Chapter Twenty-Seven
1
Jim Wilmot always liked to make sure his cellar was sorted before he opened up for the morning shift behind the bar. He was just stacking the crates of mixers when he heard the familiar creek of the narrow, wooden steps behind him. When he turned he saw his wife standing at the foot of the stairs clutching a glass of brandy in her trembling right hand.
"Kate, you look terrible." He left the mixers and walked over to her. "What's wrong?"
She raised the brandy glass to her lips and emptied its contents into her mouth.
"Hey, go easy there girl. Don't want to go drinking all the profits away now, do we?" Wilmot tried to take the glass from her but she wouldn't let go.
"I can't believe you're being so casual about this," she spat as she knocked back the last of her drink.
"About what?"
"About Sarah, that's what."
"Come off it Kate, she's a big girl now."
Wilmot watched his wife put the glass to her lips again before she realized that it was empty. "I told her that she had to be back home by ten last night."
"And I told you that she phoned later on in the evening to say that she was staying over at the Sheen place with Amanda."
Shit, here we go again; he thought when Kate's eyes narrowed spitefully at him.
"You always let her get her own way don't you?"
Wilmot turned away from his wife and headed back over to the mixer crates. "I really don't see what the problem is."
"The problem is that you let that little miss wrap you around her finger, don't you? When are you going to be a father and start backing me up?"
Wilmot picked up the crates without looking back. "Maybe if you'd just give the kid a chance..."
"Somebody has to let her know that she can't just get what she wants whenever she wants; somebody has to set an example," Kate interrupted.
"And I suppose that someone's you, with a glass of booze in your hand every second?"
"Don't be so bloody stupid," yelled Kate. "Haven't you seen what she's been like since she's been hanging around with that Sheen girl?" she threw her brandy glass and it shattered against the wall in front of him, missing his head by centimetres.
Wilmot dropped the cases and spun around quickly. "Christ, you almost caught me with that, woman."
If his wife had heard his words she showed no sign of it; she was already half way up the cellar stairs.
2
Alan Stephens heard the sounds of the people as they passed by him. Groggily, he opened his eyes to find himself sitting down on the bench by the war memorial in the town centre.
How long have I been out of it?
He rubbed his eyes and blinked in an attempt to clear his head, then he looked down at the blurred face of his watch and gave his eyes a chance to adjust.
11:45am.
Christ, an hour and a half of my life wasted on this stupid bench – he couldn't even remember closing his eyes – still, the pub will be open soon. He smacked his lips and felt the dry thickness of his tongue in his mouth. Time for a drink I think. He stood up, dusted himself off and headed in the direction of the Manor Public House.
3
Another glass just missed Jim Wilmot's head as he stepped through the cellar door into the bar carrying two fresh crates of mixers in his arms. "Shit woman, do you think you could stop smashing the place up for a minute?" he shouted, hiding behind the door again."
"She wasn't there," screamed Kate.
Wilmot chanced a peep around the door and saw that his wife was busy pouring herself another brandy from the optic. He took the opportunity to start putting the mixers behind the bar.
"Didn't you bloody hear me, I said that she was never there you stupid bastard."
"What the hell are you going on about now?" Wilmot felt the burning anger building up inside him. He could never do anything right as far as Kate was concerned.
But the anger faded when he realized just how bad a state she was in. Tears streamed down her face and she was trembling all over as she gulped more alcohol.
"What's wrong?"
"I've just been on the phone to the Sheens and they say that Sarah didn't stay there last night."
Her voice was tired and strained and suddenly Wilmot felt the same anxiety he saw in her expression. "Just you wait till I get my hands on her, who knows where she's been or what she's been up to?"
"And you were the one who just let her go without checking with Amanda's parents weren't you!" Her words were slurred and hard. Throwing her head back, she emptied her glass again before putting it up to the optic once more.
"I just didn't think," mumbled Wilmot.
"That's the problem, you never do, do you?"
"Now that's not fair, I can't keep an eye on her all the time, can I?"
There was a long, uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Even though he had managed to get the last word in, Wilmot knew that he had not won the argument. "Have you called any of her other friends?" he asked in as calm a voice as he could muster. The silence continued for a little while longer before he saw his wife take a measured sip from her glass as if thinking the question over in her head. "Don't worry; I'll do it while you open up, okay?" He smiled and tried to touch Kate's shoulder as he passed her but she pulled away from him.
4
It wasn't until he entered the pub that Stephens remembered he didn't have any money on him. But a simple little thing like that wasn't going to stop him getting what he wanted. The cool shade inside the Manor Public House made him realize just how hot it had been outside. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and looked around. The place was completely dead there was nobody in the pub on either side of the bar and all three of the television sets were switched off. He took a seat at the bar and waited.
5
Wilmot put the receiver down onto its cradle and stood up, rubbing the bridge of his nose between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. He had had no luck calling Sarah's friends, the only others he knew about apart from Amanda were Wendy Jones – whose mother told him that she wasn't home at the moment and that she hadn't seen Sarah for days – and Penny Stevens – but he didn't know her parents phone number. Oh well, may as well get this over with, he thought as he made his way out of the living room.
As he walked back down the stairs he heard a glass smash in the bar and remembered the two which had just missed him earlier. He wasn't looking forward to telling Kate that he had come up with nothing. He braced himself as he walked to the door of the bar and took a deep breath before pushing it open.
"Al, what's going on?" At first, the man crouching down by his feet didn't seem to hear the question and just carried on sweeping up the broken pint glass into the dustpan. Stephens stopped what he was doing and looked up at Wilmot with a shocked expression on his face like someone who had just been caught in the act.
"Hi Jim," Stephens smiled getting to his feet, still clutching the dustpan and brush. "I was beginning to think no one was here." He walked over to the bin, emptied the broken glass into it and replaced the dustpan and brush to their original place on the shelf just below the bar.
Wilmot let the fact that Stephens was on the wrong side of the bar slip for a moment and looked around the pub. "I don't understand; where's Kate?" He said the words more to himself than to the other man.
"What are you asking me for; I've only just walked in pal." Stephens replied before he edged his way past the landlord and walked back around to the other side of the bar. "Anyway, are you serving or what?"
The words snapped Wilmot out of the trancelike state he hadn't even realized he was in. "Oh yeah, sorry mate – pint right?"
"I think you know me too well Jim."
"Funny... I was just thinking about you, well about Penny anyway." Wilmot tried to keep his voice as matter-of-fact as possible.
"Hey, I don't think I approve of that."
"Sorry?"
"I think you might be a little to old for my Penny."
Wilmot stared at Stephens for a moment while the words sank in. "Oh no... nothing like that mate," he said, holding his hands up in surrender.
Stephens laughed. "Don't get your Y-fronts in a knot Jim, I'm only joking."
Wilmot returned a relieved smile and continued. "Penny... well... she hangs around with our Sarah quite a bit doesn't she?"
"Yes, I think so. Why, what's the problem?"
"Nothing," Wilmot lied, then changed his mind. "Well it's not so much a problem; it's just that... well... Sarah stayed out all last night and I was just wondering if she might have spent the night at your place with Penny."
"I'm sorry but Penny was out with Donna all last night so I can't help you mate. I'm sure that she's all right though." Stephens adjusted himself on his stool and folded his arms across his chest. "She probably spent the night at another friend's house."
"But I've tried all of the ones that I know, and you know how Kate can be! She's going spare at the moment."
"Hey, don't worry about it. Sarah's a cleaver girl, she'll be okay. She'll probably be back with some perfectly plausible explanation any minute now, you wait and see. Now how about that beer Jim, I'm parched."
Wilmot placed the pint glass under the tap, pulled back on the pump and smiled back at Stephens. "Yeah, your right mate; this one's on me."
"Well I won't argue with that."
4
Sarah didn't know where she was. All she knew was that it was cramped and dark, the only light coming from the small gap under the door. The floor was cold and hard. She tried to move but she couldn't; her bonds were so tight that her hands and feet felt numb. She tried to move against them but that only made things worse as the ties bit into her wrists and ankles.
The events of the previous night came flooding back to her and she started to cry. How could he have done all those things to her? Why had he tied her up like some kind of animal and shut her in that place. She loved him and she thought that he loved her, but he had only wanted to use her.
A cold sweat covered every inch of her as she trembled in fear. What was he going to do to her next? When would this nightmare end? She just wanted to go home.
Author's Note
If you liked this chapter please give it a vote. It's easy to do, you only have to press on the star and that's all there is to it. Your vote will help push The Dark Place up the charts where it will make it easier for people to find and read. Thank you very much. :o)