6. Amber
6
AMBER
The Past - Three years ago
I’ve never hurried so fast without running in my life. I’ve also never carried an armful of fake props while I fled the place I despise the most and managed to maintain balance and poise. Luckily, I’ve had a lot of practice. The air feels thick today. It’s a typical cold April morning, and though the sun is trying to break out, the clouds above threaten rain. It can rain all it wants once we’re free of this Hell hole, but it’ll only slow us down if the heavens decide to open now.
Like clockwork, it’s as though every single person in the village notices us and wants to stop and chat. I’ve already craned my neck to check where the delivery van is. Usually he starts at the church, makes his way to the school, stops by two of the farms at the far end of our compound, and then lastly the Mcgregor’s to dump the flour and whatever else can’t fit in the extra storage at church.
Just breathe and you’ll get through this.
I feign hardship as I carry the basket of fruit toward the village square where all the tables are being set up. The basket isn’t exactly light, but then if I exaggerate too much, someone will want to help me carry it.
Olive skips along happily, unaware of the turn that her life is about to take. I can’t control the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I want to run as fast as I can, but I already did that once and now I’ve found Erica, I can’t do it again.
Escaping in broad daylight is a bold move, but now it makes much more sense than trying to scale that wall by night. I’d plunge to my death before I made it down the other side.
All of my hopes are dashed when I see Vince at the long table, directing Becky and Anne with his orders. Please let me go unnoticed… Please let me go unnoticed… Please let me…
Our eyes meet and my heart falters. I’ve got two options here: make a run for it knowing I won’t make it but I’ll have the memory of dying while I tried, or appease him and make an excuse to leave. I choose the latter because time is ticking and the quicker I make an appearance, the quicker I can be gone. I can’t see Steven anywhere, but he won’t be far away. He never is.
“There you are!” Vince calls, his face contorted with anger. “I sent Linda out to look for you.”
Why the heck can’t he let me be for five minutes?
“I was just helping Olive and Erica,” I tell him, keeping my voice calm and pleasant. I gesture to the fruit. “The ladies needed this for the table and now I have to get to work on the bread. You did put me in charge, after all.” Vince knows the one thing I do right is baking, even he can’t deny that.
He peers over my shoulder at Erica and Olive who have stopped to place their painted buntings around the tables. The best fucking guise ever. I want to smile to myself, but we’re so far from the finish line, I feel if I even breathe the wrong way he’ll know what we’re up to.
If any of us put one foot wrong, this will all go up in smoke.
“I put you in charge and yet you’re floundering around out here when you should be at home.”
Yes! At home. That’s where I need to be.
“I’m sorry.” I hang my head. “I just wanted to help everyone.”
“That’s exactly what you do all the time,” he sounds aggravated. “Help everyone except your own family.”
I don’t meet his gaze. He’d never strike me in front of people, but he would take me by the elbow and lead me to the nearest barn where he could get his belt out and punish me for not being a good wife. It’s nothing I’m not used to, but the sting still does exactly that. The more I stand up to him, the worse he gets, and today isn’t the day to prove myself. Today is the day I get to escape and never have to listen to him again or suffer at his hands.
To hurry things along, I add, “Let me go grab the flour from the McGregor’s and I’ll start on the dough.”
He grunts. “The dough should’ve been prepared hours ago.”
I don’t remind him that the flour hasn’t even been delivered yet, that would be enough to set him off. For once, I keep my smart mouth shut because I have everything to live for now and so much to lose.
“I’m sorry, Vincent. I’ll make it up to you.”
He gives me a bored look and dismisses me. My stomach drops as I see the van approaching from the far side of the road. Crap!
I move toward the road, smiling as I leave. Trying to remain calm has never felt so hard before, but somehow I manage it. I make my way toward home, which will have me diverting once I’m out of sight from the others, but still, I know I can do this.
Erica and Olive follow me a few minutes later as they hold hands. Olive swinging her ragdoll in one hand as I wait for them behind the bushes.
“That was close,” I whisper when they approach.
“We have to hurry.” Erica looks behind her at the crowd behind us. “If he comes to check and you’re not there…”
“He won’t,” I maintain. “He’s too busy playing Pied Piper to care if I’m home or not.”
“I hope you’re right.”
We hurry along the embankment and make it to the barn before the van approaches. I hadn’t thought this through, but if he doesn’t stop here with the drop off, it means tackling him to the ground while we steal his van and force the guards to let us out. None of which I can see happening.
“Mom? I’m tired,” Olive whines.
“Just a little farther, honey,” Erica assures her. “Be a good girl now.”
Olive really is a little trooper in all of this. I just hope she doesn’t start yelling and screaming when we get her into the van. She’s a Mama’s girl through and through, so I don’t see that happening, but I’m prepared for anything at this point.
We sneak through the open gate and I feel my body relax when there’s nobody in the barn. The door is wide open because the delivery guy will need access, and for the first time I start to breathe like I’m not starved of oxygen.
“Okay, we need to regroup,” I say, pacing. “He’s going to be here any minute, so we need to hide around the side making sure we don’t get seen from the road.”
“This plan is nuts,” Erica says. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this! All it’s going to take is?—”
“What are you doing in here?” Jude’s voice rings out through the small space and I close my eyes for a fraction of a second. Oh, no. My back to her, I give Erica a stern look that says, ‘let me do the talking,’ and I turn to face her.
“We’re waiting for the flour delivery,” I say. “I’m baking today.”
She’s a suspicious little bitch by nature, but somehow I get the feeling she’s been watching us for a while. “You said you were looking for Erica.”
“Yep, and I found her, the mystery is solved.” Go the fuck away! She’s going to spoil everything. I won’t let that happen. I’ve suffered at Vince’s hands too much, and Erica has had similar treatment from my brother. It ends today.
“You were running through the village in a panic, now you’re just here waiting for flour.” Her upturned nose is aggravating, and not for the first time in my life, I want to rearrange her face.
“I didn’t want to miss the delivery, we all know how Vince can get.” Wrong thing to say because Jude doesn’t like anyone talking badly about our husbands. Not that I care what she thinks. I’m stumbling for my words now because I’m sure I can hear the van approaching.
“Olive?” Jude ignores me and addresses the little girl. “What’s going on here?”
My eyes widen as I turn my back on Jude to face Olive. Erica, still holding her hand, pats her head. “She just told you,” Erica replies sternly. “The question is, why are you here?”
“Because I don’t trust either one of you,” she gripes.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to poison you,” I laugh. “You’ve eaten my food before and never had a problem, and Olive here wanted to help, right kiddo?”
Jude focuses back on Olive and folds her arms over her chest and says, “Well? Speak child!”
“We’re baking bread,” Olive says with a defiant tone. I’d like to think she gets that from me, being her aunt and all, because she sure as shit doesn’t get it from Erica. “I’m going to help roll the dough, Aunty Amber says I’m good at it.”
“Yes you are,” I coo, hoping her admission will make Jude fuck the hell off. “So, thanks for your concern and all but?—”
“Why does she have that?” Jude points toward Olive; the little rucksack that Erica packed with some warm clothes, water and snacks is beside their feet where Erica dropped it.
“She’s having a sleepover tonight, if Vince allows it,” I lie. “Are there any more questions, Jude? This is starting to feel like an interrogation.”
“Like I said, I don’t trust you,” she says. “I think you two are up to something, you’re always whispering in corners to each other, scheming something.”
“That’s because we like each other,” Erica finally speaks. “I’ve known her all her life, I’ll protect her like she’s my own blood. I’m sorry you don’t have that kind of relationship with any of your sisters.”
“What are you protecting her from exactly?” Jude demands. “We’re your family, not her!”
An engine. I hear it…
“Well, we’d love to stay and chat, but?—”
“I think I’ll go find Steven and see if he approved this sleepover,” she sniffs. “It sounds like another excuse for the two of you to keep Olive away from the family.” She’s blocking our exit, and we can’t have that.
“Really?” I say, my hands balling into fists. “Did you come up with that all by yourself?”
“Always the smart mouth. Haven’t you learned to keep that big mouth of yours shut? Maybe if you did, you could’ve given your husband the child he’s always wanted instead of being a vile, barren, pathetic excuse for a wife. Not to mention a horrible little piece of work who can’t even cook?—”
My arm swings before she finishes the sentence, connecting with her face. I don’t even think, I just launch into attack mode, socking her again straight in the middle of her nose as she yelps and falls backwards.
Erica shrieks, as does Olive. My sister-in-law covers Olive’s eyes as I make sure Jude lands safely, and is still breathing. I turn back to them. “Give me something to gag her with and tie her to the machinery.”
Erica is staring at me in shock as Olive hides in her momma’s chest. I didn’t want her to witness that, but I had no choice. Plus, I’ve had a decade of her insults and one can only take so much.
“Erica!”
“Okay!” They fetch some rope and I drag Jude unceremoniously over to the tractor tire, securing the rope around it tightly. I take my cap off and stuff it in her mouth, securing that with a smaller length of rope in case she wakes up and alerts the entire village to what we’ve done.
“Oh, my God!” Erica is shaking, comforting Olive as they stare at Jude behind the tractor.
“I’m sorry!” I spit, feeling far from it. “But she was going to tell Steven and we’d be burned at the stake if she’d gotten away. I can hear the van… let’s move.”
Eventually someone will come looking, and my makeshift ties won’t hold her forever.
“You’re out of your mind,” Erica chastises me. “And just how did you learn to swing like that?”
“I’m my father’s daughter,” I tell her cryptically.
We sneak out of the barn around to the side, out of sight just as the van comes into view. With horror, I realize it’s not Carlo who parks for a moment. Great, could anything else go wrong?
The older man opens the back of the van and pulls out a sack of flour, heaving it over his shoulder as he moves toward the barn. I did a pretty good job of making sure Jude couldn’t be seen from the doorway, but if she’s woken by now, she could stir enough noise to gain his attention.
“Let’s go!” I whisper as we run across the grass toward the vehicle. I look inside, realizing there’s two more bags of flour. “Hide around the side until he’s done.”
I yank on Erica’s hand as we do just that, crouching down on the other side as low as possible. We’re in full view of anyone else from the road, but nobody really comes up here. Nobody except Jude, the nosy bitch. That might teach her a lesson to stay out of other people’s business. Then again, she’s been a thorn in both of our sides since we arrived here, so I don’t expect her to change. My knuckles sting like a bitch but she had it coming. The amount of times I’ve held my tongue while she’s berated me in front of people; I’ve lost count. The man whistles a tune as he yanks the next bag out and my heart thunders in my chest that he’s going to see us. The minutes feel like hours as he returns for the last time, slamming the door shut as he takes the last bag out. I tug on both Erica and Olive’s hands as I peek around the van; he’s nowhere to be seen so I open it quietly and lift Olive up first.
“My doll!” she cries. In all the kerfuffle, she’s left her favorite toy behind but we can’t go back now.
“Shh!” Erica says, placing a hand over her mouth. “Mommy will get you another one.”
Tears prick her eyes and I feel bad, she was really attached to that ugly thing. “I’ll get you ten dolls better than her,” I say, climbing in as I shut the door behind me. There’s barely enough room, but we make it work. “We need to be quiet until we’re out of here, okay?”
Olive cries quietly and I’m glad there’s a partition between us and the driver’s seat or we’d have some explaining to do.
The man comes back and the driver’s door opens, his weight jostling the vehicle as he climbs inside. He’s singing a tune to himself and I’m relieved when he pulls out and drives forward. The guard is about fifty meters away around the corner. If whoever is on the gate wants to check the van, we’re screwed. I just pray we have enough time before anyone discovers Jude unconscious in the corner, tied to a tire. If I wasn’t so shit scared, I’d laugh my ass off about the look on her face when I struck her. Trust me, I put all of my frustrations over the last decade into those few swings, and she bore the brunt of it. The torment and ridicule she’s put both of us through, and looking down her nose at my niece. Well, her penance has been served.
Erica has her eyes closed, Olive’s face pressed against her chest as they huddle together.
“Not long now,” I tell them. “We’re almost there.”
The van stops and I know without looking that we’re at the gate. We’re almost home, free.
I hear voices, and it sounds like Ronnie, Mrs. McGregor’s son. Of course the gate wouldn’t be heavily manned today because it’s all hands on deck. And the driver has no reason to come back here since he’s done his last delivery… then I hear the driver’s door open and close and we wait with bated breath as he says something else. Ronnie laughs and then to my horror he’s right there; his shadow looming through the tinted window. The back door opens.
My heart in my chest, I stare right at the man who isn’t Carlo, but another guy with the name tag, ‘Charlie’ on his shirt, under that it says; Speedy Couriers 24/7
He balks in surprise, then opens his mouth to say something as tears begin to fall down my face before he can speak.
“Please,” I whisper, making prayer hands. “For the life of this child, please don’t. Please, I’m begging you. Don’t give us away. We just need a lift to town.” I bow my head, resting our fate in his hands. He’s an older man, maybe sixty or more, his face is lined from all weathers and his eyes are crystal blue. He has a kind face, and that’s all I can hang onto. Our life hangs in the balance and no words are even exchanged.
He stares at me, his face softens when his eyes fall on Olive. Swallowing hard, he turns at the voice behind him.
“Everything okay?” I hear Ronnie ask. “Did you find them?”
The delivery guy reaches next to me, rummaging around in a large box. He pulls out a bag of skittles, takes one long look at us, then shuts the door behind him. I realize Charlie must’ve promised Ronnie something from the outside, because that’s what all the gatekeepers ask for whenever a delivery is made, and it might just be the very thing to save us. They laugh about something and I don’t hear what Charlie says. After a long pause, my ears straining to hear them… my heart pounding so hard in my chest it may burst.
Erica squeezes my hand like there’s no tomorrow and Olive is sitting wide-eyed staring at us in total shock.
“Daddy hurt my mama,” Olive whispers.
I swallow hard. “Yes, he did, that’s why we’re leaving with this nice man.” My voice cracks and I realize the months of buildup have finally erupted. I’m no longer the girl I once was, and I haven’t been for a while now.
“She knows Daddy is unwell. Don’t you, honey?” Erica tries her best to downplay the situation, but it’s no use. Olive’s tears fall all by themselves as she clings to her mom.
Erica can’t speak anymore, she just nods as fear and trepidation flood her face and her eyes glaze over.
We’re either saved or we’re fucked, I don’t know which yet.
I see my life flashing before my very eyes and I don’t want to be a sitting duck. If he gives us away, we’re doomed and I will mount this wall, taking Olive and Erica with me if it’s the last thing I do. In fact, if Ronnie is distracted, it could be the perfect time to move. Or I could be completely crazy. I start to shift but Erica grabs my sleeve. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for another way out!” I whisper-shout, wiping my tears. A newfound sense of peace washes over me when I realize how close we are. “There’s only Ronnie at the gate. We could overpower him.”
“And the delivery guy?” she whisper-shouts back. “All he has to do is call for help. We’re stowaways in his van!”
“I don’t have all the answers right now!” I slingback. “But I have to do something!”
I halt my escape toward the back of the van when the door opens again and the delivery guy appears, looking right at me again. He tosses Olive’s ragdoll at me and nods once. I catch it in my hand as I sink to my knees and he slams the door closed again. I hear him say something to Ronnie and he laughs. Olive hugs her doll to her chest as her face lights up.
A few moments later, our reluctant rescuer climbs in and the gate opens. I watch in stunned silence as we slowly move forward; Charlie whistling as he says his goodbyes to Ronnie out the window.
All I can hear is Erica and Olive saying the Lord’s prayer as we make our way to freedom.