Bound by Ivy Read online

  ‘I think it’s time for you and I to play, don’t you?’

  ‘Weren’t you supposed to leave me to die?’ I croak.

  ‘The thought of you, all bloody and begging,’ says Warren. ‘I couldn’t stay away.’

  ‘Where are the others?’

  Warren frowns. ‘They’ve got other things to worry about right now.’

  ‘I won’t scream,’ I tell him. ‘And I won’t beg.’

  ‘We’ll see about that. I’m very good. Very, very good. Just you wait and see.’

  My vision starts going hazy as Warren comes closer, but through the blur and black spots I see something – another shadow on the stairwell.

  Perhaps Yasmina and Cecile are coming after all. Maybe they’re angry with Warren for coming here without them.

  The shadow keeps growing. Getting longer and taller, and I see ... I see ...

  It can’t be.

  I shake my head.

  Marc.

  He can’t be real. I must have passed out again. This is a dream. But then I hear his voice, firm and deep.

  ‘Move away from her, Warren. Right now.’

  Warren’s shoulders shoot up in shock. He turns, and stumbles a little when he sees Marc coming up the staircase.

  Marc’s eyes burn into mine. ‘Sophia, he won’t touch you. You have my word. I’ll kill him first.’ He turns to Warren. ‘You must have known it would be a risk coming back here.’

  ‘I couldn’t stay away.’ Warren slaps the crowbar into his palm and takes a few steps forwards. ‘The risk was worth it for her.’

  ‘You won’t get anywhere near her.’

  ‘I can try.’

  Marc strides towards Warren, and like lightning his fist connects with Warren’s jaw.

  Warren stumbles back. He looks dazed, and puts a hand to his face.

  Then he lunges forwards, swinging the crowbar at Marc.

  The crowbar connects with Marc’s shoulder, and Marc’s face registers pain, but he doesn’t stumble or stoop. Instead, he punches Warren squarely on the hand so the crowbar goes spinning to the ground.

  The next punch Marc delivers is so fast that I don’t even see it. I only see Warren stumble backwards, throwing hands to his chest, his face white and afraid as he goes sprawling towards a gaping hole that used to be a window.

  At first, I think Warren is going to catch himself before he falls. But he’s just a little too late to find his footing, and his heavy, lumpy body topples backwards, out and down.

  I look away, hearing the sickly crashing sound of Warren hitting the floor outside.

  And then silence.

  ‘Sophia.’ Marc is by my side now. I don’t know how he reached me so fast.

  ‘Is he dead?’ I whisper.

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Is it really you?’ I say, as Marc unfastens the screw from the torture device. ‘I’m not dreaming again, am I?’

  ‘If this were a dream,’ says Marc, ‘I would have been here sooner. I need to get you to a hospital.’ He pulls the ring free from my waist, and I wince in pain.

  A fresh flurry of blood flows as the spikes come free of my flesh, and Marc catches me as I fall forwards.

  Dropping the torture device and holding me with one hand, Marc reaches up and unscrews the manacles.

  With a clank, the right one comes free and my arm falls down. It’s totally numb and white and empty of blood, and I can’t feel it at all.

  ‘How did you find me?’ I whisper, as Marc goes to work on the left manacle.

  ‘Cecile came to see me. It seems you put on a very convincing show of pretending I might be in love with her. After her visit, we used CCTV to track her movements. One camera at a time. We found Yasmina that way. Then Warren.’

  ‘CCTV?’

  ‘MET security streams. They have cameras all around London. I had temporary access. A rare privilege, and one I will be eternally grateful for.’

  I flinch as Marc loosens the screw on the left manacle. As my arm falls away, a shudder of pain shoots into my wrist and hand.

  Marc catches my arm and holds my cold wrist to his lips. Then he scoops me up. ‘Yasmina and Cecile are in custody. But Warren got away from us. We tracked footage of him coming here.’

  I see blue police lights flashing outside.

  ‘Let’s get you out of here.’

  77

  When Marc carries me out into the open air, I’m not prepared for the flurry of activity that explodes around me.

  Police and ambulance people rush forwards. A stretcher bed is raced over the craggy ground.

  Before I know what’s happening, Marc lifts me onto the stretcher and helps the paramedics strap me down.

  ‘Marc—’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Marc whispers. ‘I’m right beside you. Now and always.’

  As I’m wheeled into the ambulance, Marc stays by my side, gripping my good hand like he’s afraid I might slip away.

  The journey through London in the ambulance is a blur, but on the way, a drip is put into my arm.

  At the hospital, I’m tested for all sorts of things, but in the end, all the doctors diagnose is dehydration and loss of blood.

  My injuries aren’t bad. There was superficial damage to my intestines, but nothing that won’t heal. My wrist bone was cracked, and needs some time in plaster. I’ve been lucky, everyone tells me, over and over again.

  Yes, I tell them.

  I know.

  *****

  As I stand outside Marc’s farmhouse, watching two delivery men hulk a very familiar sofa towards the front door, I thank god for how very, very lucky and blessed I am.

  PAIN have been sentenced to life in prison for attempted murder, with the exception of Cecile. She was given a lighter sentence on medical grounds, and will be given psychological help in prison. But she’ll be locked away for a long time.

  Apart from a ring of scars around my waist, my injuries have totally healed. And Marc and I have moved into the farmhouse together.

  We’re so in love, it’s crazy. And after what happened, well ... let’s just say we’re both determined to make every day count. You never know what’s around the corner.

  My family don’t know too much about the night the show finished, but they know I went missing, and that Marc turned over the whole city to find me. And that without Marc, I could have been badly hurt.

  Needless to say, Dad realises that any man who could tap into the MET security streams to find his daughter is a man who will take care of me. Now and always.

  ‘Hi.’ I wave at the delivery men. ‘Let me show you the way.’

  The sofa is a soft beige colour, and hand-embroidered with tiny bells and crosses.

  My mother did the embroidery before she died, and the sofa was in the annex with me for a long time before the new tenants moved in. I stored it at Jen’s house while I was at Ivy College, but as soon as I told Marc about it, he decided we should bring it here so I could see it every day.

  Marc’s put me in charge of decorating our new home. He’s taken me to countless designer home stores, but I never quite see anything that feels right, so I’ve mostly made things myself, or bought furniture from thrift stores and fixed it up. It feels more personal that way.

  The result is that our home is a little bit of a mishmash, but it feels really warm and friendly.

  Marc comes to stand beside me as I watch the two men lumber towards the house. He slides his hand into mine, and I feel those familiar tingles in my stomach.

  ‘It’s arrived then,’ he says.

  ‘Yes. And I promise after this, they’ll only be a few more deliveries. We’re nearly done.’

  ‘You can have as many deliveries as you want.’ He kisses me on the head and squeezes a thumb into my palm. Then he stands back to let the delivery men into the house. ‘I love watching you home-making.’

  We follow the men inside.

  ‘Where would you like this, sir?’ one of the men asks Marc, nodding at the sofa.

 
; Marc turns to me and gives me that mesmerising smile of his. ‘Would the lady of the house care to answer that?’

  My insides go all soft. ‘Over there please, just by that plant.’

  The house, of course, is full of plants now. I did warn Marc that I can go a little plant crazy. I’m always seeing sad brown-leaved plants by skips, or on ‘last chance’ sale in the plant centre, and I just have to rescue them and bring them back to life.

  Marc understands.

  After Marc has tipped the delivery men and they’ve jumped into their van, we stand in the living room, looking at Mum’s sofa.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling love well up in my chest. ‘It’s so good to have this back with me.’

  ‘It looks very much at home,’ says Marc.

  I squeeze his hand. ‘I wish you could have met my mum. She would have loved you.’

  ‘I wish I could have met her too.’

  I sit on the sofa, pulling Marc down with me. ‘Comfy, isn’t it?’

  He laughs. ‘Very. And I’m glad you’re sitting down. Because I think this is the perfect place to ask you something that’s been on my mind for a while.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Marc lifts himself from the sofa, then bends down on one knee.

  He takes a box from his pocket.

  78

  I put a hand to my mouth, and feel silly tears leaking from my eyes. ‘Oh my god. Marc? Is this—’

  He nods. ‘Sophia Rose, will you marry me?’

  He opens the box, and I see the ring – the beautiful antique diamond ring that Marc presented me with all those months ago.

  My lips are all soft under my fingers, and I feel myself nodding hard.

  ‘Yes,’ I splutter, offering my tear-covered hand forwards. ‘Yes, of course I’ll marry you.’

  Marc lips lift into the most beautiful smile. He slides the ring onto my finger, kisses my knuckles, then sweeps me into his arms.

  I’m weeping and spluttering, unable to put words together for a little while. Finally, I manage to mumble into Marc’s shoulder, ‘I should phone Jen. Tell her the good news.’

  ‘You might want to hold off on that,’ says Marc, ‘until you see your visitors.’

  ‘Visitors?’ I wipe tears away. I’m a mess of red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

  Marc smiles. ‘I think you’ll be pretty familiar with them.’

  As if on cue, the doorbell rings

  ‘Perhaps the lady of the house should answer that,’ says Marc.

  I throw him a curious sideways smile and go the door. When I pull it open, my smile gets so big that it practically reaches my ears.

  There, on the doorstep, are Jen, Dad, Sammy, Denise, Tom, Tanya and Annabel.

  ‘Oh my ... wow!’ I say. ‘Did Marc ... do you all know about ...?’

  Everyone’s vigorous nodding cuts me off.

  ‘We know,’ says Jen, throwing her arms around my neck and covering me in perfume. ‘Marc made extra sure he had all the right approvals this time. Congratulations.’

  ‘And you all gave the okay?’I ask.

  ‘Everyone one of us,’ says Dad. ‘The two of you have our complete blessing. I couldn’t wish for a better man to take care of my daughter.’

  ‘Thanks Dad.’ I throw my arms around him. He hugs me, and when I step back I see tears in his eyes. ‘Are you okay, Dad?’

  Dad nods, looking away and dabbing at his eyes. ‘Fine, fine. Just ... my little girl, getting married. All grown up.’

  ‘You should come inside,’ I say, shepherding everyone into the house. ‘Tom. Tanya. I can’t believe it’s been so long. What with the show, and then recovering, and home-making and everything, I—’

  ‘We know,’ says Tanya, giving me a hug. ‘Don’t worry. We understand.’

  Tom wheels up to pat my shoulder. ‘We’ve missed you.’

  ‘I’ve missed you guys too,’ I say. ‘But I’m so happy for you both. Denise tells me you’re still very much in love.’

  Tanya turns scarlet.

  Tom grins from ear to ear. ‘Very much in love. And hope to be for the rest of our lives.’

  ‘Really? Does that mean you might be getting—’

  ‘No,’ Tanya interrupts. ‘No need to rush into anything. We’ll finish college before we start thinking about anything like that.’

  ‘Promise you’ll invite me when you finally do decide to get married,’ I say, with a teasing smile.

  ‘Of course!’ says Tom.

  Tanya rolls her eyes. ‘Thanks for that. He’ll be looking at wedding suits before you know it.’

  ‘Speaking of weddings,’ I say. ‘Jen and Tanya, would you do me the honour of being my bridesmaids?’

  ‘As if you even need to ask,’ says Jen.

  Tanya grins. ‘Of course, Soph!’

  ‘And Tom, I’d like you to be my bridesmaid too,’ I add.

  Tom laughs. ‘Sophia, perhaps you’re a little confused. It may not be obvious to everyone, considering my flamboyant choice of outfits, but I’m a man.’

  Tanya and I laugh.

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘But I think we can break with tradition for your sake.’

  ‘I’d be delighted to be your bridesmaid,’ says Tom. ‘But I have another idea. How about I conduct the ceremony? I did it for my cousin last year, so I’m very familiar with the procedure. I’d be delighted to stand before you and Marc and help you say your vows.’

  I smile. ‘I can’t think of anything more perfect.’

  ‘Who would have thought it?’ says Tom. ‘Sophia Rose marrying Marc Blackwell. And living happily ever after.’

  Once we’re inside the house, we all sit on Mum’s sofa and the collection of thrift-store armchairs I’ve reupholstered. Marc and I are squeezed onto an armchair, me on his lap, our fingers woven tightly together.

  Rodney brings in a tray of tea and freshly baked shortbread biscuits.

  ‘Soph?’ Jen asks. ‘Will you be inviting Leo to the wedding?’

  ‘I hadn’t even thought about who I was going to invite,’ I admit. ‘But ... yes, of course I’ll invite Leo. He’s my friend. A good friend. And that’s exactly who I want at the wedding. Good friends.’ I turn to Marc. ‘Are you okay with that?’

  ‘I’m okay with that,’ says Marc, his blue eyes flashing me a beautifully intense look.

  ‘Honestly?’

  ‘Honestly. The more friends you have, the more people are around to take care of you.’

  I turn back to Jen. ‘So there you go. You can bring your date along.’

  We smile at each other, both knowing that Leo is much more than Jen’s date these days. The two of them can’t stay away from each other. Leo has bought an apartment in London, and Jen spends almost every night there.

  As we’re all chatting and catching up, I notice Annabel is a little quiet – but happy quiet. She’s had a smile on her face since she arrived on the doorstep.

  Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Annabel?’ I ask. ‘Social services were going to give you an update this week. Have they called you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s good news. But I’ll tell you another time. This is your big moment.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I say. ‘Just tell me your news.’

  Annabel’s smile grows, and for the first time since I’ve met her, I see teeth appear from behind her lips. They’re white and straight like Marc’s.

  ‘I’m getting Daniel back.’

  I screech and throw my hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my GOD! Annabel, that’s wonderful. So, so wonderful.’

  I head towards her and give her a big hug. She starts crying, and I feel warm tears on my own cheeks too.

  ‘It was all thanks to you,’ Annabel whispers, her voice croaky with tears.

  ‘No,’ I insist. ‘You’ve beaten a drug that kills most people. And you’ve proven you’re strong enough to be a mother. I’m so happy for you.’

  79

  A few weeks later, my head is s
wimming with wedding plans. I never knew there was so much to organise.

  I’m so grateful Jen is my friend. She’s good at all the things I’m really bad at, like planning and organisation, and she knows all the things that are needed at weddings, like cake and photographers and invitations.

  I’ve tried to keep everything as simple as possible, but there’s still a lot to do. I never realised a wedding was so much work.

  Jen has been going on and on at me about choosing a venue, and over the weekend I finally worked out the perfect place. The only place, in fact, where I could imagine marrying Marc.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ Jen asks, her high heels stumbling over the muddy ground. ‘This is where you want your wedding? Your once in a lifetime, big show off party?’

  ‘Positive,’ I say, linking arms with her. ‘Wait until you see exactly where I want the ceremony. You’ll love it too.’

  I lead her along the woodland path, past bright green feathering ferns and under towering trees.

  Jen sighs. ‘You and your trees, Sophia Rose. You could get married anywhere. Anywhere in the world. Your boyfriend is a billionaire. And where do you choose? The woods behind Ivy College.’

  I smile. ‘I know. Isn’t it perfect? Come on.’ I lead Jen further into the woods. ‘I can’t wait for you to see the spot.’

  Jen folds up her linen suit trousers, rolls her eyes good-naturedly and follows me along the path.

  The path weaves around a huge sycamore tree, then opens out into the most amazing circular space, under a beautiful canopy of trees.

  ‘This is it,’ I say, standing back so Jen can see the space. ‘This is where I want to get married.

  My mum used to call spaces like these ‘fairy circles’. They’re natural round clearings in the woods, and they’re always surrounded by wild flowers and green shoots of grass.

  Birds twitter and hop among the branches overhead, and a squirrel scurries up a tree as we approach.

  We both stand for a moment under the bright green leaves, listening to bird song and smelling leaves and fresh soil.

  ‘Soph,’ Jen breathes. ‘It’s absolutely perfect. So beautiful.’

  ‘I thought we could marry in the woods,’ I say, ‘and then have a picnic on the lawns around the college. It’s the summer holidays, so the college is empty. All the guests can stay in the visitor accommodation block.’