with his daughter.

‘No. It’s true, there were always large gaps between the texts. And the tweets.’

His mind was whirring with the awful possibilities this presented.

‘It did seem odd,’ he continued. ‘But she’d left under such a cloud that I thought this was her way of keeping control of the situation, of letting us know that she was in charge.’

At this point, he finally broke. The last words cascaded from him and were then swallowed up by huge, racking sobs. His misery was primal, elemental – a towering, imposing man howling in grief for his lost daughter. Helen had witnessed this scene many times before and always felt deeply for those left behind. She knew what it was like to lose a loved one and feel responsible. But this time her sympathy was particularly acute.

Not only was Daniel Briers grappling with the fact that his daughter had died before they could be reconciled – he was also beginning to realize that all recent communication between them had been fake, fabricated by a devious killer. Someone had been keeping his little girl alive from beyond the grave.

21

‘Put them on.’

Ruby stood by the bed, under the glare of the sodium lights that had suddenly snapped on. It seemed part of her captor’s technique now to half blind her before opening the door.

She turned her gaze to the bed, where he had laid out a complete outfit for her. Knickers, tights, a short denim skirt, low-cut top, hoop earrings. A funky Saturday night outfit or a hooker’s uniform, depending on how you wore it.

‘Now.’

His raised voice made her jump. This time she kept her nerve – though her bottom lip quivered as she picked up the skimpy black thong – she was not going to give him the satisfaction of crying again. She undressed and dressed quickly, not wanting to be naked for long. Even so she faltered as she put the earrings in. Unlike the clothes, these were not new – they looked tarnished and old. Somehow they felt like death to Ruby.

‘Let me look at you.’

She turned to face him. At first he didn’t react, but then a smile crept over his unshaven features.

‘Good.’

He stared at her, enjoying the moment. All the while Ruby tried to swallow down the bile that crept up her throat.

‘As it’s Sunday,’ he continued cheerily, ‘I thought we’d eat together. I know how you like a roast.’

Ruby now spotted the tray on the table. It had drinks on it and two plates covered with plastic food warmers. Ruby didn’t want to play ball, but she was so, so hungry. He removed the covers to reveal a ready-meal Sunday lunch. It was a travesty of the real thing… but the gravy smelt good. Ruby sat down and fell on the meal, cramming great forkfuls into her mouth.

‘Don’t give yourself indigestion.’

He seemed amused by her hunger. She slowed her intake slightly, but was not about to let a feast like this go begging.

‘It’s good you’ve got your appetite back, Summer. You always were a good eater.’

Ruby paused momentarily, then carried on eating, trying to quell the fear rising inside her.

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Why not? It’s your name.’

‘It’s not my n-’

‘What else would I call you?’

Ruby’s fork clattered down on to the table, gravy splashing messily around. Tears were already streaming down her face, her strength suddenly evaporating.