‘We need something we can knock him out with,’ I said, ‘something heavy. Something big so we’ve more chance of hitting him with it.’
It was bracketed to the far wall. Big, red, shiny and extremely heavy. We debated briefly whether it would be better to spray him with the fire extinguisher or clout him. Clouting had far more going for it.
‘The foam might just make him wet. What happens when it’s all used up?’ I said.
I practised lifting the thing above my head. I remembered log-splitting on some faraway holiday, the stance, the importance of watching the target instead of the tool, the satisfying thwack as the logs split and the shock that rippled back up arms and shoulders if the angle was wrong and the axe bounced off.
We rehearsed our moves, The door opened inwards to the right. I would stand behind it. We needed to get Goulden into the room far enough for me to move out and take a swing at him. There would only be one chance. If he remained on the threshold it wouldn’t work.
‘If he does that,’ I told Agnes, ‘don’t leave the room. He can’t force you to, not unless he’s got a gun. But I don’t think he’s going to come back with a gun.’
‘If he can only see me then he will realise that there’s something strange going on, he will know that it is a trap.’
‘OK.’ I pulled my jacket off. ‘Get some paper towels. We’ll make a guy.’
Agnes caught on quickly, screwing towel into balls and stuffing them into my jacket. Meanwhile I peeled off my damp trousers and started on them.
‘We can use this inside the hood.’ She held up a long roll of paper sheeting like they cover examination couches with. She formed it into a big ball for my head. When my dummy was stuffed I dragged boxes of paper off the shelves and constructed a sort of cardboard sofa we could sit on. We arranged the dummy beside Agnes and I surveyed it from the door. It was too obviously not a real person. ‘Lie it down, like I was before I came round. That’s better. Tuck the feet away. Yes.’ The paper face was hidden now and from the door it looked like I was lying prone, pretty much as I had been when I’d regained consciousness.
‘When he comes you’ll have to say something like I’ve passed out again or I haven’t come round. Something to make him think he’s only got one of us to worry about. If he does want us out of here he’ll have to carry me out. Tell him you can’t wake me.’
There was little else we could do. My stomach was rolling with anticipation. My sweatshirt covered my bottom but I felt exposed as well as cold without my other clothes. There was no heating at all in the room. I’d no intention of losing Agnes, or myself, to hypothermia.