Chapter Four
A noise catapults me from a deep sleep. My heart’s racing. My cotton-wool-stuffed head shoots up from where it’s been face down in the pillow. My vision is blurry. I haven’t slept like that in weeks. Where am I? It’s light. I quickly reach out for Brian, but he’s not there.
I was dreaming. My pillow’s wet from tears.
I was back home, at work in The Coffee House.
Everyone was pointing at me, laughing. I could hear my mother’s voice telling me what a fool I’d been.
Kimberly, my work mate, telling Betty that Brian was ‘out of my league’.
I could hear the laughter of the drivers when they came to take back the camper van.
My husband had rung to say there’d been a change of plan.
I could hear the laughter of everyone who’d been at my wedding.
There’s a rattle at the door, the same noise as before.
I twist round and sit bolt upright, suddenly remembering where I am.
I’m in the middle of nowhere with a man who’s gone out with his hooker and has brought me here to work too.
I might have been dreaming earlier, but I’m awake now, and right in the middle of a nightmare.
How could I have been so stupid? It’s obvious now.
He preys on vulnerable young women, bringing them here on false pretences of a job, board and lodgings, and then trafficks them out to who knows where.
Why else would he have been delighted that I’d come about the job?
I had no qualifications, no family, didn’t know where I was – I was ripe for the picking.
He and the Garda must be in on it together. I should’ve seen it coming.
A sharp pain rips through my chest. I clutch it.
My heart’s thundering like a drum. My door rattles again.
My pounding heart gathers pace. I hold my breath.
I can hear heavy breathing outside my door.
Oh my God! My eyes are glued to the door handle and the chair wedged under it.
There’s a scratching noise. Shit – they’re here!
Maybe I wasn’t supposed to wake from that heavy sleep.
They’re obviously going to take me from here by boat.
No one knows I’m here and no one will know that I’ve gone.
In panic I look around for something heavy to pick up.
I’m up on my knees. I shouldn’t have let my guard down, I berate myself.
What was I thinking of, taking an offer of a room from a man I didn’t know, in the middle of nowhere?
I’ve moved around enough grotty hostels in my time to know that you trust no one.
I need to get the hell out of here, right now.
I spin round to look at the window as a means of escape. The door rattles again.
‘Get away from the door!’ I make a lunge for the lamp beside my bed, yank it out of the socket and hold it up high. The door stops rattling. There’s a sniff.
‘I’m warning you.’ I stand up on the bed, still holding the lamp above my head.
I’m wearing the T-shirt I put on last night, which comes right down to my thighs.
I turn to look out the window again and see how big the drop to the ground is when suddenly the door gets an almighty thump.
The chair flies away from it, falling with a clatter. I yell as the door flings open.
‘Get away!’ I shout, scaring both me and Grace, who has obviously launched herself at the door with both paws and is giving a great woo-woo-woof.
She finishes her battle cry and stares at me on the bed.
Her jowls are swinging to and fro. We stare at each other, her from the doorway and me from my standing position on the bed. I don’t know who’s more scared.
I jump off the bed, put down the lamp and go to her, rubbing her head and ears. ‘Good girl, sorry if I scared you,’ I say, feeling my heart slowing down.
Grace wags her tail and it thumps against the open door.
‘It’s all OK,’ I tell her as gently as my wavering voice will let me.
‘But I just need to get my stuff together and get out of here.’ Talking to Grace seems to be calming me down.
I pick up my Dunnes bag and my little bridal handbag with my passport and a few euros left in it.
I slide my sore feet back into the gold shoes and wince.
Then I pull on the joggers and hoodie, getting myself tangled in my panic to get out of there.
Grace lies down and puts her chin between her paws, watching me.
For some unknown reason I make the bed. It’s habit, when I leave somewhere.
Then I look around for signs of Sean. I go to the bedroom door and listen.
Nothing, which is eerie in itself. I’m not used to no sound at all.
At least back home there’d be the odd siren going off, cars, car alarms, that kind of thing.
I take a deep breath and decide to risk it.
I give Grace one last rub on the head and then head for the front door.
I glance briefly into the cottage’s main room.
The mess doesn’t look any better than last night.
In fact, in the cold light of day it looks worse.
I chance a glance out of the window. I catch my breath.
The sea seems so close. I take a step back, but not before I notice that the boat that’d been there yesterday is missing.
I need to get out of here now, take my chance, before I end up thousands of miles away with a pimp and a drug habit.
I reach for the door with Grace following me, her head practically in the crook of my knee.
It looks wet and grey out there. There’s a jumble of waterproof jackets on the hooks beside the door.
It wouldn’t be stealing, I’d just borrow a coat.
Perhaps I could send it back as soon as I’m settled elsewhere.
Oh for goodness’ sake, I tell myself, just take the coat!
The guy’s trying to sell you into the slave trade; it’s the least he owes you.
I reach up and grab a yellow waterproof jacket, but as I yank and go to run, the whole rack of hooks and the shelf on top comes tumbling down in a heap right in front of the door, blocking my path and my escape.