Human Remains

do that? But of course I kept quiet, and then I heard muffled footsteps receding as he went down the hallway.
    I waited for ten beats, thinking that he might come back straight away, might have forgotten something. The room was silent. I could hear nothing, not even the wind, or the rattling of the branches on the window in the hallway.
    I reached inside my blouse for the mobile phone. There was almost no signal here. Hadn’t Sam been going on about that? But of course it was rural – it was quite possible that I wouldn’t be able to connect to the network. I checked again that the phone was on silent – it wouldn’t be good to give myself away now. Then I sent a text to Sam.
    Am in big house on Grayswood Lane. Am alone now.
He has locked me in a room. Did u follow? A
     
    A few moments, then a message illuminated the screen.
    Error – Unable to send text. Retrying
     
    I stood up and went to the cupboards, opened them one by one. They held piles of linens, towels, curtains, bed sheets, everything folded neatly. Clouds of dust rose from everything. I wanted something solid, something I could use to lever the door open, or even just to use as a weapon if I needed it. In the second wardrobe on the top shelf was a suitcase, a brown one with leather straps around it. I thought about getting it down but it might make a noise. Better to wait until I was sure he was gone.
    The floorboards under the thick carpet creaked faintly as I crossed the room and for a moment I held my breath, hoping that, wherever he was, he hadn’t heard. Nothing. I carried on to the window and pulled the curtain to one side a fraction so I could see out. The room was at the rear of the house. I’d already worked that one out. I wasn’t going to be able to see if the Fiesta drove away, but if I could open a window I might be able to hear it.
    The window was a sash one, heavy-looking, and the catch hadn’t been opened in years. I could see a garden, a long slope of overgrown grass leading down to a tall brick wall with a gate in an arch at the middle of it. The trees bordering the garden were immense, and moving soundlessly in the wind.
    From somewhere in the house, I heard a bang. I stood still, in case he was coming back, but there was just empty silence. Had that been the front door? Had he gone?
    I went to the door, trying the handle gently. The door stayed firmly shut. I bent down and looked through the keyhole, which showed me a tiny patch of flock wallpaper on the opposite side of the hallway. He had taken the key with him.
    I went back to the bed and took out the phone again. The message was still showing as pending. I tried to dial Sam’s number but all I got was a disconnection bleep. I took the phone over to the window to see if there was any signal there, but it was no better. Would they still be able to trace the phone, if there was no signal? I tried various places in the room, with no result. After that I went to the door and pulled at the handle again, turning it and tugging at the door. It gave a little, just a little, but the lock held firm.
    A noise again.
    I stopped dead and listened, my ear pressed to the door. Silence. And then, very faint, from somewhere – I heard a short high-pitched sound, like a cry.
    I banged on the door, hard. ‘Hello?’ I shouted. ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
    I listened to the silence, and more silence, and then suddenly footsteps outside, fast, rustling, the key in the lock, and I leapt backwards, stumbling, over to the bed, my breath coming in gasps. I just had time to shove the phone back into my bra.
    The door opened and he stood there watching me. I noticed he was as breathless as I was, as though he’d run up the stairs.
    ‘What are you doing?’ he said, his voice measured and steady even though he was clearly upset.
    ‘I don’t want to be locked in,’ I said. ‘Why did you lock me in?’
    He frowned. ‘I wanted you to be safe. You need to be safe.’ He stepped towards me, into the room, and at that moment I wondered if I would have enough strength to overpower him. He was taller than me, but I was probably heavier. If I rushed at him, I could probably knock him over – but then what? Where would I go?
    ‘I’m scared of being locked in,’ I said. ‘I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep if I’m locked in.’
    Maybe I could get away with this, I thought. Maybe there were some instincts that overrode his influence – some primal fears that were more insistent than the desire