Spider Page 11

  ‘Okay, thanks, Dad. See you tomorrow,’ Beth said. She watched her dad leave and then dashed back into her bedroom. Beth couldn’t afford to be late. She checked her hair, its new cut not giving her any confidence. Her heart was hammering and her throat was dry.

  I can do this!

  Beth went downstairs to find Alison and Renia sitting on the settee, a box of chocolates on the coffee table, and Renia trying to show Alison how to knit. Alison was holding the knitting needles as though they were chopsticks.

  Renia’s pregnant belly was bulging; she was six months gone.

  ‘Thanks for sitting with Mum,’ said Beth.

  ‘My pleasure,’ Renia said, her Polish accent was strong, but her English was good. She pointed to the chocolates. ‘Have one for the journey.’

  Beth looked at the chocolates. The thought of them made her stomach churn. She felt so nervous, any food would likely make her sick.

  ‘No, thank you. You both enjoy them.’

  ‘I’m knitting, Bethy,’ said Alison.

  ‘It looks great fun, Mum.’ She went over and kissed her mum on the top of her bent head. She was so engrossed in her stitches she didn’t look up. ‘When she’s in bed, you get off,’ Beth said to Renia.

  ‘Don’t you worry. Have a great time with your friends.’

  Yeah, right.

  ◆◆◆

  Beth arrived at East Finchley without problem but pulled over to use her phone’s GPS for further directions when she got to Park Hall Avenue. She hadn’t wanted to use her phone all the way for fear of running down the battery. She’d hit traffic and became worried she’d be late, but she had worried needlessly. Her phone took her straight to the Ranch, and Beth was surprised to see it was a cosy diner. She didn’t know what she had expected—an old Gothic castle or something, maybe.

  As she pulled into the restaurant’s carpark, she wondered if Yash intended to take her to dinner there first. She wasn’t hungry. Her stomach was too knotted to eat. There weren’t many cars parked, and Beth chose a space so she could watch Yash enter the carpark. She had almost forty minutes to wait. She’d arrived early—too early. The wait would crucify her. She sat in her car looking anxiously around at her surroundings. It was a nice area. No gangs of youths up to no good. She checked her phone; no messages—apart from Colin’s, which she ignored. She began to play Solitaire on her mobile but stopped, knowing it’d drain the battery.

  She resumed looking around at her surroundings.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she muttered to herself. Her legs began to jitter. She felt cold, and it wasn’t entirely down to the turned-off heater in the car. ‘Oh, God, I can’t.’

  She turned the car engine on and shoved the car into first gear, but then she pushed it back into neutral and turned the car off. She had to do it. She’d come this far. She could go further.

  Oh my God! I’m going to be sick.

  Beth quickly got out of her car and moved towards the gutter. She closed her eyes as she battled with herself not to vomit. She managed not to, but wished she’d thought to bring a bottle of water. She straightened and looked at the door of the Ranch, and wondered about going in and getting a bottle. Maybe a bottle of vodka for nerves. Her stomach quivered at the thought.

  Headlights suddenly swept over her, and she spun around to watch a black Rolls Royce pull up alongside her. Her hand had automatically raised to cover her mouth as an involuntary cry burst from her. The car stopped and the front passenger door opened. Yash stepped out and strode towards her, and for a moment Beth thought he was going to take her into his arms and kiss her, but he spun her around, placed both her hands on the bonnet of her car, and frisked her impersonally. It happened so quickly she didn’t have time to protest.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Yash said.

  Beth righted herself from the car, still feeling surprised. ‘I, er, I have my holdall…’ She sounded pathetic. She pointed to her car. ‘I bought a few things to freshen up and the things you asked for about Lara—’

  ‘Leave it for now. And your phone. Lock your car and give me your keys.’

  ‘My phone? B-but what if there’s an emergency with my mum? I need to be in touch with her at all times!’

  Yash didn’t speak, just stared her down. Finally, with fingers like melted butter and hands like chunks of ice, Beth opened her car door and grabbed her phone off the passenger seat where she’d left it. She shoved it inside her handbag, then tucked that beneath the front seat.

  Righting herself, she closed and locked her car and dangled the keys out to Yash. She wanted to drop them as he held his hand out, and watch him scramble on the ground to pick them up, but knew it wouldn’t happen like that. Resigned, she placed the keys into his hand. He pocketed them, then he took her elbow and escorted her towards the black Rolls-Royce. A Jelvian car.

  She hung back.

  ‘Not backing out, sweet cheeks?’ he said.

  ‘You’ll let Lara go?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. He opened the door to the back. ‘After you.’

  She slid inside; the seats were very plush. The driver was a woman. She’d never seen a Jelvian woman before. The woman looked back at Beth just as curiously in the rear-view mirror.

  Instead of climbing in the front, Yash sat next to her in the back. He closed the partition, saying, ‘Don’t be nosy, Bren.’

  The scenery was a blur to Beth. She was changing her mind again, but thought about how cowardly that would be. She could do this. Do this for Lara.

  Yash put his hand on her thigh; the touch was light, but it was suggestive of what he had in mind for her. She forced herself to remain calm.

  ‘How do I know you’ll keep your side of the bargain?’ she asked, pushing his hand away.

  He put his hand back. ‘How do I know you’ll keep yours?’

  ‘I-I… you have my word.’

  He squeezed her thigh. ‘Then remember what I asked of you. Your utter surrender to me over two evenings, and then I’ll arrange for Lara to be released.’

  ‘So you do have her!’ She sounded triumphant.

  ‘Does it please you to think we have your sister?’

  She said nothing and watched her surroundings from the window. She tried to ignore Yash’s touch. The buildings changed from businesses to houses; they’d entered a residential area. The houses were impressive—expensive looking. It was clearly an exclusive area and Beth didn’t think it could get any more luxurious, but as they turned into Keats Avenue, Beth’s breath was taken away entirely.

  The road seemed as broad as it was long with trees lining their way. The houses were country style—set away from the road with extensive front gardens, cute picket fences, or high stone walls. They had long driveways filled with expensive cars.

  As Beth wondered which was Yash’s house, they rounded a corner towards tall black gates. As they approached, the gates opened, and the car drove up an unlit road. From the car headlights, Beth could see that around them was nothing but manicured grassland. After the house-lined streets they’d passed, it looked like they’d moved into another country.

  The car headlights flicked off, making Beth jump. Motion sensors in the road lamps lit their way, illuminating their path, while behind was like a black vacuum of nothing. Ahead was similar; Beth could see nothing but her immediate surroundings.

  She glanced at Yash but couldn’t see him in the dimness. He’d kept his hand on her thigh all through the journey. It was a possessive touch—she’d all but sold herself anyway. She turned away and focused on her surroundings.

  They passed a lit helipad, and then lights flared on as they drove towards a row of garages. Beth noticed several Rolls Royces and a Range Rover parked outside. She expected the car she was in to pull over, but it swept past, and then a large house came into view. To Beth, it looked like a palace. It was lit up with lights on the outside and stood several storeys high, and stretched across the empty grassland. Its architecture reminded her of Strawberry Hill House in Twickenham, a beautifull
y named house built in a slight Gothic style.

  She almost smiled. She’d had her Gothic image in her head, and she’d been right. Fleetingly, she remembered when she’d had to do a school project on English country houses, and her dad had helped her by coming up with Strawberry Hill. He’d even purchased tickets for them as a family to go and visit, and Beth remembered it as a lovely day out—they’d been to some beautiful places as a family, before the money had run out.

  But now, watching the house getting closer and closer, her memories of family days out couldn’t soothe her agitated state. Seeing the grandeur of where Yash lived somehow made the light pressure of his hand on her thigh heavier.

  She had no chance with him. No law in the land would offer her protection if all this went wrong.

  TWENTY

  ‘You're very brave,’ Yash said, surprising her. He almost sounded like he knew what she was going through. Beth looked at him. He didn’t look back. She felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest as the car pulled to one side of the great house and then stopped. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing.

  He removed his hand from her thigh and climbed out of the car. Beth followed him. The quiet of the night and the house played on her imagination.

  Yash took her elbow and escorted her around the back of the house, their feet crunching on the gravel. A light wind picked up and scattered a few leaves around her feet. There was no other sound. He led her past a window which seemed to cover the entire side of the house they were walking along. It looked dark inside, and Beth could see their dim reflections as they walked.

  ‘I thought you lived in on the islands near Ireland,’ she said, as a way of breaking the silence.

  ‘Headquarters is there, but most of us have come inland now.’ He stopped at a portion of the window that had a small flashing red light at the top, and when the light changed to green, he slid open the ‘window’. Inside, a light flicked on at their entrance. It was a vast hall with a staircase at one side and two closed doors at either end of the room. The panelled walls and plush carpet made it look attractive, but it lacked warmth. It was an entrance to an expensive private medical service, Beth thought sourly.

  She heard music somewhere deep in the house, the first sign of life. Yash led her towards the wide staircase. At the top, he retook her elbow and led her across a shiny wooden floor towards a large imposing double door. There were other doors and an elevator at the top, but the double door stood out.

  This was it.

  Beth’s knees almost buckled.

  ‘Your room,’ he said. Letting her go, he pushed open the doors. He stood back and indicated with a wave of his hand that she should enter.

  Beth stepped over the threshold feeling like she was stepping toward the gallows. The beautiful room with its soft lighting and quaint furniture in soft pastel colours couldn’t soothe her agitated state. Despite the appearance of the exterior house, this was a modern room. The carpet was plush and covered the entire room. Her feet sank into its softness.

  The room was on two levels. The highest level, separated by two steps, featured a four-poster bed dressed in duck-egg blues. There was a dressing table to the left of the bed, against the wall, and a matching chair in the same colours as the bed. On the opposite wall was another double door.

  The lower level had a loveseat in front of a bay window; the bay window had cream curtains. There were ordinary windows on either side of the bay with blue curtains. In the middle of the floor, on the lower level, was a round wooden table with two matching chairs with seats in blue. Everything matched beautifully.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ asked Yash.

  ‘No,’ said Beth, and tried to ignore the sound of the double door closing and locking behind her.

  Yash walked over towards a small wall cabinet. As he opened it, she realised it was a fridge. He took out a bottle of wine, and from an alcove above took down two glasses. He set them on the table and poured wine into one. Then he turned back to the fridge and took out a jug of orange juice and filled the other.

  He handed her the glass of wine, then sat on the loveseat and sipped his orange juice.

  ‘Take a look around. There’s a bathroom through the doors over there if you need to freshen up.’

  ‘You wouldn’t let me keep my bag,’ she said. ‘How can I freshen up without my stuff?’

  The legs on the spider tattoo twisted in amusement, but he said nothing. Beth turned from him and sipped her wine. She took another gulp and then moved towards the steps and the bathroom he’d pointed out—she tried not to look at the bed. She couldn’t visualise herself laying on it with Yash next to her. Or on top of her.

  Oh, God.

  She turned to look back at Yash. He’d kicked off his shoes and sat looking relaxed as he watched her. His black eyes followed her every move.

  She turned from him and drank more wine, welcoming the relaxation of it. She moved towards the bathroom door and pushed it open.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ she said, her surprise bursting from her lips. Inside, the room was tiled from floor to ceiling in burnt oranges and reds. The effect was stunning.

  In the centre was a sunken bath. To her right was a toilet and sink, to the left a huge shower. And on the opposite side of the bath was a counter with every imaginable toiletry possible: from a jar of cotton balls to perfume.

  Putting her wineglass down, she ran her fingers over the burnished gold countertop and then picked up a perfume bottle. She took the lid off and sprayed. She didn’t recognise the fragrance—not that she could afford such luxury.

  Was Yash trying to impress her? She turned around and saw, hanging on a velvet hanger next to the door, a beautiful white dress. It had a sheen to it. She moved forward and fingered the material. Silk.

  On a velvet stool lay lingerie and a shoebox, which she opened. Inside were the prettiest silver sandals she’d ever seen. She closed the box. They obviously belonged to another woman. Maybe Yash had arrangements with a lot of women.

  She backed away from the clothes and grabbed her drink. She downed it, glaring at the dress. Then turned to face the gilded mirror above the counter of perfumes and other toiletries. She stared at herself.

  ‘This is a business deal. Just a business deal,’ Beth told herself, but her words of comfort didn’t have any effect on her. She marched over towards the door and opened it. Yash was still sitting on the loveseat. He raised his eyebrows at her.

  ‘That was quick,’ he said. ‘It’s my experience that women take hours to get ready.’

  ‘There’s another women’s dress in there,’ she blurted out.

  Yash stood up. He came towards her, picking up the bottle of wine on his way. He refilled her glass and then stood looking down at her. He tilted her chin with his fingers.

  ‘I want you to relax. I’m not going to hurt you, and you never know—you may enjoy our, er, deal. And the deal starts by you freshening up, or whatever women like to do in the bathroom. The dress is for you to wear. Lingerie and shoes, too. Now, I’m going to leave you to enjoy the bathroom, and when I come back, I want you in that dress and sitting over there.’ He jerked a thumb towards the loveseat. ‘Clear?’

  She couldn’t nod because his fingers were still holding her chin.

  ‘I like your hair, by the way,’ he said, his eyes appraising her. ‘I’m honoured.’

  ‘I didn’t get it done for you!’

  His mouth quirked with that cruel smile. He let her go and turned her around using one hand on her shoulder.

  ‘You’ve wasted time already. You have thirty minutes,’ he said.

  From the inside of the bathroom, she pressed an ear against the door and waited until she heard Yash leave. She felt clammy about the upcoming events—she couldn’t believe she was going through with it.

  She undressed and spritzed herself in body sprays. In another life, she would’ve liked to linger and use the dusting powders and other smellies. She didn’t shower; she didn’t want to get her h
air wet because there’d be no time to dry it. She turned and eyed the dress, then walked over and lifted it from the hanger. It felt exquisite in her hands. She’d never felt material like it. She laid it over the velvet stool and picked up the stockings. Sheer hold-ups with lace tops. Tiny knickers fell from her fingers to land on the fire-like tiles; they’d been hidden beneath the stockings when she picked them up.

  Sighing, she bent and picked them up. She stepped into them and then pulled on the stockings.

  There was no bra.

  She picked up the dress again and stepped into it. The material slithered over her skin. The dress was a perfect size. Sandals slipped on her feet like they were made for her. She turned to gaze at herself in the mirror.

  She looked like a different person.

  Beautiful.

  She could do this. She could be that beautiful woman in the mirror. The woman with the full breasts, nipples pointing through the silk of the dress. The woman with wide eyes, full mouth, pink cheeks, and the cute pixie cut.

  She looked like a woman knowing she was about to be made love to. No, she didn’t—she looked terrified. She closed her eyes on her reflection and tried to calm her roaring pulse and the sickness in her stomach.

  In the other room, Yash hadn’t returned. She eyed the wine bottle and her empty glass on the table. She moved towards it and refilled her drink, then stepped over to a window to peer out. She couldn’t see much other than her terrified-looking reflection. She tried the window to see if it would open. Not to escape—she already knew her fate—but to allow the outside in and to, somehow, feel normal.

  ‘It’s locked.’

  Beth spun around to see Yash closing and locking the doors behind him. He stood and observed her silently, and she tilted her head. She knew she looked good, and she wanted to see the appreciation in his eyes.