CHAPTER ELEVEN

Marcy

I ran along the high loading dock to the steps leading down onto the yard while trying to stay in the shadows and not fall flat on my face. The huge green dumpster stood out at an angle from the wall close to the main gates. I ducked behind it. There was a small, man-sized door set into the wall here. But as I suspected it was locked tight when I tried to open it. Ross squeezed past me and swiped a key-card across the electronic reader and the door clicked open. He reached back and pulled me with him out into the street beyond the door.

'Go left,' he said in a low voice, 'Go, run, and don't stop.'

I expected him to close the gate on me and disappear back into the clinic. But instead, he pulled the gate shut and pushed me into motion.

'Run,' he snapped.

I ran. Despite the fact I did not fully trust this man I was enormously grateful I was out of the clinic and not alone in these dark, unfamiliar streets. It took only a few steps for him to realize I was not fast enough and he grabbed my hand and pulled me along. After my second stumble, he simply wrapped his arm around my waist and hitched me off my feet.

'Stop that, put me...'

'Quiet,' he growled and I was quiet. Anyone who could run this fast with me tucked under his arm was not to be argued with. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. My legs kept up their fruitless pumping but only my toes brushed the paving as we sped along the street. The road we were on led out onto a main thoroughfare. Bright lights, traffic and strolling couples walked hand in hand enjoying the view of the dark silent water flowing past them. Ross stopped running and put me down keeping his arm around me.

I tried to push away but his arm was immovable.

'Wait, we aren't out of danger yet. The clinic has cameras all along this part of the river.'

He released my waist and tucked my arm under his clamping it tightly to him and led us smoothly into the middle of a bunch of tourists. Ross smiled and nodded and joined in the excited gabble all the while holding tightly onto my arm. I tried to emulate his relaxed pose and happy demeanor but my breath was ragged and my smile felt manic rather than excited. A tour guide I hadn't previously noticed, stopped beneath a street lamp and pointed to a nondescript building behind him. He was dressed in a Victorian top hat and tails and waving a lace handkerchief.

'This,' he said with a flourish of the hanky, 'is the place where the ghost of Jonny Fellows is said to prowl.'

There were a series of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' of mock horror.

'Said to be an accomplice to Jack the Ripper he died horribly at the hands of an unknown assailant.'

I looked toward the building then Ross. But Ross was busy sliding us toward the opposite edge of the crowd.

'Chopped into small pieces he was,' the guide continued, 'some of which were never found. It's said his ghost, never complete, roams his former residence looking for the missing pieces.'

Ross ducked down the side-road taking me with him and the delightedly horrified gasps faded into the background. A line of taxis were waiting for fares and he approached the first of them.

'Where are we going?' I asked

'A friend,' he said then bent down to give the taxi driver instructions. We climbed into the back of the roomy black cab.

I waited until my heart recovered from the adrenalin dump and as I did I realized that, yes, I was out of the clinic but I was in the company of a man I did not fully trust in a taxi going somewhere I did not know. Unbidden an old cliche popped into my mind in my Gran's scolding voice, 'Look before you leap my girl. Don't go climbing out of the frying pan to land in the fire.' Thanks, Gran, I thought, but it's a bit late for that now. Anyway, the saying you used about a 'leap of faith' would be more comforting at the moment, don't you think? I heard her chuckle as clear as day.

'What friend?' I asked Ross, keeping my voice low enough so the taxi driver wouldn't hear. I hoped.

'Marcy. She can help.'

I waited for more but Ross had returned to staring out of the window.

'They don't know about her? The clinic I mean, they don't know her?'

He shrugged, 'Yes. They know her. But you'll be as safe there as anywhere.'

I didn't find that particularly reassuring. 'Why did you help me?'

He looked at me then turned back to the window. For a long time I thought he wasn't going to answer. I felt my over-ready temper beginning to rise again. I concentrated on biting back the demand to be answered. Then he turned to face me, swinging partially around in his seat to see me better.

'You decided you would leave,' he said studying me.

I found the intense pale eyes that bore into me uncomfortable.

'I always wanted to leave.'

'No. You didn't,' he held up his hand and I swallowed the denial. 'At first maybe, when you woke after being taken. But then, well, then there was a part of you that wanted to stay.'

'I never wanted to be there and I did not want to stay,' I hissed furiously. 'I repeatedly asked you to...' I stopped when I saw the taxi driver flick his eyes to me through the rear-view mirror.

We remained silent until the taxi pulled up at the end of a street of Georgian houses a few minutes later. Lit windows cast blocks of light over tiny front lawns. Ornate streetlights put expensive cars in orange spotlights. Ross opened the taxi door and I followed him out. He paid the driver and watched as it turned the corner at the end of the road and disappeared from view. Then he turned and walked back the way we had come. I cast a last look over my shoulder at the welcoming Georgian splendor, then with a sinking feeling, I followed him. I was dead tired, irritable, and disheartened when we turned into a street of old, once-grand houses now shabby and subdivided into bedsits. As if to complement my mood it began to rain as we trudged down the street. Well I trudged, Ross... Ross seemed to be as fresh as ever. Does nothing tire him, I thought irritably. He had hauled me bodily for what seemed like a mile though in truth it was probably half that and marched on for another three-quarter of an hour and it hadn't even dented his energy reserves that I could see. Infuriatingly it didn't seem to dawn on him that someone who was not very fit, despite Jenny's best efforts, might not have his stamina. A fact demonstrated by his regular requests that I be... 'faster, quieter, faster, keep up, hurry.' Infuriating! The orange glow of the street lights reflected off wet pavement, overflowing bins, and three stray dogs that turned tail and ran for their lives when they spotted us. At least they knew what was best for them I fumed.

We were halfway down the street before I realized I was no longer needing to shut out the endless ghosts. It was as though someone had turned off a film projector. One second they were there, crowding me, vying for attention, then they were gone. I blinked and cautiously reached out with my heightened senses. Yes, they were around but there were none within the immediate area. I felt my shoulders relax a little. The drugs' effects must be wearing off, thank god. Ross waved at me to hurry as he pushed open a low rusty iron gate which squealed loudly in protest. He bounded up the three steps to the out-sized door and waited for me to catch up. The door, I thought, had once been red. The round brass knob in its scarred and peeling center was tarnished and hung at a jaunty angle. Ross pulled at a stirrup doorbell and the clattering of a bell deep within the house reached us. The rain increased, pounding off the steps and plastering the thin cotton of my blouse to my body and my hair to my head. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself trying to hold in a little heat. Ross glanced at me then turned his focus back to the door. At last it swung open, not tentatively, not suspiciously but enthusiastically. A slender woman smiled broadly and spread her arms wide in welcome. Bangles jingled on her wrists. Long colorful earrings swung in her enthusiasm and the thin fabric of her long flowing skirt and blouse billowed in the breeze.

'Come in, come in,' she said. 'Get in out of the rain. I am so pleased you're here. You've done the right thing, Ross. But you really have to stop looking so grumpy, dear boy. You'll scare the life out of her.'

The smell of perfumed smoke wafted over me as I stepped past the threshold. The woman, Marcy, I supposed, closed the door behind us sliding home two sturdy brass bolts. Subdued lighting showed a well-kept hall and wide carpeted stairs. The billowing sleeves of Marcy's flowered blouse floated around her as she waved us to the first door on the right.

'Go in and get a warm,' she said ushering us past her into a large room with a deep bay window. Had the curtains been open, we would have looked out onto the street we had just left. Colored lanterns were dotted around the room. Handmade rugs were scattered over a polished wood floor. Comfortable chairs were draped with fringed, brightly colored throws and in the large ornate fireplace was a blazing log fire which threw a very welcome heat into the room. I gravitated to it at once. The inside of this old house was at total odds with the outside. I had thought the street was all bedsits and minuscule flats but it was quite obvious that this house was entirely Marcy's. The house had a wholeness about it, a feeling of completeness and contentment.

Marcy swooped down to hug first Ross then me. 'Grace, I am so pleased to meet you at last.'

I opened my mouth but whatever my stuttering brain was about to dredge up was stalled by Ross' taciturn introductions.

'Grace, Marcy. She's a friend. You'll be safe here. At least for now.'

Marcy tutted at the terse introduction.

'It's just for one night,' I said. 'I have to get home in the morning, but thank you.'

She didn't reply but a tiny frown showed between her dark eyes and she gave Ross a questioning look which Ross, characteristically ignored. Instead, he chose a dining chair near the door and sat down. Going to a chest in front of the window she pulled out yet another heavy, fringed shawl and draped it around my shoulders.

'There,' she said. 'Sit down and get warm and I'll make us tea. Then we can talk.' The last was said with a meaningful look at Ross.

When she had swept from the room with long flowing skits tagging along behind I turned to face Ross.

'She knew we were coming? How could she know we were coming, Ross?'

'It's a long story.'

'Well, I have all night.'

'We should wait until Marcy gets back.'

I considered this briefly then pulling the comforting shawl closer around me I chose the second most comfortable-looking chair next to the fire. As if in compromise Ross pulled his wooden dining chair closer to the fire though to my mind well out of range of its deeply comforting heat. After a few silent minutes, Marcy returned with a tray loaded with cups, teapot and cake. She sat opposite me and balanced the tray on a small occasional table next to her. She glanced at our determinedly silent faces then poured what seemed to be clear water into a cup and handed it to me. Assuming I was supposed to dunk my own teabag I scanned the tray for signs of one.

'It's ginger and lemon,' she said noticing my fruitless search and correctly interpreting it. 'Warms you up and fights off the bugs you might be susceptible to after your ordeal.' She cut a generous slice of cake put it on a plate and handed that to me too.

'Cake?' she asked, needlessly.

I took the plate from her with a smile of thanks and put it on my own side-table.

'Drink up, it will do you good.'

I took a sip of tea. It was surprisingly good. I didn't normally go in for herbal teas, Yorkshire tea, that was my brew of choice, but Marcy was right, this warmed as it went down comforting me like a warm hug.

'Nice?' she asked with a smile.

'Um mm.'

'Good, well you must have lots of questions for us so fire away,' her voice held a note of excitement as if this was going to be a rare treat long looked forward to.

Questions? Do I have questions? Where to start?