Every time you make a move

Carrying Secrets? Pt II

Monica was rushing down the streets in despair, trying to get as far away from Stafford Terrace, and the man living in it, as fast as she could, and struggling to run properly in her impractically high shoes and sore feet and find a red telephone box in an area that wasn't deserted but also wasn't majorly busy either.

People turned and watched as she staggered past them in a flash. An old lady or two asked her if she was alright, and as much as she wanted to collapse at their feet, beg for help, and pout out her feelings, but she ignored them as she rounded every street corner. Her fear told her to keep running and running, and not stop for anything or anyone except a red telephone box.

Eventually she slipped into one, and luckily she still had her evening bag slung on her shoulder, containing her money and address and contacts book. She slammed the door shut before breathlessly leaning up against the glass window pane, her heart practically beating out of her chest. She waited for a good few minutes until eventually she caught up with her breaths and she was able to think straight enough to make decisions.

With numb, unsteady fingers she slipped her change into the slot and dialled the Deacon household, the only family in London that she felt safe with (other than the Bulsaras, they were in India visiting relatives, and they lived about an two hours away by train anyway). She would've telephoned her family in Belfast, only she feared that they would start shaming her and say, "I told you so.", she decided to keep them as Plan B. She held the receiver to her ear, unable to control her rapid, panicky breathing and shaking hands, and waited...

"Hello?" A groggy John picked up.

"John?" Monica's voice quivered. "I'm sorry I'm calling so late but you have to help me."

"Monica?" His voice grew concerned on the other end. "W-What happened-"

"Oh John he was so scary!" She sobbed, unable to hold her tears back any longer. "I've never seen him like that before! I-I had to get out of there! He started breaking a glass and everything!"

John, hearing her pain and desperation, and knowing knowing how severe his temper could get, he knew that he had to get there quickly. Her words summed it up.

"Where are you now?!" He stepped into his slippers.

She peered out the window to look at a nearby building with the street name on its sign and told him. But at the same time, a man of the night in a long brown coat and with greying hair had noticed the lone, pretty young girl dressed up in her fine party gear inside the box, although looking and sounding conflicted, and approached it with dark intentions...

"Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can." Deaky said, and she could just about hear the relieving sound of clanking car keys on the other end.

"But there's a man outside the door! And he's smirking at me! What do I do?" She whimpered.

"Just... just pretend to keep talking on the telephone, alright? I'll go as fast as I can."

She nodded with trembling lips as soon as he hung up.

For the next several minutes, through her confusion and fright she pretended to be in deep conversation, fake nodding and smiling, slotting make-believe coins into the machine and casually leaning against the box wall as the stranger tapped his foot impatiently, waiting not for the phone but for the girl.

And finally, Deaky pulled up onto the curb and rushed to the box when he saw her in it.

"Excuse me..." he reached to open the door, but the man stepped in front of him.

"There's a girl in there." The man crossed his arms.

"I know, and I think you will find that she's with me." John said patiently as Monica opened the door a crack and called his name out.