Discarded by M. Hunter (the reading list .txt) 📕

don’t think your mum suffers with hay fever, Emma. You really don’t need to blame yourself for today.’

I appreciate Pam’s efforts to ease my guilt, but not remembering whether Mum suffered with hay fever isn’t what is breaking my heart. It is what she said to me last: it was your fault she ran off that day.

Chapter Nineteen Then

Hayling Island, Hampshire

She’d been determined not to cry again; didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, nor any reason to carry out their threat. Her new plan was simple: play along until an opportunity to get away presented itself. Clearly, Chez had earned the trust of Grey if he had a key to the caravan and seemed to be able to come and go as he pleased. If she could earn that level of trust, then maybe she’d find a way to escape and never look back. Whilst she didn’t know where she was, she was pretty sure she was still in the UK and so she’d be able to find someone to take her to the police. It was all about waiting.

When Grey had said to expect Chez back she’d assumed he would be back quickly, but it had to have been at least an hour, and with her stomach grumbling she made her way into the kitchen area and searched for any sign of food. Dragging over the stool that Grey had been perched on, she clambered up, having to stand on tiptoes to see into the cupboard above the small gas hob. She found more dried pasta and jars of tomato sauce, but nothing she felt confident about cooking alone.

Clambering down, she moved across to the tallest cupboard and opened it. She was surprised when the internal light came on, and realised it was in fact a hidden fridge. Not a cold fridge – clearly the generator wasn’t working again – but a fridge nevertheless. She found a block of cheddar, a jar of melting butter, and a carton of orange juice – not exactly a feast, but it would do to start. She carried the items to the table, returned, and continued her examination of the kitchen, using the stool to reach the cupboards she otherwise wouldn’t be able to look in. Finally returning to the table, she was pleased with her finds. In addition to the cheese and juice, she’d managed to find a bag of prawn crackers, a packet of digestives, and a bottle of ketchup.

She was halfway through the feast when she heard the key rattling in the door, but this time she held her breath and didn’t immediately shrivel up in fear. Chez entered, quickly locking the door behind him. He turned and quietly observed her before his eyes lit up. She’d wondered whether he would be angry that she’d raided the provisions, but if he was he was hiding it well.

‘What’s all this?’ he asked, coming over, picking up one of the prawn crackers and dipping it into the splodge of ketchup on her plate.

‘I was hungry,’ she replied, slowly releasing the breath.

Chez smiled affectionately at her. ‘Looks like I’ve got myself a rival in the kitchen then. You’ve got all my favourites here.’

She could barely bring her eyes to meet his, the flashes of him pinning her feet while Grey injected her still fresh in her mind. It didn’t look as though he was carrying any guilt as he sliced off a corner of cheddar and threw it into his mouth. Maybe he didn’t think that what he’d done was wrong, or maybe he was hoping she’d already forgotten about it.

Think about escape, she reminded herself, finding the strength to offer a smile in return.

‘I’m famished too,’ he said, sliding onto the bench and taking a handful of the prawn crackers and shovelling them into his mouth like a hamster.

‘Is there any bread?’ she asked. ‘I could make you a sandwich?’

His bright eyes dipped momentarily. ‘Ah, no bread left, I’m afraid, but we should get some more supplies now that we’ve reached our destination.’

She desperately wanted to ask him exactly where they were and how long they would remain here, but she needed to keep him onside and lulled into a false sense of security. Too many questions now might make him suspicious.

She reached for the knife and tried to slice the cheddar without success. Chez seemed to take pity on her, and hacked off several slices and handed them over. Key to her success would be playing up to his thinking of her as a younger sister. Ironically, if he hadn’t helped Grey to drug her earlier, she might have still seen him as just as much a victim as her, but clearly Chez was working with them, and that meant he couldn’t be trusted.

‘I don’t think there’s any electricity,’ she said casually. ‘The fridge doesn’t seem to have any power.’

His eyes widened in panic, and he squeezed out from behind the table. ‘Oh shit, I forgot to start the generator when we pitched up.’

He hurried to the door, not noticing her slip the small cheese knife into the pocket of the dress he’d given her last night. She watched him unlock the door, leaving it swinging as he hurried down the steps and disappeared from view. She knew better than to run now, but quietly got down from the stool and walked to the door, quickly slipping out and down to the last step, but didn’t move any further. This was her way of showing him she could be trusted to go outside and not try to run.

Wherever they were now, she could hear seagulls cawing to one another; a tall wood blocked out the horizon immediately in front of her, but she couldn’t see what was behind the caravan. The grass between them and the trees stretched several hundred metres ahead, and apart from the other two caravans to their left, she couldn’t see anything else; no farm animals this time.

She could hear Chez huffing