Take a Good Look Read online

  ‘Want a drink?’ Micky asked.

  ‘Please,’ said Mary.

  She was careful to take just a few sips, although she was still very thirsty. She waited a while, trying to think things out in her head.

  Then she swallowed, cleared her throat nervously and spoke to Micky.

  ‘Will you take me to the bathroom again, please?’

  He groaned, but got to his feet willingly enough. He wasn’t so good at leading her this time. Mary unwittingly blundered against the chair where the knife man was sitting.

  ‘Watch my drink, kid,’ he said sharply.

  ‘Whoopsie-daisy,’ said Micky, staggering.

  ‘Stupid drunken sot,’ the knife man muttered. ‘Keep your eye on that kid, do you hear?’

  ‘Yes, Boss. Sure thing, Boss. Three bags full, Boss.’ Micky giggled stupidly.

  ‘We’ll have to tie her to the chair for the night. We can’t take any chances on her making a run for it when we’re having a kip.’

  ‘Easy, Bob. She’s not much more than a baby. As if a kid like that could make a run for it,’ said Micky.

  Mary said nothing. Micky staggered out with her to the bathroom.

  ‘There you go, kid,’ he said, and he pushed her gently forward into the room.

  This time she felt for the lock on the door and very cautiously slotted it into place. Then she was up on top of the lavatory seat and feeling for the handle of the window. She jiggled the handle but nothing happened. She screwed up her face in desperation and tried again, shoving hard at the stiff window – and at the third thud it juddered open. Mary stood right up on tiptoe and thrust her arm out into thin air. Then her shoulder and head. Her free hand found a ledge to cling to. She gripped it as hard as she could and then heaved. Somehow she got her bottom up on to the window-ledge. It was easy now to pull her legs up and squat outside. Now all she had to do was jump.

  Only she couldn’t see a thing. It had got dark outside, blacking out the little vision she had left. How could she jump when she didn’t know how far down it was? She remembered the weird steps going down and the little landing. If she was above the little landing then that was easy. It was only a hop or two to the ground. But what if there were more steps somehow, leading further down? She was frantic to get away from Micky and the knife man but she didn’t want to break her neck in the process.

  She felt a pebble on the crumbling ledge. She dropped it and listened. It landed with a ping in less than a second. She was OK. Or was she?

  ‘Here, kid! What are you up to?’ Micky’s voice called faintly.

  She had to jump and hope for the best. She stepped out into the blackness, fell forwards and landed with a great clang on top of a dustbin. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach and lay still, shivering in the cold evening air.

  ‘Kid! Let me in! What are you playing at in there?’ Micky’s voice was angry. She heard the thud as his shoulder hit the bathroom door.

  She had to get moving. She wriggled off the dustbin, and blundered forward, arms outstretched. She found another dustbin, and then a space. She risked running, and tripped, something sharp biting her shins. She bent and felt with her hands. The steps!

  She heard a crash inside. Micky had obviously broken down the door. With a little gasp Mary scampered on all fours up the steps. ‘Quick! She’s got out of the window! After her!’ Micky yelled.

  Mary went on scrabbling up the steps, trying to go faster, but it was so hard when she couldn’t see where she was going. Just one stumble could send her somersaulting down the whole flight.

  She heard the outside door open and swift purposeful footsteps. The man with the knife was after her!

  Mary missed the step, nearly tripped – but somehow managed to keep her footing. She carried on climbing, gasping for breath, but the steps seemed to stretch on for ever.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The man with the knife was getting closer. She could hear his feet pounding across the landing towards the steps, getting nearer and nearer…

  Then there was a crash, a shout, muttered swearing. He’d blundered right into the dustbin! He was almost as helpless as she was in the dark!

  Mary heard him moaning and cursing as he tried to stand. Had he hurt himself? She staggered on up the steps, flung out her arms, and felt the railings. She was at the top at last. She gripped the peeling paint, gasping for breath. Now, what next?

  What sort of street was she in? She couldn’t hear any traffic or see a blur of bright lights. It seemed to be a deserted back street. She had to get moving quickly. If the man with the knife or Micky caught up with her here then she’d have no chance.

  She started running down the street. Were they after her? She kept looking behind even though she knew she couldn’t possibly see. She ran with one arm feeling in front and one arm waving feebly behind her, trying to feel if they were catching her. It didn’t help her keep her balance and she stumbled several times, twisting her ankle, but she didn’t dare stop. She didn’t even stop when she tripped right off the kerb and realized she’d got to the end of the little street. She turned the corner in the gutter, found the pavement again, and ran on. Her flailing arm caught hold of a lamppost but she ran round it in time, though her fingers throbbed with the impact.

  She was starting to hurt all over, and she was coughing now, hardly able to get her breath. She knew she couldn’t go on running much longer. They were going to catch her up any second.

  She had to find someone to help her. There were lights in this big street and lights meant people. She veered towards them and when she was right up close she saw they were shop windows. But when she found a door and pushed at it frantically it wouldn’t open. The shop was shut, and so was the next one and the next.

  ‘Please!’ Mary gasped, hammering at one of the doors. ‘Please come. Help! I need someone.’

  But no one came and she had to go on running. There was a big glow coming from a building further along. She couldn’t see it properly, of course, but her nose caught the thick grown-up smell of beer. It was a pub – and pubs were open when it was dark.

  She ran until she got to the pub wall. She felt her way along the pebbledash surface until she got to the big space of the doorway. There was a huge lamp overhead. The light made her screw up her eyes and blink. She rubbed at them to try to get them to settle down and stepped right into the saloon bar.

  There was a great buzz of conversation and a warm thick smoky smell and lights dazzling her in all directions.

  ‘Here, what’s up, little girl? You crying? Been waiting for your daddy, have you?’ said someone, pulling at her T-shirt.

  ‘Please,’ said Mary. She struggled to find the right words.

  ‘Sorry, lovie, but there’s no kiddies allowed in here. Out you go, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Shame, leaving a little kid like that hanging around outside a pub!’

  ‘Who’s with this little girl, eh?’

  ‘No! Don’t find them! Don’t let them get me!’ Mary begged.

  ‘No one’s going to get you, dearie,’ said a soft lady’s voice. She squatted down until Mary could see a smiling face.

  ‘Want to tell me all about it? Let’s go into my sitting-room at the back where we’ll be more cosy.’

  She led Mary through to the back of the bar.

  ‘There now. We’ll soon sort you out,’ said the lady, settling her on a big sofa.

  ‘You won’t let the men in?’ Mary repeated anxiously.

  ‘Which men, dearie? I promise, no one’s going to hurt you, not while I’m here. This is my pub and I say who can come in and who can’t. You look as if you’ve been in the wars, poppet. What’s the matter with your poor old eyes?’

  ‘I can’t see very well,’ said Mary.

  ‘Oh good heavens, you’re not the little blind girl? The one on the news, the one that was kidnapped? We’d better phone the police right away.’

  She dialled the number and spoke excitedly.

  ‘Yes, I