I preferred his anger to this quiet, logical reasoning.
‘They know you were at Agnes’,’ I bluffed. ‘I told my family when I was leaving that you were there. They’re bound to think of you. And what about Simcock? He knows you brought us to the hospital. If you harm us it will make things much worse.’
‘No!’ He thumped the door. ‘I know your game. But it’s too late. There’s not much time. There’s things I need. Yes.’
I heard him move away and shouted after him. ‘Dr Goulden, wait, please wait. Let’s just talk about it. Dr Goulden.’
I heard the rattling of a corrugated shutter and then more distantly the car engine.
‘Now what?’ asked Agnes.
I stared back at her, my heart full of dread.
‘Now we’ve got to get out of here.’
‘I’ll try brute force.’ I used the heel of my foot and bashed as near to the lock as I could. Nothing. It looks so easy on the telly but the door wouldn’t budge and every time I tried it the throbbing pain in my face made my eyes sting with tears. I lunged again and again, getting more and more desperate, my aim becoming wild with my increasing frustration. My nose started bleeding again. Great crimson splashes on the floor.
‘Sal,’ Agnes put a restraining hand on my arm, ‘it’s not working.’
But we’ll die, I thought. We can’t just wait here for him to come back and slaughter us. Oh God. Maddie and Tom. My stomach twisted with worry. Ray would be back by now. What if Vicky had forgotten to give him Agnes’ phone number? I thought of Tina Achebe, of the little terraced house with its dayglo scene-of-crime tape, of the headlines, photographs, quotes from the neighbours. Which photograph would they use for me?
‘It’s ridiculous,’ I railed. ‘We waltzed into the consultant’s office at a major hospital with no problems, but getting out of the paper store of a warehouse is like escaping from Alcatraz.’ I trembled, swayed against the wall. ‘At least I can wipe my nose.’ It was a pathetic attempt at humour. Agnes made a pathetic attempt to smile. I found a box of paper towels and pulled some out to staunch the blood.
‘Right.’ I tried to clear my throat, my voice was getting more and more hoarse. ‘We have to work something out for when he comes back.’ My heart dipped at the prospect. What chance did we have? A tired old woman and a weak and wobbly younger one. ‘He’s not going to talk and it’s unlikely we could both run away from him. We need to surprise him, stop him for long enough to get help. What have we got that could hurt him?’
We looked at all our potential weapons: car keys, earring wires, Agnes’ brooch pin. Weedy or what? There was precious little likelihood of getting near enough to Goulden to plunge a pin accurately into his eyeball or his Adam’s apple.