(2011) Only the Innocent (34 page)

‘You haven’t been drinking your wine, Laura. Is there a problem? Is my choice unacceptable to you?’

‘No Hugo, it’s delicious as always. In fact, I think I’ll take it to the kitchen with me whilst I put the finishing touches to the fish. I’ll just be a moment or two.’

By this time, I always responded in this sycophantic way. Hugo loved it.

I really didn’t want any more wine, so I poured it down the drain, and topped up my glass with a rather revolting mixture of apple juice and water - just to get the right colour. Better than drinking the wine, though.

After dinner, I noticed Hugo was watching me rather carefully. A little
too
carefully. I realised that I was somehow acting out of character. Of course! By this time of night I was usually getting very drowsy. Hugo often suggested that I went up to bed early, and I was always asleep in seconds. It was a sudden moment of clarity, because one large glass of wine really would not make that much difference. He’d been drugging me! The bastard had been slipping something in my wine! But why? It didn’t make sense, because I was certainly not up for his little games when I felt like this. Mind you, those occasions were thankfully becoming rarer and rarer. He didn’t appreciate my lack of enthusiasm.

So I feigned a yawn or two.

‘I think I’ll go to bed now, if that’s okay with you.’

‘That’s absolutely fine. I hope you sleep well.’ Hugo smiled, but there wasn’t a trace of warmth in it.

Of course, I couldn’t sleep at all. I tossed and turned for a couple of hours, and then I heard a sound. An unusual sound in that house, and it appeared to be coming from the room next door. It was the muffled but unmistakable sound of laughter. I listened carefully. Was it laughter, or was Hugo perhaps listening to the radio in there? The walls of the house were thick, but I could just make out the resonance of a man’s deep voice, and the tinkle of high-pitched laughter.

I grabbed my towelling bathrobe, tied it tightly round my waist, and opened the door to the hallway. By this time, I was actually wishing that I’d drunk the wine because I was faced with one of those awful moments of indecision. I knew that I didn’t want to see what was behind the door because the knowledge would have inevitable consequences, but I also knew I couldn’t ignore it.

I turned the handle, and gently pushed the door open.

The next moments were too terrible to put into words. I couldn’t stop myself gasping in horror. Of course, Hugo heard me. He showed no sign of embarrassment at all as he turned towards me, naked and erect.

Instead he mocked me.

‘Ah, Laura. As always I see you’ve come to spoil the fun. Or would you like to join us, my dear?’

I can’t tell you what I saw, Imo. Not yet. But all the horror of the last few years paled into insignificance beside the tableau that was laid out before me. My whole body was shaking, and I was sure that I was going to be sick. I had never felt such raw emotion - and that emotion was hatred. Pure unadulterated hatred. Love is a powerful emotion, but it is
nothing
compared to the physical backlash from hate.

I struggled to control the urge to scream, but somehow I managed to find my voice. I had to try to keep it under control - I can’t tell you why yet, but I had to.

‘Hugo, I want to speak to you
now
please. In my room. I may have spent the last five years giving into you on everything but not this, Hugo. Never this.’

‘Well, as you can see Laura, I’m a little busy. I’ll come and talk to you later, if you insist.’

Shaking with rage and revulsion, I just stared at him. He read my mind. He knew exactly what my next move would be. He knew that with one single action, I could bring his world crashing down around him. And I would do it. But first I had to get him out of that room.

He sighed theatrically.

‘You are so tedious and provincial, Laura. I don’t take kindly to blackmail but I see that on this occasion I have no choice. I’ll be with you within ten minutes if you could resist being predictable for that long?’

Without another word, I turned and left the room. I was trembling so violently that I thought my legs would give way beneath me. Whilst I waited for Hugo, my fury and disgust were building. For years Hugo had made me question every thought I’d had. But for once - just this once - I knew I was right. I thought about leaving - but I couldn’t. Not tonight. Tonight I had a job to do. But there would be no more sleep for me, so I quickly got dressed in the first things that came to hand.

I was going to expose Hugo for exactly what he was. And he knew it.

Finally Hugo flung open the door to my room. Now dressed in a pair of black trousers and a startlingly white shirt, he had obviously decided that attack was the best form of defence. If I had expected excuses or apologies I was not going to get them. I should have guessed as much.

‘What do you think you’re doing, Laura, barging in where you’re not wanted? I will not tolerate it.’

I was livid. And I was
not
going to back down. I walked towards him until I was just inches away. I wanted to slap his miserable face, or slash him with a knife if one had been to hand. But all I had were my words.

‘That was the most revolting, repugnant thing that I have ever seen. You are one sick bastard, Hugo Fletcher. I know you have a serious problem with sex, but to do what you were doing is just… I am lost for words.’

I turned and walked away from him, angry that no words that I could find would adequately express my horror. Then I swung back round.

‘No, I’m not lost for words at all. Perverted. There’s a word. A good word, actually. You disgust me.’

I practically spat that at him.

He advanced towards me. If his hands hadn’t been in his pockets in an attempt to look casual and in control, I’d have been worried that for the first time ever, he may have hit me. But I didn’t care. I’d have hit him back. I may have lost, but I’d have gone down fighting, and there would have been an outlet for my pent up emotion.

I should have known that he would feel no remorse though.

‘What do you mean,
I’ve
got a problem with sex? It’s not me, you foolish, suburban bitch. You’re frigid! You don’t know how to relax, and you don’t know what men like. Do you know why? Because you were never given appropriate instruction. I imagine the first time you had sex was with a boy from school - probably when you were about sixteen. Yes, I can see that I’m right. You both fumbled around and it was altogether useless, but you persevered. And then you became an adult you got used to sex, but you’ve never really understood the art. Without me, you would have spent the rest of your life pretending you know how to make love, but you haven’t got the remotest idea. It’s all hugs, kisses and random groping,’ he scoffed.

I laughed - right in his arrogant face. I was going to wipe that smug look off it, though.

‘Do you honestly think I care what you think of my performance, Hugo? After what I’ve just seen? Thank
God
I never have to pretend again. And do you know what,
Sir
Hugo? Nobody else will come within a mile of you either. You are going to stay out of that room tonight, and I’m going to make a phone call - I am going to do everything in my power to ensure that you go to hell for this, Hugo - so… ‘

What happened next is a bit of a blur. I just remember Hugo advancing on me and grabbing my right arm in his left hand. Then he dragged something from his pocket. It was a syringe.

*

When I finally came round, I felt terrible. My eyes were sticky, and my body was aching. I had no idea how much time had passed, and I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t recognise the room. It was completely empty. No furniture, no carpet, and the floor and windows were filthy with ancient dust. I didn’t have the strength to get up. I felt drained of all energy. And then I realised that I was naked. I couldn’t imagine how I’d got there, and I had no idea where my clothes were.

To start with, I only had a vague memory of all that had happened, but it was enough for me to realise that I had failed. And then I cried. Great wracking sobs shook my body, because I knew that I was going to be powerless from now on. I had lost the fleeting advantage that I’d gained, and somehow I had wasted it. My concern had been for the moment, and it should have been for the future. I don’t know how long I cried that first time, but it wasn’t going to be the last.

What little strength I had was used up from the crying, so I crawled on hands and knees to the door and banged on it, screaming for help. It was locked, of course. I must have been in one of the unused wings of the house. I’d explored the whole of Ashbury Park once when Hugo was away, but it had completely spooked me - all those rooms standing empty, hiding God knows what stories from the past.

I knew deep down that nobody would hear me, so I crawled back to my corner. Hugo obviously knew where I was, and he would only come when he was ready. I lay on my side and curled into a ball. I couldn’t stop shaking, but it was fear that was sending tremors through my body, not cold.

I don’t know how long I waited - it seemed like hours. Then the door opened. I knew it would be Hugo, and I couldn’t bear to look at him. All I wanted was to cover my nakedness from his gaze, then get out of there and out of his life. But not before I’d made sure that what I’d witnessed the night before would never happen again.

‘Hello, Laura.’

I could hear footsteps walking menacingly towards me across the bare boards, but I wouldn’t look up.

‘Stupid, useless Laura. I’ve come to give you a drink. I’m sure you’re thirsty. Come on, take the glass.’

I turned my head away. I didn’t want anything he had to offer. He grabbed my hair, and pulled my head back viciously. He snarled at me in a tone I’d never heard him use before.

‘Drink it! Drink it now if you want to get out of this room alive. Nobody knows where you are, and nobody need ever know.’

I believed him. How stupid I was. Of course he couldn’t afford to let me walk away from him. I should have realised. I was far too dangerous. He’d have a plan. He
always
had a plan.

I should have guessed that it wasn’t just water he was giving me, and it was only moments until I floated back to sleep. Next time I woke up, he came again and once more he forced me to drink. My body went limp, and I gradually drifted back into unconsciousness. Then one time after I’d taken the drink and I was barely awake, he pulled my arms away from my chest and straightened my legs. He pulled my legs wide apart, and just stood looking at me. I knew what he was doing, but I was too weak to move. Then he laughed. After that, each time he came he would twist my defenceless body into a different pose, as if I was his very own doll. My filthy, dirt covered limbs were pulled into every kind of degrading position he could think of, exposing me to his depraved eyes, and occasional fingers. But that was all. Thank God. He wasn’t interested in me. He just wanted to witness my humiliation - and my fear. Fear of what he might do whilst I was comatose.

In a rare moment of partial lucidity, I was horrified to realise that my bladder was full. It’s probably what woke me. I crawled to the farthest corner; as far away from the door as I could get. And I crouched there, with tears running down my dirty cheeks. I couldn’t bear for Hugo to be able to gloat at my shame any more than he was already doing.

After what seemed like weeks, I heard a shout. It wasn’t Hugo’s voice.

‘Sir Hugo, I’ve found her!’ The door was pushed open, and Hannah came running in. Much as I despise the girl, I was glad to see her. She stopped dead in her tracks, a look of disgust spread across her face, probably from the smell emanating from the damp patch in the corner. Hugo stood behind her in the doorway, a smile of triumph playing around his mouth. As Hannah turned to look at him though, his expression changed instantly to one of concern.

‘Oh my darling, we’ve been so worried about you. What happened? Nobody ever comes to this part of the house - you know that. We never thought to look for you here. And where are your clothes? You must have been here for nearly two days. We’ve searched everywhere. Hannah, call a doctor. Call Doctor Davidson - you’ll find his details in my address book on the desk. Tell him to hurry.’

With a last look of horror and distaste, Hannah turned and ran from the room.

Hugo turned back to me. He smiled cruelly.

‘Now, just a little work to do on the door handle…’ He laughed nastily and removed a very small screwdriver from his pocket. I watched through glazed eyes, not sure whether I was really seeing this or it was part of some drug induced dream. I drifted back into oblivion and didn’t really register the doctor’s arrival.

It took no time at all for him to declare that I was suffering from a chronic form of depression, and he gently helped me into a gown and organised a stretcher to take me to the waiting private ambulance. I tried to protest that I’d been locked in, but I saw Hugo demonstrate sadly to the doctor that the door opened easily from both sides and that in fact there was no lock. Hannah looked on, nodding her agreement and trying not to look smug. I knew that somehow or other he’d disengaged the handle from the inside, but I also knew I couldn’t prove it.

So now I’m here. And I understand exactly why Hugo chose this place. Whilst I was ‘missing’, he had obviously done some research and found a home that was failing badly and desperately in need of funds. I effectively bought its continued existence.

Of course, Hannah was a huge help in having me sectioned. I know she described in graphic detail what she’d found - how I was naked and filthy; how I could have got out if I’d wanted to; how I’d obviously used the floor as a toilet despite there being a bathroom - albeit unused for years - just outside the door. I know all this because the good doctor asked me questions that could only have been based on that knowledge.

And the other thing is the drugs. Hugo tried to ban all visitors, but banning my mother was too difficult even for him. She wasn’t having any of that. So the doctor drugs me each time she visits. She believes, I’m sure, that I’m ill. And I can’t tell her what I know - because the drugs make me into a zombie. It’s only when I’m alone and drug free that I can think.