Stalker

127

As soon as Nelly reaches the kitchen and closes the door behind her, and puts the heavy bar across it, Erik begins yanking at the mesh. He pulls as hard as he can, and manages to bend it a couple of millimetres, but realises that it will never give way.

He kicks at it with his bare soles, feels the metal burn into the arches of his feet, and hears nothing but a solid thud from the cage. He shifts round desperately and tugs at the corner, seeking a weak point in the construction, pushes up at the roof, but there are no gaps anywhere, no loose welding joints. Then he lies down on his stomach, stretches out with his left hand until he can reach one of the wooden sticks with his fingertips. He rolls it closer until he’s able to get a grip on it and pull it into the cage. He moves to the other side of the cage, holds the stick out and can just reach the strap of Nelly’s Gucci handbag. Carefully he raises the stick, making the bag slide closer to him. He pants with pain whenever he has to put any pressure on his injured arm. It feel likes an eternity before he drags the bag over to the mesh. With shaking hands he hunts around for the keys to the padlock among Nelly’s gold-plated lipstick holders, travel hairspray and powder. In a side pocket he finds her mobile phone. Because he can only use one arm he puts the phone on the floor, leans over it and dials the SOS Alarm number.

‘SOS 112, what’s the nature of the emergency?’ a calm voice says.

‘Please listen… you need to try to trace this phone,’ Erik says in as loud a voice as he dare use. ‘I’ve been locked up in a cellar by a serial killer, you’ve got to come and-’

‘The reception’s very bad,’ the voice interrupts. ‘Can you move somewhere-’

‘The murderer’s name is Nelly Brandt, and I’m in the cellar of a yellow house on the way to Rimbo.’

‘I can’t hear anything now… Did you say you were in danger?’

‘This is serious, you’ve got to come,’ Erik explains, glancing quickly towards the staircase. ‘I’m in a yellow house on the way to Rimbo, there are fields all around and I saw ruined buildings on the site, an old factory with a tall chimney, and-’

The door to the kitchen rattles and Erik ends the call with trembling fingers, drops the phone on the floor but manages to pick it up and slip it back inside the bag. He hears Nelly coming down the steep steps and pushes the handbag back towards the table with the stick. It almost topples over and he has to nudge its lower side with the end of the stick. He stretches out as far as he can to slide the bag back in place.

She’s almost down now.

Erik pulls the stick back and hides it under the mattress, and notices a faint trail through the dirt on the floor.

Nelly reaches the floor of the cellar. She’s holding a broad-bladed kitchen knife in her hand. Her face is sweaty, and she brushes her blood-streaked hair back and looks at her bag on the table.

‘You were gone a long time,’ he says, leaning back against the mesh.

‘The kitchen’s a bit of a mess,’ she explains.

‘But you’ve got some morphine?’

‘To the hungry soul, every bitter thing is sweet,’ she mutters, and puts the white pill on the end of the knife-blade.

She smiles blankly and reaches it towards the mesh.

‘Open wide,’ she says distantly.

With his heart pounding Erik leans his face towards the rusty mesh, opens his mouth and sees the point of the knife come closer.

It’s trembling, and he hears Nelly’s breathing quicken as she puts the tip of the knife in his open mouth.

He feels the underside of the cold blade against his tongue before carefully closing his lips around the knife.

She pulls it out again and the blade hits the side of the mesh with a clang.

Erik pretends to swallow the pill, but tucks it between his cheek and his back teeth. A bitter taste spreads through his mouth as his saliva dissolves the outer layer. He daren’t swallow the pill. It doesn’t matter how much pain he’s in, he can’t risk becoming drowsy and sleepy.

‘You’ve got new earrings,’ he says, sitting back on the mattress.

She smiles briefly with her eyes on the hand holding the knife.

‘But I haven’t been good enough,’ she says quietly.

‘Nelly, if only I’d known that you were waiting for me…’

‘I stood in the garden and saw you looking at Katryna,’ she whispers. ‘Men like beautiful fingernails, I know that, but my hands have always been strange, there’s nothing I can-’

‘You’ve got lovely hands, I think they’re lovely. They’re-’

‘Lovelier than she is now, anyway,’ Nelly interrupts. ‘That just leaves your little teacher… I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen her slippery mouth and-’

‘There’s no one but you,’ he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

‘But I haven’t got any children, I haven’t got a little girl,’ she whispers.

‘What are you talking about?’ Erik asks, and feels his body go utterly cold.

‘Probably best not to take fire into your bosom, unless you want-’

‘Nelly, I don’t care about them,’ he says. ‘I’ve only got eyes for you.’

She lunges quickly with the knife. He jerks his head back and the knife hits the mesh where his face was a moment ago.

She’s panting and looking at him with disappointment, and he knows he’s gone too far, that she knows he wasn’t telling the truth.

‘What you’re saying,’ she gasps. ‘I don’t know, it’s a bit like seeking death by chasing the wind.’

‘What do you mean? I’m not seeking death, Nelly.’

‘It isn’t your fault,’ she mutters, and scratches her neck with the knife-blade. ‘I don’t blame you.’

She takes a few steps back and the shadows close around her pale face, painting big, black holes where her eyes should be, and drawing dark shapes across her neck.

‘But you’ll see what mortality looks like, Erik,’ she says, and turns towards the stairs.

‘Don’t do anything silly now,’ Erik calls to her.

She stops and turns round. Sweat has run down her cheeks and her make-up has almost come off now.

‘I really can’t accept that you’re going to carry on thinking about her,’ Nelly says in a steady voice. ‘If you are going to think about her, then it should be a face without eyes and lips.’

‘No, Nelly!’ Erik shouts, watching her disappear up the narrow staircase.

He sinks down on to the floor, spits out the half-dissolved pill in his hand, and puts the loose remains in one pocket of his jeans.