The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2211 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“What do we do now, Mummy?” asked Jacquie.

“I sent Simon a text before I got in here, I’m hoping he’ll be on his way shortly.”

“What if he didn’t get it?”

“We use plan B.”

“What’s that, Mummy?”

“I’m still working on it, darling.”

“Oh.”

I examined the door. There was no handle on the inside, so I couldn’t unscrew the lock and fiddle with it. It would have to be the window or Simon. We’d never get the pram out of it anyway, but that was something we could resolve later.

The room was approximately twelve feet by twelve with a door at one end and a window at the other. The window was set some five feet above the ground and looked out up to the garden which was a couple of feet higher. It didn’t look as if it was able to be opened. At least it was a wooden frame, so I could try and dig us out with my Swiss Army knife. That copper was right when she said it was going to be a long night.

I saved the torch for emergency use as we didn’t know how long we’d be stuck there, but even Simon surely checks his phone now and again. I stood on the chair to which Jacquie had been secured and began digging away at the beading holding the glass in place.

Cate wanted to cuddle me, but obviously I was otherwise engaged so she had a quick paddy, then exhausted cuddled with Jacquie and fell asleep. My hands were hurting, when I stopped to rest my aching arms and shoulders. I was working on the top of the glass which I could barely reach. I shared a small chocolate bar I had with Jacquie then got back to my task.

I stopped to rest again. My shoulders were really hurting and I didn’t think my hands would ever recover, but I only had one side to do to clear the beading and hopefully lift out the glass. I had a feeling that it was toughened or plate glass, so breaking it would be difficult.

“Did she say why she kidnapped you?” I asked, trying to distract myself from my pains.

“Not really, she just admired the two girls.”

“I wonder what her game is and if anyone else is involved?”

I got back to my woodworking. Finally, I’d cleared it, all round the edge. Got Jacquie to come closer and tried to lever it out. It was probably stuck to the paint on the outside. I tried again and this time there was movement–the blade of my knife snapped and shot across the room, pinging somewhere near the door. That upset me and I hit the glass with the flat of my hand and swore at it. Nothing happened of course except, standing down on the ground again I burst into tears, I felt so frustrated.

I recovered quite quickly and tried to plot a new strategy. There were two wooden chairs, w might need one to escape if in daylight we could lever the glass out. The other we could break the legs off and use them as clubs should there be other people involved.

Breaking the legs off proved harder than I thought it would, but finally we had a club each. The object would be to drive the woman or anyone else who she had with her back through the door and to jam a piece of wood into the jam of the door to stop it closing. It was good in theory at any rate. I would do the attacking, Jacquie would jam the door.

We sat down together on the floor and exhaustion overwhelmed me, the door was yanked open and the light was blinding. “Cathy?” called a familiar voice.

“Where have you been?” I accused my husband.

“I didn’t get your text until half an hour ago,” he defended.

“I sent it hours ago.”

“Yeah, well if you’d said where you were going, it might have happened sooner.”

“Did you get the woman and her stupid dog?”

“They took someone into custody, I think. I’d have thought you’d have escaped by now.”

“What, through a steel door?”

“Oh yeah,” my observant husband commented tapping the lining of the door.

He picked up the sleeping Cate and handed her to me then he gently lifted the pram with a copper and they carried the somnolent Lizzie up the steps. I followed, the door slamming shut behind me. Moments later there was a tremendous crash and a copper dashed back down to the room to see what had happened. Jacquie and I just laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Simon.

“I spent all night trying to dig that sheet of glass out of the frame, even broke my penknife, didn’t I, Jac?” She nodded her assent. “And the bloody thing just fell out with the draught from the door closing–wonderful.”

“Be grateful, if it had fallen on you...”

“Yeah, okay.”

It was four o’clock when we got home and I had a cuppa and went to bed after changing Lizzie and giving her a small feed. It was after ten when I woke up. My hands were still very tender though the shower did ease my aching shoulders and arms. I dressed and downstairs was assailed by dozens of questions, but mostly, how did I find them? Then, what was I going to tell the police?

The police came for their statements and I thanked them for rescuing us, which took them aback for a moment. When I told them I heard my children crying to me, they wouldn’t believe me. It was even suggested I was in league with the old woman. When that was said I had to step between Simon and the officer who said it.

“I’m very intuitive,” I said to the detective sergeant who was accusing me.

“Sure you are, so how come you didn’t see it coming then?”

“Much the same way you didn’t see the truck coming which killed your colleague, even though you were driving.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Back in ninety two, you pulled your Rover out into traffic too busy watching the suspect you were tailing and didn’t see the large lorry speeding towards you.”

“I was acquitted of any unlawful action.”

“Tell that to Jerry.”

“Oh yeah, how do I do that? He’s dead.”

“He’s standing behind you and he doesn’t look too pleased. You were supposed to help Tammy his wife and his children, but you didn’t, did you? You just left them to their own devices because you were too busy screwing your boss’s wife. Does Pam know about that?”

“Who told you all that? I’ll sue them and you.”

“Please do, Jerry would love it all to come out in open court, he’s telling me about a couple of other things you got up to.”

“He’s dead, you lying bitch. He’s fuckin’ dead.”

“So he couldn’t possibly tell me about your share of the stuff that got taken from a jeweller’s shop the year before he died. You both did quite well out of that and a previous heist the previous January. Oh yes, you bought your cottage in Crete on the proceeds of that, didn’t you?”

“Is this true, Mitchell?” asked his Chief Inspector.

“No, it’s all lies.”

“Jerry told me to tell you that keeping the mantle clock from the raid on the antique clock place was a mistake and that he told you that at the time.”

“I bought that clock.”

“Jerry doesn’t agree with you and the serial number underneath it should match it with a robbery in nineteen eighty nine.”

“Check it, Smithers,” the CI barked then suspended his sergeant, taking him into temporary custody while they searched his house.

A little later he came to speak with me. “That was quite impressive.”

“When it works it is.”

“Did Jerry really tell you all that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll never be able to use it in court.”

“No, but if you find the clock and can link it, he’ll probably cough it all up. If not threaten to send for Jerry and me.”

“So you really did just find them, like dowsing for water?”

“Sort of, whenever I faced the right direction the children’s voices got louder.”

“Fascinating, and these were your children’s voices?”

“No, they were the voices of children who’ve been hurt or killed in this town over the centuries and didn’t want to see any further harm come to two more babies.”

“Jeezuz, that’s pretty deep–an’ you can still sleep seeing all this?”

“Yes. Normally I don’t see or hear any of it.”

“Fascinating.”

“Why did she kidnap them?”

“She says she doesn’t know, the plan came to her and she did it.”

“Ask her about her Uncle Dick.”

“Is this another of your intuitions?”

I nodded. “He abducted a little boy called Geoffrey Cummings in nineteen fifty one. The boy died and he’s buried in that garden under an apple tree.”

“Bloody Nora,” exclaimed the CI.

“He also sexually abused her.”

“And that excuses it?”

“Nothing excuses it, Chief Inspector, but it helps to explain it.”

“So she was going to abuse your two was she?”

“I don’t know, but I suspect she needs a psychiatrist more than a jailer.”

“I hate bent coppers,” said Simon sipping a cup of coffee some time after the police left.

“Yeah, they jam the slots in the toilet doors*, don’t they?” I replied.

“What?” he gasped and we both started laughing.

*Public conveniences used to have a coin slot operated door — hence the expression, spending a penny.