The Doll's House - [53]

‘Summer?’

He hurried over to her. He had reached her bedside and now leaned over her.

‘Talk to me, Summer. Are you unwell?’

He pulled back the sheet – but discovered only a rolled up blanket underneath. Before he could process this, he heard footsteps coming up fast behind. He started to turn – but too late. The hard metal bit into the back of his head and he collapsed heavily to the floor.

He tried to raise himself, but was reeling with shock. Ruby didn’t hesitate, bringing the long metal strut crashing down on his head again. It was heavy and normally she would have struggled to lift it, but fired by adrenaline she wheeled it freely now, bringing it down on the back of his head for a third time. This time he hit the ground and didn’t get up.

Dropping her weapon, Ruby fell to her knees, thrusting her hand into his trouser pocket. A creature of habit, he always kept the keys in his right trouser pocket. But he had fallen forwards and they were trapped underneath his body. Ruby was suddenly panicking. Why hadn’t she thought of this? Could she be frustrated by something so stupidly obvious?

He groaned, lifting his hand to the back of his head. Summoning her strength, Ruby put her shoulder under his thigh, levering his body off the ground. He was heavy – heavier than she’d been expecting given his slight frame – and for a moment the pair hung in suspension, wobbling ridiculously to and fro. Then with a savage grunt, she rolled him over. Thrusting her hand into his pocket she found the keys – tearing them from him.

Now she was heading for the door. Her hand shook as she tried to slip the key into the lock. Her captor groaned once more. Closing her eyes, Ruby willed her hand to be still. This time the key found its groove and slid inside. She turned it hard to the left. But it wouldn’t move. In desperation, Ruby tried the other way, twisting it as hard as she could. But still it refused to budge. Looking down at the key ring, Ruby suddenly realised that she had chosen the wrong key.

She tugged at the offending key – but it was jammed in the lock now. Her captor was starting to move – Ruby could hear him behind her, slowly pulling himself up off the floor. Ruby felt paralysed – sheer terror robbing her of the ability to move. He was cursing and spitting, fury replacing his disorientation and shock. If she hesitated any longer…

Ruby pulled at the key with all her might and suddenly it came loose, sending her stumbling backwards towards her captor. She felt his hand grasp her leg, his fingers scrabbling for a proper hold on her. Kicking him roughly away, she hared back to the door.

Selecting the second key, she slipped it into the lock. She twisted it hard but the lock was old and stiff, resisting her endeavours stubbornly. Using both hands now, screaming in desperation, she forced the key anti-clockwise and… finally the lock turned. Ruby hauled the door open.

Her first instinct was to bolt, but she caught herself, turning back to remove the key from the lock. If she could lock him in, then she would be safe. She tugged the keys out quickly but as she did so, they spilled from her grasp, landing only a few inches from her captor. She took a couple of steps towards them, then stopped dead. He was already on his hands and knees, scrambling towards her. Snatching up the keys greedily, she turned and ran for her life.

Sprinting down the short dingy corridor, she soon came to another locked door. She had been expecting this. He always shut this door quietly, presumably to conceal its existence from her, but she had heard it and noted the second key on his key ring. She slipped this key into the lock – her hand was steadier now – and swinging the door open, ran through it to freedom.

She was surprised to find a long tunnel stretching out in front of her. She upped her pace, desperate to be away from this place. The exertion exhausted her, she hadn’t moved a muscle in days, wasn’t used to this sudden burst of activity. But she could sense that liberation was close at hand and pushed herself on.

Then she came to an abrupt halt, staring uncomprehendingly at what lay in front of her. She was at a junction. Three separate corridors led off from this point – all of them disappearing into gloom. One of them must lead out of this Hell. But which one?

Summoning the last vestiges of her courage and energy, Ruby plunged down the right-hand corridor, disappearing fast into the inky darkness.

88

It was the smell that hit you first. An overwhelming smell of damp, spiced up with bad drains and the thick smell of fried food. DC Sanderson stepped out of the mouldering living room and poked her head into the kitchen – she immediately noted that the ceiling was coated with years of grease and cigarette smoke.

The Kurdish family who lived in this sorry excuse for a flat eyed her suspiciously, saying little. Sanderson presumed they were illegal immigrants but wasn’t going to push it. They didn’t look like scammers and certainly hadn’t washed up in the land of milk and honey. She wondered if they had lived in better conditions at home, but decided against asking them.