Shaun Hutson - Captives

Don't ask her, it's not important now.

He turned the glass in his hand, gazing into the dark fluid for a second before downing more of it. He refilled his glass, the thud of the music diminishing slightly. They must have finished.

Scott got to his feet and headed for the office door, the drink still in his hand. He walked down the corridor which led to the changing room, knocked and walked in.

***

Zena sat on one of the stools in front of the mirror, peering at her reflection. She smiled as she saw Scott standing there.

'It's a good job I'm not shy, isn't it?' she laughed, allowing the silk basque she wore to hang open, revealing her breasts. She noticed his drink.

'Whatever it is I'll have a swig, Scotty,' she said. 'I'm parched.'

He handed her the glass and she sipped from it as she slipped off first the basque then her panties. Naked, she sat on the stool.

'Where's Carol?' he asked.

'One of the punters called her over, I think she's having a drink with him.' Zena shrugged. 'It's another thirty quid, isn't it?'

Scott nodded and turned to leave.

'I'll nip back later,' he said.

'Scotty, wait a minute.'

She swivelled round on the stool to face him, completely unconcerned by her nakedness. It seemed not to bother Scott either.

'What is it?' he asked.

'You think a lot of her, don't you?' Zena said, cradling the drink.

'Is it that obvious?' he said, smiling humourlessly.

She nodded.

If only you knew, you poor sod.

Zena smiled at him, wondering if she should drop a hint of some kind, let him know that his feelings for Carol weren't reciprocated. But she decided it wasn't her business. They had to sort their own lives out. As she sat there, naked, Zena realised for the first time that she found Scott attractive. She enjoyed the thought of him looking at her and reddened slightly as she felt her nipples begin to stiffen.

Forget it.

'I'm sure she won't be long,' she told him, swallowing what was left in the glass. 'Do you want me to tell her you were looking for her?'

He shook his head.

'I'll come back later,' he said. Then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

Zena turned back to the mirror, studying her reflection for a moment longer. Then she began to take off her make-up. The dressing room door opened and Carol entered, still carrying the vibrator. She put it down on the dressing table, and exhaled wearily.

'What did that bloke want?' Zena enquired.

'A blow job,' Carol said. 'I told him to piss off.'

'You can afford to turn down a hundred quid, can you, Carol? You're lucky.'

Carol didn't answer; she just looked at Zena as the two women faced the mirror.

'Scotty was looking for you,' Zena said.

'What did he want?' Carol enquired.

'He didn't say. Are you going to tell him tonight?'

'Tell him what?'

'That's it's all over between you. How much longer are you going to keep him hanging on, Carol?'

'Look, Zena, it isn't really your business, is it?' Carol snapped.

'He's a nice bloke. I like him and I don't like to see him get hurt.'

'Then you go out with him.'

'Maybe I should. Maybe he's more my type than yours. I mean, according to you he's going nowhere. Well, I'm happy the way I am, too. Perhaps you get used to being a nobody after a while. We're not all like you, Carol. Some of us make do with our lives, make the best of what we've got instead of moaning about what we haven't got.'

'Thanks for the lecture,' Carol said, acidly.

'Why don't you stop being such a bitch and tell the poor bastard?'

Carol got to her feet, pulling a towelling robe around her.

'Drop it, will you?' she snapped.

'You're seeing someone else, aren't you?' Zena said, flatly.

Carol looked anxious for a moment.

'What makes you say that?'

She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

'I've done it myself, Carol, I know the signs,' she said. 'Want to tell me who he is?' She smiled. 'He must be well off if you can afford to turn down hundred-quid tricks.'

Carol didn't answer.

Well off. He was rolling in it.

'Is he going to be the one who's going to take you away from all this?' There was a note of scorn in Zena's voice.

'I told you, Zena, just drop it, will you?' Carol said irritably. 'It's my business, not yours.'

Their argument was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

While Carol went to answer it Zena finished dressing, checking that she had all her bits and pieces before picking up her handbag. She paused to light a cigarette, watching Carol cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder.

On the other end of the line Ray Plummer was apologetic.

He couldn't pick her up tonight.

'It's Okay,' said Carol. 'What's wrong?'

Nothing, he assured her. He just had some business to attend to.

'Will I see you tomorrow?' she wanted to know.

He said she could bank on it. He'd take her out for a meal.

'Great,' she said, her tone not exactly jubilant.

Zena waved goodbye and slipped out. Carol raised a hand in farewell and then she was alone in the dressing room with just Plummer's voice for company.

'Where are you ringing from?' she asked him.

He said he was at one of his gaming clubs in Kensington. He said he was sorry she was going to be alone tonight. He told her he wanted her.

'I want you, too,' she lied.

He said goodbye.

'See you tomorrow.'

He'd already hung up.

She put down the phone, stood gazing at it for a moment and banged the receiver.

'Damn,' she hissed. When she turned back to look in the mirror there were tears in her eyes.

TWENTY-FIVE

They didn't speak all evening.

Julie Gregson had sat looking at the television not really comprehending what she saw, while Gregson himself had continued drinking, flicking through the photos.

She'd looked over at him a couple of times, the expression on her face a combination of sorrow and anger.

Only when the hands of the clock crawled round to midnight did she speak. She asked him if he wanted a hot drink, tea or coffee, before she went to bed.

He shook his head and finished off the Teacher's instead.

'Are you coming to bed?' she asked.

'Soon,' he murmured, without looking up.

She paused in the doorway and ran a hand through her hair, watching as he flicked through the photos again.

'What do you think you're going to find, Frank?' she asked him. 'You've been looking at those damned things all night.'

'Just call it homework,' he said flatly.

'What are you trying to find?'

'Answers. It's my job.' He finally afforded her a glance she would have preferred he'd kept to himself. It was icy as he glared at her. 'But you didn't want to hear too much about my job, did you?'

'Don't start again, Frank,' she said wearily. 'Are you coming to bed? Yes or no?'

'You go,' he told her. 'I'll be up in a while.'

'How many whiskies later?'

He smiled thinly.

'Just go to bed, Julie. I'll handle it.'

'That's just the trouble, Frank,' she told him. 'I'm beginning to wonder if you can handle it any more.' She left him alone.

Gregson heard her footfalls on the stairs, heard her moving about in the bedroom above him. He listened to the sounds for a moment longer then got up and crossed to the sideboard where he retrieved another bottle of whisky. He poured himself a measure and sat down on the sofa once more.

He returned his attention to the photos.

TWENTY-SIX

A thin film of condensation covered everything in the small bathroom, even the clock on the wall. Behind the veil of dewy moisture the hands had reached 1.15 A.M.

Water dripped from one of the taps. Carol Jackson watched the droplets falling for a moment, occasionally raising her toe to prevent the constant plink.